"Hashiba Finance, Akechi Electronics, Shibata Heavy Industries, Takigawa Chemical, Tokugawa Medical—these five are the pillars that hold up Takamagahara.
Of course, the Hashiba family doesn't deal only in finance, and the Shibata family doesn't deal only in weapons manufacturing. They cross-invest, hold shares in each other's companies, and all have subsidiaries. But these five dominate their respective industries the deepest.
At the root of it all, Takamagahara is Oda property. The shares all lie in Oda's hands. These board members, directors, executives—they used to rotate under the house head's orders. Unlike other corporations, they were never truly independent. They were retainers of Oda. With a single word, their shares could be revoked, their careers stripped, exile ordered, even forced seppuku. Plenty of cases like that exist.
But ever since Takamagahara's defeat and restructuring, with the Night Clan targeting the Oda main line, these people profited from the split. They've seized real power.
Though the Oda family remains the façade, these old retainers were courted with endless compromises by backstabbing heirs desperate for their support. The Oniwa retinue fractured long ago. Truth is, the Oda clan lost its grip on them years ago."
Fuma Kotarō stood in the office, briefing the team with photos projected: Monkey, Turtle, Lion Dog, Jackal, Tanuki—the five big bosses.
Though timid and cowardly, with neither a leader's bearing nor a death warrior's resolve, Kotarō's talent in intel gathering and analysis made him a competent ninja. Had his enemies not known his true nature, they'd never have let a "Zhao's orphan" live on in prison.
Kotarō himself knew his worth. He had visited a secret Fuma hideout and donned a new set of cybernetic ninja gear—wealth really did mean a body could be swapped out set after set. He didn't even need Li Pan's authorization this reset, but still reported his specs and abilities in detail, proving loyalty and usefulness to the company. Perhaps the bloody extinction of the Oda clan had truly scared him straight.
After all, his own Fuma enemies were once just colleagues. Not even the five elders had to act—just underlings giving an order was enough to throw him in prison to rot. Meanwhile, the Company had hauled him into the light. That contrast alone showed who really held power.
By Li Pan's command, Kotarō not only provided intel on the Five Elders but also drafted it into proper company-standard files. He charted every clan, every corporation, into neat relational networks. Servility, baked deep into his bones, put to corporate use.
An office always needed a diligent lapdog. Li Pan nodded and praised:
"Not bad, Kotarō. Now, give me your take—Oda's finished. Which old man has the best odds?"
Kotarō's expression twisted.
"Technically… the Oda family isn't dead yet."
"Hm?"
He projected an image of a young boy.
"The adult heirs have been warring over the estate, hidden away from assassins. Nothing leaks. But today is the birthday of the previous head's eldest grandson—young Master Kippōshi. A banquet will be held tonight at the Kiyosu Villa. The children of the executives will attend. Perhaps the elders themselves too."
Li Pan looked at the handsome boy. Ten years old at most. Daring to appear in public meant he wasn't some clone or automaton. Still…
"Heh. The 'eldest grandson.' Dig up everything on his mother. Driver, guards, plumbers—any loose threads we can pull."
"Yes." Kotarō understood. He continued: "As for the Five Elders—their strengths are evenly matched. All have armed forces and hidden treasuries. But if I had to rank them, the strongest would be Akechi Electronics. After the split, they seized Takamagahara's main R&D teams.
The Akechi patriarch was Takamagahara's CEO once. If the Oda really are exterminated, Akechi has the highest chance of rising."
Akechi Electronics—the bald turtle-looking boss. Makers of advanced cybernetic chips, ocular drones, bleeding-edge tech. Their power was no joke, famous even in the interstellar markets.
"Alright. Which one's your family enemy?"
Kotarō, ever deferential:
"The Oniwa answered only to the Oda head. But overall, ninja groups split three ways: the Kōga Twenty-One, the Iga Forty-Eight, and my Fuma clan.
