Chapter 110: One Must Never Let Down One’s Guard—Toys and Tools

"Damn it! How are you driving?"

Aoyama Hidenobu was already feeling quite heated, but upon seeing the person who had rear-ended him, his temper flared even higher.

The driver was a young woman in her early twenties, wearing a single ponytail and a white baseball cap. She was dressed in a white short-sleeved shirt that strained against her ample bosom; the fabric was so stretched that the delicate pattern of her lingerie underneath was faintly visible. Below, she wore denim shorts, her long, fair, and shapely legs shod in sneakers—a look that was both sexy and athletic, radiating a sense of vigor.

He briefly entertained the thought of returning the favor and rear-ending her in return.

"Ah! I'm so sorry, I'm terribly sorry! I've caused you such trouble. I am willing to compensate you for the damages," the woman said, bowing repeatedly.

Each time she bowed, her chest heaved with a rhythmic motion. Quite a sight.

Aoyama Hidenobu glanced at his car; one of the taillights was smashed. "Just give me 100,000 yen," he said.

"100,000? Alright." The woman agreed immediately. She took out her wallet, but her expression stiffened the moment she opened it. She pulled out a few thousand-yen notes and said apologetically, "I only have this much on me. Could you perhaps leave me your number so I can bring the rest to you later?"

Seeming afraid that he might not believe her, she quickly produced a business card. "This is my card. Please, rest assured, I will never welch on a debt."

Aoyama Hidenobu reached out and took the card. The woman’s name was Matsumoto Shizuko, a reporter for the *Asahi Shimbun* sports desk.

Founded in 1879, the *Asahi Shimbun* was one of the most influential newspapers in Japan. It was a pity she was a sports reporter rather than a political one; had she been the latter, Aoyama might have held her in higher regard, as political reporters—often called "ban-kisha"—held significant social status and income, trailing political figures to cover their every move.

"Here is my card," Aoyama said, tucking hers away and handing over his own.

"Hai!" Matsumoto Shizuko took it with both hands and bowed. "I will definitely repay you as soon as possible."

Aoyama Hidenobu nodded and got back into his car, driving away.

"Good morning, Assistant Chief."
"Good morning, Assistant Chief."

Upon entering his office, Aoyama tossed Matsumoto Shizuko’s business card to Fujimoto Ryoichi. "Investigate this woman. Find out who she’s met and who she’s been in contact with lately."

It wasn't that he was paranoid; it was simply that the trope of being rear-ended by a beautiful woman was something he had only ever seen in novels. Now that it had happened to him, he had to be cautious. After all, he had made quite a few enemies recently. One can never be too careful.

Furthermore, his demand for 100,000 yen had clearly been an exorbitant "lion's share" request, yet Matsumoto had agreed without a single word of protest. Given the car she drove and the paltry cash in her wallet, her finances were clearly tight, making her compliance highly suspicious. He only ever wanted to deal with situations that were safe and harmless.

"Hai!" Fujimoto Ryoichi stood up and replied.

***

Meanwhile, at the Tokyo Detention House—a facility that served both as a remand center and a prison, complete with a gallows for executions—the side gate slowly creaked open.

Four men walked out, one after another.

"This is the shortest time we've ever spent inside," the young man with dyed yellow hair remarked with a sigh.

Another young man, looking scholarly in his glasses, adjusted them. "Indeed. I feel a bit out of sorts." As regulars at the detention house, they were used to staying for a year or more. A mere month felt strangely brief. After all, everyone inside was a "talent" who spoke eloquently and shared their firm conviction that working a regular job had no future.

"Boss, didn't you say someone was coming to pick us up today?" the middle-aged man with a crew cut asked, craning his neck to look around at Noda, who wore his hair long.

These were the members of the Noda Startup Group, who had tried to rob a bank a month ago only to be intercepted by rivals, leading to their accidental incarceration by Aoyama Hidenobu. Now that their month-long sentence was up, they were back.

Noda shook out his hair, which had grown to shoulder length during his month in lockup. Just as he was about to speak, an Audi pulled up. The driver’s side window rolled down, and Kobayashi poked his head out, shouting, "Noda-kun! And everyone else! Congratulations on regaining your freedom. Get in! I’ve already arranged a place for us to celebrate! Let’s go!"

"Get in," Noda said, sliding into the passenger seat while the other three squeezed into the back.

As the Audi pulled away, Noda looked at Kobayashi, who was dressed in a sharp suit and looked quite prosperous. He reached out to touch the car door with a hint of envy. "You’ve made a fortune lately, haven't you, Kobayashi-kun?" Seeing a former bunkmate doing so well felt worse than being killed.

"Don't worry, you'll have yours soon enough," Kobayashi laughed heartily. "I’ve lined up a new job for you. There’s a huge payout once it’s done!"

"Cough." Noda’s expression turned awkward. He still felt a lingering fear of Kobayashi because their last collaboration had resulted in them getting zero money and losing a brother. He felt like Kobayashi was a bad omen. Still, their bond remained, so he offered a polite refusal. "Kobayashi-kun, the thing is, we’ve been thinking during our month inside. We don't want to do bank robberies or anything illegal like that anymore. We’ve decided to try our hand at being hitmen—solving problems for people."

