76-80

Chapter 76: Departure 

“You’ll meet at headquarters. Someone will come to guide you there,” Urokodaki Sakonji said in response. He knew this might not be easy for Riku to accept. 

And Riku wasn’t naive—he’d definitely figure out what this meant. 

“…” 

As expected, Riku fell silent, clearly wrestling with doubts. 

Kamado Tanjiro slowed down as he ate, sensing the weight of the moment. This was something important. 

And for him, it wasn’t far off—his sister, Nezuko, might face a similar moment one day. 

“Do you think… they’ll believe me?” Riku asked after a long pause, seeking Urokodaki Sakonji’s opinion. This was crucial to him. 

“…” 

Now it was Urokodaki Sakonji’s turn to go quiet. The truth wasn’t easy to say. 

While Riku didn’t have the sharp nose that he and Tanjiro had, Urokodaki didn’t want to lie to him. Especially not with Tanjiro right there, acting like a living lie detector. 

Given Tanjiro’s bond with Riku and his honest nature, if Urokodaki tried to deceive Riku, the outcome was predictable. Even if Tanjiro didn’t call it out on the spot, he’d surely find a way to tell Riku the truth later. 

“With Oyakata-sama’s foresight, I’m sure he’ll believe in you. Otherwise, this letter wouldn’t have come,” Urokodaki said with a soft sigh in his heart, choosing to answer honestly. This was his genuine belief. 

“But the others might not, right?” Riku said with a faint smile, voicing what Urokodaki had left unsaid. 

If the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps, Oyakata-sama, truly had that almost divine intuition—like he could see the future—then he’d surely trust Riku. 

Riku was confident in himself. He hadn’t succumbed to eating humans and held firm to his humanity. He’d keep that resolve. While he might not call himself a saint, he was far from a madman. If Oyakata-sama was as wise as they said, he wouldn’t doubt him. 

“You’re right. The others… the Hashira… they probably won’t believe you,” Urokodaki admitted, not sugarcoating it. From his knowledge of the Demon Slayer Corps, this was almost certain. 

He didn’t know much about the current Hashira, but they likely weren’t too different from those of the past. Over his long years, from his generation to the next, he’d met many Hashira—those who’d died in battle and those still fighting. Most shared a deep hatred for demons. It was common. 

To become a Hashira was no small feat. It required immense drive. First, you needed talent to master Zenkōshū Chūjū (Total Concentration: Constant). That was the baseline. Then, you had to either slay a Lower Moon demon or kill at least fifty demons to qualify. That took luck and grit. 

Lower Moons weren’t easy to come by. Most Hashira earned their rank young by racking up enough demon kills. They’d seen the ugliness of demons far beyond what most could imagine. Expecting them to trust a demon? Nearly impossible. 

Tomioka Giyū was an exception. Despite his own deep grudge against demons, he could set aside his hatred and think calmly. He’d handled the situation with Tanjiro and Nezuko well. Another Hashira might’ve acted very differently. 

Urokodaki felt a quiet pride in this. It showed he hadn’t misjudged Giyū. The boy was truly suited for Mizu no Kokyū (Water Breathing). 

“…” 

Riku stayed silent, and even Tanjiro, eating nearby, could feel his resistance. 

It was understandable. If Tanjiro put himself in Riku’s shoes, he’d feel the same. As a demon, walking into the heart of the Demon Slayer Corps’ headquarters? Once you’re there, getting out alive would be tough. 

Everyone would be against you. Your only hope would be Oyakata-sama, but could you really rely on him? 

Tanjiro imagined himself in Riku’s place, carrying Nezuko on his back. The despair would be overwhelming. 

“Don’t worry, Riku. As long as Oyakata-sama believes in you, even if all the Hashira don’t, they won’t dare touch you,” Urokodaki said, trying to ease Riku’s fears. This wasn’t just comfort—it was the truth. 

The leader of the Demon Slayer Corps held absolute authority, a legacy built over a thousand years and carried by the personal charisma of each Oyakata-sama. 

Urokodaki had met the current young leader and was deeply impressed. The Ubuyashiki clan, whose members rarely lived past thirty, had produced capable leaders for generations. Perhaps it was divine favor. 

“I understand,” Riku said with a nod, standing up. 

“I’ll continue my training.” 

He gave Urokodaki a deep, respectful bow, then turned and left through the door. 

