A bright moon hung high.
With a final roar, the floating vector engine fell silent. Stepping out of the vehicle, Vela followed behind Shintaro Takayama, crossing the single-eaved, hip-and-gable-style traditional gate at a calm and steady pace. They walked along the cobbled path of blue stone bricks, through a cherry blossom grove and a landscaped rock garden, arriving at the main residence of the Arasaka Family Compound.
"Ro-su ju-kan."
Ah, that dreadful clumsy accent.
But still, once you got used to it, it had a certain charm.
Activating her language plugin's tone-correction module, Vela turned slightly. "Takemura-kun," she greeted the loyal black-clad bodyguard, Goro Takemura, approaching her in his usual attire. Behind him stood another familiar figure, the suavely styled Sandayu Oda, with his angled fringe and identical black ensemble.
All familiar faces.
Sandayu Oda gave a slight bow. "Director Russell."
"Oda-dono," Vela returned the gesture, striking a perfect balance of courtesy.
Compared to Takemura, she was clearly more reserved, but Oda didn't mind. He nodded coldly and stepped aside, returning to his habitual patrol around the main residence.
From the corner of her eye, Vela glanced at his retreating figure.
The cyber-ninjas secretly trained by Arasaka were certainly professional.
Like Takemura, Sandayu Oda was the loyal bodyguard type. In his eyes, only Hanako Arasaka existed as his protection target—even Saburo's safety was ranked lower. After months of interactions, Vela was fairly sure he had zero interest in the power struggles or personal gains among Arasaka's leadership.
Soon, Takayama and Vela entered the main residence. New Year's decorations like kadomatsu and shimenawa had already been set up by the attendants. Since the Meiji Restoration, Japan's New Year had shifted to the Gregorian calendar—January 1st each year.
Clearly, Saburo Arasaka was hosting a small-scale New Year's Eve ritual.
Such ceremonial cultural displays had become increasingly rare by 2076.
Whether people wanted to celebrate was one thing—whether they could was another.
In a cyberpunk world of year-round work and chronic overtime, terms like "holiday," "early rest," or "leisure" were a luxury beyond reach for most.
The banquet was intimate in scale. Upon arrival, Vela was led away by the compound's hereditary attendants.
A brief cleansing ritual—face wash, clean clothes—to shed the dust of the road. Then, barefoot in silk socks, she stepped across the tatami mats. Guided through a refined wooden door, Vela entered the inner chamber where Saburo Arasaka awaited.
A faint trail of expensive incense hung in the air.
Hanako Arasaka was present too.
As always, she was dignified and elegant, kneeling quietly on the cushion, hands clasped, head bowed, eyes closed, facing the long rectangular household altar against the inner wall. Lips moved silently in prayer or remembrance.
Saburo knelt centrally before the altar.
Thanks to her sharp eyesight, Vela saw everything clearly.
The altar was tiered in three levels.
Top tier: two ancestral tablets. Due to the angle, she could only read one—"Sansai," engraved in Japanese.
Middle tier: three tablets. The one in the center and closest—"Michiko."
Bottom tier: a single tablet—"Kei."
Vela understood instantly.
From top to bottom, the altar honored Saburo Arasaka's parents, his three wives—with his beloved Michiko most prominent—and his only deceased child, Kei Arasaka.
Oh, and notably missing: Yorinobu Arasaka. And Michiko Arasaka—Saburo's third wife and mother of Yorinobu—was also absent.
"Saburo-sama." Vela's gaze shifted from the vacant cushion to the right of Saburo and she bowed, placing a hand over her heart.
"You're here."
Upon hearing her voice, Saburo's closed eyes opened slightly. He rose without hesitation.
Despite returning to his elderly appearance, the old man exuded vigor and vitality. Without any assistance, he solemnly placed three fresh incense sticks into the censer before Kei's memorial tablet. Then, turning toward Vela, Saburo looked at her—serious, yet kind.
He truly resembled a wise, focused, steadfast entrepreneur—considerate to his subordinates and passionate about his work…
There was no small talk. Saburo immediately brought up the [2075 Tokyo Arasaka Tower Year-End Training Personnel Summit]. He asked, and Vela answered.
