Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The first feeling that greeted me from unconsciousness was constant prodding. Likely one of the security robots that had additional programming to make sure I didn't sleep in too late. Naturally, I ignored it. I turned around in bed, curled into my blankets further like a human burrito, and shunned the nuisance even as the prodding continued and with greater force and frequency.

"Wake up Yuto." The voice was more effective in pulling me out of my half-asleep state more effectively than poking had. Especially when my blankets were sharply pulled away almost dragging me with them.

I groggily opened my eyes and turned back around to look at the very unamused expression of my Mom. She was dressed up in her grey suit, office slacks, and dress-shoes with an air of haste that indicated that she was about to leave.

"It's Saturday Mom!" I flopped back down. "You said I can sleep in on the weekends!"

"Oh, are you done shunning the nuisance?" She raised an eyebrow and while her expression remained neutral, it still didn't fail to convey her sass. Apparently, I had said the unspoken rambling of my barely awakened mind out loud. "I'll let it pass this once, since it is your special day. Happy birthday Yuto."

Wait, what? I used my optics to look at the date and there it was. July 7th​, 2070. I was 14 years old. Again.

Well, technically I would be once it was past 10:00 pm but that was semantics.

"Thanks Mom!" I got out of bed and gave her a hug. She stiffened at first, before slowly relaxing into it and returning the act. "Sorry about the nuisance thing. I thought you were one of the-"

"There is hardly a need to apologize." Mom shook her head, slowly extracting herself from the hug. "It was a mistake. Simply do not repeat it next time and that will be more than enough as an apology. I'd love to take the day off, but the Caliburn's release coming so soon and the market is-"

"Hardly a need to apologize." I parroted back to her. "I'll be fine by myself! I can tinker a bit and stuff."

Mom was the head of Rayfield's returning push into the NUSA/Free-States market now that the Metal Wars had come to an end with 'Treaty of Unification'. Not to mention Arasaka making its grand return to the North American continent and most importantly, Night City. Topping it off by building their shiny new Arasaka Tower right over where the old one had stood before getting Blackhand's good old double nuke tactic back in 2023.

Say what you want about the 'Emperor of the 21st​ Century', but Saburo Arasaka knows how to make an entrance. At least we were removed from that whole mess. Rayfield's American base was set up outside of Seattle, which was mostly untouched by the warfare and had rather low Corp presence outside of Biotechnica and Rayfield itself.

Mom smiled, though it seemed almost sad in a way. She took her hand and patted me on the head. I thought about shaking it off, but the look on her face convinced me to let her indulge the instinct. She was usually a reserved woman, so I should take the demonstrations of affection when I can.

"Thank you for understanding." She sighed. "There is something we need to talk about later. I…had somewhat hoped to avoid it, but recent events have made that an impossibility."

"Mom, I know what sex is." I blanched. The Talk had been bad enough once, with my original parents kind of just avoiding it and me learning via SexEd and popular culture. Which in hindsight, probably meant my knowledge was spotty at best. Maybe I did need the Talk after all?

Mom looked frazzled as she processed my words.

"It has nothing to do with that!" She rubbed her temples with both hands as she closed her eyes and calmed herself down. "Well, mostly not. Let's not open that can of worms, alright?"

"Mostly not?" In that case, I had lost the plot entirely. "What do you mean by 'mostly not'?"

"We'll talk more tonight." She promised before speed-walking out the door. "There is food for you in the fridge! Real meat and cake! I'll be back by 7:00 at the latest. I might be late by thirty minutes, if I am, go ahead and eat before me. Take care."

"Love you too!"

I looked out the window and eventually saw the unreleased Rayfield supercar drive off towards the Rayfield facility.

Mostly not? So not the Talk, but technically something that might be involved with it. I was getting an idea of what she might mean now. She had mentioned off-handedly about discussing my father when I was older before.

I had spent time considering how my father was after all. Single mothers were common in the general population, but not nearly so amongst corpos. The Japanese lessons she had requested I take and my own first name, Yuto, were glaring clues I can't ignore.

With the Arvin Accords, the stipulations following the Fourth Corporate War had been removed and Arasaka was returning to the continent, though limited mostly to Night City. This was another clue in favor of a likely theory.

Most likely, my father is some middle to upper management in Arasaka. This was somewhat important. Corporations were weird about family at the best of times, but Arasaka took it to the extremes.

According to rumors and credible sources alike, Sabura Arasaka really valued the traditional family standards of Japan and that had infected the culture of the Corp as well. High level officials were almost expected to have a wife and at least one child. Even if they mostly ignored their kids afterwards, it mattered more that they had one. And that they stayed in line with Arasaka's goals. Very ironic stuff, considering that of the four main family members, half of them were anti-Arasaka either covertly or overtly.

