Summary: Johnny deals with some unfinished buisness and a stranger teases a chance of saving V.

Notes:

- Feel free to write derivative works based on this fic. All I ask is that you mention that this fic was your inspiration and link back to it somewhere.

- I plan to complete this. If I'm going on hiatus, I'll let you know before and.

- I do not own any of the characters from either the Naruto/Boruto franchise (Kishimoto, Ikemoto) or the Cyberpunk franchise (Mike Pondsmith, CD Projekt RED). That should be pretty obvious, this is fanfiction after all.

- In the original text, calls were left/right aligned, since that can't be done here, I've settled for no-underline/underline.

- I'll be publishing in 'Arcs.' Once an arc is done there will be a small break/hiatus before the next arc.

ROGUE
"Got your message."

"Johnny look, I've been around long enough to know that anything is possible in your fucked up world . . . but I never imagined this, even from you. You must have made a pretty big impression on V for getting her on board with this, so hats off."

"I'm just wondering how you feel about that Johnny — havin' another person give their life for you. 'Specially when you're probably just back to all-nighters and cheap tequila, laughing at how stupid she was?"

"Or has your conscience finally learned its lesson — that is, if you've even got one . . ."

"Good luck out there Johnny. And don't ever come back to Night City."

Johnny opens his eyes to the ceiling fan, creaking lazily overhead. Of the many messages from V's friends and family that he had ghosted, Rogue's is the one that consistently hit home, that consistently haunted him. The same Rogue he had estranged on his reckless quest.

He holds his hands out in front of him, textured sandy skin like his own, broken up by silvery grey lines instead of the eponymous "silver hand" that was used to replace the arm he lost in combat. As he slowly gets up, the unfamiliar weight of breasts adorning his current body awkward, like a toddler learning to walk. As he walks across the room, his body feels heavy, leaded, like he's walking underwater. He wasn't sure if that was because of how physically and existentially tired he felt or because of his mind still adjusting to a body literally packed with over twenty-five kilograms of chrome.

Just back to all-nighters and cheap tequila, laughing at how stupid she was? Johnny snorts as he leans over the sink, "Ok Rogue, laughing huh?" He tilts his head to the side, letting irritating neon green hair fall off the side of his face, putting two purple eyeballs with black concentric circles into full view. "This bitches hair is fucking annoying, but if I cut it, I'll lose the 'V' look and she'll probably magically reappear outta Mikoshi, just to rant about how I spoiled the look," Johnny chuckles bitterly, "I wish I could go back to all-nighters and cheap tequila Rogue. Trust me, I really do."

He glances at the shower before promptly slipping off the unbuttoned long coat he wore to bed. That black coat was one of V's favorite possessions, thick but comfortable, it has seen a lot more dirt, grime, and viscera than some water on the floor. If she was going to be pissy about a coat on the floor, she could shove it.

Now under cold water, the one thing that stood out to him was how V's body was so pristine — no scars, no blemishes — and yet he knew for a fact that V was not vain, he literally lived within her head for a year. A merc without scars, made you rethink just how good she was.

A thud shudders through the walls as he slams them with his balled-up fists. If only he had put down his feet, insisted that V take back her body . . . He was sure she would have pulled something outta her ass and found a way to live past the six-month expiration date Alt gave her. Just another illusory comforter he was pulling around himself. He remembered saying as much to her.

V
"No happy endings huh?"

JOHNNY
"No kid, wrong people, wrong city — this ain't the 'City of dreams,' it's the 'City of dead dreams.'"

The feeling of hot piss down his legs under the cold shower somehow centered him on the present. As far as he remembered, V used to pee standing all the time, that wasn't as easy as it seemed. He let out another bitten-off half-dead chuckle. He was doing that a lot of late. I was all he could do when faced with the depths of memory encased in V's impassive eyes and impressive body. A body that he now inherited.

He skips taking a shit, he's barely eaten anything for that.