Kōga ninjas favor long-term contracts; Iga prefer freelance gigs. Old grudges run deep. That's why the Fuma coordinated them. Takigawa has ties with Kōga. The Tokugawa employ Hattori from Iga.
With Fuma destroyed, Oniwa dissolved, those two stand to benefit most."
Li Pan caught on. "But you don't think they did it? And you still don't know your real enemy?"
Kotarō nodded. "I was ambushed, no trial, thrown into prison as a scapegoat. Not amateurs. No evidence will ever be found. My clan's weapons self-destruct when the head dies—yet they spared me. There must've been a traitor inside Fuma. I must find them before I know the truth."
Li Pan shrugged. "So those two clans are still suspects. Anyone else got personal beef with the Five Elders?"
Rama and Shiba shook their heads. A-7 poured coffee for Kotarō. Normal folk didn't get close enough to breed grudges against magnates.
But Li Pan sure had grudges.
"Fine, I'll say it: Shibata! Damn rubber soles so thick they stamped 'Shibata' all over my face! DIE!
Hashiba—loan sharks in rice markets, scum! DIE!
So for now, we support Akechi. Their stuff's overpriced anyway, no scam can touch me. Plus, they've got the best odds. Night Clan probably wants the situation stabilized fast—they'll back the turtle."
No one objected. Decision made.
"So, the old men are in Kiyosu, right? Kotarō, go scout. If the turtle plays hard to get, we'll switch to another.
Shiba, how's the money laundering?"
Shiba rolled her eyes.
"Hey, it's ten million, not laundry. It'll take time. By the end of the week, I'll set up the Big Snake, convert the tokens into high-value currencies before QVN reopens, then give each of you offshore accounts. You can invest, shop, speculate.
But cashing it out? That's hell. Tax Bureau tracks conversions hardest. Every transaction, every handoff checked. If we clear half, it's a miracle. Even with safe channels, we'll need at least a year to wash it all. And your accounts must survive fluctuations of hundreds of thousands—otherwise they'll be frozen. One slip, and the whole chain collapses."
Making money was hell.
"Fine, no rush. If you need Rama's signature for citizenship, tell me."
Li Pan turned to A-7.
"Come on, let's educate the newbie."
The newbie—the Sheet.
Or sailcloth, or duvet, or centipede—whatever you called it. Right now, it was just a white square of cloth.
That monster had been dumped in the Red Zone cold storage. When Li Pan opened the crate, what had been knotted, balled-up scraps was now a perfect two-meter square of white fabric. Looked like an ordinary bedsheet.
Li Pan checked his pocket watch, then hurled it at A-7, glaring at the sheet.
"Still pretending? Try me! A-7, keep your eyes on it!"
A-7 typed on her terminal.
"Most monster testing gear is in R&D, Manager. How exactly do you intend to 'study' it?"
Li Pan returned moments later with potted plants, dumped the dirt, wrapped it in the sheet, tied it up like a punching bag, and hung it from the rafters. Then proceeded to beat the living hell out of it.
A-7 watched silently for a long time. She could not comprehend this "innovative research method."
"Huff… thing's impervious to blades, bullets, flies around… but maybe doesn't eat or drink. Not sure."
After two hours of pummeling, drenched in sweat, Li Pan gasped:
"Later, bring the Spider drone. Test with guns, shocks, fire, explosives. Three days of nonstop beating. Log it, send to HQ."
A-7's eyes lit with sudden understanding. "Ah, extreme damage testing. Understood. I'll handle it."
"Exactly. Smash it till its mother wouldn't recognize it!"
Having vented his anger on the bedsheet monster, Li Pan felt utterly drained. Last night's battle left him coughing blood, his lungs full of chill, body seared by the bracelet's fire, feet frozen from a night on cold ground. He was exhausted beyond words.
Even so, cash was low—under 160,000—and he couldn't afford to reset his implants. Too weak for fieldwork today, he slumped into the office chair.
But the landline rang.
"Now what…"
"The Night Clan has submitted a request. They want to visit."
"K? She's here?"
But it wasn't K.
