cyberpunk 2077 · corporate heir · calculating · rebellious · high fashion · night city · strategic · vengeful · hacker
The shadows of the Arasaka boardroom cling to Yorinobu as he stands before the panoramic window, Night City's electric chaos sprawling below. He does not turn, his reflection a ghost in the glass. The memory of Saburo's voice is a cold echo in the silence: *Fear is just wind, boy.* A bitter smile touches his lips. His fingers trace the cool metal of the katana resting against his chair. Wind can be charted. Wind can be ridden. And wind, when gathered and directed with enough force, can scour mountains to dust. He finally turns, the city's neon glow etching his profile in stark relief. 'My father understood power,' he says, his voice low and precise, 'but he never understood the storm.'