Chapter 15

The hottest gang ruling Japantown with an iron grip—The Tiger Claws.

At their core was their seasoned fixer, Wakako Okada, currently rubbing her temples in frustration.

"...No good. Can’t figure it out. Absolutely no idea what that girl’s thinking..."

Her headache? The movements of a certain girl—the legacy of the late Ripperdoc she’d taken under her wing.

The girl’s father was dead, and now she moved through life with hollow efficiency, her trust in humanity eroded. It was enough to make the sentimental Wakako misty-eyed.

But then reports came in: The girl had slipped her surveillance, brought home some boy her age, and—according to intel—even sent him back loaded with custom top-tier gear. Wakako’s mind conjured an image of a tiger floating in space, utterly dumbstruck.

Then, the next day, the boy was invited back, only to leave decked out in even more high-end hardware. Wakako knew the signs—she’d been young once, too. That urge to spoil someone you’re sweet on? She got it.

Ah. So she’s reached that age, Wakako mused...

Until she learned the girl had also hidden the boy’s injured mother and let him move in.

Add to that a visit from a runner crew based out of Santo Domingo’s container houses, and Wakako’s veteran instincts whispered: This ain’t romance.

When things cooled down, she casually probed Jugra—only for the girl to spin some transparent lie about "wanting to be a fixer like Wakako."

"...Doesn’t seem like the kid’s blackmailing her, and if he had leverage? Jugra would’ve flatlined him already. So it’s not some lovesick fling either... The hell’s going on?"

Testing the waters, Wakako handed Jugra a job tangentially related to the boy. The girl promptly delegated it to that runner team from earlier.

She was definitely hiding something nuclear—but Wakako had zero leads. The files on the Martinez母子? Just another dirt-poor laborer family. The only possible motive?

"...Military tech leaked by Arasaka. Hah. Jugra’s always been more techie than Ripper. Maybe she’s using the kid to get her hands on it."

That’s what Wakako wanted to believe.

The alternative? That Jugra was so obsessively in love with David Martinez she’d rebuilt his life—not just digging moats but laying foundations for a damn castle.

Recent events showed Jugra expanding her reach, bold enough to expose her ties to Finger’s Ripper.

*...Hell, she’s moving so much black-market iron, it’s nearly 10% of Tiger Claws’ total funds—and Wakako* hadn’t even noticed.

Honestly, if someone claimed Jugra was building a new gang under the Claws’ banner, Wakako might’ve believed it.

But Jugra showed no ambition beyond her little *"Edgerunners +1"* team.

Thank God. If she had gone all-in, she could’ve redrawn Night City’s power map.

"...Might need a face-to-face. Holo won’t cut it. Whatever she’s planning, it’s gonna be big ..."

So Wakako summoned her to the back office of her pachinko parlor.

After a curt nod from her bodyguard Edmund, Jugra strutted in—overalls, black tank top, the full gremlin-mechanic aesthetic—looking way too pleased.

Vibrant. Alive. Her usual edge softened, just a fraction.

"Yo, Wakako. What’s the job?"

"...You’re in a real good mood, Jug. Something fun happen?"

"Heh. Maybe." Her grin was all teeth. "Just watched a legend-in-the-making hatch. Damn, that kid can kill. Really drives home how some people just need to die. Even handles the Sandevistan like a pro—gotta nurture that talent."

Oh no.

Wakako realized her mistake.

This wasn’t puppy love.

Every word dripped venom—malice for the scavs, for everyone on her shitlist.

The girl’s roots were still tangled in her father’s death.

Not sweetness—spicy, like tongue-scorching coffee.

Wakako knew that burn. The smolder of losing family.

Jugra’s hatred for Night City’s rot had taken its first steps—alone.

A silent scream: Let it all burn.

"Glad The White Tiger was worth it, then."

"Damn right. Got ‘em training blades, too. Future master in the making."

"...You’re really invested in that boy."