But the executives of Arasaka took their culture very seriously.

There were rumors about a high-ranking member of Arasaka in Warsaw whose career had ended up completely stalling after his daughter ran away and since then Arasaka executives had kept a distant but close eye on their direct families.

If my father was among those being brought to Night City, he might try to be at least somewhat involved if only for the sake of career advancement. Or at least to make sure I didn't accidentally get in the way.

"If you have any sense Nameless-Father-san, please continue to search for the mythical milk and pack of cigarettes, forever." I sighed. Getting involved with Arasaka on any level beyond plain business was asking for trouble but if my suspicions were right, then it was probably unavoidable. Soon enough, Arasaka would be a dominant force on the West Coast and Rayfield catered almost exclusively to that sort of clientele.

Naturally, I employed one of the best skills of humanity after thinking these things through. Ignoring the impending doom and focusing on something more imminent and in my control.

"Fourteen years old…" Since I passed away at the ripe age of twenty. Since I had been born again in the world of a video game whose intricate lore, I was only passably familiar with at the time of my demise. Which meant I was now thirty-four, but not really?

I had been lucky. My memories had not come in upon my birth nor had they simply snapped into place at some random point and drowned me in two decades worth of experiences. Instead, they had slowly trickled into me as they became relevant until about two years ago when I finally remembered everything. I also avoided being reborn into nearly irreparable hellholes like Warhammer or Worm.

All the while, I went through the motions: brushed my teeth, changed into more durable clothing, and ate some toast and sausage, saving the steak for last. Even for Corpos real meat was a delicacy. It was only the absurd amount of revenue that the Caliburn had made already with pre-orders following the Expo just after the Alvin Accords that let us afford any.

Real food was king in this world. It was a sign of wealth that rivalled even fancy cars like the Caliburn and luxury flying vehicles like the future Rayfield Excalibur.

My brief and hopefully final experience with Cyberpunk's cheap 'normal food' had been a microwave burrito. It had tasted like the idea of my original world's worst burrito had been translated poorly across five different languages and then to an alien from a different plane of existence that then shat out some garbage and wrapped it a nice sauce of raw sewage before packing it up for sale. And it had been one of the better brands as well.

"Well, with my stomach filled for the time being…time to get to work." I washed my plate quickly before heading back to my room and accessing my personal Workshop/Range/DataFort.

Or rather, it would be so eventually. Currently it was just a bench and some decent tools, a few miscellaneous shooting targets, and most impressively an actual well-equipped NetRunning chair. Not the usual, tub of ice and pray for the best that many other fledgling NetRunners depended on.

While I wish I had a proper armory, it appears that civilization has degenerated completely outside of Night City so my hopes at high power weaponry would remain just that. Hopes. The only good thing was that the threat of President Myers 'Unification War', or Metal War to everyone else, and the increasing tensions had gotten Mom to get a Militech Training shard.

From it, I learned the basics of combat. Like the very basics. The rest would be up to me, though hopefully I could avoid that kind of thing.

As for NetRunning, post-DataKrash even learning how to NetRun has basically been monopolized by the corporations. I think I have done an admirable job with the resources available. Time will tell if it is folly or not.

"Bartmoss I curse the name." I said aloud. I still respected the hell out of the bastard's skill level since decades later he is still THE NetRunner. Even if he destroyed that world where NetRunners might as well have ruled the Net with his carelessness and lack of foresight.

I looked at my workbench, where some machinery lay disassembled. My mind automatically whispering the inner mechanisms, how to rebuild them not just as they were but better.

I had decided to dabble in being a Techie for this very reason.

The advantage I had beyond simply my birth status and questionable foreknowledge was this strange ability. An intuitive desire to understand. I initially wrote it off as just innate curiosity, but eventually the signs presented themselves. By examining some complex machinery, I could understand the fundamentals that allowed them to function.

The most interesting lead in this regard was that as my knowledge of technology and the science behind it increased, so too did my ideas.

I turned towards the gun that I had been practicing with recently. A Unity. The 'technically a weapon you can use' of Cyberpunk. I had no intention of using this in the long run, but it was the default weapon even in the Militech Training Shard for a reason.

It was the jack of all trades. It had recoil, but not overtly so. The shots had some spread, but if you aimed relatively center mass then you could be pretty sure the target was getting hit somewhere near the center. Attack speed was mediocre but not slow. The only terrible thing was the damage output of a modified Unity was basically adjacent to a nerf-gun against any decently chromed up adversary.

I began with simple practice. Large targets at close range. Once I could get center mass consistently enough, I'd move the targets further back and repeat until it was at about the edge of optimal range. After that, I'd start back close but with smaller targets and repeat.

