Jing Fei awoke from the ‘therapy’ braindance gasping for breath. She hugged her body protectively, head darting every which way, searching for a threat, for Katsuo’s crazed eyes—

  “Easy, there,” said a doctor standing nearby, wearing a labcoat and holding a clipboard, “that was good. You’re doing great,” she said.

  “What the hell is going on?” she asked, voice shaky, “Why did I see those things?”

  “You mean the episode? Well, in order to restimulate and eliminate the harmful neural loop that is reinforcing the trauma of that episode, your brain needs to be shocked with repeated similar experiences—”

  “Yes, yes, but,” she interrupted, voice ladened with desperation. She had already heard this explanation earlier—she had just forgotten. She had gone into this knowing it was what her doctor was ordering, meaning it would be foolish not to do it, but this… “But this is too much.”

  “No problem at all,” the doctor replied sunnily. Her perfectly white teeth contrasted sharply with her smooth and unblemished dark skin as she flexed her best corporate smile. “It’s time for a break anyhow. And once again, Jing Fei—you are doing great. Just five more treatments, and I predict that you will be ready for a discharge.”

  Five?

  Five?!

  No, no, she shouldn’t think about that. She should rather think about the gift that was this break.

  “However, between these sessions, we will put you on a wellness BD course in order to return your mind back to tranquility. For your own comfort.”

  Jing Fei frowned, “what, a sucker to make the pain go away? Would that slow down my recovery?”

  “Certainly not—but comfort is important. We do value our most esteemed clients here at Trauma Team.”

  Jing Fei closed her eyes, “I… I can do without comfort. My brother is fighting for his life and here I am, playing BDs.” The least she could do was take this seriously.

  “...Your case was far more severe than his, Miss Fei,” the doctor said.

  Jing Fei blinked, “What?”

  “Ah, but keep in mind—this is privileged information. Qiang’s well-being is not something that your family has any desire to advertise as of yet, for… strategic purposes.”

  “He’s fine?” Jing Fei breathed, “No, I—I saw it. I saw him with—with a hole in—”

  “Yes,” the doctor nodded, “Jing Qiang was… decidedly unlucky. His cranial implants took the full brunt of the bullet he was struck by, from a Malorian Overture no less. One of the most powerful power-type revolvers on the open market. The bullet’s angle was entirely perpendicular to the plane of Qiang’s forehead, meaning that deflection was not possible. Instead, the bullet was stopped within the last few layers of his nanolaminated tungsten-carbide skull. Still, it managed to send a shock of force throughout his frontal lobe, triggering internal hemorrhaging. His implants worked quickly to cut the healthy portion of his brain off from all this bleeding while his biomonitor cleaned up and sealed the burst blood vessels via the release of nanomachines.”

  “Wait,” Jing Fei blinked, “wait, so that… that bullet didn’t even penetrate? You’re telling me all this was—like blunt force trauma?”

  “Precisely,” the doctor explained, grinning at her comprehension—like this was all academic for her. “Severe blunt force trauma, of course, but it was nothing that we weren’t capable of addressing. Qiang’s prognosis is actually quite good. We received him in better shape than you, for certain. You had almost completely bled out by the time we had reached you—the bullets managed to open up your abdominal aorta, and did nick a section of pericardium. The exsanguination led to minor brain trauma, but nothing we didn’t manage to reverse on your first round of surgery.”

  “Qiang is fine?” Jing Fei breathed, “Is—is he awake? Can I see him?”

  “Ah, he won’t be conscious for a few days yet,” the doctor explained, “but yes, you are allowed to visit. That is well within your rights.”

  Jing Fei got out from the bed and stood up shakily, expecting that the movement would tax her. It did not.

  She blinked, looking down at her body—Trauma had stripped her of all her fashionware—she was now more ‘ganic than ever before. Actually, how sure about that was she? “My—you said my pericardium—that’s my heart, right? Did—did you replace it with a synth implant?”

