"Hachiman-sama."
Hitomaru Market, an alleyway—at the waste-processing plant.
Hayato Hayama lowered himself in a stiff, complicated bow, paying his respects to Hachiman Hikigaya and the group behind him.
He had to bow properly.
Because those were Hitomaru Market's rules.
That included the ringleader of Hayama's little clique—Tamataba, who nodded and scraped with a deeply respectful, obsequious grin.
Hayama watched Hachiman pass by with a blank expression.
Behind him, a dozen or so lackeys marched in neat formation, heads high and chests out.
Among them were Ooka, Yamato, and Tobé Kakeru.
Hayama badly wanted to say something to Yamato and the others.
But Yamato didn't even glance at him.
Thanks.
Between you and me, there's already a thick, miserable wall.
That cold indifference—and the faint, subtle smugness—Hayama could see it clearly.
Back then, they'd basically been his and Hayama's tagalongs.
Now Hayama could kiss ass and they still wouldn't bother acknowledging him.
A gap in status.
The one on top naturally felt an inexplicable thrill.
The one on the bottom—like Hayama—
just felt awful.
And that was exactly what was happening.
Ooka pretended not to see him.
Yamato, meanwhile, let the corner of his mouth twitch with a smile, like he couldn't help it.
Hachiman didn't care about any of that.
He'd already made up his mind.
He was going to test the waters.
Behind him, Tamataba marveled at how imposing Hachiman looked—single blade at his side, squad at his back.
Way more imposing than Tamataba himself.
He smiled, then leaned toward Hayama, lowering his voice right by his ear.
"See that? You treat them like friends, but they don't see you the same way.
That's Hitomaru Market's rule."
Now get to work.
This cart of shit is yours.
Hayama nodded, numb.
He pushed work that didn't even belong to him.
It stank.
It was exhausting.
But he was used to it by now.
On the other side—
Hachiman had his lackeys wait outside while he entered the supervisor's room alone.
"Inoue-sama."
"Mm. Hachiman's here? What is it?"
Inoue, the waste-processing plant's supervisor.
Lean, wiry, and not someone modern people would dare underestimate.
Because he was also a shinobi.
He could crush them to death with his bare hands.
Inoue didn't particularly care about Hachiman.
It had been this long, and "that person" still hadn't asked about him—proof that Hachiman was only mildly interesting, nothing more.
Inoue wore an absent, indifferent expression and didn't even raise his head.
His attitude was clear.
He didn't plan to waste words on him.
But Hachiman acted like he didn't notice at all.
He forced himself to speak anyway.
"Inoue-sama, I want to ask about something."
"What?"
"About the Intake House."
Clang.
The supervisor nearly fell off his chair—shooting upright like he'd been stabbed.
Huh?!
What did you just say?!
His eyes went wolf-green, like he was staring at a dead man.
If you want to die, don't drag me with you!
The Intake House?
That's that person's private property!
What the hell are you trying to do?!
Hachiman swallowed hard, scalp prickling under that stare.
He knew if he said the next sentence wrong, this man would "crack" his neck in one twist—
just like he'd done to a disobedient modern person a few days ago.
"Inoue-sama, please don't misunderstand. I just want to ask about one person. Her name is Komachi Hikigaya."
Hm?
Inoue's mood loosened a little.
Komachi Hikigaya?
Also a Hikigaya? (Remove promotional banner text.)
His expression wasn't so vicious anymore—if anything, it turned faintly pleasant.
"Hachiman… the person you're asking about. What is she to you?"
"She's my little sister."
"Blood-related?"
"Yes. Blood-related."
In that instant, Hachiman felt the supervisor's attitude flip to something almost absurdly warm and friendly.
"Hahahaha!! Hachiman, you should've said so earlier!
We're family. How could I not make it easy for you?"
Inoue looked almost excited.
What kind of place was the Intake House?
That person's private preserve.
Any girl inside the Intake House could end up being raised as that person's personal maid.
In other words… Hachiman might end up becoming the big brother-in-law.
Good lord. This was… huge.
"Hachiman, my little bro—tell your big bro here carefully. What exactly are you thinking?"
Asking is fine.
But whatever you're planning to do is another matter.
Even if you might be the big brother-in-law, it's still not allowed.
The Intake House only allows women.
The hot sweat on Hachiman's back finally cooled.
He let out a quiet sigh.
He'd survived today.
And the way this man flipped his face so fast only made him understand how high "that person's" status really was.
With his resolve hardened, Hachiman carefully watched the supervisor's expression.
"Inoue-sama, I don't mean anything else. My sister's a smart one. People always say she's cute—she knows how to care about others.
I'm just worried she'll be bullied over there."
Inoue's eyes lit up even more.
He only heard a few key words:
Smart. Cute. Caring.
Perfect…
The more he listened, the more he felt the odds of Hachiman becoming the big brother-in-law were extremely high.
If he took the initiative and offered "that person" an attentive, clever little sweetheart, couldn't he climb another step himself?
After all, the waste-processing plant didn't have only one supervisor.
"Good! Hachiman—wait for my good news!"
Got it.
Hachiman clenched his fist.
No—half got it.
The rest depended on whether his little sister could pull it off.
He understood that if you wanted to survive in the shinobi world, you needed a backer.
He'd barely managed to stand up.
But his sister hadn't yet.
A few days later.
The waste-processing plant started buzzing with rumors.
They said Supervisor Inoue had made a mistake and been "dealt with."
Otherwise, why would he not show his face for days?
And that made Hachiman's position awkward.
Because Hachiman was one of Supervisor Inoue's men.
Meanwhile, Tobé and the others were freaking out.
What do we do?!
If your direct superior is gone, do the people under him ever end well?
The more anxious they got, the more cracks they showed—until everyone else noticed too, and the rumors only grew louder.
In that vicious cycle, certain lapdogs started looking at Hachiman differently.
Back then, we "respected" you because you were powerful.
Now you've fallen—so should you spit back out everything we "respected" you with?
Hayato grabbed a few of the hitters from his little group.
"Don't."
He simply watched as Tamataba—the ringleader—coldly turned his face on Hachiman with a sneer.
Because Tamataba was the one who'd offered up the most.
Hayato watched Hachiman lose power with a cold eye, but he wouldn't kick him while he was down.
Because who knew how the dust would settle?
Wait a little longer.
I have to.
I have to wait a little longer…
(End of Chapter)
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