#non-binary v

One of the good things to come from Valentine's unceremonious dismissal from Arasaka was the ability to explore her gender and body without the constant scrutiny and policing that come with being an employee. Some things are easier to explore than others: free from the standards of "acceptable" presentation she gets top surgery. Others are harder: while she can admit out loud that she is not a woman, the best answer she has when asked what she is instead is: thief.

Her basic belief is that you are what you do. Being a thief is what killed her, what brought her back, and what defines the action she takes post-resurrection. Over time she identifies more fondly with the term, mostly out of a desire not to argue over established binary categorization, or even use binary terms at all. Truthfully, as her story progresses her gender changes with her situation and major concerns. She is over time: fool, thief, ghost, patient, right-hand. Her story is one of being denied proper space or autonomy to explore this more outwardly than off-handed comments to a very small circle of people. She always aims to retain as much plausible deniability of herself as possible, as she has very little social or political power and exists in a world essentially without privacy.

Cyberpunk the game presents societal view of gender more or less identical to what we have currently; I think that is mostly out of a desire not to be "too political". So I've had to sort of scrounge up more details myself.

Whatever the broader views of society, Valentine's relationship with gender is mostly informed by Arasaka, where she did her schooling and was employed for most of her life, and was the child of two Arasaka employees. Since Arasaka is (was?) molded by Saburo, who is a conservative imperialist, my take on Arasaka is that it has all the quiet understood but unspoken prejudices about race, gender, class, etc. that you'd expect from a zaibatsu still operating well into the 21st century.

In practice, this means the pressure of being the Right kind of woman, whose presentation was also a representation of Arasaka to the public. Valentine regularly dealt with warnings and writeups for her failure to live up to the misogynistic standard of femininity, and of course homophobia and transphobia before she herself even acknowledged those parts of herself. Her defense mechanism is not to fight back, but to deflect, hunker down and ignore thinking about it as much as possible. Her return to Arasaka after the Relic is fraught in different ways- her nonconformity is essentially attributed to brain damage, and yet perversely because of this she is allocated more freedom than she ever had before.

“I thought the same,” he said. “Why are you here so late?”

It was true that he was also here at a strange hour, but he had implants which allowed him to operate on a much shorter sleep schedule than the average person. V had no such implants, and in fact had been advised to rest as part of her continuing recovery. He also knew that reminding her of this was one of the quickest ways to start an argument.

“Prefer having the place to myself,” she said, her clipped tone. It was not an admonishment but a distracted, almost shy admission. The corner of her mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “Away from prying eyes.”

Her attempt at deflection did not distract from her discomfort. He should have guessed without asking why she might be swimming at a strange hour in an empty pool– her flat chest marked her as aberrant in Arasaka’s eyes. She had resisted “correction” during her reinstatement, and been granted a very begrudging exception, solely on the basis of her partial integration with Silverhand– a condescension that did not shield her from the judgments of her peers or her superiors. It was not a matter she enjoyed discussing.

“Am I prying?” he asked, cautiously.

She cupped her hand in the water and he had to sidestep to avoid a spurt of water aimed at his shins. Her expression had relaxed into mischief, bright gray eyes shining despite the dark circles underneath. “Not if you join me.”

His heart flipped in his chest. They were playing a dangerous game, one that risked their positions and in V’s case, her conditionally granted freedom. Scandal could easily turn Hanako’s favor. But there were no cameras here, no supervision, no prying eyes. Not on this floor. Not here.

“I do not swim,” he said, shaking his head. He had once, before he had had such extensive prosthetics. He still possessed the ability, but his lack of buoyancy made the exercise tedious and so he preferred to stay on solid ground. “And I am not properly dressed.”

V scoffed, hauling herself out of the water and padding over, looming over him as she dripped water onto the slippery floor and his feet. She had filled out since her dance with death, added some padding to stomach and the curve of her hips that made his hands itch with the longing to touch. But there was a weariness to her that still lingered. He wished he could feed her properly, add some protective bulk to her tall frame and soften the hungry lines of her face.

Regardless of her troubles, she was still handsome. She set her shoulders back under his gaze, bare chested and skittishly proud. He found himself sinking into a strange mix of lust and jealousy at the youthful skin of someone still in her thirties. She had scars, but they were minor– a shiny stab wound under her left collarbone, a small puncture on her neck no bigger than a fingertip, a faded bullet wound in her thigh, and a line along the right side of her rib cage so expertly tended it was nearly invisible save for the fact he knew it was there. The seam where her left forearm turned from pale skin to brilliant red chrome was smooth and flawless.

“You could always take those clothes off,” she said, in a low voice.

He gently grabbed her jaw, watching her pupils dilate almost imperceptibly. “It is very late for you to have such energy.”

She pressed her left hand against the small of his back, cool wet fingers leaving behind a perfect imprint as she urged him a little closer. Her eyes danced but her expression was guileless. “Can’t sleep unless I burn it off.”

Goro opened his mouth to reply, but a loud chiming sound made them flinch and startle apart. It quickly became clear it was only the clock on the wall announcing the hour, for the benefit of any gym member who’d turned off their notifications and lost track of time. V threw her head back and laughed, the loud, brassy sound echoing through the room so he could hardly resist joining in. Then she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, holding him close as she dragged him backwards into the pool.

The impact was a shock, cold water engulfing him from head to toe. Tangled together, they sank like a stone until his shoulders settled on the bottom of the pool. He opened his eyes to find V looking down at him with a grin on her face before she released him and kicked upwards for air.

He righted himself into a crouch and then launched himself upward, breaking the surface easily and anchoring himself with one hand on the edge of the pool. V’s laughter greeted him, and a generous splash of water in her face only increased her mirth. He pulled himself out of the pool, sending a small wave out that washed back around his hands as he sat down on the edge, water pouring out of his clothing and weighing down his hair.

He pulled his shirt off to wring it out, as V dove again, retrieving his sandals from the bottom and setting them down by his side. She put one hand on his knee to hold on to as she lazily tread water, letting it reach her chin as she studied him. He wasn’t self-conscious about his body– it had served him well, and he’d made the decision to keep the layer of organic skin around his torso as an emblem of that appreciation. But he was old and covered in thick, ugly scars, and it still baffled him to see her naked interest.

“I should have guessed…” he grumbled, as he finished wringing most of the water from his shirt and turned to toss it onto the nearest chair. “…that I would become drawn in by your schemes.”

“Schemes?” V repeated, in fake outrage, before her expression suddenly became sly. She grabbed his other knee and hauled herself out of the water until they were face to face, her elbows locked to hold her in place. He dug his heels against the wall of the pool to maintain balance as she rested her weight on his legs. “What if I make it up to you?”

He pretended to consider the offer, enjoying the way her grip tightened on his leg as she waited for him to answer. Patience had never been her strong suit. “What do you propose?”

In response, she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips tasted like chlorine, soft and warm from her exertion. That warmth washed through him, making him fantasize about hauling her closer and– V pulled back gently, exhaling in quiet amusement at his expression.

He hummed. “Is that your proposal?”

“To start,” she said, and he suppressed a shudder. When he ran his thumb over her cheek, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, exposing her throat.

“You tease me,” he grumbled. She grinned, and in a flash of irritated inspiration he picked her up under the shoulders and tossed her easily back into the water.