  “Ah, no,” the doctor smiled, “your family was very adamant that we were to employ organic methods to heal your body.”

  Thank God.

  The one time her parents had visited, the day before, she had overheard them and the doctor negotiating on the pricing of her treatment—apparently, there was some option of treatment that existed outside the insurance policy model, even for platinum premium. She didn’t recall any specifics, but she had heard some big numbers get bandied about—fifty million eurodollars? No, that… didn’t sound right. Maybe it was fifteen. Seemed like a more reasonable payment. She was thankful for that expenditure. Organic damage was harder and more expensive to heal, but it was better than taking away her choice to implant cyberware.

  There was something about needing implants due to medical trauma that skeeved her out something fiercely—the available literature on cyberpsychosis was adamant that that was a contributing factor to the disorder. Had she lost her heart or other organs to Katsuo’s rampage, that would have… made this more… real.

  But it was real.

  All of it.

  Why were they trying to make it seem like it wasn’t?

  The doctor, especially, seemed all too eager to trivialize her ‘episode’, smush it into a BD and force her to rewatch it over and over.

  Like she could just pay for all this to go away.

  She shook her head. No. That didn’t matter.

  What mattered was Qiang. Qiang would come back to her.

  The doctor escorted her to Qiang’s room and allowed her in to see him. And there he was—now wearing a BD wreath. That meant that all the organic damage had been taken care of. Now all that was left was softer treatments.

  Most of his body was covered in his blanket, and what remained looked entirely unmarred. His pale skin reflected the light of the sun outside his window overlooking Night City’s downtown. Even with those mandibular implants, he still looked so… soft and helpless.

  She went to his side and took his hand. She squeezed it. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she saw him there—whole, and soon to be healthy. He’d come back to her.

  Everything was going to be alright after all.

  She got a call. Her heart immediately swelled when she saw who it was.

  She accepted it in a heartbeat.

  Day-Day: Hey, Fei-Fei.

  Jing Fei: Hey.

  Day-Day: How was your day?

  She winced, not really sure how to answer that.

  Jing Fei: a little… weird. They have me on some sort of BD therapy. Mostly it feels like I’m watching an XBD though. It’s supposed to work I guess, but I don’t know—I haven’t had another daymare yet, so that’s nice.

  Day-Day: Good—that’s good. Just keep following the doctor’s orders and you’ll be okay. I know it might be tough for now and I wish I could help you

  Jing Fei’s eyes glistened at that.

  Jing Fei: you calling me is good enough, honestly. Thank you.

  Day-Day: would today… work for you… for a visit?

  Jing Fei giggled.

  Jing Fei: today works great. Just give me a call beforehand, and please don’t blame me for wearing this hospital gown—I’m still a patient after all

  Day-Day: As if you’d look any less amazing in a hospital gown.

  Jing Fei blushed fiercely at that. What an—idiot!

  Jing Fei: otherwise, my day’s been pretty good. I received some good—

  She stopped herself in time.

  Her parents wanted to keep this quiet. That was… questionable, but as long as she knew about it, she could tolerate the cloak and dagger.

  But David was… was it okay to tell him? She could trust David.

  She was being paranoid. Besides, it wasn’t like he had any corporate connections that could take advantage of this knowledge. He was a lone wolf.

  Jing Fei: I received some good news. Tell you when you get here?

  Day-Day: Awesome! Sure. First thing after classes end, alright?

  Jing Fei bit her lower lips, “alright,” she whispered.

  000

  The view outside Jing Fei’s window in her hospital room was that of a carefully manicured garden. The air smelled nature-y, like wet soil with subtle floral notes. Every breath Jing Fei inhaled through her nose went in smoothly, none of the sting of dryness following it. The humidifier was subtly scented with an expensive incense that her family’s servants had brought for her, though she wasn’t really able to smell it at this point. She wondered at that, really.