"I really need to get better at this." Just like the last few times, I had gotten to the smallest targets, supporting my theory on the nature of my power at least, but I'd stalled since then. I was beginning to think it might not actually be my lack of skill.

The Unity's spread was too unpredictable at that point. I'd tried to see if raw accuracy could compensate but likely I would either need to modify the gun myself, add a muzzle that would compensate for it, or switch to a better gun for reliable headshots.

Smart weapons are an option, but depending on them solely seems like a bad idea. There is a reason that Corps and every militaristic organization preferred combatants with some personal expertise instead of giving them Smart weapons and some shards.

Tech can be hacked; pure skill remains. It also opens the field to the usage of Power and Tech weapons which tend to have higher firepower in compensation for no auto-aim.

I decided to take my mind from shooting. As a Corpo, shootouts were unlikely. Skill-wise, my Techie and NetRunning endeavors were more likely to come into play before having to depend on lead to do the talking.

My eyes turned to the NetRunning chair. This was my biggest victory in terms of parental bargaining. Mom had finally realized that either she caved, or I tried to DIY my way into the Net. Thus, the compromise was made, when I was fourteen, I could officially try my hand and NetRunning.

The age which I now was. Technically.

While my 'power' would let Technical Ability show dividends as time and resources progressed, NetRunning offered a specialty for me to blaze away immediately. Breaking down and building on code was far more intuitive and straightforward compared to blazing the technological trail of progress by my lonesome.

"I am finally going to use this cyberdeck for its intended purpose." I had already received some implants, but they were very rather low level, mostly. A personal link, some basic health maintenance bioware, and a subdermal hand implant that let me interact with Smart technology was basically the Corpo kid starter pack. On top of that, I had a decent Cyberdeck, what I suspected to be a klepped Arasaka Shadow, installed as well as top of the line Kiroshi optics due to Rayfield's partnership with the company.

NetRunning and its adjacent fields were far more interesting than in the game.

There were thousands of different paths to reach the same result. Literally in the case of Ping. Some were more efficient than others, using less RAM or being more covert. Others were stronger and had added functions in return for their negatives. It was why multiple versions of even the same program had value to NetRunners. There was always the chance of learning and being able to improve your own program, even if the copies are technically worse.

It was fascinating. It was easy to see how an entire culture surrounding and revering NetRunners had emerged, with and without the Corps pulling strings. Then Arasaka and Militech had taken the biggest bites out of the NetRunning scene, with the other Corps scavenging the remains.

What was left behind of that punk NetRunner cyber culture? An empty shell made up of self-made hacks and corporate shills running around like headless chickens.

"Shitty corporations and their cock-blocking." While you could purchase QuickHacks, that was hardly the NetRunner way. Most purchasable hacks were flawed in some fundamental way from what I had garnered. Some even had traps built in that would activate if used against certain Corp ICE.

Naturally, I had purchased some of the basics and broke down their fundamentals and then built my own versions from the ground up.

But at the end of the day, it was just mostly copying another hack and giving it my own coat of paint. Hardly original.

Chimera was my current work on an original hack.

It combined Ping, Contagion, and any final QuickHack into an Ultimate QuickHack of my own making. Ping would trace all devices connected to a target identified by my scanner and from Contagion I scrapped everything but the ability to propagate to other targets. Together, they'd allow the third QuickHack to propagate through all connected devices.

Turn a camera off? All the cameras linked to it would turn off.

Overheat an unaware criminal? The entire gang they were connected to would be found extra-crispy.

Theoretically. Remaking the hacks myself had been simple, but they were still crude. They hadn't been tried, tested, or modified after field experience so I was just trying to make a basic framework for Chimera to grow into later.

There were some side-effects that might just be unavoidable based on my extrapolations. Once Chimera was launched, it would end up using all the available RAM and then even tank RAM regeneration rates.

For a pure NetRunner, it might end up being an all or nothing tactic. If corps wised up and had multiple small systems instead of having all devices interconnected, it would be much less effective.

Furthermore, I wasn't sure if someone had already made something like that before. I had not heard of anything like it, but most of the real shit about NetRunning was kept away from the public. It would suck if I was just redoing something someone else did a long time ago.

Another circumstance for future me to deal with.

Right now?

It was time to properly enter the Net.

I am in a more controlled environment now. While Cyberspace was still dangerous, the mortality rate was quite skewed since a good deal of NetRunners are basically digital edgerunners and keep diving directly into jobs with Black ICE, Daemons, and other risks until they inevitable bite the dust. Since I was sticking to some of the 'public' shared servers instead, I should be fine.

"Is this a good idea?" I said it out loud. To hear it. Process it. Consider it.

I could wait.

There wasn't any rush now.

I could apply to NetWatch and learn from them. Danger in that case would be basically non-existent rather than 'minimal'.

