January 27, 2069 – 10:20 AM
Night City – Megatower Four
Alex Mitchell (Volkov)
"Citizens of the New United States of America, in recent weeks we've seen a surge in coordinated terrorist activity across multiple cities. Thanks to the swift and decisive response of the Militech Corporation, most of these threats have been neutralized. That said, I believe it is my duty today to address the nation..."
"Rise and shine, Night City! You're tuned in to your ever-faithful news anchor — Henry Cavill. And I'm guessing I wasn't the only one blindsided by President Rosalind Myers' latest address. Martial law is now in effect across several Free Cities, and if things keep escalating, it's about to get real hot, real fast. If I were you, I'd start planning a vacation — somewhere far from the front lines."
"This is a live report from the Parliament Chamber of the Free State of Texas..."
"New Mexico has formally announced its decision to join the newly formed Alliance, citing the need to preserve its sovereignty..."
"Idaho, Oregon, and Southern California have all pledged support to President Myers' bloc..."
I shut off the holoscreen mid-broadcast. The endless churn of breaking news had already worn through my patience. Across from me, Kiwi sat in silence, her gaze still lingering on where the screen had been.
"I've spent half my life preparing for this," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "And now that the war's finally here... I feel completely off-balance. It's a weird feeling."
Leaning back, I tilted my head toward the ceiling.
"You've always been too sentimental," Kiwi said dryly, tossing out one of her signature dismissive hand waves.
"Breakfast's ready!" Sasha called out, cheerful as ever, as she, Lucy, and Roxy rushed to set the table. Whatever tension hung between Kiwi and me dissolved in an instant as we got up to help carry over the absurd mountain of food they'd somehow thrown together.
"Well," I sighed, stabbing a fork into a chunk of salad, "all we can do now is wait... and hope nothing truly catastrophic kicks off. Butterfly effects are a bitch to predict."
"Is that why you always make it your mission to prove everyone wrong?" Kiwi teased, her smirk cutting just deep enough to leave a mark.
"Touche." I raised my hands in mock surrender, grinning despite myself.
Moments like this — this easy rhythm, this wordless sense of connection — always grounded me. No matter how insane the world got outside, this little circle of calm had a way of quieting the noise before another storm rolled in.
"I'm heading to Becca's." Lucy pushed back from the table and vanished before anyone could get a word in.
"You're not going with her?" I raised an eyebrow at my eldest, who was listlessly nudging around scraps on her plate.
"They'll end up here anyway. No point in both of us going," Roxy said, cool and matter-of-fact. Sound logic — except those two were usually joined at the hip. Her staying behind? That was new.
"You two fighting?" I asked, going straight for the most obvious conclusion.
"Not exactly. She's just... been super irritable lately." Roxy shrugged, pitching her voice just loud enough for someone in the next room to hear.
"More than usual? Damn…" I played along, laying it on thick.
"I can hear you, you know!" Lucy's voice called out from beyond the kitchen wall.
"Let her blow off some steam," Sasha added, waving a lazy paw-hand and smothering a laugh behind the other. "I was just as dramatic at her age."
"Teenage phase," I agreed solemnly — right as Lucy's latest dramatic growl echoed through the apartment.
"Hah-hah, so funny!" came the indignant reply, followed by the soft click of the front door.
"She's still pretty restrained, all things considered," Kiwi remarked with a smirk.
"Maybe I should talk to her?" I glanced at Engel, not sure how to handle the mood swings currently known as my daughter.
"Don't," she said knowingly. "Sometimes you just need to sulk for no good reason."
"Maybe... but I still worry about her. Roxy…" I turned toward the quiet one.
"Buy our favorite," she cut me off, already standing and heading for the door without waiting for a response.
"So it all comes down to sweets," I muttered, rolling my eyes in theatrical despair. "They really take after you, Kiwi. Not that it's shocking — you are basically their mom."
"And they get their attitude from you," she shot back without hesitation.
"Kids mirror their parents. It's hardwired biology," Vega chimed in, ever the logic-driven observer.
"Thanks, Captain Obvious." I gave her a mock salute.
"At ease," the android replied deadpan.
That actually caught me off guard. I stared at her, wide-eyed, as she blinked — almost sheepishly.
"Told you it'd work," Sasha grinned, throwing Vega a big thumbs-up while I tried to reset my brain.