  Incense seemed more like a tool for first impressions than something to personally enjoy—it gave a space a character, an identity. Made this particular hospital room, lit by yellowed lamps reinforcing the earth tones of the walls, feel like a place that could have belonged in her family’s manor. Then, inevitably, she’d get used to the smell, and it would no longer be for her to enjoy, but instead for the next person who entered.

  She enjoyed the concept. Something about it felt… righteous to her: sharing in something beautiful rather than hoarding it for oneself.

  The second round of BD therapy had gone… as expected. It didn’t become any less terrifying to go through that experience, but Jing Fei could easily find solace in what came after—the quiet calmness and tranquility of this room, and the reality that her brother would be fine, that… that despite all the death, she was… allowed to continue living.

  It wasn’t right that six people had died that night. When she was done feeling gratitude for Qiang’s survival, she would begin to remember the sight of all those—bodies. People who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time and—didn’t have a Trauma Team insurance.

  Why couldn’t they have helped them while they were helping her? Why did they have to be abandoned? Why hadn’t Gotō paid for their treatment? That was his son’s doing! No amount of money should be enough to repay for all that grief, but it would have been a start.

  Her family, too. They should have—they all should have done something.

  With each watch of that BD, it was like the memory of those other bodies became fainter and fainter, as though the therapy meant to focus her mind solely on her brother—the problematic memory that it was trying to soothe. Following that logic, shouldn’t it be trying to make her remember everything? Katsuo’s erratic movements, the precursor to it all—his mother’s sheer terror, his father’s blip of humanity as he took in the reality of what his own son had become—and the servants scattering away, mowed down like they were nothing. Katsuo had focused his fire on them, running around the room while his father pursued him, killing the servants before addressing those closer to him, like that was his singular act of mercy towards them and—

  Nothing could erase that day.

  Nothing should erase that day.

  This room, this fresh smell, this lighting, this beautiful sunlight—no. She refused to let herself fall into that blissful ignorance.

  She was sick, yes. Her trauma needed to be resolved. She would surrender to that treatment and ensure that the worst of it all was addressed—but the pain of this memory? It needed to be enshrined, always remembered, as a monument to the follies of those that thought themselves invincible—Gotō and his foolishness.

  And her own grandfather, and his senseless feud against Kang Tao.

  She would not turn out like either of them. She refused to.

  She received a notification on her agent from the main reception—a visitor by the name of David Martinez.

  She perked up almost immediately and gave him the go-ahead to come up. A minute later, there was a knock on her door.

  “Come in!” she called.

  David opened the door—he was wearing his Arasaka Academy uniform, and he looked really nice in it—and in his hands he held a large clay pot containing a Bonsai tree. A cherry blossom tree. It was beautiful.

  “David, you shouldn’t have,” she said as he approached gingerly, putting the tree on her night stand.

  He winced, “ah, sorry—didn’t really know what to get you. If it’s too much of a hassle, I can just take it back—”

  “No! It’s nice! It’s… really nice,” she said, looking at the cherry blossom.

  “I think I read somewhere it’s supposed to symbolize healing,” David said, scratching his chin with his index finger as he gazed pensively at the ceiling, “‘the cherry blossom can cure any disease’ or… something like that.”

  Jing Fei giggled, “I mean, kind of? It’s more of a symbol of impermanence than anything. Life and death, that sort of thing,” she tilted her head, “they don’t… have you guys do Ikebana classes in school?”

  “That? Oh, god no,” he chuckled, “thankfully, it’s only an elective. I’m terrible at anything that isn’t science-y.” Then his eyes widened, “oh, oh! Then, this wasn’t a good thing to bring you at all.”

  “Yes, it was,” she said, shaking her head, “really, David, thank you. It’s perfect. And it makes total sense given the circumstances. You may have done it by accident, but you’re the only one in my life who… gets it.”

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  David raised an eyebrow, and his eyes took on a mournful cast.