Nah.

Caution was good, but if I had to bid my time and twiddle my thumbs for several more years? I would go insane.

"Fuck it." I went over to the side of the room. "Reward over consequence."

I've lived a privileged life so far, but one lacking in any action at all. I had to do something other than going to school, tinkering, and practicing shooting without any solid plans.

If I looked back on this and regretted my recklessness, I would just blame it on my re-emerged adolescent brain.

I slipped into the NetRunning suit Mom had bought. Simple, but effective. Settling in, I allowed the chair to lock in and jacked into so that I could finally traverse the Net.

I do not believe that mere words can convey the wonder of the Net, even defunct as it is, but I still feel tempted to give it a try. It is worth the effort.

To preface, nothing can really prepare you for the feeling of entering Cyberspace for the first time. It is alien and unique.

Whatever experiences you have with coding, computer interface, or even with QuickHacks are nothing but chump changes and cheap tricks compared to Cyberspace in its raw, unfiltered glory.

The experience is probably closest to diving in the ocean. But instead of water, you dove into an ocean of code. And there were no brilliant coral reefs in this digital ocean, but ruins built and burned by the hands of man.

And this is what being in just the Net felt like, I couldn't help but wonder what the Old Net in its prime was like.

This is what I thought as I felt myself floating through the streams of code, which began to twist and contort into something less alien and more familiar

The Ihara Grubb Transformation Algorithms were shaping the net into a more tangible location. Default was more than preem for a first run, so it went for a realistic rendition of the apartment. Not my Workshop due to the DIY ICE I employed but instead the living room. An archaic design by the standards of the technocratic elites, it appealed to that old timey sensibility of antiquity.

IG Algorithms basically scaled the Net into something resembling the real world, making transversing it simpler and less like navigating some eldritch horror.

I glanced at myself and noticed that currently I was a twisting, writhing stream of code rather than a person.

My mind was still on the fritz was it began to unpack everything it was experiencing, the raw data readily feeding my 'ability' as I allowed myself to reach out and shape my code form into something more interfaceable.

"This is so nova!" I laughed as I shifted into a traditional digital outfit with an obscured face. It wouldn't do shit against an experienced Runner trying to trace me, but it was better than walking around the Net with my real face without even the attempt at hiding.

Now I just had to use the modem to connect to some of the larger 'islands' of Net to interact with the local NetRunning community. This was Seattle, not Night City, so it shouldn't be balls to the walls crazy.

"I'd…still be better keeping an open mind about this." Best laid plans of mice and men, and all that. I made sure my Quickhacks were ready to be thrown out quickly to make an even quicker exit if Night City's shittery turned out to be a universal constant.

My caution turned out, so far, to be unnecessary.

Others in this local public server were rare. It was eerie. The design of a bustling marketplace but devoid of any other characteristics of it.

"Excuse me?" I greeted what appeared to be a vendor of some sort. Basic NetRunner outfit with a punk sort of jacket and a mask covering her face and a hood covering atop of it to cover up her hair. Quite a bit older than me if I had to make a guess but not ancient.

She was talking with another woman, most of whose features were distorted.

"No means no Sasha." The vendor growled. "This isn't Night City you gonk. There, the corpos have to watch their backs with so many different factions in play. But here? You fuck with them, you disappear. Don't pick a fight you can't win."

"I wouldn't be picking it if we couldn't win." The other woman, Sasha, replied. "The stuff Biotechnica is doing…"

"It's the stuff that all corps do." The vendor cut her off. "People already know that corps do shady shit. Even if you got a bunch of dirt on them, you'd cut a couple percentages off their stock prices for a month or so at best. And death would be the only reward for your trouble, if you're lucky."

Sasha seemed ready to continue their argument before she finally noticed my presence.

"Eh, a noob!" Sasha laughed. "Don't see those much around these parts. See ya later. At least think about it."

"I really wish you would think about it." The vendor muttered before waving goodbye.

"Noob?" I muttered.

"Like newbie." The vendor explained. I realized then that I still didn't know her name

I quickly glanced at her ID. The true identification was hidden by some ICE, but her handle was apparently SlICEr0x. I wasn't in any position to say shit about her title though when mine was Cav3rnK1ng. Fuck whoever took the original handle!

"I know that." My face clenched up. "Just a bit unflattering. Like being called kiddo."

"Sure, thing kiddo." SlICEr0x rolled her eyes before glancing at me. "So, buying or selling?"

I paused.

"Buying." I had eddies. And Runners were the mercurial sort, from what I heard. Just straight up asking questions while not being a paying customer seemed like a bad idea.

"Nova." It was incredible how she could that so deadpan yet still convey sincerity. "I've got some of the better stuff up North. Though if you are looking for real preem shit, then you better pack your bags and head down to Night City."