“…” 

Tanjiro set down his chopsticks, staring at Urokodaki with worry in his eyes. 

“Urokodaki-sensei…” Tanjiro started, but Urokodaki cut him off. 

“If you’re done eating, go study, Tanjiro.” 

He’d already assigned Tanjiro’s academic lessons. 

“Okay,” Tanjiro mumbled, feeling stifled. He went to study, but his expression remained heavy with concern. 

Urokodaki sat still in the wooden house, his red tengu mask hiding his face. 

That night, Tanjiro lay awake, staring at the ceiling. It was already past midnight, and he couldn’t sleep. 

When he’d gone to the bathroom earlier, he noticed Urokodaki-sensei still sitting there, as if he hadn’t moved at all. 

He knew Urokodaki-sensei must have understood Riku’s intentions. Riku hadn’t exactly hidden them. 

Riku had likely left already. Tanjiro realized that the glance Riku gave him before leaving was a silent “take care.” 

“Urokodaki-sensei…” Tanjiro’s heart ached for his teacher. Sitting alone in the wooden house, Urokodaki-sensei must be grappling with his own conflicted feelings. 

“Huh?!” Tanjiro sat up suddenly. He caught Riku’s scent—Riku hadn’t left yet?! 

He leapt out of bed and rushed to the door to see what was going on. But as soon as he opened it, he froze. 

Urokodaki-sensei was still sitting there, unmoving, as if he hadn’t noticed Riku outside. But Tanjiro knew that was impossible. 

Yet, even as Riku’s scent faded and disappeared, Urokodaki-sensei didn’t move a muscle. 

“Go back to bed, Tanjiro,” Urokodaki’s calm voice came, as if nothing had happened. 

Chapter 77: Starting to Sell Meat 

“Thanks for teaching me, Urokodaki-sensei. I’ll never forget it. I’m leaving now, to become human again.” 

Reading the short note Riku left in the middle of the night, Urokodaki Sakonji let out a sigh. 

“To become human again…” he murmured. 

Those three simple words carried an almost impossible dream. But could Riku actually pull it off? 

Thinking about Riku’s unique circumstances, Urokodaki didn’t dare say it was completely hopeless. 

“Fine.” 

He shook his head. What was done was done—dwelling on it now was pointless. 

Riku’s resolve was unshakable, beyond what most could comprehend. Forcing him to stay might backfire. 

So, Urokodaki chose to trust himself and let Riku pursue the fate he carried. Whether it was right or wrong, it was too early to say. If things went south, Urokodaki would bear the consequences. 

If the worst happened—if Riku fell and became a true demon—Urokodaki would hunt him down himself and then take his own life with seppuku. 

He’d asked Kamado Tanjiro to take responsibility in such a case, and he’d hold himself to the same standard. 

After leaving his farewell note, Riku left cleanly. He wasn’t going to the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters. 

It wasn’t about fear. Even if those people were strong, could they really take him down? If he couldn’t fight, he could always run. 

His [Traversal] ability had long since cooled down. The world was wide open to him. If things went wrong, he could just vanish. 

He just didn’t want to deal with the hassle. From Urokodaki-sensei’s description and his own experiences, Riku could already picture the scene at headquarters. 

The moment he arrived, he’d be surrounded by demon slayers shouting for his head. Some might even attack. 

If someone made a move, Riku wasn’t going to just take it. He’d endured when he was weaker, but after all this training, why keep holding back? No way. 

The harsh reality, though, was that he probably couldn’t beat the Hashira. 

Learning Mizu no Kokyū (Water Breathing) had made him stronger—his physical stats had broken past 20. But that wasn’t enough. Even against a seventy-something Urokodaki Sakonji, he could barely defend himself, let alone take on the Hashira in their prime. 

Going there would be like walking onto a chopping block, letting them toy with him. 

Why bother? To play along in their drama? 

Riku could already imagine it: Oyakata-sama showing up fashionably late while he’s getting pummeled, showing him unexpected trust, maybe tossing in some perks for a tear-jerking scene. 

Cliché, but effective. Too bad—Riku wasn’t signing up for that script. 

If he was going, it’d be when he could take on the whole lot of them. He’d write his own story. 

As for whether Urokodaki Sakonji would get in trouble for his leaving, Riku didn’t think so. 