  “David, pull up a chair? Sit with me.”

  He did, getting one from a nearby tea table. Then he went and sat on her left, on the other side of where the window was. The sunlight lit his face up—glistening skin unmarred by any chrome. She wondered, for a moment, why anyone in the world would want to throw away the gift of flesh in the first place. Though she idly noted that she would be considered a hypocrite in that case. She did wear medical implants, like all people who could afford to did.

  “I’m… so glad you’re okay,” David said, which shook Jing Fei from her thoughts. She looked at him, and saw… tears welling up inside his eyes. He then looked down at the ground, “when I heard what had happened to you, to your brother, I… I couldn’t believe it. It shouldn’t have been you. You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m so sorry, Fei-Fei, I’m—”

  She got out from her bed and hugged him, “it’s okay. I’m okay, David.” His arms wrapped around her, and he gently pressed her body closer to his. “Please. Don’t worry about me. They’re… fixing everything. It’s fine.”

  “No,” he said, “no it isn’t. Nothing will take away the fact that this happened.”

  That was true.

  She broke away from his hug and grinned self-deprecatingly. She could feel some tears stream down her cheeks as well, “thank you. I needed to hear that.”

  David looked up—revealing his own tear-stricken face, “huh?”

  “They want to erase this. They want to make it feel like it never happened to me. And that’s not right. Because it did happen. And a lot of people got hurt, and they’re… dead,” she tried to dry her tears, but new ones kept taking their place. “And to me, all this is going to be fixed, because my family has money, but what about them? It’s like no one even cares about them.”

  Did David care about that? Or was he also just fixated on her wellbeing? Her happiness? Her smile? As if the smile of just one woman in this world was all that mattered?

  She could no longer even abide by that concept.

  David nodded, “Four weeks ago, my mom and I got into a car accident. She got really hurt. We were caught in a gangoon drive-by. Some bigshot corpo got hurt as well, right next to us. Trauma Team came, but… my mom wasn’t a policyholder and… yeah.”

  Jing Fei’s stomach dropped. “Oh no… I’m so stupid,” she growled, “David, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, not at all,” he shook his head, “thank you. Thank you for caring. Thank you for thinking about that sort of thing. Nobody ever does. It shouldn’t have been you, but you’re right—it shouldn’t have been anyone.”

  Anyone but Gotō Tanaka. He should have been the only one to reckon with what he had created.

  No one else should have paid the cost of what that man had done—to his own son, his only child in the world.

  Jing Fei felt unaccountably guilty at the moment. She didn’t know how she would even broach the topic that physically, she was completely fine. Or that even her brother was fine.

  She didn’t know how to communicate this injustice without sounding like the most conceited person in the entire world.

  Not in the face of David’s own pain.

  He chuckled slightly, through all those tears, “I didn’t think I was still able to cry about that. I thought I learned how to put it all behind me. So I could keep it pushing. For survival’s sake.” He dried his face. “You seem really healthy, Fei-Fei. I’m glad. I really am.” he gave her a halogen light grin. “It’s a huge weight off my shoulders. I didn’t lose another person that… cares.”

  Jing Fei grinned in spite of her tears. She didn’t know what to say, except, “thank you. For caring. You’re… you’re also special. So so special. To me.”

  He chuckled, stubbornly drying the tears that kept coming. His eyes looked hollow as he nodded. “That’s… certainly a choice. But… I’ll take it, I guess,” Jing Fei winced at the self-deprecation. She wished he wouldn’t view himself in such a negative light. Before she could say just so, he continued, “so, what was the good news? Is it… about your brother, maybe?”

  Jing Fei nodded, smiling brightly, “he’ll be fine in a few days. But… David. Please don’t say that to anyone else, okay? It’s supposed to be a secret—or something.”

  David’s eyes widened, and he nodded, “you can trust me, alright? I won’t tell anyone. But…” he smiled, “that’s good to hear. Great to hear.”