"That place isn't really on my itinerary." I'd rather avoid the city where getting nuked twice is just another statistic on what a hellhole it is.

"That makes you smarter than most gonk-headed noobs." She tapped her fingers on the table in front of her. "Let me give you some advice for free kiddo. Sometimes knowing less is more, you get it? Eavesdropping is dangerous enough outside the Net but here there are times that ignorance isn't just bliss, it's life itself. So, all that stuff you heard that rando talking about earlier?"

"I don't know what you are talking about." I replied. "I didn't hear anything."

I am a squishy teenager! I am not ready to take on a big corp like Biotechnica. Keep fighting the good fight Sasha! I'll cheer on from the sidelines!

"Good." She straightened up, more focused now that she had a proper customer. "As for my stock, I have some basic components but also a few fully functional Hacks."

Components weren't that useful most of the time, unless you had a bunch of them to compare and build something up and my quick glance confirmed that there wasn't anything particularly interesting.

Still, I decided to buy some. I could think of some uses. Maybe a Quickhack that dumped useless information and wasted an enemies RAM

"What kind of Hacks?" More versions of Ping and Contagion to modify my own wouldn't be bad.

"The usual shit." She shrugged. "Ping, Vehicular control, Breaching Techniques, Reboot Optics, and some other less interesting stuff."

"Contagion?" Unlikely, but it didn't hurt to at least check.

"No way." The vendor laughed. "What do you think this is? Night City? Corpos would be on my ass in no time if I sold that crap, that is Netwatch didn't flatline me in my sleep. Guess I had you pegged right though, noob."

I was glad that in the Net we had control over our avatars because I would have blushed at the light mockery otherwise.

"Different versions?" More important than a specific hack was how that hack functioned.

"A few." The vendor, whose name I realized I still didn't know, admitted. "If you are willing to sell me a copy of any version you may have I'll give you a discount."

Ah yes, the 'give me a discount before telling me the price' technique. I haven't seen that one since my previous life.

"It's fine, I'll take all the versions of Ping that you have and some components."

"Meh, fine." I guess it was not too big of a loss to her. I was obviously new to the Net, so my hacks were unlikely to be anything ridiculous. Though, thinking deeper there was a chance she might think I don't even have other hacks. Well, I wouldn't correct that misconception if it were the case.

"Right, that'll be 10,000 eddies."

10,000 eddies! Bitch please, that wasn't highway robbery; it was grand larceny!

"What the hell?"

"Kidding, I meant 8,567 eddies. Way more reasonable right?" I blinked. "I can even bring it down to 8,566.99 eddies if you want."

Her face was covered, but you don't always need to see something to know. This psycho was smirking.

And so began…the haggling. Emphasis on hag!

Leaving the Net was jarring, more so than entering. Entering Cyberspace is like an expansion of self. Everything just feels so much more. Like you've spent your entire life with this useless weight called the 'body' on you and you were finally free of it.

Leaving the net felt like someone had dumped that weight back on you.

"I really need to sit down."

My body felt like it should be running hotter, but the chair and suit had done their job keeping me cool. I hadn't done anything particularly taxing RAM-wise, so I wasn't overheating or straining the computers.

I had spent quite a bit of time haggling down to a more realistic price. 500 eddies. Expensive considering it was mainly low tier Hacks and some components, but it was better than what I thought I could manage.

Outside of that encounter, I met some of the local NetRunners and got a feel for the climate of the playing field. Seattle was mostly a place of refuge. With Texas turning away refugees, it had become a shining beacon to those who fled the devastation of the Metal Wars. Many Runners staying here was amongst them. Professionally? There were only Biotechnica Netrunners around since they had all but monopolized the region.

While high tier code, QuickHack info, and Breaching strategies were a rarity up here, they were obtainable due to the occasional traffic from Night City. And for all that it was a greedy Corp, Biotechnica didn't care what happened in their backyard if it didn't damage the environment (and thus their prestige) or take too large a cut from their profits.

It was currently 6:23 pm. Mom would be back anytime. While I felt hungry, I could wait for her before chowing down.

Thus, I sat on the couch, turned on the TV for some ambiance, and then used my laptop to work a bit on schoolwork.

School in Cyberpunk was interesting. Math was mostly untouched, though they tried to keep it modern by relating it to coding and the fact that it served as a gateway to NetRunning as a way to bolster grades and their own paychecks as a result.

Science was basically on steroids, with cybernetics and the future of technology already being invested in by Corps. They were always on the lookout for the new path striders of innovation, the next Bartmoss (hopefully less chaotic) or the next Alt Cunningham.

