“Ah, this is so pretty.
Taiji, can we buy this pair?” A group of high school students in uniforms arrived in front of Makoto’s stall and took a liking to a pair of rings on display.
At this age, the most carefree people were probably students like them.
They had no pressure to find work.
Whether their family gave them much money or little, their parents still provided it.
They did not have to worry about food, clothing, housing, or transportation.
But society was turbulent, and in this broader environment, good students were far rarer than delinquents.
That was a specialty of Japan in this era.
Makoto raised his head.
From their hair alone, dyed in all sorts of colors, he could tell they were a group of delinquent students.
The girl who had spoken wore heavy makeup.
She had tied the hem of her school uniform into a knot, exposing her navel and waist.
The boy beside her was probably her boyfriend.
He had a nose stud, spoke in a flippant tone, and kept one restless arm around the girl’s shoulders, kneading casually.
“If you like them, then buy them.
Tachibana, you’ve still got plenty of allowance, right?” “I have to pay again?” “Can’t help it.
I need to save my money for the love hotel.
Hahaha.” “You’re awful!” The girl rolled her eyes at him, but did not resist.
The others also burst into giggles.
“Boss, how much for these rings?” She took out her wallet.
She seemed to genuinely like the pair of rings.
Makoto named a price, then said nothing more.
The girl thought it was expensive and wanted to bargain, but Makoto gave her no response at all.
He sat there as motionless and indifferent as a stone.
Left with no choice, the girl looked to her boyfriend for help.
“Why waste words on him?
He dresses worse than a beggar.
How could he have this much gold and silver jewelry?
He must have stolen it.” The boy spoke brazenly, bending down and reaching out.
It was obvious that he planned to take them by force.
Japan’s delinquent culture in this era was far worse than what he remembered from his previous life.
Relying on the law’s leniency toward minors, these brats might not be breaking into homes, but they still caused destruction everywhere and brought plenty of trouble to society.
Stolen?
Makoto finally reacted.
That word stirred up certain terrible memories.
He raised his head for the second time, his gaze as sharp as a beast’s.
The boy who was about to take the jewelry met Makoto’s eyes.
His whole body went cold at once, as if some flood-born monster had fixed its gaze on him.
He involuntarily backed away several steps.
“Taiji?” Seeing him covered in sweat, the girl thought his kidneys were weak and asked with concern, “Are you okay?” “Move.” Only then did the boy recover.
Feeling deeply humiliated, he clenched his teeth and shouted, “He’s just a beggar!
Beat him to death!” With that, he took the lead himself, throwing punches and kicks at Makoto.
When the others saw this, they joined the fun without fear, raising their fists and striking Makoto as well.
For a full minute, Makoto did not move.
He sat there quietly, his expression unchanged.
The surrounding people had long since moved away from the area, but they had not gone far.
They gathered around and watched.
This kind of delinquent “stall sweeping” happened many times every week.
They were already used to it.
The delinquents, however, began to notice something was wrong after beating him for a minute.
“What’s going on?
Why isn’t this guy moving?” “What did he grow up eating?
We’ve hit him for so long and he’s fine.
My hands hurt.” “Damn thing!” The high schooler named Taiji also realized something was off.
His hands were swollen from hitting him, yet Makoto was completely fine.
He felt as if he might have run into one of those hidden masters who often appeared in anime.
Wasn’t the shoulder-checking monster in Gantz that kind of person?
But he could not bring himself to turn and leave now.
In shame and anger, he opened his bag, pulled out a baseball bat, gripped it with both hands, and swung it at Makoto’s head.
Bang!
The bat came down but did not hit him.
Makoto raised a hand and caught it.
“My things,” Makoto said, “weren’t stolen.” “You…
ah…” Taiji still wanted to speak, but his eyes suddenly widened.
At some point, the baseball bat in his hands had fallen into Makoto’s grip.
Makoto reversed it and smashed it down onto his right leg, making him wail for his parents.
“Taiji!” “Ah!
He’s hitting people!” “Call the police!
Get this beggar dragged to the station!” When his companions saw that, they immediately rushed over and dragged him away, shouting as they went.
Another day without earning anything.
Makoto casually tossed the baseball bat into a nearby trash can, tidied up the stall the delinquents had thrown into chaos, then stood and left.
However, he did not notice that someone in the crowd had taken in everything he did and was now following him with great curiosity.
…
Night.
The red-light district glittered with neon.
After Makoto entered, he slipped into an alley to search for his prey.
In 2000, or perhaps even earlier, under the pressure of making a living, Japan’s adult entertainment businesses had sprung up like mushrooms after rain.
Many women with decent looks, trapped by economic hardship and daily life, were spotted by “mamas,” coaxed with a few simple words, and stepped into the industry.
Because of the special nature of the work, there were no strict requirements.
As long as a woman was attractive, she could earn a steady stream of money.
Of course, Makoto had not come here looking for women.
His prey was the wealthy men killed by “monsters.” Makoto had known for a long time that those monsters killed people and ate people.
The places where these monsters appeared most frequently were orphanages, hospitals, and adult entertainment districts, the kinds of places horror movies loved to use as settings.
So he often could not help thinking, could those monsters be the vengeful ghosts from horror movies?
People who had died unjustly or miserably in life, whose resentment did not disperse after death, becoming evil spirits that came to claim the living.
After waiting roughly an hour, a sharp smell of blood drifted through the alley behind the entertainment businesses.
Makoto knew someone else had been killed by those monsters.
His five senses were extremely keen, and he noticed it almost immediately.
Following the smell, he soon found several corpses.
Their brains were gone, all eaten, and blood had dyed the ground red.
“Monster!
There’s a monster!” A terrified shout reached Makoto’s ears at that moment, sounding familiar.
He walked closer and saw, to his surprise, the same delinquents from earlier.
Several of them had already had their heads chewed off, so Makoto could no longer tell who was who.
One of them saw Makoto and seemed to see God.
He ran madly in this direction.
The excessive fright made tears, snot, and saliva fly everywhere as he ran.
It was an indescribably disgusting sight.
But after only a few steps, his head vanished into thin air, as if some fierce beast had bitten it off.
The wound was terrifyingly shaped, and blood shot into the sky like a fountain.
Makoto stood there without moving.
He watched quietly, the sound of a beast chewing still audible beside his ears.
Before long, the chewing stopped.
Makoto knew that the monster had finished eating, and that it had now turned its gaze toward him, marking him as its next target.
Makoto still did not move.
He simply stood there.
Behind him, however, a surge of energy moved silently.
He called out softly, “King Crimson!” The next second, his Stand shot out from behind him.
Its fists fell like a storm, striking the monster.
A series of thunderous bursts exploded in the air, one after another, until nothing was left.