Miguel found his group leader's recent actions odd.

Normally, people in their line of work should be cautious, avoiding transactions in bustling areas to prevent unwanted attention.

However, the group leader's recent commands and actions seemed to be openly advertising their activities.

They would never arrange trades in places like Shinjuku, teeming with prying eyes.

Even the slightest carelessness could expose them to the public and draw police attention, leading to trouble.

Yet, the group leader insisted on completing all deals in Shinjuku.

Though this hadn't caused any trouble so far, it placed a heavy burden on Miguel. He knew their work wasn't as risk-free as picking apples in an orchard; one mistake could land him in jail.

Miguel couldn't stop thinking about what could have made the group leader abandon their low-key principle and choose to trade in Shinjuku.

Moreover, as far as he knew, no customers had approached them recently.

Normally, the Muramune Group didn't procure "goods" frequently. Selling children wasn't like selling candy; they couldn't just stock up without buyers and sell them off slowly.

Too many children around would easily cause problems.

The Muramune Group usually acted only when a client approached them with a specific need.

Their purchasing channels were in remote areas. They targeted heavily indebted gamblers or irresponsible parents eager to abandon their children—this was the group's preferred acquisition method.

Secondly, Miguel himself would go to elementary school gates to "acquire" children.

Few Japanese elementary school students were picked up by their parents—not because the country was safe, but because their parents simply didn't have the time.

Even parents who had the time were often reluctant. If most children weren't picked up, having yours met at the gate could lead to them being ostracized by their classmates.

This situation made it easy for Miguel.

He just needed to drive a van to a spot without surveillance and quickly snatch the children.

His counterparts in the business were unaware of his methods.

He personally kidnapped four or five elementary school students from different parts of Japan each year.

When children were kidnapped, the local police, concerned about the official crime rate in their precinct, often wouldn't file a criminal case. Instead, they'd treat it as a missing person report.

Abductions of junior high and high school students were similarly classified as missing persons cases, not crimes.

The police claimed to be determined to crack down on heinous crimes, but only if the reporter could prove they had been the victim of one.

Without proof, they were out of luck.

Although police enforcement in this area was lax, deliberately provoking them and getting caught was no laughing matter.

The criminal law still stood.

Miguel carefully considered his leader's recent actions, feeling that someone must be directing him.

It might also be related to the recent successive collapses of Yakuza organizations.

Rumor had it that a "Yakuza Hunter" was targeting those involved in the Yakuza.

Supposedly, this Yakuza Hunter's family had been destroyed by the Yakuza, leading them to vow revenge against all Yakuza.

Another rumor claimed it was someone abandoned by the Yakuza, now a "Black Widow" figure, slaughtering them.

Whatever the truth, someone was indeed targeting the Yakuza from the shadows, and many prominent organizations had been dismantled.

If the Muramune Group leader knew all this and still chose to operate so openly, there could be only one explanation: he wanted to lure out the Yakuza Hunter and kill them to enhance his own reputation.

In their world, this was common. Small-time crooks often tried to make a name for themselves by taking down major figures in rival gangs, proving their mettle.

If the leader aimed to expand his influence in the underworld, he naturally needed such stepping stones.

Perhaps the leader envisioned a grand plan to dominate Tokyo's underworld, but for Miguel, this was not good news.

The Muramune Group wasn't known for its strength, and Miguel couldn't understand what possessed their leader to suddenly play at empire-building.

Yet, he couldn't stop it.

All Miguel could do before heading out to work was tuck a gun into his coat, just in case.

Tonight was no different.

As Shinjuku Street's neon lights flickered on, he, a rat thriving in the shadows, began to move.

Miguel drove to Shinjuku Okubo, far from the bustling crowds, and steered his van into a dimly lit alley.

His headlights remained on, illuminating a couple waiting ahead.

When the van stopped, Miguel killed the engine, engaged the handbrake, unbuckled his seatbelt, and opened the door—all in one smooth sequence.

"You must be Mr. Takeda."

Miguel glanced at the man before him, someone in his twenties. He looked pale and exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, and seemed to have been drinking; he swayed unsteadily.

Beside him stood a woman with garishly dyed hair and heavy makeup. She reeked of cheap, pungent perfume—an apparent attempt to mask body odor that only made the smell more bizarre.

"Right. What do you think of her?"

Takeda grinned, pulling his daughter out from behind him.

Raised by such parents, the girl was clearly malnourished, skinny with sallow skin and rough hair.

Miguel frowned, squatted, and lifted the girl's discolored skirt. Inspecting her legs, he said, "She's malnourished, and you beat her often. Her legs are covered in bruises, her skin is dry, and her hair is coarse. My clients aren't garbage cans; they won't take just any girl."

