Jesus Christ, it’s really him… Yorinobu Arasaka himself… I… I don’t know what to say… I simply stood there, stunned to pure, utter silence. The balls on this man to show up, without any protection… I could just as easily strangle him. Right here, right now… I certainly had the adrenaline for it…

  “V, Yorinobu Arasaka,” Scars nudged me a little, “Yorinobu, meet Sarg– ahem… Captain Valerie Tokai, better known as V.”

  “Retired,” I humbly bowed before him while maintaining eye contact at all times, “Though not of my own volition… Sir.”

  “Pff, sir,” he scoffed, “And you are the one who stole the Relic… Tell me, what is it that my sister wanted from you? I know you were in a meeting with her.”

  “I was in a meeting with her,” I nodded courteously, “Though I apparently wasn’t the first to steal the Relic. Nor was I the one who committed patricide.”

  “Mm, I expected nothing less of a samurai,” he grumbled, “Loyal to a fault. Did you even know what it was that you were stealing? Or did you just do it for the money, the glory, or some equally selfish reason?”

  “No, hang on,” I stopped him, “Is that what you think of me? Of samurai in general?”

  “In a word, yes,” Yorinobu said bluntly, “I know the biochip is active – Hanako told me everything. I know you must be desperate. And I suspect that’s why you risked kidnapping her. My question is simple: Why did she wish to speak with you in the motel?”

  “Hmmh…” I grumbled, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow, “If she told you everything, then you wouldn’t be here. So I’m guessing your little feud is in full-swing again?”

  “I knew this was a waste of time…” he hissed, “Fine–”

  “She spoke to me about the Relic,” I quickly interjected as he began to walk back to his car, stopping him dead in his tracks. “She wants it back. Why, I don’t know. It has the engram of Johnny Silverhand on it, and it’s partially corrupted at any rate. Which tells me that she has some ulterior motive to use it for some other purpose, though it isn’t my concern, since the second she retrieves it I’m dead anyway.”

  “Mm,” he rotated around to face me again, “And is that why she is hunting you now?”

  “She’s hunting me now because I lied to her,” I explained frankly, “I told her I would consider working with her, then drove across the city here once I had enough of her trust to make it through without being detected. I have no interest in her schemes, merely survival, and I don’t trust her to honor that.”

  “Heh, honor, a term this family left behind long ago…” he scuffed his nose at me and looked away, “Whatever.”

  “Hey, I gotta get back. Will you be okay?” Scars asked me, her radio pinging her.

  “Hm? Oh, yeah, I’ll be fine,” I told her with a smile, “Thanks.”

  “Sure thing, Sarge,” she cracked a slight smile in return, something I rarely saw in our service, that’s for sure. “I’ll be in touch.” Naira went up to the crow’s nest to collect her rifle, leaving me alone with Yorinobu, still staring dead at me.

  “Out of curiosity,” I asked him, “Why did you steal the Relic?”

  Yorinobu simply rolled his eyes and grunted pensively. “You tell me – why do you think I stole it?”

  “Hmm…” I thought out-loud, Yorinobu waiting patiently for my reply, “Well it’s not for the money, that’s for sure. At the time, I believe I thought that you wanted to steal it to get back at your father for some slight he caused you. Then you impulsively decided to strangle him, promoting yourself to CEO in the process. Unless you planned this whole thing as a lure to get him to meet with you. But I doubt that as well, seeing as you were the one who split off from the family, not the other way around. In either case, the Relic would’ve been yours when you became CEO anyway, meaning all of this was for nothing regardless since you could’ve just taken it. Either steal it and hock the thing to NetWatch or kill the Emperor, but both is just wasted effort,” I shrugged, “Personally, I think you’re a short-sighted, petulant idiot for killing him. But not for stealing the Relic.”

  “Short-sighted…” he muttered, “I will say this only once. When I came of age, my father revealed to me the true nature of Arasaka Corporation. The Soulkiller project, the Relic, his intentions for him – for us. And it disgusted me. It disgusted me so much, that I have waged war on his ideals for nearly seven decades. Seven decades. Do you have any concept of such a timescale? I have gathered and lost allies, friends, and much more in that time. I have unveiled truths and crushed many legacies. I bore witness to the other side of the evils of my father’s empire, the other end of the veil he cast over Japan and its people. And I have dedicated all of my adult life to lifting this veil, to restoring Japan to a time when she was above such lofty, grandiose ambitions as conquest at any cost. This corporation has grown bloated, decadent, and monstrous, and I have dedicated my life to crushing the sad, pathetic outgrowths it spawns. People just like you. People who have supported and prosecuted this legacy around the world. And you have the nerve to call me short-sighted… Bah.”

