Jack Wells led Riku to the wash area. The Wild Wolf Bar had a dedicated spot for people to rest and clean up, complete with a place to take a shower.
For the first time in a while, Riku finally got to rinse off. Man, that refreshing feeling was something else—pure bliss, like stepping out of a hot spring in a shonen anime.
After cleaning up, Riku stood in front of a mirror, getting a real look at his current form for the first time.
Those goat horns on his head were impossible to miss, screaming "demon king" vibes, like he was Azazel straight out of some dark fantasy anime. Add in the eerie, almost cursed tattoos crisscrossing his body, and it was no wonder people got the wrong idea about him.
"Looks like I've got another thing to add to the list," Riku muttered, a bit exasperated. He was in dire need of some "Skill Optimization Points" right about now.
"Photophobia," "cannibalism," "appearance"—yeah, the list of things he needed to tweak was getting pretty long.
He grabbed the clothes Jack Wells had lent him and tried them on. They were a bit tight, not quite a perfect fit. Jack was a pretty buff guy by most standards, but compared to Riku's current frame? He was still a step behind.
"Eh, it'll do. Better than what I was wearing before," Riku said with a shrug.
Back when he was running around in those tattered, blood-soaked rags, he didn't exactly have room to be picky. These clothes were at least clean, intact, and had a bit of style to them. Plus, they were a gift—can't complain about free swag.
After changing, Riku stepped out of the bathroom. The only real hassle now was doorways. With those goat horns, he was easily over two meters tall, so he had to duck and weave just to get through without smacking his head.
To be fair, the horns were doing most of the height work—his actual body wasn't that exaggerated, or he wouldn't have been able to squeeze into Jack's clothes at all.
"Didn't think I'd ever be stressing about something like this," Riku chuckled to himself, shaking his head. But he'd have to get used to it. If he got caught in a chase and those horns got stuck somewhere, it wouldn't just be embarrassing—it could be game over.
"Riku, my man, you okay? Your face is pale as a ghost, no color at all!" Jack said, doing a double-take when he saw Riku step out.
Back when Riku was covered in blood, it wasn't as noticeable, but now that he was cleaned up, it stood out like a sore thumb. Dude was built like a tank, yet his face looked like he was one bad day away from keeling over. Total mismatch, like a character design gone wrong.
"I'm fine, no injuries," Riku said, shaking his head. He'd taken plenty of hits—some downright fatal—but they'd all healed up already.
"Just chalk it up to some janky body mods gone wrong," he added, throwing out a vague excuse. In this cyberpunk world, that kind of explanation slid by without a hitch. People bought it.
"Man, you guys are wild, chugging random hormones and slapping animal parts on yourselves," Jack said, clicking his tongue. "No way I'd mess with that. Cybernetic implants (gitaisho) are one thing—at least you know what they're supposed to do. But hormones? Gene mods? Animal organs? Who the hell knows what you'll end up as?"
Riku didn't take the bait, switching topics instead. Less talk, less chance of slipping up—he wasn't actually part of some "Beast Gang" (Kemono-dan) or whatever.
"Thanks for the clothes. How much do I owe you?" he asked.
"Mrs. Wells' love? Priceless, my friend. Can't buy that with eddies. But don't worry, it's on the house," Jack replied with a grin. Guy was a real character, the kind who could buddy up with anyone, like a sidekick in a mecha anime.
"Thanks, man," Riku said, keeping it short. No need to overthink a kind gesture. Measuring everything in money felt too crass, like something a villain in Hunter x Hunter would do.
Not to mention, Riku was flat broke. The few eddies he'd scavenged from those two street scavs wouldn't even cover a round of drinks at the bar. Talk about awkward.
"The free stuff's always the most expensive," Riku thought, recalling an old saying. By accepting the Wells family's kindness, he was racking up a debt of gratitude. If they ever needed help, could he really just walk away?
Maybe some people could, but not Riku. His straightforward, almost shonen-hero sense of morality wouldn't let him.
Luckily, the Wells family seemed like decent folks. If they were out here pulling villain-level stunts, Riku would've made sure to settle the score, clear as day.
"Alright, mission complete. I'm gonna crash for a bit. Catch you later," Jack said, rubbing his temples. Guy looked like he had a headache coming on and needed a break.
"Later, Jack," Riku replied with a nod, watching him head off before returning to his seat. The bartender hadn't cleared away his drink, which was nice.
Sinking into the booth's sofa, Riku picked up his cocktail glass, took a sip—and immediately gagged, spitting it out.
"Ugh, damn it!"
Lost in thought, he'd totally forgotten he was basically a kijin from Demon Slayer—a ghost who could only stomach human flesh and blood. Compared to the ghouls from Tokyo Ghoul, who could at least sip coffee, his situation was straight-up pitiful.
"New clothes are honestly kinda inconvenient," Riku muttered, realizing the downside. Back when his outfit was a shredded, bloodstained mess, chowing down was way easier. Now, in this clean, stylish getup, one meal would probably leave him looking like he'd just walked off a horror anime set.
"Guess a bloodthirsty beast shouldn't care about looking polished," he quipped, shaking his head.
But Riku quickly figured out a workaround: nibbling on his own fingers. Way less gruesome than chomping on his arm, and definitely more practical. Pain? That wasn't even on his radar anymore—it was just part of the deal.
Leaning back in the booth, Riku stuck his left index finger in his mouth and started gnawing, stripping off bits of flesh. The pain jolted his brain, but there was also a weirdly satisfying sense of fullness. Freaky as it was, he was starting to get used to it.
"Gotta figure out how to get some cybernetic implants (gitaisho)," Riku thought, his mind shifting gears. In this world, cybernetic enhancements could seriously boost your combat power. Until his level, stats, or skills caught up, leaning on external gear was the fastest way to get stronger.
Riku had no hang-ups about using external tools. He was a pragmatist—whatever worked, worked. Plus, unlike regular folks, he didn't have to worry about the usual risks of cybernetic mods.
Normal people who got implants couldn't just swap back to their flesh-and-blood body—preservation wasn't an option. But Riku? He could rip out the cybernetics and let his body regenerate, no problem.
There was just one catch: he needed to get a handle on his regeneration ability first. Otherwise, by the time the cyber-doc tried to install the implants, his body would've already regrown the cut parts.