That was indeed his genuine thought. Robbery was too high-risk, leading to constant manhunts. They’d been lucky this time—only one death and a month in jail—but what about next time? They had met a contract killer in the detention house who told them that if you built a reputation, the work was plentiful and the pay was good, with far less risk than robbing a bank in broad daylight.

"Oh? Isn't that a coincidence?" Kobayashi slapped the steering wheel in delight. "The job I wanted to introduce to you is a hit, Noda-kun! Isn't that serendipitous?"

"I... is it really that coincidental?" Noda blinked, stunned. "Well, then, shall we talk about it?"

Perfect. A chance to kick off their new business. Since they had just decided to switch fields and Kobayashi had immediately presented them with a corresponding job, it had to be fate—the heavens were looking out for them. Surely, a simple hit wouldn't be as disastrous as their last attempt, right?

"No rush. We'll talk while we eat," Kobayashi said with a calm smile.

This only made Noda more eager; having just been released, he was penniless and desperate to make money. He was as ambitious as ever.

***

After work, Aoyama Hidenobu did not go home. Instead, he went to Mrs. Nohara’s place. She had called to say the promotional ad for the automated loan machines was ready and invited him to take a look.

When Aoyama arrived, the gate to the Nohara residence was open, so he drove right in.

"Aoyama-san." Nohara Igito stood on the doorstep to greet him. She was clearly dressed for the occasion in a black kimono embroidered with flowers—dignified and elegant—though she was wearing black silk stockings instead of white *tabi* socks.

"Madam, it’s been a while. You’ve grown even more beautiful," Aoyama said, standing by his car with his arms spread open in a welcoming gesture.

Mrs. Nohara hesitated for a moment before walking over and leaning into his embrace. Her gaze fell on the broken taillight of the Corolla, and she offered, "Aoyama-san, my late husband’s Mercedes has been sitting in the garage. Please, take it."

Since she had already been "taken," the car was of little consequence.

"In that case, I won't stand on ceremony," Aoyama replied. He hadn't driven that Mercedes before for fear of being recognized, but with Nohara Don dead for so long, he had no more concerns. Besides, those in the know were already aware that he had "inherited" Nohara Don’s wife; driving his car was hardly an issue.

Aoyama led Nohara Igito toward the house with his arm around her slender waist. Halfway there, he reached out and deftly pulled at her obi, causing the kimono to fall open.

"Ah!"

Nohara Igito gasped, covering her chest in surprise, her face flushing with a mix of shame and annoyance as she glared at him. "Aoyama-san, you..." They were still in the courtyard! It was too embarrassing.

"What are you afraid of? No one’s looking," Aoyama laughed, picking her up mid-gasp and carrying her into the house, kicking the door shut behind him.

Once inside, he removed the kimono entirely, leaving her in her undergarments and the thin-as-cicada-wings black silk stockings. Nohara Igito felt a deep sense of shame, her neck and ears turning pink, yet a thrill of excitement stirred within her. "Aoyama-san, you are truly a bully. How could you?"

"Enough talk. Show me the ad," Aoyama commanded, flopping onto the sofa and propping his legs up on the coffee table like a lord.

"Hai!" Nohara Igito bowed, turned on the TV, and then knelt on the carpet beside him to peel an orange.

On the screen, two women, different in age but slightly similar in appearance, appeared in sexy business attire. Smiling, they used exaggerated movements to demonstrate how to use the automated loan machine. After the first clip finished, she played a second one: the same two women dancing in bikinis amidst a shower of cash.

She explained that the first was for television, while the second would play on the machine’s own screen. Anyone walking by would surely stop to look at beauties dancing in money, and that moment of curiosity could turn them into a client.

"Who are those two?" Aoyama asked after watching. They looked like sisters, and the younger one looked familiar.

Nohara Igito was surprised he didn't know them. "Nakayama Miho and Nakayama Shinobu." Nakayama Miho was already a star, while Shinobu was still rising, but Igito had chosen them for their sisterly gimmick and their beauty.

"Very good," Aoyama nodded.

Nohara Igito didn't know if he meant the advertisement was good or the women themselves. After a moment’s hesitation, she suppressed the ache in her heart and asked, "Would you like to meet them, sir? I can arrange it. Their agency values this partnership highly."

"Just ask. No need to force it. I’m a fan," Aoyama said with feigned modesty. He didn't say what he was a "fan" of. It was mostly their "assets" he was fond of.

"Hai!" Though she felt a tightness in her chest, Igito agreed. She had matured quickly; she was no longer the naive, full-time housewife she had been when her husband was alive. She knew everything she had came from Aoyama Hidenobu. He wasn't short on women, and there would come a day he grew bored of her. To keep him, she had to be useful—not just a partner in business, but a scout for other beauties to please him. Those women were merely toys, tools to keep him entertained, and they would not threaten her position; they would solidify it.

Aoyama pulled her into his arms. "You’re so considerate, Madam. How could I ever leave you?"

Not only did Nohara Igito need to keep him, but he also needed to maintain their relationship. If the starlets were toys to him, Mrs. Nohara was a tool. Toys could be discarded when worn out, but a tool was indispensable.

Nohara Igito smiled at his words.

*Ring-ring! Ring-ring!*

Aoyama’s handheld phone rang. Igito answered it and held it to his ear.

"Moshi moshi, this is Aoyama Hidenobu."

"Assistant Chief! Something’s happened!"