Goro Takemura x Reader

Twenty-Four

A slightly queasy feeling spread in the pit of your stomach as Takemura steered the car behind the convoy into a dark alley.

Although you had been trapped in Night City for several years, you had rarely dared to explore the streets. You knew some places near Konpeki Plaza and the outskirts of the city, where there was much wealth and little crime.

But this was a neighbourhood that was further into the core of the city. Bunge neon lights dispelled the darkness. You could see Japanese characters flashing on walls. They lured with women and venal love.

Japantown was known for its specialties, colourful lights, gang decorated with only Asian people and prostitution. Gambling was also one of their businesses, but it was legal in Night City unless money was involved.

Years before, Japan had circumvented this prohibition by paying out prizes immediately, expensive and luxurious. The pachinko arcades were equally popular in Night City.

Curious eyes followed the cars while holographic cherry blossoms scattered in the air. For a moment you felt at home.

But only for a moment.

In the next breath, a figure suddenly flitted past the window, making you wince. Cyberware wasn't just for modifying bodies and making them battle-hardened. Most people had the chrome used for beauty optimisation.

For argument's sake, beauty was in the eye of the beholder. But as the man with a face of red painted metal passed by you couldn't help but push away from the window. An Oni mask stared back at you, paired with gold glowing eyes. It was like a nightmare from your childhood come true.

Your heart began to beat faster.

A single glance was enough to spot weapons in the glimmering light of the streets. Everyone seemed to be covered in tattoos, armed with a katana or a firearm.

Some of them even possessed mantis blades. You recognised the patterns that appeared on their arms to make room for the hidden weapons. A great deal of human flesh had to give way to give these modifications enough room. They were dangerous modifications that carried a high risk of hurting their owners as well.

And they were also difficult to control. Most cyberfreaks were in possession of mantis blades.

"Most of them wear them as a deterrent.", Takemura sounded so reassuringly calm as he began to talk about the gang members and yet there was this condemnation in his voice. "They think good cyberware makes them invincible. But they are wrong. Even the best sword does not make a samurai out of a peasant."

You knew that saying. It was Saburo's favourite teaching. He often spoke in riddles, apparently so often that it rubbed off on his bodyguard.

And yet Takemura was hardly like his master. He was gentler, more approachable, and never failed to make you feel that he valued your presence. You felt comfortable around him.

Even though Saburo had been your father for as long as you could remember, there was still this distance between the two of you. Like a cliff he didn't want you to go over. He found kind words but in every praise there was also a lesson, a warning.

Sometimes a cold shiver crept down your spine when you thought of his ways.

"I don't know what it's like to exchange flesh for metal.", as if by itself your hand stroked the back of your hand as if you had to make sure what real skin felt like.

"It can be a blessing. Bullets no longer hurt. Blades break on you.", his gaze was on the road but you could still see his eyes darken. "But it changes you."

Curiosity arose in you. But you didn't want to seem intrusive. It wasn't right to ask too many questions that the other person didn't want to answer of his own accord.

Besides, he was certainly older than you. Even if you outranked him, the respect owed to the older ones still counted.

So you lowered your head to escape the people outside the window and let silence fall. It was a comfortable silence to you. But there was still this curiosity that burned beneath your skin.

"Change can be neither good nor bad.", you said with a relaxed expression. "It is what you make of it."

"Hmpf.", this was the first time that you heard a sound of snippy disapproval from him.

It broke his prim and proper facade and gave him a bit more of a personality. It showed that he had a mind of himself and opinions to defend.

"What?", you chuckled and pressed finger to his metallic neck to tease him. "You are rather equipped yourself, Goro. Don't tell me you despise it?"

His eyebrows knitted together.

"I don't.", he simply answered with a glance at you. "But I would have liked to have a choice."

All of a sudden the smirk on your face faded and a feeling of deep ridden shame filled your cheeks with heat. A soft sorry lay on your lips as she stopped the car in a dark side street, right behind the armoured vehicle.

"Don't feel sorry for me, Arasaka-sama.", he said and opened the door to let one foot dangle out on the street. "I may not had a choice. But it led me to be your fathers bodyguard. And I don't know for what else I could have been useful."

"Useful?", you leaned towards the drivers door to be able to keep the conversation with him going. "Do you feel like you need to have a use?"

With the corners of his mouth raised he leaned down to meet your gaze.

"Everyone needs a use, (Y/N).", his voice was raspy her filled with pride. "Just like a blade, you must be used to not get dull."

"Katanas turn dull the more you use them, though."

"Hm. Your mind is sharp. But you try too much to find answers in the things that are right in front of you rather than look for a sense yourself."

"You sound like my father."

"A compliment that I will cherish.", he bowed his head and let the door fall shut.

You were left behind with yourself and the knowledge that, unlike you, Goro never had a choice.

So how did you managed to be so full of yourself to think that this choice you struggled with had the weight like no other?