"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
The three triple-mounted 380mm main guns of the battlecruiser Mackensen roared to life, launching shells weighing over a ton each, shrieking through the air as they rained destruction upon the heart of Tokyo.
With each thunderous explosion reverberating through the city, Tokyo's fate was sealed—a descent into utter ruin had begun.
The rest of the German Expeditionary Fleet, comprising additional battlecruisers and light cruisers, joined the bombardment. Shell after shell screamed through the skies, their devastating impacts spreading like a plague.
A cacophony of explosions echoed unceasingly, and one building after another succumbed to the relentless onslaught. Among the casualties were not just ordinary structures but treasured cultural relics and iconic landmarks that defined the city.
"Amaterasu, save us! The Germans are attacking—run for your lives!"
The streets were flooded with desperate civilians, fleeing the city in a frenzy. The government's earlier evacuation order had already sown panic, yet many residents had clung stubbornly to their homes and roots. But now, faced with the terrifying reality of German shells tearing through the city, they had no choice but to flee. Survival, after all, trumped every other attachment.
Crowds choking the roads out of the city suffered catastrophic losses under the relentless German bombardment. A single shell landing amidst the fleeing masses would claim countless lives in an instant.
"Boom!" A 380mm shell struck a bustling street, crowded with families burdened with their possessions. The explosion obliterated everything in its wake. The force was so immense that bodies were torn apart, limbs flung into the air, and blood painted a macabre tableau—a scene straight out of hell itself.
"God, what sin have we committed to deserve such suffering?" cried an elderly man, his legs mangled beyond recognition, his voice a wail of agony.
There was no answer, only silence and more explosions. These ordinary civilians bore no direct responsibility for the war, yet they paid the ultimate price for their government's hubris. Japan had underestimated Germany's wrath, foolishly believing they would tolerate their imperialistic expansion into the Pacific and Southeast Asia. The devastation now unfolding was the result of Japan's greed.
While the Germans were surely despised for the havoc they wrought, the government that led Japan down this doomed path was no less culpable. Their ill-conceived decisions had dragged the nation into this abyss of suffering.
Under the unrelenting barrage of the German fleet, the once-thriving metropolis of Tokyo was engulfed in flames, collapsing into ashes.
Within fortified bunkers, the members of the Japanese cabinet cowered. The walls were sturdy, but even they could feel the tremors of the earth quaking under the German assault. With each explosion, their faces grew paler, reflecting their helplessness.
"Damn the Germans! We will repay this atrocity a hundredfold someday!" snarled Army Minister Gensui Katsunoshin Akiyama through gritted teeth.
Yet, two other figures—Yamagata Aritomo and Ōyama Iwao—remained silent, their expressions somber. Flickers of guilt and regret in their eyes betrayed their inner turmoil. Clearly, they were grappling with the realization that their own decisions had contributed to Tokyo's suffering.
Initially, their intentions had been noble, aimed at securing the nation's interests. But the outcome was a nightmare far beyond anything they had envisioned.
"Perhaps it's time we find a way to end this calamity," Yamagata finally spoke, his voice heavy. "Southeast Asia is valuable, but we lack the strength to hold it. Forcing this ambition will only lead to catastrophic losses."
Marshal Ōyama nodded in agreement.
Akiyama opened his mouth to retort but found himself at a loss for words. In the end, he fell silent, unable to counter the grim reality.
"We cannot let the Germans continue their assault unchecked," said Prime Minister Shigenobu Ōkuma gravely. "If they lose patience and extend their attacks to all our coastal cities, the empire will suffer even greater devastation."
Before him sat two venerable statesmen, Inoue Kaoru and Matsukata Masayoshi. Though their positions overshadowed Ōkuma's, they listened intently.
"Prime Minister, once the German bombardment ceases, we will speak with Yamagata-dono. Rest assured," said Matsukata.
"Thank you, esteemed elders! You will be the saviors of this empire," Ōkuma exclaimed, his gratitude profound.
Ōkuma was deeply frustrated by the military's reckless pursuit of Southeast Asia, which had led to this calamity. Yet, to challenge the army's authority, he needed the support of influential figures like Matsukata and Inoue. Thankfully, their backing gave him hope of swaying the tide.
Meanwhile, in the Imperial Palace at Chiyoda, the looming threat of the German fleet had plunged the occupants into panic. The deafening bombardment was audible even here, though the palace itself remained outside the initial target zone.
Emperor Taishō, the spiritual figurehead of the nation, was hastily escorted to the palace's most secure bomb shelter.
"Baka! Baka! What has become of my empire? What is the cabinet doing? How could they let the Germans reach Tokyo Bay?" the Emperor raged, his voice trembling with fear.
His body quivered, and beneath him, a pool of liquid betrayed his terror. A faint, acrid smell hung in the air. The great Emperor of Japan had soiled himself in fright, though the attendants around him pretended not to notice.
Though intellectually limited, the Emperor was no fool. His humiliation deepened his anger, his frustration with the ineptitude of his government mounting by the moment. Yet, he was powerless. Despite his title, he wielded no real authority. His discontent, no matter how justified, could change nothing.