He burns his single slice of toast again, his mind empty and distant. He gazes at the slice, graduated from golden brown to light black, a million tiny lakes of white bread poking through. That was the story of his life, always just a little caught up in himself — a few seconds earlier and his toast would be fine, just a few weeks earlier and V would be alive while he left with Alt. Heck, just a minute or two earlier and there would have been no Alt, no Mikoshi, no Soulkiller, no Adam Smasher . . . there would have been no Johnny Silverhand to fuck up V's life — but there's no point in what ifs. He knew that they were fucked this way or that — you play the Corpo line, or you cook alive in digital hell. That's what he signed up for when he chose to rebel or was all of that self-inflated hot air?

For now though, he had to eat, if not for himself, for V. She gave him a second lease on life, he had a responsibility to make the best use of it. He could simply throw away the bread and buy more, or skip breakfast altogether, but he didn't deserve that luxury, definitely not after what he allowed V to do. Not after just accepting her body.

So he chews bitter bite after bitter bite. A single slice is far from enough but he doesn't have the energy to care.

Once he's done, he looks at his wardrobe, he can't exactly leave naked. V wouldn't have minded though, she knew that she looked stunning and was comfortable in just her own skin. In spite of never being one for fashion, he tries for V's memory, she was ever the performer. He settles for black leather pants, thick-soled, high ankle black leather boots, a black tube-top, and her favorite black long coat paired with his old orange-tinted aviators.

"You look like you're heading to a funeral."

Johnny whips toward the self-sure voice. Right there was V, pulling off snazzy colors like only she could — neon pink hipster briefs and sports bras paired with an oversized silver iridescent puffer jacket — "V?"

She chuckles before winking at him, "Miss your impressive dick so much that you're looking sad, huh?" She gazes at the door. And Johnny looks the same way.

When he looks back, there's no one else.

It really was time to leave home for the day.

"Yo! Manager-san, you lookin' good today!"

Johnny simply nods his head, before walking past the goth-styled silver-skinned girl with horns growing out of her right temple.

"Moe-iie, you're no fun."

"You don't pay me to be fun Miko, you pay me to manage your gig." And Johnny was doing a damned good job at it, It'd been less than six months and 'Horn-y' was already one of Osaka's most in-demand punk bands. For him it was easy, he knew the ins and outs of counterculture appeal from his time writing and performing anti-Corpo propaganda in SAMURAI, and now he simply flirted with the edge of the Corpo line. The disgruntled saw their work as an anti-corpo statement, the like of which none has existed since the rocker boy movement. The Sickos in their midst saw it as 'almost' fetish porno performances. For universal records, it was a money-making venture. As long as Johnny kept the sentiment expressed by the band in check, Universal would keep them paid and safe.

Takashi — who also had a prosthetic horn growing outta his temples — was sitting in the corner and practicing his guitar, leading his amp output directly into his aural implants so as to not disturb anyone. At first glance, the kid would be a misfit for the 'rebellion in the face of helplessness' vibe they worked with — he was too polite and quiet — but Johnny was most worried about the kid. As quiet as he was, no one knew what he was up to: hard to monitor, hard to keep in check. Kid thought no one noticed his callbacks to controversial personalities and events that he kept sneaking into his music. Johnny didn't miss any of those. Kid would be the one to wreck the band.

Johnny wanted to support the kid, but that would mean sacrificing the other members who were here to earn their personal abode with cotton candy clouds. A satisfying life? What a Joke — all they would get is a satisfied lie.

"Manager-san, what do you think about this riff?" Takashi launches into a riff. Johnny hears it out loud via the concealed speakers built into the entire place. "Something about it seems a bit off."

"Sounds far too similar to 'pon pon shit' that 'Us Cracks' pulled from Kerry Eurodyne who pulled it from Johnny Silverhand." Johnny was sure Takeshi was considering the similarities in his mind, "You'll get us on a Corpo shit-list if you keep sneaking in callbacks to the rocker boy movement, so stop."

"But Manager-san, we write controversial stuff anyways, why play it safe? Someone has to rally people against the Corps. As artists, we have a duty to do so."

"You can do that the day you leave this band, or get everyone else on board, or the day we go international."

"Common Manager-san! Miko's a pussy, too worried about pissing off the Corps. And without her, no one's gonna listen. She'll straight up perform with a dildo up her cunt if you ask her to though."