  She nodded, believing him fully. “Thank you, David. I knew I could count on you. So… anything new to report on Arasaka Academy? A little gossip to tide me over perhaps?” she grinned, not really expecting anything substantial from him. She highly doubted there was any such activity that near to the incident.

  He chuckled, “yeah… about that.”

  000

  “Jin? Ryuzaki, Jin?” Jing Fei gasped. She couldn’t believe her ears. She just laughed. “Wow, David. I never expected such a thing to happen.”

  David shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable, “it was weird.”

  “I can see it, though,” Jing Fei grinned, ribbing him a little, “you’re a daredevil, just like he is. You bring adventure everywhere you go. Perhaps he sees the appeal too?”

  “C’mon,” David scoffed, “we’re not that close.”

  “Mhm?” Jing Fei decided to do one thing she had put off ever since she regained her consciousness—she went online to the Net, and went to her high school’s BBS. “This adventure with Kang Tao, I must see.”

  Then she saw a video of David falling off a balcony to a twenty foot drop. She gasped, “David!” she hissed, “are you okay—this was last night? And—noooo, David, that’s Hou Ken! Why did you fight Hou Ken?”

  David grinned, “well, just keep watching and you’ll stop worrying.”

  The violence went on for an inordinate amount of time, them striking at each other, faster and faster, until finally… David won.

  Her eyes widened, “You did not beat him! He’s the son of the head of Kang Tao’s west coast security division!”

  He whistled, “That good, huh? I mean, the Sandevistan was a surprise to be honest, but,” he shrugged, expression flat, “he’s running chipware. He’s not a real fighter. I doubt the corp would put an actual fighter at the disposal of some high school queen.”

  “You’re talking about Ruomei, you know?” Jing Fei’s eyes widened, “she’s the daughter of a Kang Tao board member.”

  “So I’ve heard,” David said.

  Jing Fei grinned, “You think she was pretty?”

  “Yeah, kinda,” he shrugged.

  Jing Fei leaned closer to him, “who’s prettier—between me and her?”

  David gave her a flat look, “you’ve got something she’ll never have, in her entire life. It’s called a heart. That makes you more beautiful than words can describe. And I ain’t poetic enough to even give it a go.”

  Jing Fei blushed at that. “Gonk.”

  He snorted, “Yeah, that wasn’t my best work, for sure.”

  It very probably was, actually. No, it definitely was.

  Argh!

  She took her pillow and hit him. He laughed, “what?!” She hit him again. Then another time. Then she took the pillow back.

  “You needed some discipline,” she said, and left it at that. Then she remembered the video and— “Were you hurt, David?” And are you also a policyholder, she wanted to ask, but… she didn’t know how to. He had come into all this money very recently, so he probably was, but if he wasn’t, then… shouldn’t she say something?

  Like, ‘You should pay money to the company that let your mother die’.

  The idea sickened her.

  Very well.

  Even if it meant dedicating her entire monthly allowance on the matter, she would subsidize his Trauma Team policy. If he would allow her. But that too came with its own pitfalls. Namely, his own pride as a man.

  No, this… this would require a lot of tact.

  “No, no, I’m fine,” he chuckled, “I’m really good at tucking and rolling. Honest, look,” he pulled his sleeves up and revealed unblemished skin. And rippling muscle.

  Her hands found themselves on his arms, and she felt him. Warm. Soft. The four o’ clock sun bathed it in the most beautiful golden light.

  She looked up—at his face. Their eyes met and it felt like a spark went through her, jumbled up her thoughts, blowing down the house of cards that was her composure.

  She wanted him—so much that it hurt. Right here, even.

  No—there were cameras, and her family and—so much to consider. Forcefully, she severed that connection, “so, tell me more about your tryst with Jin Ryuzaki.”