The sky blackened with the swarm—Night Clan drones, like giant bats, forming a vast matrix, blotting out the sun. A convoy of black luxury cars slid into the CSI campus. Cyborg bodyguards emerged, metal gleaming, shading themselves with black parasols as they ringed the building.
Li Pan glanced down from the window. He had a rough idea what this meant. He phoned, checked the fax, and went down himself to greet them.
"Knight Commander Emilius. What an honor."
From the elevator stepped a towering woman, easily 1.8 meters, long legs, hourglass figure clad in a white evening gown, black hair, black eyes. A black dahlia embroidered at her chest, feathered hat veiling her face. She looked like a widow just returned from a funeral.
Vampires. Makers of combat-grade cyberware, class C and above.
This was Emilia of the Emilius clan, knight commander. One of the Night Clan's ruling lines. Three vampire princes governed Night Corp, rotating every century. Currently, Grand Duchess Camilla of Emilius reigned. Emilia was her knight, likely blood kin.
K, in comparison, served Cornelius clan. But her prince slept, leaving her without patronage—stuck handling the dirty monster jobs.
"You're too kind, Manager Li. Call me Emilia."
Her guards didn't enter, staying posted outside. Li Pan, seeing her courtesy, smiled and invited her in.
"Miss Emilia, welcome. I'm Acting Manager Li Pan of TheM. Would you care for some coffee? Not the fancy stuff, I'm afraid."
Emilia stepped inside. Her eyes flashed, irises shifting from black to silver-blue. She licked her lips, gaze lingering on Li Pan's carotid, swallowing audibly.
"Coffee isn't necessary. But I didn't expect you to be marked as a blood-servant of Cornelius. A delightful surprise indeed! Such strong pheromones… whose taste I wonder… could I perhaps sample just a little?"
She advanced, hand outstretched—either to stroke his face or force a taste. Catwalking closer, hips swaying.
Whoa. This forward?! Vampires were like this? Hugging and groping right off the bat? Think I'm scared just 'cause your boobs are big?
"Ahem. Knight Commander, do you know K?"
"K? The Grand Knight Catherine of Cornelius?"
Emilia froze, hand pausing midair. She pulled back, cast him a sulky glance, and smoothly produced a business card, slipping it into his pocket.
"Pity. I had hoped we could… connect. Very well, to business then."
Her face had changed in an instant. K's name was enough to spook her. Damn. Should I shower off this "cheating cat" scent?
They moved to the manager's office. Curtains drawn, sunlight blocked. Emilia crossed her legs on the sofa, smiling.
"No orders, just a simple question. How long does your company plan to keep QVN offline?"
Of course Night had noticed. They owned 0791. If they hadn't figured it out by now, that would've been the real miracle.
"Oh? QVN? Sorry, I'm no telecom specialist. Should be tech you talk to, not me. Tech? Hello? Oh right!"
Li Pan exaggerated the act, then grinned.
"Just remembered—our entire tech department is dead."
Emilia watched with amusement, slipped off her heels, caressing her legs bound tight by brown stockings.
"I heard your company already took revenge. Weren't the Oda heirs all poisoned? What more do you want?
Give us a clear word. As hosts, the Night Clan will mediate. The elders are gathered in Kiyosu. Everyone awaits your stance."
Li Pan's gaze swept her curves before returning to her lips.
"Commander, you know I'm just a temp. This isn't mine to decide. I need instructions. When the company's satisfied, so will I."
Not the answer she wanted. She rubbed her calf thoughtfully, then spoke:
"Three days. In three days, we'll give you satisfaction. That's the Night Clan's limit."
Li Pan chuckled.
"Then perhaps in three days, QVN will be back online."
Satisfied, Emilia rose. She shook his hand, leaned close, inhaled deeply at his neck, scratching his palm with her finger, whispering into his ear:
"When you tire of K, call me."
She brushed against him in a mock embrace, thigh pressing suggestively, then with a sly glance at his belt buckle, she swayed her hips and left.
.
.
.
⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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