"You lack the metal to perform in the under-streets kid, up here everyone else will pay the price for your stupidity. There's a reason Miko is the band ambassador."

Kid was good at masking his intentions, but not good enough, not Night City levels of good, and he was far too fucking polite and agreeable to do shit. If he had the balls to venture out into the sands alone, he could lead his own crusade.

"I'll meditate on your words Manager-san, for now, could you help me with this riff? You're really good but I've never quite seen you play." Takeshi holds out the guitar.

Johnny ignores him in favor of heading to his office, "I've left behind the rebel ideal, I ain't gonna play no guitar no more."

He had an hour to work on his message for Judy — V's girlfriend — she deserved to know what happened, and get all of V's assets, get out of Night City. Why was life so tiring? Probably cuz he didn't plow as many bitches or get shit-faced or smoke as much as he used to. Sigh.

ALERT: Team meeting now

Time runs so fast. An entire hour has gone by already.

Dialing Miko . . .

JOHNNY
"Miko."

MIKO
"Yes Manager?"

JOHNNY
"Grab Takeshi and meet me in the practice room."

Time to meet 'Whiskers'. Everything about this person from Arasaka was fishy — Arasaka dealt with chrome and weapons, not music — but he owed it to his band to hear out this mystery representative. The rep better fucking not be late.

A short walk away and he was standing at the entrance of the practice room. Takeshi was already there, Miko just came in. "So, we have an Arasaka rep named 'Whiskers' coming in now. I doubt that they are Arasaka but the credentials check out. Be prepared for anything."

Incoming call from HANZO SEC. . . .

HANZO SEC.
"Sir, we have a woman calling herself Whiskers claiming she's from Arasaka here to meet you."

JOHNNY
"Let her in."

HANZO SEC.
"Yes sir."

"She's here."

Predictably, a few moments later, the door clicks open, and in steps a blond with a zipped-up high collar long coat. Most of her hair is tied in a ponytail that falls to her upper back. She has the few untied bangs swept behind her ear. The most noticeable feature, though, is probably the pair of whisker marks on her cheeks.

"Nice to have you here today ma'am. I'm the Manager." Johnny says before casually pointing at Miko and Takashi, introducing them in turn. "The other members will not be joining us today. I hope that is not an issue?"

"Absolutely not. And, I'm a guy Johnny."

His forearms opened. A wicked Mantis blade embedded itself in the wall, seconds away from beheading the blond. Johnny cocks his trusty Malorian into the bastard's neck. The kids still haven't figured out what's up. As far as Johnny was concerned, anyone who knew his real identity was a threat to him and the people close to him. He wasn't going to endanger them again.

"Oh ho ho ho, is that the custom-built Malorian thirty-five sixteen, enough firepower to stop a tank and raise sensory feedback to cyber psycho levels?"

"And also to reduce your body to paste, so think carefully before answering. Who hired you and why should I believe what you say?"

Blondie pauses, he seems to think. "I hired myself. Arasaka screwed us. I want to fix things."

"There's not fixing things." Johnny squeezes the trigger–

UZUMAKI requesting shortwave comms . . .

–And pauses midway.

"I still didn't tell you why you should believe me." blondie purrs coolly.

UZUMAKI

"Well, my name isn't 'Whiskers'."

JOHNNY
"Get to the point."

Images and blueprints stream in Johnny's vision.

UZUMAKI
"Timetravel — Pank Hym of Hym Corp fame figured it out. I'm not asking you to throw away everything V gave you and come with me. Think about it, you can save her ya know?"

Received contact: UZUMAKI . . .

They blew the door open. Guns are leveled at the two. "Manager-san?"

"Tell your men to stand down, we're good. Just a small misunderstanding." Johnny retracts his mantis blade and holsters his gun. To his side, he sees pure terror in Takashi's eyes. Miko and most of the security team are shocked, predictable. No one knew that he packed chrome or guns. He was proud of how Miko wasn't frozen and still functional. That girl would get far.

"Please escort Mr. Whiskers out and leave us."

"Uh, are you sure sir?"

Johnny ignores the question in favor of walking across the room and tossing two broseph beers to Takashi and Miko. "Helps with the nerves."