  “A tryst?” David stuck his tongue out in disgust, “No. Well, anyway, turns out, he… uh, sees potential in me,” he rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what the kid is playing at. He sold me this story of us becoming best chooms and partners, taking on Arasaka together. It was a pretty fantasy, and he was really drunk, but honestly…”

  Jing Fei frowned pensively, “I’d warn you to be cautious, but this sounds… a little too blatant to be a trick, really. You think maybe he was serious?”

  David shrugged, “Well, if he was, then I’d like to ask him—what makes him worth my while? Because from where I’m standing, he’s a brain potato adrenaline junkie, constantly picks fights with people, thinks he’s above consequences, and—” he stopped speaking almost immediately. Then his eyes widened. “Fuck.”

  “What?”

  “No, I just realized—I was pretty much describing myself as well.”

  Jing Fei laughed.

  “It’s not funny!”

  Jing Fei laughed harder.

  David groaned piteously as he bent over, head in his hands.

  “What?” Jing Fei giggled.

  “It’s nothing, just—embarrassed, I guess. About yesterday. First time I ever partied like a corpo,” he said, “first time I never had to worry about someone hating me from high above. Thought it’d be freeing. And, at first, it kinda was. Now with Jin telling me all that, holding me in his confidence. Suddenly, it all seems so real.”

  Jing Fei put her hand on his head. He looked up askance. She gave him the widest grin she could muster. “I’m proud of you, David, for getting ahead like that.” He looked even more saddened by her words. Why? Had she said something wrong?

  “Thanks,” he muttered. Then he grinned slightly, but still there was sadness tugging at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you, Fei Fei.”

  “Don’t thank me,” she giggled slightly, “what else are friends for?”

  He nodded. Then… “Hey, what if… if there was a single person to blame for everything that happened. What would you want to happen to them?”

  “You mean Gotō?” Jing Fei asked. That seemed like a futile question to ask.

  “What if… they were even more to blame than Gotō?” David asked.

  “I don’t understand,” Jing Fei narrowed her eyes. It was a distressing hypothetical, to imagine that all of that night was a product of even more foul play than what was readily apparent. And how would that work, anyhow? Was it even possible to induce cyberpsychosis in a person? And even then, to what end? Some kind of inter-corporate scheme, perhaps?

  In that case, then… what? How would she feel if she was face-to-face with this shadowy corporate mastermind, who had almost gotten her own family killed just to take out the son of a rival executive?

  Disgust? Anger?

  What would she want to happen to them?

  She winced and shook her head, banishing the thoughts away, “it doesn’t matter,” she settled. “What happened happened. All I want is for my brother and I to be discharged, so we can put this behind us and learn.” Perhaps it was also time for her to take the plunge into the world of corporate cyberware as well? No more fashionware—she was too old for such half-measures. Her biomonitor had barely done her any favors, either. She needed subdermal plating, a nanolaminate tungsten-carbide cranium, a revamped musculoskeletal structure, the whole nine yards.

  And it would be her choice. No medical necessity—just preparation.

  “Would you forgive them?”

  David’s question ripped her out from her reverie. She blinked away the thoughts of preparatory cyberware to consider the bizarre question more closely. It felt surreal, honestly. Like the product of a feverish mind, or a bizarre dream. Would you forgive them? Forgiveness was the furthest thing from her mind, and it only sounded like prolonged suicide to her.

  “I would forget them,” she said, “if they even exist. And I’d rather not entertain the possibility that they do. I’m sorry David, but… let’s switch topics. This one is way too morbid for me.”

  “Ah, sorry. Yeah, let’s.”

  It didn’t even make sense. Was David trying to teach her the value of ruthlessness or something? What was she supposed to say? I’ll never abide that a threat to my family continues to draw breath. Then what? Additional conflict would only add to more conflict, putting her and her family at greater risk.

  Why did people care so much about revenge? Was it some intrinsic desire to do violence, inherent in all people? Or pettiness, maybe? Extending one’s pain to someone else?

  Did she want that?

