In New York, inside a motel so cheap that even the cockroaches would turn their noses up at it.
Perona occupied the only single bed in the room, its springs nearly poking through, as she nibbled on a cloyingly sweet cupcake bought from a corner convenience store.
After just one bite, she wrinkled her nose in disgust and tossed it aside.
"Disgusting. Does this kind of thing even deserve to be called a dessert?"
On the floor, Sato Kazuma and Sakata Gintoki were curled up at opposite ends, wrapped in a thin, musty-smelling blanket.
"Your Majesty, please, just be content." Kazuma rolled over weakly, dodging a drop of water leaking from the ceiling.
"The rent and food money for this whole time have all been earned by me and that natural perm working odd jobs. Do you have any idea how hard it is to carry bricks at a construction site? My back is about to break."
"Exactly, exactly," Gintoki said, his voice muffled as he covered his face with a discarded newspaper.
"My old bones are practically being treated like scrap metal to be melted down and reforged. If this keeps up, forget about saving up enough Reputation Points; the three of us are going to starve to death on the streets sooner or later and become part of some New York urban legend."
It had been nearly three months since the trio arrived in this World. Relying on the meager wages Kazuma and Gintoki earned from manual labor, they were barely scraping by, yet their Reputation Points had barely increased at all.
On Perona's system panel, that four-million figure remained as unreachable as ever, as if it were ruthlessly mocking them.
"This won't do." Gintoki sat up abruptly, crumpled the newspaper into a ball, and tossed it away.
"We have to think of a way to earn both money and Reputation Points."
"Easier said than done," Kazuma rolled his eyes.
"Do you have any good ideas? Rob a bank? Or become a superhero?"
Gintoki picked his nose, then wiped his finger on Kazuma's clothes. Under the other's disgusted gaze, he spoke lazily:
"Robbing banks is too low-class, and being a hero doesn't pay. How about... we open a Yorozuya here too?"
"A Yorozuya?"
Perona and Kazuma both cast puzzled looks his way.
"That's right," Gintoki flashed a standard middle-aged man smile and began his business pitch.
"It's an agency that takes on all kinds of requests. From small things like finding lost cats or fixing plumbing, to big things like life counseling or resolving neighborhood disputes. As long as the client pays and it doesn't cross our bottom line, we'll take any job."
He paused and added, "Think about it. Solving other people's troubles earns gratitude, doesn't it? And isn't gratitude a form of 'Reputation'? This way, we can earn living expenses and farm Reputation Points at the same time—killing two birds with one stone."
This proposal made Perona's eyes light up. She did need subordinates to help her do things, and while these two guys were useless, they could occasionally come in handy.
If she could have a fixed base of operations and direct them to complete various tasks to earn Reputation, it seemed like a pretty good idea.
Kazuma stroked his chin, also feeling that the plan had a high chance of success. With his intelligence, Gintoki's combat power, and Perona's bug-level ability, handling requests from ordinary people would be like a dimensional strike.
"The idea is good," Kazuma said, hitting the nail on the head regarding the most critical issue.
"But what about money? Renting a storefront costs money, renovations cost money, office supplies cost money. Our pockets combined right now are cleaner than our faces."
That one sentence instantly cooled the passion that had just ignited. The three of them fell into silence once again.
Gintoki lay back down and began studying the mold patterns on the ceiling. Perona also pursed her lips, feeling that this proposal was indeed unreliable after all.
Just as the atmosphere was about to drop to freezing point again, Kazuma, who had been silent, had a flash of cunning in his eyes that belonged to an adventurer (or rather, a hoodlum).
He leaned in between Perona and Gintoki, lowered his voice, and spoke mysteriously: "I have an idea."
"We—can go 'borrow' some start-up capital from people who don't need money."
"Speak like a human." Gintoki picked his ear impatiently.
"The gangs."
Kazuma's mouth curled into a malicious arc; after all, he wasn't exactly a devil.