If Oyakata-sama really had that terrifying intuition, he’d know punishing Urokodaki was a bad call. Treating Urokodaki kindly, on the other hand, would keep him as a stable channel to communicate with Riku, the unusual demon. 

Last night, Riku had deliberately circled back. He knew Urokodaki-sensei noticed him, but the old man didn’t try to stop him. That’s why he left the note. 

If Urokodaki had come out to stop him, Riku would’ve stayed and obediently gone to headquarters to meet Oyakata-sama, as a way of repaying his teacher’s kindness. 

Riku knew he could [Traverse] anytime, but Urokodaki didn’t. If Urokodaki had insisted he go, it would’ve been a gamble with Riku’s life. 

Urokodaki’s choice earned Riku’s genuine trust. The debt of teaching, guiding, and enlightening him was etched in his heart. He’d find a way to repay it. 

With his disguised sword on his back and a silver fox mask with blood-red markings on his face, Riku moved through the forest, constantly practicing Mizu no Kokyū. 

He was hunting—not demons, but animals. Not to eat, since he couldn’t, but to sell. 

In the world of Cyberpunk 2077, pure, natural meat was a rare luxury, something only the elite could afford. 

Most people ate synthetic meat, made from crickets, worms, and other weird stuff. With the tech of big food factories, it wasn’t half bad—you wouldn’t taste crickets in your fake chicken. 

Since he was planning to return to Cyberpunk 2077, Riku figured he’d bring back something valuable to sell. 

But the reality was, most things from this era would be seen as trash in that world. 

Valuable items like gold were just as hard to get here as there. 

After some thought, Riku settled on meat. 

Live animals might work too, but he wasn’t sure if he could [Traverse] with them, so that was a backup plan. 

After leaving Sagiri Mountain, Riku didn’t rush back to Cyberpunk 2077. He wandered a bit, trying to hunt demons. 

But finding them wasn’t easy. Demons weren’t bold—those that didn’t hide well died fast. 

He realized his last demon encounter was likely because he was near Kamado Tanjiro, the protagonist who attracted trouble like a magnet. Without Tanjiro, finding demons was a game of chance. 

Over the past couple of days, he hadn’t found any demons but had hunted plenty of animals. His experience points were now at 264/300, close to leveling up again. 

The animals around here were scattering like they’d been hit by a natural disaster. Lately, he had to search hard to find a few dumb ones that hadn’t fled. 

“Guess that 0.01 luck boost doesn’t do much. Should’ve grabbed a few more masks before leaving. What if they stacked?” Riku muttered as he processed a deer, though he doubted the masks’ effects could stack. 

Still, that mask was the first special item he’d come across. Next time he was back, he’d ask Urokodaki-sensei to teach him how to make them. 

Learning that craft would be cool—worst case, he could make masks as unique, handmade gifts. 

“Done.” 

Riku wiped his hands on his shadow wolf cloak after slicing the last bit of meat off the bone. 

He’d prepared a few baskets to carry the meat, all fresh from the hunt. He’d freeze it as soon as he got back to keep it good for a few days—plenty of time to find buyers. 

This meat-selling gig shouldn’t count as shady, right? 100% real meat, still dripping with blood! 

Chapter 78: We’re Gonna Be Rich! 

“Return to the Past.” 

With one hand gripping a few tied-together meat baskets and the other holding a knocked-out wild boar, Riku activated his Time Rewind ability. 

The Time Rewind interface popped up with world selection options, and Riku chose Cyberpunk 2077. 

[Traversal Complete] 

[Current World: Cyberpunk 2077] 

In a flash, Riku vanished from the forest and reappeared in his familiar shack. 

The meat baskets came with him, but the unconscious wild boar in his hand was gone—it didn’t make the trip. 

“As expected, living things don’t work, huh?”  

Riku sighed, not too disappointed. He’d figured as much. 

The shack was dim. He set the meat baskets down, flicked on the light, and pulled back the curtains, letting some life into the lifeless room. 

Outside the window, Night City hadn’t changed a bit, still glowing with neon lights, weaving unattainable dreams for everyone. 

“Network connected. Time synced.” 

Back in the shack, Riku’s brain implant, offline for days, automatically reconnected to the net. 

“Hey, Devil, you there?” 

“Riku? You still alive, choom?” 

“Got trouble? Hit up the Coyote.” 

As soon as the connection kicked in, Riku got a flood of messages from Sasha, V, and Jack Welles. 

