"You two are the students interning at our agency, right?"
After lunch, Igarashi Masata and Todoroki Shouto met at the agreed location. Before long, a staff member arrived and led them out onto the streets.
"Actually, our daily work is pretty easy most of the time," the man said casually as he walked. "Truly dangerous situations rarely fall to us. So things like helping an elderly lady cross the street are also part of our job."
As he spoke, the ordinary-looking man bent down, picked up a piece of trash from the sidewalk, and tossed it into a nearby trash can.
"You could even say it's boring," he added with a smile. "But honestly, I'm quite happy with it."
There were only a handful of glamorous heroes standing in the spotlight. In this society, far more people quietly contributed their strength in the background—just like the man walking ahead of them.
Watching him patrol the streets with practiced ease, Masata gained a deeper understanding of what the word hero truly meant.
Patrolling, however, was undeniably dull—at least in Masata's opinion.
"Incidents during regular patrols are rare," the man explained patiently, noticing Masata's boredom.
"Except for night patrols, when we occasionally run into street punks, most of the time we're just walking the routes."
The purpose of patrols wasn't to fight constantly, but to let people know heroes were nearby—giving civilians a sense of security while also deterring villains lurking in the shadows.
Not long after they began, several passersby greeted the man warmly. It was obvious they knew him well—either from past help or daily familiarity.
"Um… are you heroes?"
A middle-aged woman suddenly approached them hesitantly.
"Yes," the man replied with a polite smile. "Do you need any help?"
"Oh, that's wonderful!" the woman said, instantly growing animated. "Please come with me. There's a strange person in our community. Our neighborhood committee really can't stand it anymore!"
As she spoke, she grabbed the man's arm and started dragging him forward. Masata and Todoroki could only follow behind.
After all, resolving civilian disputes was also part of a hero's responsibility.
"Let me tell you, this time it's serious," the woman said anxiously as she hurried along.
"There's a pervert who loves collecting underwear. His room is right up ahead."
Her pace was quick, and before long they arrived at an old residential complex. The woman pointed forward just as a man walked into view.
"Is that the pervert you're talking about?" Masata asked.
The man looked to be middle-aged, wearing a wrinkled white tank top and loose shorts, black flip-flops on his feet. His legs were sparsely hairy, his face greasy, and his forehead bald.
No matter how one looked at him, he didn't seem like a respectable individual.
"Yes! That's him!" the woman said with open disgust.
"His hobbies are absolutely revolting. I've even seen him buying women's underwear at lingerie stores!"
For now, Masata could only label him as the wretched man.
The woman's expression twisted with pure revulsion, as though merely looking at him offended her eyes.
"Don't just stand there!" she urged. "Go confront him already!"
Masata noticed the staff member hesitate, a thoughtful look crossing his face.
"Don't rush," the man said calmly. "Let's observe the situation first."
With that, he quietly approached the window of the man's apartment with Masata and Todoroki.
Taking out his phone and switching to camera mode, the man suddenly separated his palm from his arm.
"This is—?"
"Yes," he explained. "My quirk allows my palm to detach from my body, but only within a limited range. That's why I'm not suited for combat."
As Masata stared in surprise, the man calmly used his other hand to guide the floating phone through the window gap.
"That's… impressive," Masata muttered.
"I didn't expect a quirk like that to be used this way."
"Alright," the man said. "Let's take a look inside."
Inside the extremely simple room, the only decoration covering the walls was—
Women's underwear.
All over the walls.
"Pfft—!"
Masata burst out laughing.
This was undeniably a pervert—but this level of dedication was something else entirely.
At that moment, the wretched man entered the room, pulling a piece of fabric from the bag he carried.
"My little cutie's home~ Today's is the pure-love student style~"
Staring at the underwear in his hand, a twisted smile crept onto his face.
"Why don't you try it on?"
As he spoke, the man actually bent down and slowly held the fabric against his own body.
"I can't take this!" Masata felt his stomach churn.
A greasy, middle-aged man wearing something like that was simply too much for the eyes to bear.
Before the staff member could react, Masata kicked the door open.
"Stop right there!"
The neighborhood committee woman, who had been hiding nearby, rushed over immediately.
"Accept your punishment, you disgusting man!" she shouted.
"I called heroes today—I'm burning every single piece of your underwear!"
The wretched man froze.
"No!!!"
Seeing the lighter in the woman's hand, his legs went weak and he dropped to his knees.
"I know I'm perverted—I like collecting underwear!" he cried.
"But I bought all of these myself or picked them up legally! I didn't steal anything!"
Tears streamed down his face as he begged desperately.
"Please… don't destroy them!"
But with Masata standing nearby, the woman felt fearless. She raised the lighter and moved closer to the wall.
The wretched man's eyes filled with despair as his treasures faced destruction.
"Stop."
The calm voice came from behind.
Everyone froze.
The staff member stepped into the room, gently taking the lighter from the woman's stunned hand.
"In this world," he said slowly,
"some people collect toys. Some collect antiques."
"Some collect phones. Some even collect ties."
"And this man… he simply collects something different. He collects underwear."
"But what's the problem with that?"
He looked directly at the woman.
"He didn't steal. He didn't rob. He didn't hurt anyone. He entertains himself in his own home."
"You don't have the right to interfere with his life just because you dislike his hobby. Wanting to destroy it is nothing but your own selfish thinking."
The woman stood speechless.
Under the man's cold gaze, she quickly retreated.
Masata felt a pang of realization. He had been too impulsive—acting before understanding the full situation.
"Thank you… all of you."
The wretched man stood up and bowed deeply.
"For the first time, I feel like I'm not just a pervert… just someone with a strange hobby."
No.
You're still a pervert.
By the time they returned to the agency, it was already evening.
"It looks like I still have a lot to learn," Masata said quietly as he walked beside Todoroki.
Todoroki remained silent, deep in thought, clearly replaying the events of the day.
"Haha," the staff member laughed.
"You're top students from U.A. High School. Your futures are bright. But some things can only be understood through experience."
He glanced at them with a smile.
"Situations like today happen all the time. Most heroes deal with things like this daily. Alright, I won't walk you back. If fate allows, we'll meet again."
With that, he turned and continued his patrol, greeting passersby with a warm smile.
Watching his back fade into the crowd, Masata spoke quietly.
"I don't even know his name… but I think he's a truly qualified hero."