As expected, Aoyama Akira didn't believe Usagi Gin when he said customers would arrive soon. An entire hour passed. Just as Akira was about to nod off from boredom, a guest finally showed up.
"Oi, Gin-san. The place looks cleaner. Planning to get things running properly again?"
The visitor was a young man wearing glasses, around seventeen or eighteen years old. Judging by his tone, he was clearly familiar with Usagi Gin.
When Gin saw him, he smiled, stood up, and replied, "Yeah. I even hired a new kid."
As he spoke, he pointed toward Akira.
The bespectacled man immediately looked over and gave Akira a strangely knowing smile. Akira felt confused. What was that look supposed to mean?
"Since you're officially open again, I'll get straight to the point," the man said calmly. "I was just passing by and decided to try my luck. Didn't expect the shop to be open, so I want to place an order."
"Perfect timing," Gin said, rubbing his hands together. "So, Tanaka, what kind of request are you putting in today?"
"It's nothing serious," Tanaka said helplessly. "I dropped my phone into a roadside ditch yesterday. It was filthy, so I didn't want to pick it up myself."
Akira stared at him.
"…You're kidding, right?" Akira said bluntly. "You dropped your phone into a ditch, and instead of picking it up, you came all the way here to place a request?"
He genuinely felt his intelligence had been insulted. Put on gloves and pick it up—was that really so difficult?
Only now did Akira understand the meaning behind Tanaka's earlier smile.
There was definitely no good news attached to it.
"Akira," Gin said calmly, not the least bit offended, "Broken House takes all kinds of requests. You don't have to accept everything, but as long as it's something we can do, we usually take it. Otherwise, how do you think we make money?"
Gin spoke from experience. He'd felt the same way when he first started. After seeing enough strange requests, you eventually stopped questioning them.
Akira thought for a moment, then asked, "How much does a job like this pay?"
Gin immediately pulled out a form and handed it over.
Akira glanced down.
¥2,000.
That was the reward.
Two thousand yen—for digging through a ditch.
Akira felt slightly dizzy.
Were people really willing to pay money just to avoid getting their hands dirty?
"You get commission on every job," Gin leaned in and whispered. "The more requests you complete, the more you earn. Your monthly pay only goes up."
Hearing that, Akira let out a quiet breath.
Fine.
As long as the request wasn't excessive, he couldn't afford to be picky.
"Alright," Akira said, looking at Tanaka. "Place the order. I'll go check it out with you."
"Sure," Tanaka nodded, completing the order process. Payment would be finalized after the job was done.
Once the order was registered, Akira followed Tanaka to the location where the phone had been dropped. Before they left, Gin handed Akira a pair of gloves.
Akira found it a little ironic.
Those gloves could've been used by Tanaka himself. If he'd worn them, he could've retrieved the phone without any trouble.
But that was reality.
People hated inconvenience and filth. If money could solve the problem, they'd happily pay for it.
Akira didn't comment. His job was to get results.
The two of them reached the deeper part of the alley. A stagnant drainage ditch ran through the middle, filled with trash that residents had tossed in over time. The water didn't flow, so the smell had only grown worse.
In the past, sanitation crews cleaned it regularly. Recently, even they avoided it. The stench was unbearable, and hardly anyone passed through anymore.
Scenes like this were rare in Japan, where public cleanliness standards were typically strict. But this neighborhood was different.
The land had been targeted by a local developer for redevelopment. Most residents refused to move, so maintenance gradually stopped. Over time, neglect piled up, and the area became what it was now.
Still, because this was a society governed by law, neither the police nor pro heroes would tolerate open coercion. Everything remained in limbo.
"It's right here," Tanaka said casually, pointing toward a section of the ditch. "If you look carefully, you should find it."
Akira frowned.
The ditch was nearly a meter deep.
The gloves Gin gave him only covered part of his forearms. To retrieve the phone, he'd have to submerge his entire arm—and even then, there was no guarantee.
So this is how you earn money, Akira thought grimly. There's no such thing as easy work.
Since Tanaka wanted the phone back, it had to be waterproof. Otherwise, retrieving it would be pointless.
Akira turned and asked, "What's your Quirk?"
"Mine?" Tanaka adjusted his glasses. "Nothing special. A part of my brain is more developed—I'm better than average at calculations and logical processing. Why?"
"Oh, nothing," Akira replied.
So there was no Quirk he could rely on.
Fine.
Akira clenched his teeth, took off his shirt completely, ignored the gloves, and lay flat on the ground. Covering his nose with one hand, he plunged his other arm straight into the ditch.
The icy, slimy sensation sent goosebumps racing across his body.
But Akira wasn't reckless.
Holy Light surged into his right hand, forming a faint golden protective layer around his palm. At his current level, that was the limit—just enough to shield his hand.
"Whoa… you've got some serious muscle," Tanaka said in surprise. "How did you train like that—wait…"
He froze.
"Why is your hand glowing?"
The soft golden light illuminated the murky water beneath the surface, making the sludge visible. Tanaka stared, eyes wide with curiosity.