  I… I was stunned. Simply and utterly stunned. My mouth hung slightly open as my brain reset itself, trying to comprehend all of this… “Holy shit, Johnny…” I thought out-loud, “He’s literally you. But with money.”

  Johnny crossed his arms with pure, seething contempt. “Fuck that – oh, fuck you, V, what the fuck are you doing, don’t you dare–”

  “Yorinobu,” I held out my hand, “I believe I was mistaken. My apologies.”

  “Mmh,” he gazed at me dismissively for a solid five or six seconds, saying absolutely nothing – just studying me like a book. “And how do you see the Relic?”

  I retracted my hand, glaring over at Johnny. Just be honest. “I see it as an abomination of science. A device designed for a singular purpose – to ensure the rule of one man for generations. Its advancement threatens to render the concepts of life and death utterly meaningless. The commercial models are nothing more than facsimiles masquerading as life, and the model I have contains a mind with no body nor soul. It’s a perversion of humanity. And, to tell you the truth, I stole it with the express desire to destroy it after I confirmed its contents.”

  “Yet you placed it in your neck,” Yorinobu noted, “Why?”

  “I didn’t,” I corrected him, “My brother did. It was his dying wish that I took care of the Relic, and so I’m compelled to honor his request. But, all else being equal, it being in my neck also means that nobody else may take it for as long as I live.”

  Yorinobu simply stared at me, eyeballing the device in my neck with an unblinking, formidable gaze. “And you would die with its secrets?”

  “Gladly,” I told him bluntly, “This device should never see the light of day. I would sooner kill myself, and it along with me, than let it fall into the hands of the enemy. Nevertheless, I must honor my brother’s request until that day comes.”

  “Mmm…” he muttered to himself, pacing around a bit, “Walk with me.”

  I caught up to him as he slowly mulled around the abandoned taxiway, hands in his pockets and face sullen. His expression painted a far clearer portrait than the press – this was a man utterly crushed beneath the weight of decades of fighting. Decades of waging a silent, unsung war against his very own family. He looked real. Honest. I had him completely wrong this whole time…

  “I imagine what is taught in Arasaka Academy concerning me isn’t particularly flattering,” he said gruffly.

  “Not particularly,” I admitted to him, “Though I wouldn’t really know, I didn’t actually graduate.”

  “Tch, no wonder you speak with your heart so eagerly,” he said with a slight chuckle, “A rare trait among samurai.”

  “I’m guessing you did your homework regarding my history as well?”

  “To an extent,” he said frankly, his gruff voice mellowing out somewhat, “Naira spoke of you, your history with the corporation. She told me that you are a samurai, which I confirmed with the parade footage. No mercenary wields a sword like yours without being noticed, certainly not to your degree of proficiency.”

  “Mm, Shinden,” I told him, “It was my ancestral sword.”

  He suddenly paused and looked at me condescendingly, almost in disbelief. “And you used it in battle?”

  “I did,” I nodded meekly, “I always believed it kept me safe.”

  “Weapons obey the wielder, not the other way around,” he said matter-of-factly, “A lesson you learned the hard way.”

  “I always saw it as a dialogue,” I explained to him, “A dance, I suppose. One in which the sword and the wielder communicate with one another, inform each other of their intentions.”

  “Hm. And what was your sword’s intentions?”

  “Mine…” I thought carefully for a few seconds, “I think it just wanted to protect me. However it could.”

  “A philosophy which cost your blade its life,” he frowned pensively, “I am sorry for your loss.”

  “Mm…” I hummed to myself as we continued walking. The haze surrounding the city blocked out every star in the night sky – it seems tonight was particularly humid and cool. “I should ask… You know I will not give up the Relic. You know your sister’s agenda with me. Then what’s the purpose of this meeting?”

  “Simple,” his voice turned rugged and firm again, “I wished to know if you are an enemy.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  “And do you?”

  “You trained in counterintelligence, no?” he retorted, “Hokkaido. Benkei Island. Your years under us. You know better than to presume absolutes in terms of enemy or friend.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” he shook his head, “Do you know why Johnny Silverhand is on the Relic in your head?”