  “What do you want me to say, David?” Jing Fei whispered, “I don’t want to hate anyone. And I don’t want what happened to make me a worse person. Someone who’d do anything to hurt someone else—even if they hurt me. Is that… is that a bad thing?”

  “No, not at all!” he rushed to say, “you’re thinking about what’s best for you, and that’s a good thing. I’m sorry I asked the question, I just—it had nothing to do with you.”

  She looked at him for a moment and wondered—how much care had he received after the car crash? Was he perhaps having trouble reckoning with his anger? “Do you hate Trauma Team, David?”

  He chuckled darkly, then he shook his head, “probably,” he nodded.

  “Would you…? Are you…?” Jing Fei sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to ask—”

  He chuckled, shaking his head, “no, yeah, I get it. Probably not the best idea beefing with the angels that bring people back to life. Never know when I might need ‘em.” he sighed. “But I don’t care. If I ever get caught lacking in these streets by some gangoon or whatever, then that’ll be it for me. Trauma’s not in the equation, nor will it ever be. They let my mom die.”

  “David, don’t be angry when I say this,” Jing Fei said, “but… who does this anger serve exactly?”

  “It’s not about anger,” he said quietly, “it’s about the principle. And it’s sad, but that’s just how the cookie crumbles. It’s not like I won’t give them my money—I can’t. I can’t even think about it.” Then he snorted, “and NC’s a big city. There’s plenty of medtech companies here I can sub to.”

  “None as good as Trauma Team.”

  He chuckled, “don’t worry about that. I’m used to shit-tier. Lived my whole life in that tier,” then he schooled his expression, “and a wise man once said to me, ain’t no one you can trust more in this world than yourself. Start using people as a crutch and you’re as good as dead. I’d rather prevent ever needing to go to the hospital, than prep for it.”

  Jing Fei’s mind flashed back to David’s near-total domination of Hou Ken. He had left that boy bloodied and broken with a mostly organic body, and he had the cunning to climb up to this level with barely any backing.

  “I’m not worried about myself, Fei-Fei,” he gave her a comforting grin, “so don’t worry about me, either, alright?”

  “I don’t get it,” Jing Fei grumbled, clawing at her blanket. “This just feels like vainglory to me. Too much pride. It might get you hurt.”

  “Holding my head down got me hurt worse than—” he paused and sighed, tamping down on his sudden aggression. “Maybe.” He looked down, not talking. Jing Fei felt like she should apologize, but she couldn’t see where she was wrong.

  And maybe that was something they could never see eye-to-eye on?

  In that case, it paid to think about their commonalities more so than that—she was reluctant to widen this rift.

  “I… don’t understand,” Jing Fei said, “but that’s fine.” It wasn’t. “Again, I’m… glad you had a good time. And I’m glad things are looking up for you. And I’m really happy that you came.” She took his hand and held it. It was so warm. Like his heart.

  “And I’m glad you’re okay,” he smiled.

  Slowly, they eased over to kinder topics. The laughs came easily once again, and at some point, the lights turned on when the sun had finally set.

  Once David was ready to leave, Jing Fei pondered those words of his.

  You can’t trust anyone more than yourself.

  Use people as a crutch and you’re as good as dead.

  She nodded. Those were wise words, from a wise man.

  And although Trauma Team had rendered an excellent service thus far, David was right, too. She couldn’t rely on them, or she would die.

  She would speak to the family Ripperdoc first thing after discharging.

  000

  I tried not to think too hard about my little disagreement with Fei-Fei—she only wanted what was best for me, and a Trauma Team insurance policy was undoubtedly what was best for me. Well, a me that didn’t have the regenerative capabilities that I had, at least. Owing to that alone, I doubted I’d ever have to take out an insurance policy, unless it was for show or something like that.