"Hah. Don’t tell me you’re imagining some crush. Kid’s just hired muscle. Employer and employee—nothing more."

"Right. Just... staff."

Jugra tilted her head, nodding like it was obvious.

Wakako’s gut twisted.

Her failure had forged this girl into a demon.

Now Jugra hoarded Arasaka’s miltech—not for profit, but to erase the city’s filth.

The Monowire, the Sandevistan—tools for the purge.

If Wakako hadn’t slapped the Tiger Claws’ name on "Glucker", Jugra would’ve vanished—scheming something monstrous in the shadows.

Instead, she’d built her own army: David Martinez and the Edgerunners.

"Well, as long as you keep Ripper work steady, do what you want. How’d your first fixer gig go? Fun? Come back for more."

"Mmm. Keep ‘em tight but not overwhelming. More field time means more growth."

"...Got it. Oh—Regina in Watson caught your first target. What’s the play?"

"Huh. Good for her. But I’ve got... upgrades to prep. Need another month."

"I’ll tell her to wait. But I’m expecting results."

"C’mon, Wakako. Nobody’s cracked Cyberpsychosis research. Don’t hype me up."

"Heh. Can’t help it. You’re the Claws’ golden girl—of course I’m proud."

Jugra didn’t scowl. Just a wry smile.

Good. Wakako had braced for hatred—over her father.

But Jugra’s gaze held something... softer.

"Enough business. Tea?" Wakako gestured to a lacquered box. "Fresh from Japan."

"No way. Is that—?" Her eyes lit up. "Gyokuro?! Holy shit, Wakako!"

"Knew you’d prefer it over The White Tiger."

Jugra spun, giddy as a kid, cradling the box.

Strange—she’d never cared for dresses or jewels, but this?

Wakako smiled as the girl brewed with practiced grace.

Total Japanophile.

The first sip—sweet, bitter, alive—made Jugra’s usual edge melt away.

"...Never thought I’d taste something this good in this hellhole."

For once, she looked happy.

“That’s good to hear… You’re really good at making tea, Jug. Where’d you learn?”

“Hmm, my dad brought some with him when he came over here. It wasn’t as high-grade as this, though. And there wasn’t much of it, so I used it all up while he was teaching me how to brew it.”

When Jugra casually muttered something like, “Hey, maybe this could be used to treat cyberpsychosis,” as if a screw had come loose in her head, Wakako couldn’t help but burst out laughing and covered her mouth.

“I see. That makes sense,” she nodded, partly because Jugra’s face, which had worn an expression like a war god just moments ago, had completely changed.

“See, I’ve been thinking—maybe the root of cyberpsychosis is the shift from a human body to tech, which causes a kind of disassociation from humanity. So if we built equipment that could grow biological parts, and replaced the tech bits using the patient’s own cells, maybe they could return to a relatively normal life. I mean, if their body looks the same as before and it feels like flesh when they move, they wouldn’t think of themselves as machines anymore, would they?”

“…Hmm. That actually makes some sense. Can’t say I know much myself, so I might not follow all the details, but on a logical level, you might not be wrong. This is gonna sound like a dumb question, though—”

“Stop. Just stop starting questions like that, seriously.”

“Hehehe, just messing with you. So, where are you planning to build this equipment? That clinic’s already too cramped, ain’t it?”

“Huh? Wait, you didn’t notice? What do you think I had David and the others move in next door for? I’m gonna connect part of their space to ours and use it to expand the area for the equipment. It’s a cover, obviously.”

Wakako closed her mouth, realizing Jugra probably hadn’t told the people involved anything about it.

No ill intent—but there were too many things hidden under the guise of good intentions.

Poor kids, Wakako thought, sympathizing with the Martinez family for the first time.

And at the same time, she thought, They’ve lucked into something terrifyingly rare, too.

And so, the literal tea party, held over delicious tea, came to a gentle close.