  Johnny suddenly appeared beside him, apparently just as riveted as I was. “Oh, I wanna hear this…” he grumbled.

  “Because you saw yourself in Johnny?” I questioned, “A man willing to sacrifice everything to raise Hell against corporate injustice. Someone just as unhinged and impulsive, but also just as desperate for freedom as you.”

  “In a way, we were both born to servitude,” he explained to me, “Johnny Silverhand grew up in a small city in Texas, indoctrinated to fight a war that was not his. Abandoned by a country that found people like him repulsive. I grew up wanting for nothing, answering to nothing. But when my father showed me the true colors of Arasaka Corporation, I knew exactly what betrayal felt like. My father wished to transcend humanity. He believed his own agenda so blindly that he would even sacrifice me to get his way…”

  “…He wanted to soulkill you.”

  “Do you believe in fate, Captain?” he asked me.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Fate. Predeterminism.”

  “I… I believe in a purpose,” I answered with some thought, “I believe that everyone lives and dies for some purpose."

  "What is yours?" he stopped and stared straight at me.

  "What my purpose is- uh – I don’t know. I don't believe anyone really has a choice in what their purpose is. I just hope mine will mean something positive. I suppose I want for my purpose to have made the world a better place than the one I joined when I was born.”

  “Have you?”

  “Have I… fulfilled my purpose?” I glanced down at the ground, deeply uncomfortable talking this much about my beliefs, “I… no. No, I haven’t. I believe that the Universe won’t allow me to die before I fulfill it.”

  “How I wish that was the case,” he rolled his eyes, “It’s more accurate to say that my father raised me as a continuation of his purpose, to use your language. If I was not to be the successor he groomed me to be, he’d put me on my knees and make me,” he hissed, “Not many know such pain, let alone how to articulate it – plan around it.”

  “But Johnny did… You believed that Johnny would be your ally… Vis-à-vis, us,” I muttered.

  “Wars are fought with soldiers, Captain,” his eyes focused towards Night City’s skyline, “But no. That isn’t why I loaded Johnny Silverhand onto the Relic.”

  “Oh? So then why did you?”

  “I’ve seen the fear my father’s eyes cast into his followers. The blind, utter devotion and fealty the resurrected samurai pay, pushing his agenda to every corner on Earth. He gave birth to me when he was 76 years old – not out of love, but through pure obligation. He later had a daughter. My sister, Hanako, whom he groomed to bear his successor. He would’ve used us to ensure his lasting reign for generations to come… He was a monster. Johnny Silverhand… his bomb was misplaced,” he looked away, incidentally at Johnny’s engram, “He destroyed some towers, and a handful of projects. But he failed to destroy Arasaka. As long as my father was alive, so too was his legacy. A new bomb was needed – one that targeted Arasaka’s heart.”

  “But… you succeeded, then,” I replied with confusion, “The Emperor is dead. By your hand. And you’re the CEO – why do you need me, or Johnny, for that matter?”

  Yorinobu continued pacing around a bit, deliberating the answer in his head. “I love my sister very much. We may have been raised out of function, and she may view my father’s work with absolute reverence. But I still want the best for her. And I know that she will never be free as long as the heart of this corporation is still beating…” he turned to me with a scowl on his face, “I wasn’t sure what I would find when I came here. I will be direct - I want you and Silverhand to help me. Silverhand’s original mission was to destroy Mikoshi and the Arasaka infrastructure. My mission is to cripple their leadership.”

  “A new team…” I muttered, “You want me to assault Arasaka Tower.”

  “Do that, and I’ll give you your freedom,” he said definitively.

  “No trail to trace back to me if the database is gone…” I muttered, “That… just might work.”

  “Mm,” he held out his hand to me this time, and I eagerly accepted.

  “As for your other problem, the one simmering in your head – I don’t see how I can help you with the Relic,” he confessed to me with a frown.

  “I figured,” I sighed slightly, not disappointed but at least grateful of his admission, "But thanks. I'd rather not be bullshitted by more people, so it's somewhat refreshing to hear."

  “But you mentioned a sense of ‘purpose’ to me – hopefully this action will provide one for you.” He casually lit up a hand-rolled cigarette he retrieved from his pocket like it was no big deal and tobacco still grown on trees.

  “I suppose,” I nodded, albeit slightly pensively, “I appreciate the honesty. It… wasn’t what I was expecting when I saw you get out of the car.”