  Even then, I doubted I’d ever take one out. Why the ever-loving fuck would I ever accept a biomonitor tracking my vitals at every waking moment, feeding a corp my private fucking data constantly and without end? The whole thing was nightmarishly intrusive, and I honestly didn’t care if Trauma Team were fucking angels that could do no wrong about that dragon’s hoard of client data they were sitting on—count me the fuck out.

  In fact, I might make it a mission of mine one of these days—to crack into that safe of binary gold and leak it just for the kicks. Then I could watch as Trauma Team went up in flames, hounded by every corp whose members had a policy, watch them do all the work for me—just like how Lucy and I did the cartel and Green Farm down in Tijuana.

  Obviously, that would be an order of magnitude more difficult, but it was good to dream. It was the first step before achieving something after all.

  Biotechnica would be next on my hitlist after that, for what they did to me all those years ago.

  [And where should I fit that in our exceedingly busy schedule?] Nanny asked.

  I snorted.

  D: Don’t talk to me about time management after you just bitched me out over it.

  [I’ll throw it between ‘Becoming an NC legend’ and ‘Operation Top of Arasaka Tower’.]

  D: I’ll EMP you.

  On the way out, I saw a patient stop and stare at me. I looked at her, furrowing my brows in confusion. She looked… plain. Poor, really. The fact that she could afford being an in-patient in this hospital surprised me, but not as much as the attention she had fixed on me. “Can I help you?”

  The middle-aged woman looked at me for a while longer before speaking, “I know who you are. David Martinez.”

  I frowned, “well… you have me at a disadvantage.”

  “I am Hanako Tanaka,” she said. My eyes widened at that.

  She was Katsuo’s mom? I couldn’t spot any cyberware on her, and she barely even looked sculpted at all. “Pleasure,” I bowed my head at her.

  “If you are here to visit Katsuo, then I’m afraid I must turn you away—he is in no state to accept any visitors.”

  I clenched my jaws as the reality of this conversation sunk in. I was speaking to Katsuo’s mom.

  “And…” she said, her expression one of ill-contained fury, “I must demand that you do not add to his misery by making an appearance.”

  I looked away from her, so I’d glare at the floor instead of her. I was angry—furious, even, but something about her made it extremely difficult to direct that anger at her.

  Just days ago, I had considered taking her life if she had proved to be an obstacle to my revenge. Now, seeing her in this pathetic state, making empty demands of me, I could do nothing but stay angry. Like there was an invisible wall preventing my thoughts from turning into some sort of enemy action.

  I didn’t like that she had seen me, however. I should have been more cautious about that. I had pinged the entire hospital, but she hadn’t even come up. I had never assumed that she was even here.

  Because she wore no cyberware. For fuck’s sakes, D. I should have given all the files in the Tanaka network a good read—if I had, I might have learned about this.

  Still, this was hardly enough to connect me to anything. And judging by her words, she already knew that I was on the outs with her little monster of a son.

  “So you know,” I muttered, “you know who he is. You know who you’ve raised.”

  “Leave.”

  I clenched my jaw and slowly swallowed my anger—and some other burning emotion deep within my chest.

  I looked her in the eyes and…

  Bowed. “I apologize for causing you distress, Mrs. Tanaka. That was never my intention.” Then I walked past her.

  I felt a hand grab my wrist for a moment before letting go. I stopped.

  “My son is many things, but he would not have taunted you were you in his position. Have you no shame? You being here... this is inhuman.”

  Inhuman? She wanted to call me inhuman?

  I snorted. “Respectully, ma’am—you don’t know your son at all. And I pray you never will.” Despite everything, even her words, I found myself believing in mine with all my heart.

  I had no idea who this woman was, no idea whether or not she was even deserving of that prayer or the mercy of ignorance.

  But if there was one thing in the entire world I was certain of, it was this: no matter what I had done or who I had hurt, I was better than Katsuo.

  I wouldn’t sink to his level.

  “Sayonara, Tanaka-san.” I continued walking.

  https://discord.gg/W5BqBBym28