He heads back to his office. He would now have to deal with the security team and CCTV recordings before their Corpo overlords get wind of it. That would be a shit show he didn't have the patience for.

A while later, Johnny found himself in the streets of Osaka, half a world away from where everything started. Their studio was in the less neon-ised part of the city, Johnny was grateful. Gazing down the gradual slope that lead into Osaka's urban sprawl — clean roads wet with rain, not many spires obstructing the view. A cherry tree cloaked in full glorious pink at the turn-in to their driveway. The place had a certain tranquility.

"Wild day huh rocker boy?" V was leaning against the tree, casually desecrating the spirit of the place. "You always were one for surprises" she chuckles.

"In more ways than one."

If anyone was looking, they would think that Johnny was on the verge of cyber psychosis. Heck, Johnny didn't know if he was going psycho or not.

"So, what are you planning to do Johnny?"

Johnny looks her way. She has her iridescent puffer jacket off-shoulder. He simply turns and starts walking.

Dialing JUDY ALVEREZ . . .

A yellow bus runs by showering Johnny's pants with a light spray of water. Osaka's public transport was meticulous and cheap. The Japs genuinely cared about their own people, it seemed.

JUDY
"Hi, Judy here, kinda busy, feel free to leave a message."

A couple run by, they are dressed identically in black shorts, sky blue tank tops, and black masks. Probably have lung and integumentary implants to run as fast as they were over the kinds of distances they seemed to have run.

JOHNNY
Sigh.

"Judy, I'm not going to mince words, V's gone. She chose to leave her body with me and head off into the old net with Alt. I truly regret that it came to this. I'm living life in Osaka now, managing a band. I'm not gonna throw away the chance V gave me."

It started drizzling again, like it always did. Johnny pulled out his transparent umbrella as he walked downhill to the nearby bus stop. It's not much, just a roof over two benches, like onesin you'd expect out in the countryside in those old anime. People out here were rich enough to afford such spacious and idyllic designs. Johnny knew that Judy could see all of this. He had an upgraded virtual meeting implant that transmitted his surroundings too. He wasn't afraid of making her wait.

JOHNNY
"I'm not going to be the last rebel Judy, nor is V going to be the last NC legend . . . I don't want others to make the same mistakes we made. If you're up with it, I'd like for you to edit the entirety of 2077 as a braindance — to serve as a warning for others. I'd also like to transfer all of V's assets to you, she would have wanted you to have them, they're rightfully yours. Where would you like me to deposit the assets?"

Johnny sits down on the empty benches, waiting.

JOHNNY
"I'm sorry for having run away like a pussy and I'm not asking for forgiveness. If you want to know anything about her, just ask and I'll answer the best I can."

Johnny gets onto the bus that just came in, it's crowded, everyone escaping the rain are on the bus. Everyone is pressing into each other. Someone was probably getting groped discretely in the back.

JOHNNY
"Maybe consider coming to Osaka, it ain't as bad as NC. The Corps here apparently care a little. Also, I still see her. I still see V here and there. She was just leaning against the cherry tree outside our studio and being annoying before I called."

The bus door closes with a slight hiss. The scenery changes in relative silence. Clear open spaces lead to traditional-looking houses, sloping tiled roofs with a slight curve to them, shoji for doors, tatami for floors, meticulously maintained gardens. Most of those paper-thin walls could probably tank high-caliber bullets. The roads get narrower, the signage gets denser, the buildings become more vertical, abruptly changing from three-floored marble and glass constructions to concrete and paint constructions so high that it's perennially night within them — megabuildings all — then they turn into a tunnel, pure grey cement outside the window.

The crowd on the bus has dwindled significantly.

JOHNNY
"I've been rambling so far, I know, but . . . there might be a way to save V. Or maybe not. I'll keep you updated."

"Johnny out."

Sending message to JUDY ALVEREZ . . .

A small progress bar occupies the bottom left of his vision. He pays it no heed as he gets off. A tiny pop-up notifies him of the 47 eddy deduction for the bus fare.

A half-hour walk to get back home, Johnny really hopes for dreamless sleep today.

Notes: If your looking for some spy drama, checkout my other star wars fic "Balance Isn't The Answer," (it can be read fandom blind.)