  “That’s one common factor most samurai share – we are full of surprises,” he grinned, “Though I don’t see many surprises in your future without your sword. What are your plans?”

  “For getting a new one?” I asked, followed by a gentle nod from Yorinobu as he and I walked together, “I’ll be honest, I… I don’t think I really processed losing mine just yet… I… I don’t know. I can get it reforged, but the gods only know how long that will take.”

  “I believe you stole something else that night as well,” he said between puffs, glaring at me with a side-eye, “My ancestral blade.”

  “Hm…? Oh!” I rocked back a little, “I’m sorry, I didn’t use it much… It was kind of an emergency, so I used whatever was to hand…”

  “Heh, I found it amusing,” he smiled at me, “And your use of my Patriot.”

  “Your what?”

  “The… rifle you carried.”

  “Rifl– Oh, wait, the cut-down AR-15 thing?” I said with a slight laughter, “Hah, I found it and just figured I would use it - didn't have much of a choice at the time. It was a gun that was loaded. I kept it for an emergency – it’s actually inside the hangar, tucked underneath the mattress.”

  “Hmph, I’ll bear that in mind,” he snickered, seemingly totally bemused by me using what’re ostensibly gimmick weapons of his, “But that still leaves the question of what you plan to do with your sword.”

  “Well…” I thought to myself, “I think it’s done. Not dead… just… done. It’s given me everything and more, and… and I think it’s time for me to retire it. I could reforge it into a tanto, but I feel like that would be a disservice… It’s tired, scarred, and content with that. And I would never ask any more of it.”

  “Mm, then I suppose you will be needing a new weapon entirely,” he said with an inquisitive tone, “Any idea of what you would like?”

  “Not particularly,” I humbly admitted, “I’ve not really considered it as a necessity. Though I do have other swords at home.”

  “Like mine?” he quipped.

  “Like yours… apologies.”

  “Hmph… come here,” Yorinobu said, beckoning me to the front end of his car. “You can place my sword with any other equipment you stole in the hangar. I will send someone to collect it. As for you…” he opened the trunk with a button press on his key fob, “I believe this will be to your taste.”

  The front trunk opened to reveal… a regular katana. A black, standard-issue, single-piece polymer katana… “I’m sorry… am I missing something?” I asked him incredulously, peering at the weapon which looked, to my eye, no different than any ordinary sword. “I-I mean, thank you very much." Was this a joke? He's giving me a sword that I can buy at any market stall for like 500 eddies. Arasaka stamps these out of polymer by the dozen.

  “Go on, get it out of my car, would you kindly.”

  I didn’t want to, yet I felt compelled to do so. I guess he didn't exactly owe me anything, anyw– wait. Wait…

  The sword… It just… changed colors? No… no, the entire goddamn thing changed?! “What the– what just happened?!” I stammered, impulsively dropping the sword. It instantly reverted back to its normal appearance as soon as I let go… “Is… does it have optical camouflage?!”

  “Among other things,” he told me, leaning up against the car’s trunk, “It is a prototype thermal katana. Arasaka Corporation developed it as an anti-materiel sword – a device capable of penetrating hardened ceramic plates, infrastructure, light vehicles. Only two prototypes exist.”

  A thermal katana… these things are disgustingly rare. They were made illegal after the Fourth, owing to its terrifying wounds. And that's not to mention how absurdly complicated they were to produce at all. Only a handful are known to even exist, much less one like this…

  I… I didn’t know what to say… I held out my hand and gingerly grabbed it and– wow… Wow. I can… I can feel it. In a… a very literal sense… Wait, what the hell?! “H-how is this possible?!” I stammered, “I can physically feel the sword… What is this?!” It changed colors again, taking on a black-on-white scheme… the same colors as Shinden, down to a tee. It was gorgeous… the glossy black shining in the darkness with a near-perfect sheen, as if the sword was made from the wood of a grand piano…

  "You like it?"

  The sensation was… I couldn't even begin to describe it… I could feel the air. The gentle winds hitting the blade. A deep, hidden warmth inside. It felt like I was in a dream, or a trance, I don't know… "It… feels like nothing I've ever imagined in my wildest dreams…" I mumbled, mouth thoroughly agape.

