Chapter 17

That day, after wrapping up a job from Jugra, the crew of Edgerunners was celebrating our victory at our usual hangout.

…But no matter what, Jugra’s smile from back then refused to fade from my mind.

Even during life-or-death scraps with scavengers, there were plenty of times when I’d feel that tiny hand pressing against my back, whispering to keep the scales of my heart balanced.

The adrenaline raging out of control would seep away like a drop falling into still water, leaving me calm again.

…Yeah. I’d finally realized—I’d been one hell of an idiot.

"…Hey, Rebecca."

"Mm? What’s up, David? Wanna try the strong carbonated stuff?"

"Absolutely not. But… unless I’m way off here… is Jugra actually a woman?"

"…Pfft. Took you long enough. Man, watching you was hilarious. But hey, that’s Jugra for you. Never had any intention of letting anyone figure it out. Probably had some kinda trouble in the past, y’know? Happens."

"Nah, her place is basically a Tyger Claws hangout, so…"

"…Fair point. Maybe she was playin’ the tough guy so nobody’d mess with her. Definitely not the type to flash charm around like me."

"…Guess so."

I took a slow sip of beer as Rebecca casually confirmed the truth.

…Shit. I’d run into her in the bathroom back when I was crashing at her place.

And she’d just stared blankly, like, Eh, whatever.

Wait—did she not even think of me as a guy? Nah, no way.

"…Hah. Reminds me of some old BD my shitty brother brought home once—guess you’d call her a yakuza woman. The kind who lives by honor, throws down for the weak, and wrecks the strong. Total self-sacrifice, y’know? Definitely not my style."

Rebecca plopped down beside me, slamming a fresh beer on the table as she shared that tidbit.

A yakuza woman, huh…? Yeah, Jugra was terrifying when she chewed out the Mains. Felt like you did not wanna cross her.

I nursed my beer, letting the fizz fade on my tongue, while Pilar took center stage to show off some tricks. His already-long arms now gleamed with black chrome, their multi-jointed precision moving like hooked claws in an intricate dance. A total tech-head, especially for cyberhands—apparently, he’d upgraded at Jugra’s place.

"…Think it’s called a ‘Chrome Hand’—took some ultra-precise medical-grade prosthetic fingers and remade ’em with combat-grade materials. Clinic hooked him up, and now he’s loving it."

"Yeah. I dunno tech, but seeing him stack coins into an arch? Damn. His old hand maxed out at three, so… dude’s insane."

"Even Pilar admits she’s a top-tier techie… Hey, didn’t you get a new piece too?"

"Oh, this baby?" Rebecca whipped out twin Lexingtons—pink and green—from her hips with a "Ta-daa!" "Used to rock Omaha’s cheap crap, but now? Behold: the Lexington Rebecca Custom, long-mag edition!! Zero sideways recoil, just vertical. Smooth as hell. And Jugra hooked me up with two! Absolute legend!"

She fired wildly into the ceiling, both guns bucking like a headbanger’s dream. Built-in suppressors kept it silent—no one even noticed.

…That’s fucking terrifying.

For a trigger-happy maniac like Rebecca, it was perfection.

Jugra seemed to genuinely care about Edgerunners, setting up monthly "check-ups"—health consults disguised as clinic visits. Ever since we started rolling deep to The Glocker, the team’s been sharper. Maine’s cyberware glitches? Fixed. Dorio upgraded her gorilla arms to sleek new models. Pilar got his Chrome Hand. Rebecca her cannons.

Even Kiwi and Lucy, who’d refused at first, got dragged to the basement by Jugra’s Sandevistan and came out looking complicated. Grudgingly admitted their gear ran 20% smoother. Netrunners hate being exposed, but Jugra stripped ’em clean—then polished ’em up.

"…Hey, David."

"Hm?"

"You into her or somethin’?"

"—Huh?! The hell you talkin’ about?"

"You’ve been thinkin’ about her this whole time."

"Nah, more like… the whole crew."

"Suuure. Then why’re you smilin’ like an idiot?"

I touched my mouth—shit, I was grinning.

…Can’t help it. This? This is fun.

Not like my gray student days. This world’s loud, bright, alive. No underground BDs could match this.

"Hey, Rebecca."

"Mm?"

"If I told you I was top-tier at Arasaka Academy… you’d believe me?"

"…Hah?! Bullshit. You? In their elite corpo track? Pfft—no way—wait—holy shit, is that your transcript?! …Wait, why’d you quit?"

"…Found out about Mom’s black-market deals. Didn’t belong there anyway. Those elitist pricks, from head to toe… I just wanted this. To live free. Like a real cyberpunk."

I washed the words down with flat beer. Rebecca looked like she had more to say, but just refilled her glass.

"…Well. Good for you, then."

"Yeah. So right now? I’m having the time of my life."

"That crazy-sharp katana you use to slice up scavengers?"

"...Kinda became a habit recently. Most underground BDs just show guns, so this hits different."

"Huh... lemme try it?"

"Sure, but... it's heavier than it looks."

"Pfft, I got this."

I handed Byakko to Rebecca after loosening the saya. She stepped back, gauging the distance, then started swinging.

...Watching her wobble like a baby deer was weirdly cute.

Guess I looked like that too at first. I tossed a Nico-Cola can her way. She spotted it mid-swing, batted it like a home run—schink—clean cut.

Jugra always said "don’t chop, slice," but Byakko was too sharp—it split the can anyway. Rebecca grinned, satisfied, and handed it back. When she plopped down beside me, the faint sweat on her skin made my pulse skip.

"Whew... okay, I get why you’re obsessed. This thing’s nuts."

"Right? And Jugra just gave it to me. No big deal, apparently."

"...Yeah. Real unfair."

Rebecca chugged her beer, earlier energy muted. Her cheeks were flushed, swaying slightly—already feeling the buzz.

Yikes. Moving around then drinking? She’s gonna crash hard.

I passed her a water bottle. She spilled half down her tank top before gulping it. Then—oh god—she started unzipping her hoodie.

"Whoa, no. Not here. C’mon, let’s get you home."

"Heheh... ’m done. Carry me?"

"...Shit, you’re wasted."

She melted like jelly when I tried to shoulder her. Ugh. Fine. I scooped her up—one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back—just as Pilar’s street performance peaked. Everyone was distracted.

...Where does she live again?

After telling Maine I’d take her home, I slipped out. The neon noise faded, replaced by Rebecca’s soft snores against my chest.

For a runt, you’re cute. Should really be more careful.

No address, no answers—only option was my place. I called my Delamain, tucked her into the backseat.

Mom raised an eyebrow when we arrived but just sighed after my explanation. Couldn’t put Rebecca in her bed, so mine it was. I smirked at her drooling face.

...Mom, I didn’t bring her here for that. Chill.

"David," Mom whispered, "sometimes girls want to be swept off their feet. Literally."

I slept on the couch to avoid thoughts like that.

Next morning, Rebecca woke up scarlet, patting herself down until Mom’s breakfast reset her brain. By the time she left, she was back to her usual scowl.

"...Shoulda made a move, idiot."

The TV drowned her muttering. But Mom’s cooking—maybe her first home meal—left her almost cheerful.

I trashed Pilar’s "debrief NOW" text and brushed my teeth for Jugra’s clinic shift.

"Big night, huh?" she said immediately.

"NOT LIKE THAT—"

She laughed. Just teasing. But that smirk? It itched.

No idea why.