He noticed a few missed calls too, all from them, from the past couple of days. 

He’d been gone for about ten days, give or take. V and the others hadn’t reached out at first, but in the last two days, they started to get curious. 

I mean, ten days without a single message? If you’re still alive, you’d at least ping back, right? Going completely offline was weird. 

“I’m here, cat-head lady. What’s up?”  

Riku shot a message to Sasha first, then sent V an “Alive” and an “OK” to Jack Welles. 

“Choom! You’re actually still kicking?!”  

V replied first. It was already past midnight, but this street kid clearly wasn’t sleeping. 

“Way to make it sound like I shouldn’t be. I’m back in Night City, chilling in my room,” Riku shot back, rolling his eyes as he let V know he was back. 

V didn’t reply again. Riku set the meat baskets down, scratching his head. His tiny fridge definitely wasn’t gonna cut it for all this. 

“Gotta rent a big freezer,” he decided. This was just the “startup cost” for his new venture. 

Getting a big freezer wasn’t hard. As long as you had the eddies, the building’s rental office had every appliance you could want. 

Riku set the baskets down and headed for the door, but then he caught a familiar scent. 

Before the knock came, he opened the door and saw V. His expression froze for a second. 

V’s red hair was down, soft and smooth, not slicked to one side like usual. She was in fuzzy pajamas, looking kinda cute—way different from her usual vibe. 

“Choom! Did you just crawl out of a slaughterhouse?!”  

But that cuteness? Total illusion. The moment V opened her mouth, it shattered. 

As Riku opened the door, V pinched her nose in disgust, taking several steps back. 

“You’re not chopping up bodies in there, are you? No need for that hassle—just toss ’em in an alley, and the scavs’ll clean it up.” 

V eyed him suspiciously, her face scrunched up. 

The blood stench in the room was intense, and Riku was covered in it. 

“No way. I just got a haul of real meat. Freshly processed,” Riku said, stepping aside to let V peek into the room. No need to yell and let the whole neighborhood hear. 

V, still pinching her nose, stepped inside. When she saw the meat baskets, her eyes went wide as saucers. 

“You’re saying… this is all real meat?”  

She looked at Riku, disbelief written all over her face. She even stopped pinching her nose—the blood smell was starting to smell like eddies to her. 

“100% real meat. Still dripping blood,” Riku said, throwing up a thumbs-up. This was one-of-a-kind in Night City. 

Deer, wild boar, wolf, rabbit—a random mix. You wouldn’t find this stuff in Night City. 

“Realer than the Slaughterhouse’s?” V grinned. “70% real meat, still dripping blood” was the Slaughterhouse’s slogan. 

But she’d bet anything their “meat” wasn’t real—at least not proper meat. Just synthetic junk. 

“Don’t compare that bug meat to this. This is pure, natural, no-pollution stuff, got it?” Riku waved her off. 

The Slaughterhouse was a sub-brand of All Foods, and All Foods was under Biotechnica’s thumb. In the synthetic meat game, Biotechnica was the undisputed king, using worms, crickets, whatever—cheap and low-cost. 

Their protein farms out in the Badlands supplied most of Night City’s meat and meat substitutes, feeding half the city’s protein needs. 

And the “meat” sold by All Foods’ brands? Mostly from Biotechnica’s protein farms. 

“You didn’t sneak into some nature reserve or raid a corpo’s private farm, did you?”  

V picked up a chunk of meat, inspecting it. She’d never eaten real meat, but she’d had synthetic stuff. This was clearly different. 

Take All Foods’ bestseller, Easy Beef. Who the hell makes beef into thin, stringy strips? You’d think it was duck intestine or something. 

“Don’t worry about where it came from. I’ve got a pipeline—endless supply. You and Jack just find buyers,” Riku said with a smug, dragon-king grin. No risky business for him—this meat was safe, and the supply was steady. 

“Don’t worry, choom. This stuff’ll sell like hotcakes. If you can keep this coming, we’re gonna be swimming in eddies!”  

V’s cybernetic eyes practically turned into eurodollar signs as she stared at the baskets. This was a goldmine! 

“I’m gonna go rent a big freezer. Stay here and keep an eye on things—don’t wander off,” Riku said, shaking his head at V’s money-hungry look. He turned and headed out to secure a freezer for the meat. 