  The balance was absolutely perfect – it felt heavy, yet it swung so utterly effortlessly, as if it was guiding itself through the wind. “And the project documentation,” he continued, handing me a shard, “On here contains the weapon’s functions, schematics, and the complete project history.”

  I studied the case he gave me, noting the name immediately. “Vega Arms Izanami Version 0.1… Hm… And the other prototype being Izanagi?”

  “You studied your mythology well,” Yorinobu nodded.

  Standing there with an incredulous look painted on my face, I had a million questions on my mind, though one stood out in particular. “Why are you giving me this…?”

  “Consider this an advance payment for your services,” Yorinobu said, walking back to the car, “We will speak again.”

  I simply stared deeply at this object of fascination, utterly transfixed by it as he drove off… I heard rumors that thermal katanas were still floating around, but thought it was always just hearsay over a fire… Whispers of a 'dream weapon,' as we used to imagine. Something that seemingly fell from the Heavens and landed here, never to be picked up by mere mortals.

  My mind raced with possibilities. How does it work? What powers it? How does it know what my colors are? If it changes colors based on its owner, can it… read my thoughts? And why won't the heating element turn on? I guess I have plenty of time to find out…

  I suppose there’s a certain romanticism to take into account when discussing a sword capable of punching through ceramic armor. I probably shouldn’t have been surprised that someone built something like this… Something that could quietly and swiftly cut through hydraulic lines, send electric shocks into computer terminals, whatever else. A perfect infiltration and close-quarters weapon. Swords have had difficulty in keeping up with modern cyberware for obvious reasons, going back to being style over substance much of the time… But this… This is something else. Purely, utterly functional, in appearance and usage…

  An anti-materiel sword… I couldn’t believe I was actually holding it. And it felt good… It was warm in my hand… And it seemed to be vibrating, ever so subtly… like it was alive. I had never seen anything like it. I doubt that all but a handful of people ever have… This was, without question, the finest instrument I have held in my life, and likely the finest I will ever hold. Heh, I bet Jackie would love it, too…

  “Ironic,” Johnny chimed in, “A thermal katana for the woman afraid of fire. Guess Shinden’s takin’ its vengeance out on you after all.”

  “Welcome back, Johnny,” I replied with a massive grin on my face, “Oh, I like this…”

  “Yeah, judgin' from the wet spot in your pants, I can see that – now, if you’re done creaming yourself, should probably stop by Vik’s. Get your tech fixed up.”

  “True,” I conceded, “And maybe he can take a closer look at this sword as well.”

  “Fuck’s he gonna do? He’s a ripperdoc.”

  “I won’t know unless I ask him, will I?” I shrugged, glancing back down at the weapon gleaming in my hands… “Mmm… Izanami… a fitting name…”

  “The woman-who-invites?” Johnny directly translated.

  “It’s a Shinto thing,” I replied softly, cradling the weapon in my hands, “The story goes that Izanami gave birth to many kami. She is the goddess of both life and death… the latter she earned after giving birth to her final son, Kagutsuchi, the ‘Incarnation of Fire.’ He was born on fire, scorching her from the inside out, killing her. Izanagi, her brother - he was so enraged that he dismembered Kagutsuchi, scattering his parts across the lands, and those parts became volcanoes…” I whipped the sword around, effortlessly sailing it through the air… A scorched goddess trapped in Yomi, the land of the dead, impossible to find in the shadows… I could not think of a more fitting name. “I don’t know about this…”

  “What’s there to question? You need a sword, there’s a sword - and a damn good one at that. Say whatcha want about 'Saka, they know how to make a blade. And it’ll probably be a helluva lot better at killing than Shinden ever was.”

  “Yeah, it just feels… wrong,” I muttered, gently touching the blade… Man, it feels weird… to touch a body part that isn’t mine, and to feel it… It’s sensitive… tingly.

  “Look, you always saw your sword as housing your family’s legacy, right?” Johnny interrupted my train of thought, “So just think – new sword, new legacy, that’s all.”

  “New sword, new legacy…” I repeated, “Hm… That’s… surprisingly poignant… thanks– G-UH!”

  “V?” Johnny stammered as I dropped Izanami and suddenly collapsed to the ground… “Fuck, it’s a bad one…”

  “GGNNAHH!” I could… could see his hand… N-no… Johnny… My… my head… I c-can’t feel anything, except… pulsating… pain… “J-Johnny…!”

  “Don’t worry, V,” he reached down to grab me, “I got ya.”