"No worries, Old Vic, I know my body better than anyone."
Riku cut off Old Vic before he could go on, noticing Jack Welles giving him a look like he was some kind of uchūjin (alien). Honestly, as a transmigrator from another world, being called an uchūjin wasn't exactly wrong—his home planet was technically "out there" in the cosmic sense.
"You sure about this, kid? Once the knife goes in, there's no turning back."
Old Vic, ever the responsible gizumo ishi (cybernetic doctor), double-checked with Riku, his tone serious.
"I'm good, Old Vic."
Riku flashed a thumbs-up. Others might regret it, but him? He had a few tricks up his sleeve.
Old Vic's mouth twitched. This was a first. Usually, he was the one reassuring patients, but now the tables had turned—Riku was the one acting like a cool-headed shonen hero.
"Alright, let's do this. First, some anesthesia."
Seeing Riku's unwavering confidence, Old Vic didn't push further. He'd laid out the risks, but Riku was insistent.
"Nah, no need for anesthesia."
Riku threw another curveball right at the first step.
He had no choice. If he got knocked out with anesthesia, what if he couldn't control his flesh? His ability to install gizumo (cyberware) hinged on consciously keeping his regenerative powers in check, preventing his body from instantly healing the surgical wounds.
"This…"
Old Vic was dumbfounded. A patient refusing anesthesia for a gizumo implant? That was a new one.
"Choom, don't mess around," Jack Welles chimed in, equally baffled. Riku's request was straight-up yabai (crazy). "You skip the drugs, and when you're screaming in pain mid-surgery, what's the doc supposed to do?"
"Trust me, I know my body," Riku repeated, sticking to his guns. Some things couldn't be explained—trying would only make it more complicated, like unraveling a bad isekai plot.
"...Fine."
Old Vic thought it over and nodded. Worst case, if Riku started thrashing, he could always administer the anesthesia later. He grabbed a syringe, injecting himself with a stabilizer to steady his hands for the delicate, manual surgery.
"Here we go."
Old Vic gave a heads-up, then got to work, his scalpel slicing cleanly.
Riku didn't flinch, his face a mask of calm. This level of pain? Child's play. From the moment he'd started devouring himself, pain had become a constant companion—like a rival in a shonen arc. He had to get used to it.
"Hiss~"
Jack Welles gritted his teeth. Even he had never seen someone take a brain-machine interface implant without anesthesia. That was some next-level guts!
"You really don't feel that? Or what, uchūjin don't have pain receptors?" Jack couldn't hold back, blurting out his burning question.
"Shut it, I'm not an uchūjin," Riku growled through clenched teeth, shooting Jack a glare.
Asking if it hurt? What a dumb question. Of course it hurt! Riku wasn't some numb cyborg who'd lost all sensation. If he let his regeneration kick in, the pain would be gone in a flash, but he was deliberately holding it back.
"Ha! Knew it couldn't not hurt. You're just sitting there playing tough guy, huh?" Jack grinned, catching Riku's gritted-teeth response. So the guy did feel pain—just hiding it like a stoic samurai.
Riku rolled his eyes and shut them, too done with Jack to bother replying.
He focused on Old Vic's movements, feeling every cut and adjustment. It wasn't until Old Vic injected a healing agent that Riku finally relaxed his grip on his regenerative powers. The agent's "healing" energy seeped into him, signaling the surgery was nearly done.
The small incision closed up neatly around the brain-machine interface, sealing it perfectly.
"How's it feel? Anything off?" Old Vic asked as he wrapped up. A basic procedure like this was routine in Night City—quick and clean.
"Hm? Nothing, really."
Riku was honest. Aside from the faint sensation of a foreign object in his head, he felt… normal.
"Of course. You haven't slotted a chip yet. Also, you'll need a gizumo me (cybernetic eye). Pick a model."
Old Vic said it like it was obvious. A brain interface without a display was like a gaming rig without a monitor.
"Uh…"
Riku froze. He'd already checked with Jack— a basic brain-machine interface was dirt cheap, just within his budget. But a gizumo me? Even the cheapest model was out of his price range.
"Go for it, choom. Don't hold back on my account, my uchūjin friend," Jack teased, catching the broke look on Riku's face. He knew that expression all too well—hero or not, eddies didn't grow on trees.
"Thanks, Jack. I'll pay you back. How about I work your next job for free?" Riku didn't shy away from the offer. He was confident he could earn enough to cover a gizumo me eventually.
"Psh, don't say that, choom. I'm not that kinda guy," Jack said, waving it off with a laugh. Letting Riku work for free? Nah, that wasn't his style. It wasn't about the eddies—it was about nakama principles.
"Jack's a solid guy. Never lets you down," Old Vic added, glancing at Riku.
"I know. He and Mrs. Welles have helped this gaijin (outsider) a ton," Riku said with a nod, picking the cheapest gizumo me available—a no-name brand he'd never even heard of.
"Nah, hold up. Go with this one instead. I'll charge you the cheapo price—call it a welcome gift for a new friend," Old Vic said, shaking his head. He swapped out the junk model for a Kiroshi Optics Type-1, a solid mid-tier option—not the white-tier trash players scoffed at in the game.
"Not bad, Old Vic! Kiroshi's high-end stuff!" Jack hyped, grinning. Kiroshi Optics were legit—not some bargain-bin gear nobody wanted.
"All 'cause of you, Jack," Old Vic said with a smirk. He wouldn't hand out deals like this to just anyone—it was Jack's vouch that sealed it.
"Thanks, Old Vic. I'll pay you back full price," Riku said, accepting the offer. What's a little more debt? Might as well go big if he was already in the hole. Night City had a way of teaching you how cyberpunks racked up those sky-high debts.
"So? Anesthesia this time? And how many eyes we swapping—one, two, or… three?" Old Vic asked, his expression half-amused, half-baffled. These were questions he'd never thought he'd ask in his career.