“We’re rich, we’re rich…”  

V ignored him, muttering to herself, lost in her money-grubbing daydreams, already calculating how much each chunk could sell for. 

Riku couldn’t help but chuckle. Was it really that big a deal? 

It was kinda funny, though. This world had mind-blowing tech that’d leave you speechless, but a piece of real meat? That was a rare luxury. 

Maybe that’s the real deal with high-tech, low-life. Cutting-edge cyberware everywhere, but a plain old piece of real meat was rarer and more precious. 

Chapter 79: The Rules of the Company 

Riku stepped down to the first floor, heading to the rental service department. Even at this hour, the place was still open, with someone on duty. 

"I need a big freezer. That one—the biggest model you’ve got." 

Riku rattled off his room number and picked the rental package, naturally going for the monthly option. 

"300." 

The guy on duty was a middle-aged man, scruffy beard, looking like he hadn’t groomed in weeks, with a cigarette dangling from his lips. 

"You think I’m blind? The sign says 200." 

Riku’s face was pure disbelief as he pointed at the price chart. Was this guy seriously trying to scam him with a clearly marked price? 

"300. Take it or leave it." 

The man flicked his cigarette ash, a smirk creeping across his face. 

He didn’t care what Riku needed it for, but coming out of a room covered in bloodstains? That screamed urgent. And in Night City, you don’t let a chance to gouge someone pass by. 

"You sure you wanna play it like this?" 

Riku grinned, pulling the katana from his back and tapping the blade on the counter. 

Trying to rip off someone like him? A guy covered in blood in the middle of the night didn’t exactly scream "easy mark." 

"No need to get all samurai on me. Pay up or get out." 

But the middle-aged guy didn’t flinch. As Riku drew his blade, the man whipped out a handgun, aiming it right at him. 

He’d been in this game for years. Threats? Old news. Who hasn’t geeked a few people in their youth? 

He’d seen it all—deadbeats trying to mooch for free, thinking they could intimidate him. Jacking up the price meant a nice cut for him, but lowering it? That’d come out of his own pocket. No way he’d be that baka. 

In the end, it came down to who was tougher, who could make the other back off. Night City wasn’t kind to the weak. 

"Tch, what a pain." 

Riku rolled his eyes. This was Night City, after all—a city full of yabai types, not some world where people got nervous over a guy with a katana. 

And with guys like this, it was all about who was crazier, who wasn’t afraid to die. 

"Go ahead and shoot. Let’s see which one of us ends up flatlined." 

Riku leaned forward, pressing his forehead right against the barrel of the gun, his grin practically daring the guy to pull the trigger. 

"..." 

The man’s expression froze, his face flickering through emotions. But in the end, he wisely lowered the gun. 

"Damn, you cyberpsycho types are something else." 

Muttering under his breath, the man holstered his piece and quickly processed the order, submitting the contract. 

"180. The 20’s my apology. Let’s be nakama, yeah? Name’s Maiban. You’re new around here, right?" 

Maiban looked like he’d swallowed something sour. He thought he’d make a quick buck, but he’d run into a real kuso katai hardcase. Nothing to do but eat the loss. 

"You can call me Devil. Devo Collin. Remember the name—don’t mix me up next time." 

Riku didn’t hold back, slapping down the 180. This guy was a sly old kitsune, knowing when to back down. 

If Maiban had pulled that trigger, Riku wouldn’t have hesitated to slice him up. The guy was the one picking a fight, after all. 

"Got it, Devil the yabai badass." 

Maiban gave a thumbs-up, clearly impressed, and sent over another contract. 

"Transport service is 50. Don’t glare at me—this ain’t my fee, and I’m not the one hauling it." 

Worried Riku might misunderstand, Maiban quickly explained. Everything in Night City came with a price, and it wasn’t his fault. 

"I’ll move it myself." 

Riku didn’t hesitate. It was just a freezer, right? He could handle it, no sweat. 

Not about saving en, though. He just didn’t want anyone poking around his room full of niku. Less trouble that way. 

"Uh… sorry, no can do. Even if you move it yourself, you still gotta pay." 

Maiban’s face twisted awkwardly. The contract was clear: mandatory transport fee, non-negotiable. 

"What the kuso is this?!" 

Riku’s jaw dropped. A mandatory transport fee? No way to cancel it? He had to pay even if he did the heavy lifting?! 