History was the real loaded gun. The masses have all but thrown out anything before the 20th​ century from relevance and Arasaka backed institutions apparently push 21st​ century curriculums Stateside. NUSA, on the other hand, loved harking back to the great Presidents and days of unity with tales of Abraham Lincoln, George Washington, and especially emphasis on how America held together during the Cold War and just how great the old days were.

Thus, which curriculum was pushed was a political landmine. Suffice to say, the History department's budget cuts were the thing of legend. At some point, the less affluent school were just taught by simple AI rather than a poor schmuck they conned into the dead-end position.

I glanced at the TV.

"Watson Whore?" An over-the-top drama. Mom's guilty pleasure. When confronted, she claimed she watched just to ridicule it, but I had my doubts. "Guess I can watch a bit."

To my surprise, it was an engaging show. Slop, no doubt, but still a fun experience. Before I knew it, I was in three episodes deep. The trainwreck that was these moron's lives was entertaining! Too entertaining!

"Net addiction is way easier to fall into in this life." And that was saying something. I glanced at the time. 8:10 pm. Still no Mom. She had been late returning home before her scheduled times before, but always with some notice or warning. Mom was a being of discipline.

At this point, I should probably call. Radio silence this long either means she fell asleep at work or something is wrong.

I was startled by a loud chime. The doorbell. Not Mom then, she had a key and would just enter. Hopefully there was a reasonable explanation. Hopefully it wouldn't be the police coming to inform…deep breaths. Panic won't help anyone. Deep, steady breaths.

I waited for a moment before the second chime echoed. Ignoring the problem probably wouldn't make it go away. It wouldn't change reality if the worst had happened. It wouldn't be right? This was sleepy Seattle. Mom had no reason to make an enemy of Biotechnica and there weren't just gang members or scavs loitering around every corner like in Night City.

Walking up to the door, gun in hand, I readied myself for the worst. If they were bothering to ring, it would likely be safe. But I wasn't going to gamble with my life on 'likely'.

"Hello?"

"Ridiculous translator." A man's voice cursed in Japanese. My concerns about the origin of this threat suddenly skyrocketed.

"Please open the door, Yuto-san." A familiar accented Japanese voice requested. I opened the door, praying that I was dead wrong, because nothing good could come of that man coming here now. Alas, I was not shocked at all to see the still very chromed up visage of Goro Takemura. "We must speak."

"How did you get up here?" I asked, out of a demented sense of curiosity. "I thought you had to be allowed in by someone who lives in the complex."

"Your mother has already given permission." Takemura replied. Not polite, not blunt. Curt. Uncomfortable perhaps? And wow, it really was him. A name character. An important one too. Why the fuck was he here?

The Emperor's Head of Security glanced down at my clothes. Tinkering around had gotten some grime on my old clothes, and I had changed out of my NetRunning suit back into them. "I will give you five minutes. Please…get changed, formal wear please."

I figured that despite being phrased like a request, it was in fact an order. And coming from the Emperor's personal blade, I had a feeling refusing was never in fact an option.

"Alright, I'll be back in a jiffy." Takemura frowned. "By formal, do you mean business-man formal? Like suit and tie? Or Japanese tea-party formal?"

"Do you have a tea-party outfit?" Was that curiosity or irritation I detected?

"No, but I didn't want to show up to one in a suit and tie."

Takemura gave me a look. I wasn't even being snarky here! Arasaka's higher ups were known for being sticklers for tradition, outside of Yorinobu's faction if I was remembering things correctly.

"A suit and tie will be enough." He eventually settled. "Do you have a translator installed?"

"No." This was true. I did not mention that I was fluent in Japanese. He didn't ask, after all.

"Tsk, what a pain." Takemura groaned in Japanese. He said the thing, yare yare daze. "It matters little, hurry and change. We have wasted enough time."

I nodded and went to my room. Cooperation would be better than pointless resistance. Especially since Mom not coming home might have something to do with this. Scratch that, it has something to do with this.

I quickly slipped into the new suit Mom had bought for when we had gone for the Rayfield Expo. It fit snugly though I suspected I might not look all that impressive, being practically fourteen and all.

Once I came out of my room, Takemura quickly got up and directed me outside. A few people peeked out of their doors to see what the commotion was, before swiftly closing their doors at the sight of the Arasaka insignia.

Upon reaching the parking lot, I was greeted by the sight of an AV. If the Rayfield Excalibur released in 2075 was the Caliburn of the airways, than the giant brutish AV in front of me was surely the Hellhound of the skies.

Crashing into a building might harm the building more than the vehicle, a joking thought that was almost immediately confirmed by my intuition.

When the doors opened, I was surprised by the interior. Comfortable leather seats, a refreshment bar, and even a large TV. An armed to the teeth AV with a prestigious interior. Definitely not the default, the sheer incongruence was almost baffling.

