Saburo Arasaka. Karl had read extensively about him, but this was the first time he saw the man in person. And his first impression? Old. Wr
Saburo Arasaka.
Karl had read extensively about him, but this was the first time he saw the man in person.
And his first impression?
Old.
Wrinkled flesh, a face marked with liver spots, skin hanging like dry bark from his cheeks—he looked like a walking corpse.
Of course, Karl admitted to himself that this first impression was deeply biased.
Saburo Arasaka had an entire medical team managing his body. Every part of him, every organ, was constantly monitored by more than a dozen specialized doctors. By all accounts, his overall condition was strong enough to last another decade. His eyes, in particular, retained a sharpness—like blades—that pierced right through people.
But Karl couldn't shake the prejudice.
A surviving relic of imperialist Japan, a man who nearly committed seppuku during World War II—how could Karl possibly look at him without disgust?
Even back in the day, he would've seen someone like this as a fossil from another era. Not vomiting at the sight was restraint on Karl's part.
Karl never judged anyone by nationality. He was friends with Oliver, an all-American Stars-and-Stripes kind of guy, and even with Senno Arasaka, a Japanese heir. Nationality didn't matter to him.
Ideology did.
And Saburo Arasaka embodied everything Karl loathed: rigid, fascist, archaic trash.
After just two glances, Karl averted his eyes.
Compared to him, it was Goro Takemura who drew Karl's focus.
Unlike their previous meeting aboard the White Whale, this Takemura radiated a state of heightened alert. His cyberware was fully active—his every movement oozed lethal intent. One glance was all it took for Takemura to lock onto him.
Their eyes met—Takemura's cyberoptics glowing red. Karl felt it: a blade against his throat. One twitch and it would cut deep.
"Now this is thrilling."
Goosebumps spread over Karl's skin. Takemura's mere gaze had triggered his combat instincts. His body had entered fight mode.
Could I take him down right now?
Karl calculated quickly.
No. There was no way to finish it fast—unless V and the others joined in. But that would create too much noise.
He dropped the idea of attacking and stuck to Senno's plan.
His body, once tensed, relaxed in an instant.
From Takemura's perspective, Karl had merely flinched for a moment—then looked back at him and smiled.
A smile?
Takemura had come prepared for war. He'd remained in a combat-ready state since arrival.
Hovering above Konpeki Plaza were eight AVs, each carrying five members of Arasaka's Black Ops Ninjas.
If Karl's crew—mercs hired by Senno—made a move, Takemura could summon backup in seconds.
His cyberware was fully optimized for protecting Saburo Arasaka. Takemura was confident he could hold them off long enough for the reinforcements to descend.
But despite his threatening posture, Karl had shown only a brief flash of intent—then backed off.
That unsettled Takemura.
Why?
Was Senno—the thief who stole from Saburo—too scared to resist now?
Had the KK Squad backed off at the sight of Saburo's arrival?
While Takemura puzzled over it, Saburo looked at his son and spoke.
His voice held absolute authority:
"Let us speak alone."
The words had barely left his mouth when Takemura snapped his head around. He looked at Senno and hesitated.
"Arasaka-sama, but—"
"He is my son."
After a moment's pause, Takemura asked, "Then... should I recover the item?"
"Leave it to me. You may go."
"Yes, sir."
Takemura had no choice. He bowed—a full ninety degrees—then headed toward the elevator.
He already knew the layout of the suite better than most residents. Finding the elevator was no issue.
As he reached the doors, Karl and the others exchanged glances—and looked at Senno.
Still seated, Senno turned to them.
They met eyes.
Senno gave a small nod.
"You guys go. Leave this to me."
No words were needed. The message was clear.
He would face Saburo Arasaka alone.
That had always been the plan.
V nodded. One hand resting lightly on the hilt of his katana, he stepped forward. Calm and focused, he moved to stand beside Takemura, eyes studying the bodyguard.
Clearly, he intended to ride the elevator with Takemura—and keep close watch.
Jackie and Oliver followed suit, flanking him from left, right, and behind. Takemura was boxed in.
In response, Takemura placed a hand near his waist.
Both sides were on edge.
As V and the others moved, Karl rose as well, preparing to follow them into the elevator.
But just as he took a step—
A voice called out.
Saburo Arasaka.
"You stay."
His tone was calm.
But what came next froze Karl in place.
"Karl."
Not KK.
Karl.
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🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
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