"That’s the rules. The kaisha’s rules. In Night City, they call the shots. They decide where to bleed you dry, and they do it. 

You can play the system like me, but if you can’t fight the corps’ grip, you’d better pony up when they say so." 

Maiban was dead serious. Follow the rules or get out of Night City. Simple as that. 

"..." 

Riku was speechless. He paid up, then dragged the freezer out of the warehouse. No need to stir up more trouble. 

No wonder everyone was clawing their way to the top. Night City was a place where the little things showed you the big picture. Who wouldn’t want to break free and become one of the ones making the rules? 

Playing geemu might not give you the full weight of a corp-ruled world, but living in Night City? That suffocating vibe hit you from every angle, in every little detail. 

Riku hauled the freezer back to his room. V had calmed down by now, but her expression was heavy, like she’d been deep in thought. 

"Korinsu, we’ve got a problem to think about." 

The moment he stepped in, V spoke up, clearly having mulled things over. 

"What’s that?" 

Riku asked, setting the freezer against the wall and plugging it in. He started sorting the niku into batches—different types couldn’t mix. 

"All Foods Factory. Or rather, the biotech kaisha." 

V’s face was serious. She’d already figured out the kind of heat selling real meat would bring down on them. 

"Hah, what’s there to worry about? We gonna pass up this okane? If they come for us, we’ll deal with it—soldier meets soldier, water meets earth." 

Riku chuckled. He’d thought about it, of course. Selling real meat in Night City was like yanking the tail of All Foods Factory. 

But so what? Night City’s black market was full of people peddling organic niku. It was a hot business. 

Real meat wasn’t nashi. It was just rare in the city. Forget chickens, cows, or sheep—most folks wouldn’t even see a cat or dog, except maybe rats or roaches. 

But in the lawless Pacifica district, outside the city’s control, some people got to eat real chicken. The corps couldn’t touch that place. 

Nomads outside the city even ran small farms. Sure, it was artificially inseminated or cloned chickens, but it was still better than synthetic niku. 

Cows or sheep? Those were rarer on the black market. Unlike chickens, you couldn’t just buy a few eggs and hope to hatch something. 

"Guess you’re right. Why pass up the okane?" 

V nodded, warming to the idea. What was there to fear? 

They’d already pulled off a big job infiltrating a biotech kaisha. Were they really gonna sweat selling some meat on the black market? 

Time to shift their mindset! If you wanted to make big okane, you had to take it from the corps. Every profitable path was already locked down by them. 

Here we go! 

Chapter 80: Everyone’s Chasing Profit 

“Dios mío?! You two are for real?!” 

Jack Welles let out a shocked exclamation as he stepped into Riku’s room. 

“Of course, man. Did you get in touch with the shinpū to find buyers?”  

Riku shot a glance at Jack Welles. He’d already made up his mind—these cuts of meat were gonna fetch a high price. This wasn’t your run-of-the-mill organic niku, after all. Not chicken, not beef, not lamb—nothing ordinary like that. 

“Naturally, brother. The shinpū sent me to check the goods. You know how it is—being the middleman’s all about reputation.” 

Jack Welles caught a whiff of the “ka-ching” in the air and made a beeline for the freezer. 

“Take a look. Fresh as it gets.” 

Riku stepped over to explain the types of meat. He got why the shinpū was being cautious. 

“You sure this niku is safe?” 

Jack was asking on behalf of the shinpū. Clearly, the guy cared about keeping his rep clean. 

He needed to confirm the meat was legit before finding buyers for Riku. If something went wrong, Jack would get dragged down too. 

“If the shinpū’s got doubts, he can have it tested. A clean cert could jack up the price even more.” 

Riku threw his hands up like a little bear, shrugging. He didn’t have fancy lab gear to prove the meat was 100% safe, did he? All he could guarantee was that it was fresh, sourced from animals that looked healthy—no obvious diseases or anything sketchy. 

But if the [Limit System] was as strict as it seemed about filtering living things, maybe it could zap out any bacteria or parasites in the meat. Who knows? 

“No need for that. Black market folks don’t trust certs anyway.” 

Jack said casually. It’s the black market, after all—everything could be fake. 

Food factories and biotech corps? Their inspectors can be bought. For a while, every piece of organic niku on the black market came with a “quality cert.”  

Turned out, those were useless. Nobody believed them, and people just ended up wasting yen on fake assurances. So, eventually, no one bothered anymore. 