"Whose AV is this?" Frankly, I had already suspected since seeing Takemura, but confirmation would be nice.

"You should feel honored." Takemura replied, as we both climbed into our respective seats and the doors closed. "This is Saburo-sama's personal transport. It was offered for use; time is of the essence."

"Would you mind answering a few follow-up questions?" I had a pretty good picture of what was going on, but I needed confirmation. I was being thrown into the deep end of the pool right now and salvaging what little I could was essential.

"That is already one." Was that humor? "You may."

"Arasaka Saburo-sama is my grandfather, right?" There was no other explanation I could think of. I had almost immediately crossed out considering high officials and members of the Arasaka family from potential sperm donors long ago. I couldn't think of any reason to involve the son of an official of an automobile company in this direct of a manner. "Specifically, is Arasaka Yorinobu-sama my father?"

Referencing my elders respectfully was important to Goro's type.

It wasn't that I had never entertained the thought of my father being someone important in the Arasaka hierarchy, it was just that it simply hadn't made sense intellectually. Family, legacy, and power were the things that mattered most to Saburo. Considering how his granddaughter and living son had turned out, there was no way that he would allow another member of his family to grow up outside of his influence. Two rebellious potential heirs were more than enough for him.

"I…" Takemura took a moment, thinking over his words. "Am not sure. Likely so."

"Likely so?" I was a bit stumped there. "You aren't sure?"

This guy was basically welded to Saburo's side. How did he not know?

"A blade does not need to know details to be swung in service of its lord." Takemura returned to that trademark frown of his. "Rest and calm your nerves. We will arrive in Night City soon enough. Excuse me, I must answer a call."

I turned to look out at the screen that had been activated to show outside the AV, likely the predecessor to the Crystal Dome tech that Rayfield was introducing. All the while, I made sure to pay attention to what Takemura said.

"My lord, I have picked up the boy." From the corner of my eye, I could see how the man visibly straightened his posture further once talking. No wonder Saburo trusted the guy so much, this was an obscene level of indoctrination. "We are enroute to the Kujira. No? The construction site? My lord, is such a place appropriate for one such as you? No, I do not doubt your instructions. I will correct our course as you instruct."

There was a pause, I noted while watching how the clouds seemed to blur past us. For such a hulking AV, it was incredibly fast. I wouldn't be surprised if we reached Night City in under an hour.

"Lord Saburo, is the boy…no, I did not speak to him of it." He glanced at me before turning his attention back to the other side of the vehicle. "He put it together himself. Insolent though. Yes, I, it is as you say. I will have a translator picked up for the boy, I know that…as you command."

There was no further noise, meaning that their call was over.

"Yuto-sama." The change in honorifics was all the confirmation I really needed at this point. "I have a question of my own."

Great. Just great. Now my fate was intertwined with the family who made their squabbles everyone else's problem.

I turned to look at the man, who was staring at me intently. What was he going to ask?

"Uh, go ahead." I tapped the side of my chair absentmindedly. "Ask away."

"What does 'jiffy' mean."

I blinked.

"The language of this nation changes so often and so strangely, I struggle to keep up at times." Takemura leaned back into his seat, his stance not quite so tense anymore. "From…the context, I believe it means 'quickly' but I have learned not to be certain with these…new American phrases."

"Actually, its not a new word." Jiffy was a weird word. "Its from the 18th​ century. Colloquially, it was slang for lightning. But I think it had some official, scientific uses too. Some unit of speed based on lightning."

"Ah, a patron of antiquity?" It seemed like Takemura was pleased. "History has fallen out of favor. It is good to see an interest in the traditional roots of your language."

Soon we began to chat about language, me English and he about Japanese and the difficulties of becoming bilingual (something I was aware of). He even provided a few tips on Japanese etiquette.

It was enough to calm my nerves, for a time. I wasn't completely out of control in this situation. Just mostly.

"It is time to wake up." As I woke up from my power nap, I realized that it was rather amusing that the beginning of my birthday and the end was lining up similarly. "We have arrived."

In the outside display, the city was visible beneath us. Glittering and viscerally alive in a way that Seattle simply could not compare to.

Night City. The City of Dreams. Where Legends were born. Where Legends died.

"It really is…something."

"Some advice, do not try the food." Takemura's face scrunched up. "It is revolting."

It only took moments for the City Center to come into view. The Militech building stood proud and affirmed by age. Across the plaza, stood a large construction site. The rebuilding of Arasaka Tower.

"Any advice?" I asked. I was fucked no matter what I did, so at the very least I could make a good impression. I had spent some time accessing the Net for info, but Takemura was a more reliable resource on Saburo Arasaka.

