To be honest, Riku had never consciously tried to control his regeneration ability before. Usually, he was just pushing it to work faster—because, let's face it, having chunks of your body missing doesn't exactly feel kawaii.
He pulled his left index finger out of his mouth. The first two joints were nothing but pale, exposed bone. Staring at the wound—no blood, no regrowth—Riku was a bit shocked. He'd only tried controlling it for a moment, and… it worked way too fast.
"So, my talent isn't that bad, is it?" he muttered to himself.
He couldn't help but feel a little salty about it. That jerk Kibutsuji Muzan—turning him into an oni against his will and then mocking his potential as one? That was just unforgivable! It was the kind of villainous taunt that'd make Tanjiro from Demon Slayer grit his teeth and swear vengeance. One day, Riku would make Muzan regret turning him into an oni. He'd take down that Oni no Ou with his own hands!
"But first, I need to figure out how to get some gizoido," Riku said, shifting his focus back to the present.
In this world, gizoido—cybernetic implants—were everywhere. Pretty much everyone had some kind of augmentation. Not having one was the oddity, like showing up to a mecha convention without a single LED on you. Gizoido in this era were like tattoos or smartphones back in the early 21st century—a mix of cultural expression, personal style, and practical tools. People got them for all sorts of reasons: tech upgrades, boosting combat skills, or just to look cho kakkoi (super cool). In Night City, a slick set of gizoido made you the flashiest shounen hero on the block. Scarcity? Nah, gizoido were hard currency, plain and simple.
Basic cyber-components were easy to get—cheap, easy to install, and available at any street shop or beauty clinic. Getting a "light" implant was as simple as a quick surgery and some calibration. You could even take the parts home and DIY it. But if you wanted something serious, you needed connections and a fat stack of cash. Gizoido had evolved from Generation 0 to Generation 4. Gen 0 and 1 were obsolete, Gen 2 was the standard, Gen 3 was around if you had the means, but Gen 4? That was out of reach for regular folks—like chasing a legendary item in an RPG.
"So, the real issue is how to make okane," Riku concluded, zeroing in on his next goal. Money. It was so practical it almost didn't feel like he'd been isekai'd at all.
With enough okane, getting a set of high-end gizoido was no problem. Just hit up a cyber-clinic, pay up, and boom—new gear installed. Easy.
"Looks like I'm sticking with Jack Wells for a while," Riku decided. Becoming a saibo ronin—a cyberpunk mercenary, or "edgerunner"—was his best bet. Sure, he could dream of earning cash through a regular job, but in Night City? That was like hoping to become a pro duelist in Yu-Gi-Oh! without a deck. Even being a corporate dog required qualifications, and decent jobs were fought over like loot drops in a raid. With seven million people in Night City—more than some entire states—the competition was brutal, like a battle royale anime.
Plus, Riku was a nobody with no background. No company would touch a shady guy like him. Who's to say he wasn't a corporate spy sent to sabotage things? But being a saibo ronin? All you needed was to not fear death. And at night, Riku was practically unkillable—perfect for the job. Besides, saibo ronin made bank way faster than any desk job. Why? Because their gigs were straight-up illegal, written in the penal code like a villain's rap sheet.
With his decision made, Riku felt a wave of calm. Now he just had to wait for Jack Wells. He was sure Jack would be happy to bring him into the edgerunner life. The only question was whether Jack had already met V.
"Oh, crap, I forgot to ask about the time," Riku muttered. He'd been so caught up getting cleaned up and changing clothes at the bar that he forgot to check the date.
He stood up and headed to the bar counter to ask the bartender. Last time he asked someone about time and place, he ended up an oni. This time, it'd be fine, right?
The bartender at Wild Wolf was a rugged, middle-aged guy with a full beard, looking like he was in his thirties or forties. A shiny cross necklace hung around his neck, glinting like something out of a JoJo's Bizarre Adventure accessory line.
"Hey, yo, what can I get ya?" the bartender called out as Riku approached, not batting an eye at his weird appearance.
"No drink, just got a question," Riku said, waving off the offer. He'd accidentally tasted a sip earlier, and it nearly made him gag—definitely not his thing.
"You're in luck, then. There's nothing in Heywood I don't know. Name's Pepe," the bartender said with a grin, gesturing for Riku to take a seat at the counter. It was a slow night, and he seemed bored, ready for a chat like a side character in a slice-of-life anime.
"What's your name?" Pepe asked, pouring a drink and sliding it over.
"Riku. Thanks, but I don't drink," Riku said, pushing the glass back. He noticed Pepe's right hand was a gizoido, gleaming gold with a cross etched into it—total bling vibes.
"No worries, no scam here. This one's on me, just making friends," Pepe said with a chuckle, pushing the drink back toward Riku. He seemed like the talkative type, ready to bond like a bar regular in Cowboy Bebop.
"I'm good with friends, but I'll pass on the drink," Riku said, rubbing his temples. Why was everyone in this bar so obsessed with booze? Couldn't they talk without it? Still, he got it—it was a bar. He was probably the weird one for refusing, like a teetotaler in a shounen drinking contest.
"Alright, fair enough," Pepe said, his expression turning a bit odd as he took the drink back and downed it in one gulp. Leaning against the counter, he looked at Riku. "So, what's your question? You're not from around here, are ya?"
Pepe had been there the whole time and had seen Riku walk in covered in blood, looking like he'd just stepped out of a Tokyo Ghoul fight scene. He figured Riku was a tough guy—someone worth befriending. You never know when a badass like that might come in handy, and Pepe was never one to turn down a new nakama.
"Yeah, I'm new to Night City," Riku admitted. This guy was supposed to answer his questions, but here he was asking first.
"Can you tell me the exact time and date?" Riku asked quickly, not giving Pepe a chance to derail the conversation. He wasn't here to kill time chatting with the bartender.