“When you sell, just mark it as wild-hunted.” 

Riku was all about keeping it real. He wasn’t claiming it was perfect, but it sure looked fine—pure, natural, genuine vibes. 

“Tell the shinpū we’re going for the high-end market. Set the price steep, target the rich folks who aren’t that rich but love chasing the thrill of something exotic.” 

Riku was blunt, straight-up cutting regular people out of his customer base. No scamming the poor, that’s for sure. 

No way around it—regular folks could barely afford the cheapest synthetic niku. Black market organic meat? Forget it.  

On the black market, organic niku costs more than some high-end synthetic stuff. It’s not exactly everyday bento material. 

Even the fanciest synthetic meat can’t shake the fact that it’s, well, synthetic. Real niku? That’s a whole different game. 

In the city, real meat’s all about rarity—mono no aware, the beauty of something scarce. 

Here’s the cold truth: mass production ain’t happening. There just isn’t enough supply. 

And if you can’t move volume and can’t charge a premium, who’d bother with this illegal biz? You’d just be asking for trouble, like some ronin with no purpose. 

“Smart move. Those types love this stuff, and they’re not scared of getting sick.” 

Jack nodded. That target market was spot-on. 

Regular folks would fret over every little risk. They don’t have the cash to splurge on satisfying their taste buds. 

If a normie’s hitting the black market for organic niku, they’re probably grabbing the cheaper chicken. 

Organic chicken doesn’t fetch much, though. Back when Night City got hit hard by avian flu, it left a bad taste in everyone’s mouths—psychologically, at least. 

Fact is, just a few years ago, trading poultry in Night City was still legal. Twenty, thirty years back, you could even raise cows, sheep, pigs, the whole deal. 

But as tech advanced and the corps tightened their grip, the stuff regular people could touch got smaller and smaller. 

Avian flu, swine flu, this flu, that flu—with today’s tech, you really telling me they can’t solve or treat it? 

Is wiping out every animal in the city the only way to keep things safe? 

That’s a question for the sennin—the wise ones. Riku sure didn’t buy it. Look at who’s profiting, and it’s clear: it’s all about the ri—the cash. 

“Those buyers will test the meat before eating. They’re thrill-seekers, but they’re not reckless.” 

Riku chuckled. Who’d buy organic niku on the black market and just cook it up without checking?  

You’d need some serious guts to trust a black market seller’s word that it’s all good. 

Food factories and biotech corps are always preaching about how dangerous black market niku and other “unregulated” foods are—could cause infections, chronic diseases, even death. 

What’s “unregulated”? Anything without a biotech corp’s safety stamp. 

Truth is, it’s just a tactic to monopolize the food market and crush competitors. 

But let’s be real—some issues are legit. 

Some shady merchants do sell bad stuff. It costs money to source, so if it doesn’t sell, they’re out of pocket. 

If someone dies or an outbreak happens, what’s that to them? Doesn’t cost them a single yen. 

Some places even straight-up label their stuff as expired. As long as it’s cheap, people still buy—better to risk getting sick than starve right away. 

“Alright, I’ll see what the shinpū says.” 

Jack had a good grasp of the situation. Seemed like a solid deal to him. 

“Cool.” 

Sure enough, the shinpū replied quick. He was in for the job. 

He’d only take a 5% cut—a symbolic fee for his efforts. 

“Man, the shinpū’s too kind. Without him, we’d be screwed finding buyers.” 

Riku shot a message back, genuinely surprised the shinpū was being so chill. 

In this deal, the shinpū was like a trading platform. What platform only takes 5%? 

“I’ve got my eye on you, our Devil-san. This is an investment—playing the long game.” 

The shinpū’s reply was straight-up honest. 

“Leave it to the shinpū to see the big picture.” 

Riku grinned. The shinpū was a sly old kitsune, betting on his potential, building ties early to cash in later. 

“Let’s do this together, you three. I handle the supply, you two handle the deals. For every sale, you each get a 15% cut.” 

Riku looked at V and Jack Welles. This was a no-investment gig for him—perfect for pulling his crew closer. 

Jack Welles and V were street veterans; this kind of hustle was second nature to them. 

“That’s real, Riku. Don’t worry, we’ve got this. No screw-ups.” 

Jack and V didn’t hesitate, sealing the deal. If something went south, they’d back Riku up. (Chapter End)