Their conversation was warm, yet maintained the decorum of hierarchical structure.
Saburo briefly evaluated Vela's performance, policy stance, and her hinted pro-war, revenge-driven approach toward Militech. He expressed his appreciation but also gave a warning not to underestimate the situation.
Naturally, Vela responded respectfully with a chorus of yeses—not submissive, but not combative either. At the right moments, she calmly shared some of her plans and preparations upon returning to Night City.
A key to coordination and maintaining trust between subordinate and superior: let your superior understand your intentions, know your progress, and have expectations for your outcomes…
"...Dogtown in the Pacifica State, the Barghest... a military gang formed by NUSA's forward unit that entered Night City during the Metal Wars, and later defected in defiance of the Arvin Peace Unification Agreement… You intend to use them to stir the waters in California and potentially ignite a second wave of Free State rebellion in the West?"
At this, Saburo's eyes flashed with sharp light.
He was intrigued.
The Metal Wars—also known as the Unification War—broke out in January 2069, with the New United States and the Free States as belligerents, backed respectively by Militech and Arasaka.
Each side had their preferred name: NUSA/Militech called it the "Unification War," while Arasaka and the Free States preferred "Metal Wars."
Through this war, Arasaka had managed to cripple Militech's momentum and return to North America.
Though Saburo loathed to admit it, he despised Militech deeply.
Not just because Arasaka and Militech were enemies in the Fourth Corporate War—costing him his eldest son and bringing the disgrace of defeat—but also because of Militech's then-CEO, Donald Lundee.
A former general from the old U.S. Pentagon, Lundee's military-to-corporate transition reminded Saburo of himself—and of the American pilot who once shot him down during the Pacific War.
Saburo's voice grew low:
"How can you be sure this isn't Rosalind Myers' ploy—occupying Night City under the guise of rebellion, only to later strike us from within and drive us out of California?"
Vela's expression remained steady. She laid out her thinking: "I can't be certain Washington hasn't infiltrated. But we can stir up the Barghest's resentment. Betrayal is sometimes more shameful than an open enemy."
A statement with a double meaning.
Saburo's gaze dropped subtly.
"Continue."
"Washington might be able to issue covert orders to the officer corps, but never to the rank-and-file. The feeling of being betrayed on the eve of victory leaves a scar so deep, it can shatter all loyalty."
Placing her hand over her chest again, Vela calmly continued:
"No town can survive on soldiers alone. Dogtown was built and developed with the backing of SovOil and Arasaka's 'humanitarian aid.' Night City's nature made it natural for Dogtown to shelter criminals—black markets, intelligence trades, bounty exchanges…"
"All kinds of societal refuse converge there. That's how they've managed to survive—and even grow."
"But such rapid expansion, without proper recruitment pipelines to ensure quality, leads to dilution. The Barghest may still retain much of their military decorum, but the influx of thugs, lowlifes, and misfits is bound to taint their 'purity.'"
"Six years of decadence and lax discipline—even if their military skills haven't deteriorated, it doesn't mean their ideological standards haven't dropped. Street punks, cyber mercs—people who live by the blade. For them, indulgence is life, and betrayal is routine. In such an environment, it's said: it takes years to learn good, but a single day to turn bad."
"Once the bottom line is broken, loyalty vanishes, and hatred is redirected—how much control can Washington really exert over the Barghest?"
"Besides," Vela turned to Saburo Arasaka, eyes gleaming with confidence, "do you think I'll let them go back?"
Every movement exuded self-assuredness and poise—striking and dazzling.
"Find and root out any Barghest officers who might still be in contact with Washington. Better to wrongly eliminate one than to let one slip. In Night City, there's no shortage of mercenaries looking to get rich or famous overnight. Pass the word through intermediaries—anything that can be solved with money has never been a problem."
"Kurt Hansen—the former NUSA colonel, now Dogtown's boss—I don't know whether his defection was genuine or not, but that doesn't stop us from roasting him over a fire."
As one of the world's most powerful men, Saburo was no stranger to Night City's politics. But information asymmetry meant Vela couldn't claim she foresaw Rosalind Myers being betrayed by her own people. She simply stressed that she would help make it happen.
