An heir to a megacorp running street ops with mercs?
It sounded like something out of a dystopian comedy.
Back in the day, it would've been like a presidential candidate or a prince picking up a rifle to fight oppression in the Middle East. But if it was Arasaka Seisen we were talking about…
Oh, him? Then it checks out.
Because he actually did that in his youth.
And he hadn't just fought against splinter groups or petty gangs—he went up against Saburo Arasaka, the "emperor" of a corporation more powerful than many nations.
For Arasaka Seisen, picking up a gun again and walking the streets was a strangely personal experience.
He'd grown accustomed to looking down from above—literally. His residence had been a luxury suite on the hundredth floor. Now, to be walking on the ground with his own two feet again… the sensation from the past made his body unconsciously tense.
"Relax, man."
Jack noticed Seisen's posture and patted him on the shoulder. "We're just going to have a little chat with the Tyger Claws. Nothing major, no need to stress."
"I'm not nervous," Seisen said, his face disguised by an Arasaka-made mimic chip—young, handsome, sharply defined. "I'm just… reliving a feeling I haven't had in a long time. Walking these streets with you guys reminds me of the old days. I had my Jin-Kong back then too, and a crew beside me, ready to stir shit up."
"I heard your old crew was something like a biker gang," Karl recalled. "Didn't you call it Steel Dragon? I've seen that dragon-skull logo you guys used."
"Yeah, the one that looked like a dragon's skull."
Seisen nodded.
"I used to paint it on my motorcycle, then rev the engine and roar down the streets. I wanted everyone to know we were coming. But later I realized the engine noise was too loud—it tipped people off. And the logo gave away our identity immediately. So I stopped."
"Sounds a lot like the Tyger Claws—tattoos, loud bikes, rolling down the streets making a statement," Oliver said, eyeing Seisen's face with curiosity. "Speaking of which, that face you're wearing is suspiciously handsome. It looks kinda familiar. Did you base it on a braindance star or a singer? Not exactly a low-profile choice."
"This face?" Seisen paused, then smiled proudly. "This is what I looked like in my youth. I only made some slight tweaks. Not bad, huh?"
Getting called good-looking by another guy? For most men, that's a brag that could last weeks.
"That's really what you looked like?!"
Everyone around was stunned.
They stared hard at Seisen's current face, then mentally compared it to the image he usually wore. A bizarre realization hit them all at once.
How the hell does someone go from that… to what he looks like now?
Do people really just get uglier with age?
"Your whole family's pretty damn good-looking, huh," Karl commented, thinking back on the Arasaka family members he'd seen in real life. Hanako went without saying. Even Michiko Arasaka—despite her outlandish style—had once been a JK idol who took North America by storm. And now, here was young Seisen, flaunting those same high-tier genes.
Genetics. Definitely a thing.
No one really knew what Saburo or Kazuko Arasaka looked like for real. After all, vids could be faked. Paranoid execs often used body doubles for public appearances, and Saburo was notorious for that.
"But that face caused me no shortage of trouble," Seisen added.
He wasn't just gloating—he appreciated the compliment because it was genuine. As for what age had done to his appearance, he didn't seem to mind. Instead, he chuckled about the hassle it used to cause.
"Back in the day, I got hit on more than a dozen times in one night at a bar. Then jealous boyfriends or girlfriends would kick off a brawl, and I'd end up fighting my way out with my crew."
"Oh, I believe it," Oliver said.
He had to admit—he wasn't quite on the same level looks-wise as young Seisen.
He glanced around at the others.
He passed over Jack, then paused briefly on V and Karl.
He wasn't judging their mimic-chip faces. He was remembering what they actually looked like.
If V did his hair and dressed up a little, and Karl weren't such a recognizable figure as KK, they'd probably get mobbed in a club too.
Just like Johnny Silverhand in his prime—walk into the room, and every eye zeroed in on him.
"Let's just hope we don't draw too much attention this time," Karl muttered, checking his weapon. "Can't afford to let our targets slip away."
The Tyger Claws had attacked them. And there was going to be payback. They weren't waiting for apologies or surrender.
The sixty-five defectors? They were marked for death. Anyone who tried to stand in the way? Dead too.
"I used to think the Tyger Claws were a tight-knit crew," Oliver said as they approached Japantown. "But the more I've seen, the more I realize—they only act like a family toward outsiders. Internally? Their infighting is almost as bad as Arasaka."
He nodded toward the neon-drenched skyline of Japantown. "Each sub-chapter's leader gets offed in turf wars, one generation after another. And there's always some new wannabe clawing for power. I wonder which faction we're dealing with today…"
"They're Saburo's loyalists," Seisen said flatly.
He didn't even bother calling him father.
"The current leader of the Tyger Claws is aligned with Michiko. He has some sense of order, but he only just took over. Some old elements haven't been cleaned out yet."
Seisen gripped his Jin-Kong tightly.
"Let me sever one of Saburo's limbs."
"That makes it sound like we're hunting a monster," Oliver said dryly.
"Saburo is a monster."
Seisen stepped into Japantown.
And just like the old days, he was going to sever one of Saburo Arasaka's limbs—with his own two hands.
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