"Listen." Goro replied. "Be respectful and talk when prompted. You are…family. There is no need to fear."

Lies. There was more reason to fear than ever. I was a male descendant and for all I know the guy was pulling an Orochimaru for my body if they ever got the Relic to work.

"Domo arigato." Takemura turned to me surprised, a question almost on his lips. "It is a very famous phrase. Like gesundheit or sayonara."

Technically correct. The best kind of correct.

"I see." The bodyguard nodded, before looking to his side. "We have landed."

Opening the door for me, I was greeted with the top floor of the still under construction Arasaka Tower. Equipment was left alone and sheets covered where the building construction was still progressing.

But my attention was on the slightly slumped figure standing near the edge overlooking the plaza, wearing tradition Japanese robes. There was shockingly little in the way of cybernetics on him.

Saburo Arasaka.

"Leave us Takemura."

"Lord Saburo!" The man in question hissed. "I have been away long enough. I have not even assessed the safety of-"

"Must I fear for my life even in one of the centers of my own power?" All the while, his gaze remained outward. "It was not a request, Takemura. Stretch your legs outside, out of range. I wish to talk with my newfound grandson."

With reluctance, Takemura turned and walked back towards the AV, entering it and taking off almost immediately after.

I walked slightly closer and performed a traditional Japanese bow, based on my Net surfing while in the AV.

"Come closer." I almost reflexively did so until I realize the man was speaking in Japanese. Which meant he likely knew about my knowledge of Japanese already. Fooling Takemura was already a miracle, I suppose. "You did well in wielding information to learn more. But unlike Takemura, I have already read the file we have amassed on you. Please come closer, I am an old man. I wouldn't like to strain my throat."

I walked up to his side, standing straight.

"Your mother is fine." He answered before I even asked. "She is with my daughter. A good woman, that one. A surprise, certainly. My son tends to have poor taste and poor impulse control. This time, it was merely the latter. You are a credit to her parenting; I was expecting a gaijin in all but blood but receive a grandson who still has roots to his ancestors."

"Ojiisan, what future do you intend for me?" This man was not Takemura. I didn't have a chance at winning a verbal joust with him. Better to just cut straight to the point.

"I wield great power, but not even I can decide for certain what your future will be." Saburo turned, smiling. "But if you mean in terms of what I intend, I will be bringing you to Tokyo with me. Fortune smiled upon us in not corrupting you with NUSA's nonsense, but I will not give them more opportunities than they have already received."

"But what of my Okaasan?"

"Worry not, she may still visit you and you her." My grandfather said, calmly. "We have already made a deal with her employers. She will be busy for quite some time. That said, I do not intend to keep you in the homeland forever. A diamond is not made in comfort and safety, but under pressure and heat. And what greater forge is there than this accursed city."

All roads led to Night City.

"You are clever boy, but do not think you can hide from me." The Emperor turned, looking me in the eye. He was a relatively small man, but somehow even though he was slightly shorter than I was, it seemed like he was gazing down at me. Judging. "You bend your head now, but the flames of ambition burn brightly in your eyes."

I felt my mouth dry.

"This is a good thing." The old man laughed. "Compliance is for subordinates. If you wish to not merely survive in this family, ambition is a necessity. Tempered with caution and wisdom, of course. I will not lie. You will be granted unmatched privilege and power as an Arasaka, but the chains of duty that come with it are just as great. If you seek the freedom to choose your course, then rise to the top."

I understood. It was as I feared. This was no fair game from the get-go. I had started in checkmate.

"The obstacles are great." I said, softly. "Aunt Hanako, Cousin Michiko, and of course…father."

"Anything worth having will present obstacles." Saburo scoffed. "Any who say differently are liars, cheats, or fools."

"It as you say." This guy was something else, but I didn't think he was wrong.

"You listen well, if only your father could do the same." He sighed. "Is your cunning from your mother? Or did it simply skip a generation in your father?"

"Both, perhaps?" I ventured. My reward was a barking laugh.

"You have met my expectations and surpassed them, for the moment." Saburo turned back to look out toward the skyline. The last bit of sun having already set and revealing Night City in its truest form. A blazing light in the darkness of the Badlands. "I hope you will continue to do so in the future. Two of my blood have already disappointed me so much, I do not think I could take a third. Make your mother proud."

He didn't spell the threat out.

"What do you think of the view?" He asked, after letting his words sink in. I looked at the towering buildings of the City Plaza.

The most glaring thing was the towering Militech building.

"Unsightly."

Grandfather did not say anything. But his grin spoke for him. We stood and watched the bustle of the city in silence.

Almost absent mindedly, I noticed that it was already passed 10:00 pm. There was no 'practically' about it anymore. I was now fourteen years old.

"Happy birthday, Arasaka Yuto."