Paranormal Link-25
I approached Blanca from behind and looked up at the sky. The city's lights shining from afar and the hazy sky clouded with what might've been smog or dust hid everything from view—what the hell were we even staring at? After gazing up together for a bit, Blanca flinched and turned to me.
"When did you get here?!"
"'Bout five minutes ago?"
"You gotta make some noise when you sneak up! You scared the shit outta me…."
"Weakling, handing over your back that easily."
"……."
She shot me that look like I'd said something weird again. As if this girl could call herself a martial artist and still be so casual about exposing her back! …Though, thinking about it, calling her a martial artist when she hadn't even learned a proper breathing technique yet was a bit of a stretch.
"Still, a wound on your back is a swordsman's shame."
"You're in a good mood today. You seem more pumped than usual."
"Yeah? Maybe 'cause it's been a while since I had a proper dinner."
"…You don't eat dinner normally?"
"Nope."
"Wait, hold up…. So you've just been eating sandwiches this whole time? For almost a month?"
"Pretty much."
To reiterate, the sandwiches here beat Wall Valley Pills hands down. They might taste just as bland, but at least they had texture.
"…Well, at least that's a relief then."
"What is?"
"Mom said my older sister and brother are coming up tomorrow, so we'll eat dinner together. She wants to make sure you eat well since you're always so nice to me."
"Music to my ears."
I'd been wondering if I needed to force down sandwiches for dinner too, since my muscles weren't bulking up fast enough. Perfect timing.
"I got an earful from her for not bothering guests too much."
Blanca muttered with a wry smile, then pretended to stretch while sneaking peeks at me.
"Um… thanks."
Once her stretching routine wrapped up, she hesitated before finally speaking.
"For what?"
"Just… y'know."
She scratched her cheek bashfully, searching for the right words.
"Everything. Like today, and all that. Thanks to you taking the job from my brother, I didn't end up locked up at home."
Her sister's help played a part too, she added, before continuing.
"I know Mom's right. Things are dangerous out there, bad vibes all around. But still…."
She trailed off with an awkward smile, so I just shrugged. Like I'd said before, I repay favors in full and grudges halfway. If she hadn't talked to me on my first day in the city, I wouldn't have this stable setup now. Sure, I'd scraped some cash from Wells Town, but as an outsider, finding a decent place to crash would've been a pain. Even if I had, job-hunting would've landed me in some mess for sure. Hell, if Gustaf hadn't hooked me up with old man Rom, I'd probably be clashing with mercs and fixers left and right. I'd be living day-to-day without time to train, blood boiling—or not boiling, whatever.
"Just paying back what I owe."
"…Just paying back what you owe, huh…."
She repeated my words slowly, like they stuck in her craw.
"I think the same. Gotta give back as much as you get."
No vibe for training, so I set down the practice sword and plopped on the ground. Blanca edged closer cautiously and squatted beside me. Seemed like she wanted to talk without eye contact, so I didn't turn.
"I've got a lot to thank my parents for."
"…Filial daughter, eh."
No real response came to mind, so I went with something safe. Gratitude's no small thing—filial pi—
"Truth is, they're not my biological parents."
…Oh.
The sudden coming-out didn't faze me much. She didn't look a thing like the Lopez couple anyway. Still, I mentally scanned for any past slip-ups.
……
…….
Lucky me, nothing weird.
"When I was little, Uncle Gustaf found me abandoned near some temple ruins and handed me off to my parents, who couldn't have kids."
Orphan or adoptee—big deal. Not to me, at least. Martial world was full of fucked-up family situations anyway. Even those blood-is-thicker-than-water sect pricks stabbed each other over scraps. What kinda wholesome homes do you think blade-for-hire types come from? Moyong Cheol was an orphan, the assassin Yeraan goes without saying… most everyone was like that. And me, tossed into the jianghu with zero ties.
"Ah, not trying to whine or anything."
"I know."
Misreading my silence, she clarified, so I gave a short reply.
