Chapter 172: Cruel Vengeance
However, he was now simply too old.
So old that he had to cherish every breath, so old that any fluctuation of emotion could become the final straw that broke his decaying body.
Yet, even so, those sunken eyes still gleamed with the light of total insight, as if he had long since seen through the entire chess game.
However, an aging tiger is still a predator, and Saburo Arasaka was a dragon coiled in the world's shadows.
His frailty could never become a reason for enemies to trample on Arasaka's dignity.
"They think... Arasaka is old and can be humiliated." Saburo's voice gradually gained strength. Though still hoarse, it carried an unquestionable resolve. "They want war... then give them war."
Shintaro Takayama looked up abruptly, a flash of shock in his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure.
He knew Saburo. Beneath the calm exterior lay an uncompromising will of steel.
"Saburo-sama, you mean?"
"Deploy the 'White Whale'." Saburo uttered the three words as if speaking of a trivial matter.
Shintaro Takayama's heart contracted suddenly.
The "White Whale"—the supercarrier controlled by the Arasaka family that cruised the Pacific, along with its full carrier strike group.
It was one of the ultimate symbols of Arasaka's military might, a strategic force capable of rivaling the navies of small to medium nations.
Deploying the "White Whale" meant escalating the situation directly to the highest level of military conflict, tantamount to declaring total war on the entire West Coast of North America.
"Saburo-sama, please reconsider!" Takayama advised instinctively. "Deploying the 'White Whale' has too great an impact. Militech and the NUSA will never sit idly by. This could trigger the Fifth Corporate War, or even drag us into a full-scale conflict with the NUSA! European factions will inevitably intervene..."
"Shintaro." Saburo interrupted him. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a majesty that froze the blood. "Arasaka's dignity allows no provocation. One retreat will only invite more covetous eyes and bites.
"We must use the cruelest, most direct method to tell this world that Arasaka is still Arasaka. Anyone who dares extend a claw must be prepared to be uprooted entirely."
He breathed slightly, and the indicator lights on the life support equipment flickered. Goro Takemura, standing in the shadows, immediately stepped half a pace forward and silently adjusted the device parameters.
Saburo waved his hand, signaling he was fine.
"What I want is not a war of equals," Saburo continued, his gaze icy. "I want a crushing, public execution.
"Use the 'White Whale' to deliver our powered armor troops. Land in Night City, find those rats, and the masters behind them, and then... crush them.
"Let the whole world see clearly the consequence of challenging Arasaka."
Shintaro Takayama fell silent.
He understood Saburo's resolve was set.
This was not just for revenge, but to demonstrate to all internal and external enemies, in the twilight years of the Empire's founder, that Arasaka still possessed unshakeable force and resolve, deterring those restless powers.
"This subordinate... understands." Takayama bowed deeply. "Then, the command of this operation..."
"You will have full authority," Saburo said without hesitation. "Only you, Shintaro, can I trust completely."
Takayama did not immediately accept the order. He pondered for a moment, then raised his head, his gaze sincere. "Saburo-sama, thank you for your trust. However... the scale of this operation is unprecedented. Should Yorinobu-sama be appointed as the nominal commander?
"This would be a rare training opportunity for him, and it could establish his prestige within the Group, easing the relationship between you and him. After all... he is your designated heir."
At the mention of Yorinobu, Saburo's eyes grew complicated for an instant.
He indeed held complex expectations for this son—the helplessness of a father, the scrutiny of an empire's helmsman towards an heir, and the unspoken schemes hidden deep within his immortality project.
"Yorinobu... lacks the capacity and his temperament is unstable." Saburo finally shook his head slowly. "I am not at ease entrusting such a major military operation to him."
"Precisely because of that, he needs the training." Takayama insisted, his tone respectful but firm. "This subordinate is willing to guarantee with my life that I will ensure the operation is flawless from behind the scenes.
"Letting Yorinobu-sama serve as the nominal commander-in-chief and accompany the fleet on the expedition will demonstrate the unity and resolve of the Arasaka family, and also serve as an important test for Yorinobu-sama.
"True command authority naturally remains in your hands, executed specifically by this subordinate."
The room fell into silence again.
Outside in the garden, a gentle breeze blew, and a few late cherry blossom petals fell quietly. Goro Takemura stood still as a statue, seemingly merged with the shadows.
Saburo Arasaka's withered fingers tapped lightly on the armrest, making a barely audible tap, tap sound.
He was weighing the options.
Shintaro Takayama's proposal indeed aligned with the long-term interests of the Empire, and could give that disappointing son a chance. Perhaps... it could also lay some groundwork for the future "Plan."
"...Very well." After a long time, Saburo finally spoke, his voice carrying a trace of exhaustion. "Do as you say. Appoint Yorinobu Arasaka as the nominal Commander-in-Chief of this 'Special Punitive Operation'.
"You, Shintaro Takayama, will accompany him as the Supreme Advisor, ensuring the operation's success.
"Remember, I want results—a thorough cleansing and absolute deterrence."
"Hai!" Takayama bowed deeply, his forehead touching the tatami. "This subordinate will not fail!"
"Go." Saburo waved his hand and closed his eyes again, as if the decision to launch a regional war was merely a trivial daily affair. "Draft a detailed plan immediately. The 'White Whale' sails at once. I want to see the sky of Night City shrouded by Arasaka's banners within ten days."
"As you command!"
Shintaro Takayama rose, bowed once more, and then quietly exited the washitsu.
The heavy wooden door slid shut slowly behind him, isolating the inside from the outside.
Inside, Saburo Arasaka sat in his wheelchair with eyes closed, like a slumbering emperor.
The light from the window cast shifting shadows on his wrinkled face.
The rhythmic ticking of the medical equipment was the only melody in this silent room, counting down silently for his remaining life, and for the coming storm of blood.
Goro Takemura remained standing silently aside, like a loyal ghost, guarding this aging dragon that could still stir up monstrous waves.
Far away somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, the "White Whale" supercarrier strike group had already received the preparatory orders from Tokyo's highest command.
The massive hull began to turn, boilers pressurizing. Carrying elite powered armor troopers and vast amounts of advanced weaponry, like a moving mountain of steel, it began to break the waves toward the West Coast of North America, toward Night City.
The wheel of vengeance had begun to turn.
(End of Chapter)