...
After a long pause, seemingly digesting the logic of Vela's plan, Saburo nodded slightly, a smile touching his lips. "Vela, I like your audacity. However..."
"A New Year's Eve banquet is a rare occasion—don't waste it on corporate reporting. As for your plan, submit the full implementation draft within two days."
"Yes, Saburo-sama."
By now, the highly perceptive attendants had already begun preparing the banquet.
Individual dining tables were laid with luxurious utensils—jade, silver, ivory. Quickly, a flood of exquisite dishes filled the table. Unlike previous visits with traditional kaiseki cuisine, this spread leaned heavily toward meat, eggs, and dairy—a clear German and American influence.
"Hmm…" Vela was slightly surprised.
Saburo seemed quite pleased with Vela's statements and positioning earlier.
"Take your seat. Ah, young people—always drawn to indulgence."
Hands behind his back, Saburo shook his head.
And with that, the dinner's main theme began.
As Saburo issued the order to begin the banquet, Hanako Arasaka rose respectfully from her cushion, like a doll completely submissive to Saburo's authority. Shintaro Takayama emerged from behind a screen.
Saburo sat at the center. On his left were Hanako and Shintaro Takayama. On his right—two empty seats, and then Vela.
Takemura and Oda weren't qualified to sit at this table.
Soon, perhaps noticing Vela's subtle curiosity, Saburo pointed to the empty seats on his right and said in a self-deprecating tone: "Occasionally, I overhear whispers in the shadows. Yorinobu… misfortune of the family. That unfilial son hasn't joined a family meal in decades."
"Michiko lingers abroad. The misfortune of losing a father during childhood made her hesitant about such events. As her friend—someone who also lost your parents during the Metal Wars—you can understand."
Vela was stunned.
Her gaze dimmed, and after a long pause, she sighed and spoke, voice subdued: "Yes, Saburo-sama. I often wonder how to avenge them, how to live up to my parents' expectations… Forgive me, I don't wish to dwell on this topic."
"I should be the one apologizing. No one enjoys revisiting such memories."
Even Saburo's voice grew weary. He looked toward the altar behind them, his posture slightly hunched.
"Maybe it's a blessing that Michiko didn't live to see Arasaka today—she would've been heartbroken."
There was nothing performative in his tone. When he spoke of his beloved Michiko, Saburo did smile—even if just fleetingly.
"Family. Duty. Honor."
This had been the core message of Vela's speech at Arasaka Academy in Night City.
Saburo looked once more at the blonde, blue-eyed, elegantly poised young woman before him.
There was no doubt—she was exemplary. Exceptional ability, a clean background, immense contributions to Arasaka, clear hostility toward Militech, and top evaluations from him over the past year. If she had one flaw, it was a streak of defiance—ambition that was difficult to measure. Otherwise, she seemed heaven-sent as Arasaka's successor.
Yorinobu was rebellious, Hanako lacked ability, Michiko lacked prestige.
Even though Saburo was a staunch traditionalist, culturally xenophobic and disdainful of Western liberal values, he couldn't ignore the genius that had risen from within his own corporation.
He had to fully utilize her.
Bind her completely to Arasaka.
"You've passed my test, Vela. You're smart—you understand moderation. 'Betrayal on the eve of victory can shatter all loyalty'—I'll add, it can also shatter all trust."
Saburo paused.
"Now, go. On behalf of Michiko." He pointed toward the altar. "Fred, Mia." He spoke the names of Vela's parents. "They are like Kei to me. Arasaka will be theirs—and yours—forever."
A reminder for Vela to be like her parents.
This Michiko was not that Michiko. Vela said nothing. She rose, walked steadily to the altar.
Arasaka Michiko's father, Arasaka Kei… the former crown prince.
Very well.
Lighting three sticks of incense, and under the guidance of the compound shrine's head priest, Vela bowed solemnly and respectfully, offering them at the ceremonial censer.
Her silent vow:
I honor you, for I will inherit your will, defeat Militech where you once failed, and claim everything you left behind.