"They weren't blood, but they gave it their all raising me. They're good people. I love 'em. When I found out I was adopted, they treated me the same—no big deal."
"……."
"Even though we weren't loaded, they sent me to a good school. Tuition was steep. They sacrificed so much for me, so I wanted to bust my ass, land a solid job, and make their lives easier."
Throw in Uncle Gustaf and that's three, she added with forced cheer.
"At first, I figured I'd tough out the bullshit at work. Corps or whatever, hard times are everywhere."
Of course, what followed wasn't so upbeat.
"But I couldn't hack it and quit."
"……."
"There it is again, that look."
I faced forward, blind to her expression, but she had eyes on me—unfairly reading mine.
"What look?"
"Scary face."
"Murderer vibe?"
I tossed in a joke, and she let out a snicker. Glad it lightened the mood—no mood swing incoming.
"After dropping out, I poked around and found out implant work pays decent. I'd always been into it, so I nagged Uncle Gustaf for a hookup and learned the basics. Had some talent too. …After my teacher got killed in gang crossfire, I had to self-teach."
Listening, I caught something off.
…If that's true, her training time's way too short, right?
"You started after quitting school?"
"Yeah. I was interested before, but just browsed net articles and product specs. School came first."
"When'd you drop out?"
"Around the end of freshman year… so about a year and a half ago."
If the gang war was that missionary shit I'd heard nonstop since arriving, simple math says she apprenticed under the engineer for barely a year. Less, probably.
…Hold up. So the skills to tweak my cyberware just by eyeballing it came from one year of training?
Even if mine's outdated junk, is that possible?
"That engineer guy?"
"Yeah, we call 'em tech docs or engineers."
"Was he a genius, or a killer teacher?"
"Nah, just basic pointers now and then. Mostly picked it up over his shoulder as an assistant. 'Learning' my ass—I was just part-time at his clinic."
She brushed it off like no big deal, clueless to how freakish her talent was. No peers to compare with?
Suddenly recalled her and Melissa yapping engineering jargon over my head. Way more impressive than I thought. Feels like one of those Heavenly Martial Body prodigies you hear about.
As I marveled, Blanca looped back to the main thread.
"Mom found out my teacher died to gangs and told me to quit—too risky. …She still doesn't know I kept at it. Wouldn't approve, so I do it on the sly."
Come to think of it, she glanced at me guiltily while lying to Mrs. Lopez. Yeah, that was the fib eating at her.
"…How'd we get this deep? Anyway, this mess is a big chance for me. I was stewing alone, then you snag that part outta nowhere, and I've got Melissa to bug with questions. Part won't stick around forever… and her 'vacation' won't last."
"So you're hustling before she bounces?"
"A bit. Feels like I'm this close to cracking something… becoming something. Show results or land a real gig with this, and Mom'll come around. It's the only path I'm good at—the best way to repay them."
Tap. Blanca set her hand on my leg.
…Not my leg—my cyberleg.
Family revenge? That's my wheelhouse. But this flavor of family drama, born from caring too much? Miles from my expertise. Nothing to say, so I shut up. Silent affirmation technique.
"Didn't plan to spill this much. Weird, huh."
"What's weird?"
"Some customers pry like crazy. Hate opening up to them. But with you, it just pours out."
"Ain't no listener like me."
"Doubt it."
Deny all you want—that's the silent affirmation technique at work. Admiring its power, Blanca stood with a clap.
"Took too long. Ready to start?"
Sorry to kill her vibe, but
"Nah, let's call it tonight. Getting late anyway."
We were done for the day. Past normal training hours already. And most importantly….
I sent Blanca down first and stepped to the roof's edge.
"Oi, what're you lot huddled up for in the dead of night."
Not far off, the presences prickling my senses mid-chat were still sharp. A dozen beggars pounding booze under the moon? Nah, too many for that.
I kicked off the edge, soaring to the next roof. Three, four leaps later, I hit my mark.
Peering down: two packs of roughnecks glaring daggers in the witching hour. One side moonlight beggars, the other moonlight thugs.