"But she's young," Takeda insisted.

The little girl's face was a mask of deathly indifference, as if she'd long ago lost the ability to cry or scream like other children.

Miguel dropped the skirt. "For this quality," he said, shaking his head, "I can only offer you three hundred thousand Yen."

"A little more. She's a human being, after all. How about five hundred thousand?" Takeda began to bargain.

Miguel shook his head. "Considering your circumstances, I'll add a bit. But four hundred thousand Yen is my limit."

"Four hundred fifty thousand!" Takeda wasn't satisfied. "She's only ten! Give her some good food, and she'll be pretty again in no time. The bruises and stuff will fade if you stop hitting her."

Miguel considered. The price was acceptable. If he refused, he worried they'd take the girl back, and he wouldn't meet his leader's quota. He didn't want to linger outside too long.

"Fine," Miguel conceded. "I'll take a small loss. Four hundred fifty thousand Yen."

"Thanks, Boss!" Takeda slapped his daughter impatiently on the head. "Get a move on, you good-for-nothing!" He was eager to get the money and squander it at the Pachinko Parlor.

The little girl said nothing, stepping forward silently.

She was used to it: disobey her parents, get beaten. In the future, she'd probably be beaten for disobeying others too.

But it didn't matter. Her life was already set; she could never go to school like other little girls.

As she walked toward the van, a blond man suddenly appeared before her. "You're very tired," he said, his voice strangely captivating. "Sleep for a while."

Hearing his words, an immense weariness washed over the girl, and she instantly fell into a deep sleep.

Aozawa caught her.

A gray filter seemed to descend over the alley.

He stared expressionlessly at the couple, their faces frozen in surprise.

The world is vast. Some parents would give their lives for their children; others see them merely as burdens.

He placed his other hand on the van, activating his Power of Enlightening. Warmth spread through his right palm as something flowed into the vehicle.

In the next moment, the van transformed rapidly. It condensed, spun, and then reshaped into a man whose face screamed "invincible."

It was Jotaro Kujo, the sixteen-year-old protagonist of *JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part Three*.

Except this Jotaro Kujo was stark naked, every muscle exposed.

Seeing the transformation complete, Aozawa allowed time to resume.

The van vanished. In its place stood two men.

One was the blond foreigner; the other, a stark-naked pervert.

This was what Takeda saw.

He couldn't comprehend what had just happened. Why had the van disappeared? And when had these two men appeared?

"What on earth is going on?" Takeda asked in astonishment.

Miguel found Takeda's question strange and glanced back.

The alley behind him was empty. Where's my van? The question flashed through his mind.

Oddly, he wasn't as surprised by the blond foreigner holding the little girl.

"Hey, you! Seen my van?"

That van belonged to the Muramune Group. If it was gone, Miguel would have to pay for a new one himself.

"Where is your headquarters?" Aozawa asked, using his Hypnosis Ability.

Miguel instinctively replied, "Currently, Shinjuku Kabukicho Ni-chome 9-15, Room 301."

"Good. I'll return your van to you now. Jotaro, take them down."

Hearing "take them down," Miguel reached inside his coat for his gun, intending to intimidate them.

Suddenly, two tires sprouted from the car-man's feet.

Miguel froze, eyes wide. Tires?

Instantly, the car-man accelerated to one hundred kilometers per hour, charging straight at Miguel.

Its arms were crossed over its chest, glass windows protruding from its body like fins.

BANG!

Miguel felt his throat shatter. His eyes bulged as his heavy body was lifted several inches off the ground by the impact before thudding down.

CRACK! CRACK! The glass windows on the car-man shattered.

Watching this, Aozawa understood: the Enlightened van retained its original functions. For instance, its speed, and the ability for parts of the vehicle to manifest on its body.

He looked down at Miguel, blood gushing from his throat, and marveled at the enigma of human vitality. Sometimes so fragile, yet at other times, astonishingly resilient.

It was astounding that such an impact hadn't killed Miguel. He could still move; his right hand still fumbled for his gun.

The Takedas, minds reeling, finally reacted. Screaming in terror, they turned to flee.

The car-man spread its arms. Glass windows reformed, and the tires on its feet spun faster.

It overtook the fleeing couple, striking the backs of their heads with window edges as sharp as blades.

BANG! The couple collapsed, unable to utter a sound.

The car-man's glass arms shattered. Then, engines began to form in its hands, and it slammed them down violently.

BANG!

Again and again, it pounded, sending blood and flesh flying.

The couple breathed their last.

Aozawa stepped forward, took Miguel's gun, and used his Power of Enlightening to create Lady.