Of course. Vega didn't come up with that line on her own — this was clearly a premeditated prank cooked up by the merry little gang of chaos I lived with.
"That was low," I said, narrowing my eyes at the brunette still laughing at my expense.
"But totally worth it," she grinned, looking like a cat who'd just hacked into the creamery.
***
January 27, 2069
Tokyo – Imperial Palace
Saburo Arasaka
The elderly man paced the length of his office with deliberate calm, lost in thought. Militech had made its move — and in Saburo's eyes, it wasn't a bad one.
The Arasaka Corporation would never pass up a chance to deepen its foothold on the continent, especially with a war primed for exploitation. But overt action? Out of the question. If Saburo pushed too aggressively, the other corporations would scent opportunity and swarm like vultures — eager to carve up the spoils of a war still in progress. That kind of corporate free-for-all was unacceptable.
No, this game was about extracting maximum gain with minimal exposure. What he needed was leverage, not noise.
A soft chime broke his concentration.
Someone disturbing him this early? It had better be worth it.
"Good morning, oji-san. How are you feeling?"
Michiko's image flickered into focus on the holoscreen, her bow respectful, her voice steady — though laced with purpose.
"As unshakable as Mount Fuji," Saburo replied solemnly, his expression carved in stone. "Ever watchful, ever guarding the peace of our homeland."
Then, after a pause:
"You don't contact me for trivialities. What is it this time?"
"You're as perceptive as ever, Grandfather." Her tone was diplomatic, but urgency lurked just beneath. "I assume you've seen President Myers' latest 'address'?"
A slight nod from Saburo confirmed it.
"I came to ask your counsel — and to offer a proposal."
Now that was unexpected.
"This morning is full of surprises," he murmured, intrigued. "Very well. Speak."
"A 'unifying war' — that's what they're calling it," she began, measured and composed. "And it could be extremely profitable. Not every state wants to give up its independence — but as you and I both know, most won't be able to hold onto it. They'll need weapons, equipment, trained personnel. We can provide all of it — for a price."
She let the idea settle before continuing.
"And of course, no one could fault us. The Free Cities, after all, are not technically part of the NUSA." She drew a breath and met his gaze through the screen. "That's my proposal."
A faint smile touched the corners of Saburo's lips. It pleased him to see his granddaughter thinking not just like a corporate heir — but like a strategist. Like a ruler.
"A sound proposal," he said slowly. "But you mentioned seeking guidance. What do you wish to ask?"
"A drawn-out war is a dangerous thing," the dark-haired woman said softly, her voice edged with fatigue. "You, of all people, know where that road leads."
A heavy sigh slipped from her lips.
"Oji-san… maybe it's time we became the ones to bring peace to this fractured nation."
"You think we should just forget the old wounds?" Saburo Arasaka's voice cut through the stillness like a blade.
The long-reigning head of the Arasaka Corporation clenched his hand into a fist, his eyes sharpening with instinctive distrust.
"Not forget — only make it look as if we have," Michiko replied, her head dipping ever so slightly. Deep down, she hoped the nuance would strike the right chord in her grandfather's calculating, pride-bound mind.
"Lose the battle to win the war…" Saburo ran a hand along his chin, weighing each word with deliberate care. "There's a certain logic to your proposal."
He closed his eyes for a beat — a rare, almost human gesture. The choice before him wasn't just tactical. It was legacy-defining. When he opened them again, the weight of his resolve was unmistakable.
"Very well. We'll proceed your way."
"In that case," Michiko continued, steady and composed, "I have one more request. I want you to appoint me as your envoy — to handle negotiations."
Saburo's eyes narrowed. "What are you planning?"
His gaze searched hers for any trace of duplicity, lingering long enough to suggest he'd find it if it were there.
"Elizabeth Kress... she trusts me. At least to some degree," Michiko said. "That makes me a viable intermediary. My presence won't provoke the same reaction yours would. I can operate as a buffer — between you and the former president, who's clearly still pulling strings from the shadows."
Saburo regarded her in silence. The room seemed to hold its breath with him.
"It pleases me," he said at last, "to see you stepping into the affairs of our empire with such conviction, Michiko."
Their eyes locked, the silence charged with legacy, expectation, and something unspoken — something familial.
"You have my blessing," he said, with the calm weight of an emperor passing judgment. "I'm counting on you… my beloved granddaughter."