"In a place like New York, the one thing you don't lack is gangs. Anyway, their money is ill-gotten, so we won't have any moral burden taking it. Just consider it—a charitable donation from the gangs to celebrate the opening of our Yorozuya."
Gintoki was stunned for a moment, then revealed an identical unscrupulous grin: "You kid, your brain turns pretty fast."
"And," Kazuma turned his head and said to Perona in an almost fawning tone.
"With Big Sister Perona's ability, dealing with those thugs who only know how to use guns is a piece of cake, right? They won't even be able to see you before they're kneeling on the ground, repenting for their lives."
These words hit Perona's sweet spot perfectly. She lifted her chin, her face filled with unconcealable smugness: "Hollow, hollow, hollow—you have some taste. A few mere mortals? This Princess truly doesn't take them seriously."
The plan was happily decided just like that.
By using information gleaned from drunkards in bars over a few cheap beers, they quickly locked onto the area where New York gangs were most rampant—Hells Kitchen.
Under the cover of night, Hells Kitchen plunged into darkness earlier than other corners of the city. The neon lights were bizarre and colorful, yet they could not illuminate the shadows in the street corners.
The trio crouched stealthily across from a building.
"This is it," Kazuma whispered, pointing to a bar across the street called "Black Swan."
"According to the intel, this is a stronghold of a local group called the 'Butcher Gang.' They should be inside splitting the loot tonight."
Gintoki sized up the bar. Two burly men in suits with solid muscles stood at the entrance, scanning passing pedestrians with unfriendly eyes. It certainly didn't look like a respectable place.
"Is the plan clear to everyone?" Kazuma confirmed again.
"In a moment, Big Sister Perona will go in first and clear the field with 'that thing.' Mr. Gintoki and I will follow behind, responsible for 'receiving the investment funds.' We'll make it quick; get the money and leave."
"Hollow, hollow, hollow, a group of lambs waiting to be slaughtered." Perona was already impatient. Beside her, a few Negative Hollows flickered in and out of existence, emitting wailing, strange sounds.
Gintoki sighed, feeling that at his age, he actually had to accompany two brats doing something akin to robbing a bank; a samurai's dignity was really becoming less and less valuable.
However, just as Perona opened her little parasol, preparing to make an elegant entrance as the vanguard of "Angel investment," a sudden change occurred.
"Bang—!"
With a loud bang, the heavy wooden door of the Black Swan bar was kicked open from the inside, sending wood splinters flying everywhere.
Immediately after, a burly figure flew out from the door like a broken sack, tracing a parabola before slamming heavily into a trash can by the street, causing a series of clattering noises.
The trio was instantly stunned, all of them retracting their heads that had been poked out in unison.
"What's the situation?" Kazuma looked baffled. "We haven't even made a move yet? Is this a gang war? Did they have an internal conflict ahead of time?"
Before they could react, intense sounds of fighting, roars, and painful screams erupted from inside the bar.
"You guy! Do you know whose territory this is!"
"Get lost! Don't block my way!"
"Ah—! My hand!"
"Shoot! Shoot him dead quickly!"
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
After a few gunshots, the screams became even more shrill.
Gintoki, Kazuma, and Perona hid in the corner, looking at each other.
"It seems—someone beat us to it and went to secure the 'Angel investment'?" Gintoki stroked his chin, his dead fish eyes gleaming with the excitement of watching a spectacle.
Kazuma felt that his plan had gone slightly off course.
Perona, however, frowned; she hated it when others snatched her prey, especially when she was in the highest of spirits.
"Damn it, which blind idiot dares to snatch the prey this Princess has set her sights on!" she said, puffing out her cheeks.
Just then, a man wearing a red and black skintight suit, with a red hood covering his head and only the lower half of his face exposed, a trace of blood on the corner of his mouth, walked out of the bar, backing up.
He held two short sticks in his hands, deftly parrying the attacks of several knife-wielding thugs pouring out of the bar.
"Hey, hey," Gintoki looked at the red figure and couldn't help but retort.
"What kind of outfit is that? Cosplaying a Tengu? His taste is truly terrible."