02-You can get rich just by selling pants!

THUD!
Toma slammed hard into the dirt of a filthy, completely alien alleyway. His body felt like it had been run through a meat grinder, his head throbbed, and his ears rang violently.
"Ugh... where the hell am I?" Toma groaned, clutching his pounding temples as he tried to sit up.
The alley was a total trip. The walls were a jagged, imperfect mashup of rusted iron plating, moss-covered clay, and rotting wood. Copper pipes snaked along the masonry, hissing out jets of pressurized steam. Antique gas lamps dangled overhead, casting a sickly, dim yellow glow over the grime.
This isn't anywhere in Japan, Toma thought, blinking away the dizziness. But...
He glanced up. The laundry hanging on the lines above him was a bizarre mix of threadbare kimonos decked out with metallic chains and streetwear accessories. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a few little kids sprinting by, wearing oversized hip-hop gear paired with wooden geta sandals. The whole place felt like a feudal Japanese slum that had been forcefully upgraded with steampunk tech and modern urban culture...
"Could this mean..." Toma mumbled, forcing himself onto his shaky legs.
While he was still trying to process the absolute insanity around him, suddenly...
"Welcome to Oru no Kuni, Toma-kun!"
"GYAAAA!" Toma jumped out of his skin, his head whipping left and right. "Who said that?! Where are you hiding?!"
"Calm yourself, calm yourself! My voice simply resides within your mind," the girl giggled brightly. "I am Ame-chan, remember?"
"Ame-chan? The scammer girl from the phone?! Why the hell is your voice inside my head?!"
"All shall be revealed in due time. For now, simply follow my divine guidance," Ame-chan declared, her tone practically vibrating with excitement. "Exit this alleyway, then take a left. We have crucial matters to attend to!"
Though thoroughly weirded out, Toma didn't exactly have any better options. He dusted himself off and started walking, following her mental GPS.
"Japanese characters..." Toma muttered, staring at the neon signs of the shops he passed. "Did I get sent back to some weird era of ancient Japan?"
But the further he walked, the more obvious the answer became: nope. The pedestrians strolling by were rocking outfits that defied any known historical timeline—a chaotic blend of 2000s Y2K metallic hip-hop fashion seamlessly stitched into modified Japanese feudal wear. He saw a dude in a black hakama paired with a neon bomber jacket, while a group of girls walked by in short furisode kimonos dripping with bling-bling accessories and sparkly platform shoes.
"Yeah, pretty sure ancient Japan didn't look like an underground rave..."
At a three-way intersection, a crowd had gathered around a crew of b-boys popping and locking on a flattened cardboard box right in the middle of the street. Their moves were ridiculously sharp, perfectly on beat to a heavy track blasting from a portable, steam-powered tube radio puffing smoke from its speakers.
"Seriously, what is this place?" Toma asked the voice in his head.
"Ah, the domain you are currently traversing is known as Hiho-mura!" Ame-chan explained enthusiastically. "A vibrant village within Oru no Kuni. The name 'Hiho' is an abbreviation for Hip-hop, the grand aesthetic theme of this settlement!"
Toma nodded slowly, keeping his pace. "So it's an alternate world that mirrors Japan... kinda like a mashed-up version of Shibuya and Osaka's Amerikamura, just way more busted."
"Shibuya? Amerika-what now?" Ame-chan sounded genuinely perplexed.
"Uh... never mind," Toma shook his head, shifting his focus to something that had been bugging him since he woke up. "By the way, why are there steam pipes and massive gears literally everywhere?"
"Ah, that is because this world is currently in the glorious Age of Steam!" Ame-chan proclaimed proudly. "The entirety of this civilization's technology runs on steam power, generated by combusting Soraito-seki stones. Is it not magnificent?"
"A steam era powered by combusting Soraito-seki stones?" Toma raised an eyebrow. "Hmmm, so this is a straight-up steampunk world, got it..."
"Take a right up ahead, then proceed straight until you arrive at a rather dingy second-hand clothing store," Ame-chan directed.
A few minutes later, Toma stopped dead in his tracks outside a wildly unkempt thrift shop. The paint on the walls was peeling off in sheets, and the wooden signboard was so caked in grime it was practically unreadable. Sitting out front was an incredibly short, plump elderly woman puffing on a clove cigarette. Her gray hair was pulled into a tight, neat bun, and her sharp green eyes sized Toma up with immediate interest.
"Now, cast your gaze inside the shop," Ame-chan instructed. "There is a white t-shirt hanging on display. The one bearing the image of the blonde maiden."
Toma followed her directions. Hanging all by its lonesome amidst piles of raggedy clothes was a white graphic tee. Printed on it was a blonde anime girl wearing a white crop top and denim hot pants—she was leaning forward slightly, winking playfully, blowing a kiss at the camera with her left hand while her right hand rested confidently on her hip.
"Huh? That one?" Toma blinked. "Why the hell do I need to grab a shirt that looks like cheap gravure idol merch?"
"Just acquire the garment! It is of the utmost importance!" Ame-chan insisted, her tone leaving absolutely zero room for argument.
Toma sighed, reaching for his wallet. But as his hand slipped into his pocket, he felt nothing but the cold, harsh reality of empty fabric.
"Uh..." Toma frantically patted down all his pockets. "My wallet..."
"Whatever is the matter?" Ame-chan asked, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.
"All my money is gone! Wait, no! I literally didn't have any money to begin with!" Toma clutched his head in absolute frustration. "Ame-chan, I am chronically broke! I can't afford a freaking t-shirt!"
Dead silence. Then, a soft giggle echoed in his mind.
"Ah, my apologies, it slipped my mind," she chirped casually. "In that case, simply barter the button-down shirt you are currently wearing for it."
"WHAT?!" Toma stared down at his button-down, eyes bulging. "That's the worst trade deal in the history of trade deals! My shirt is still in great condition, and that tee is..."
"Just make the exchange!" Ame-chan snapped, her majestic tone dropping for a second. "This is for the sake of your Heavenly mission!"
Toma grumbled internally. I paid off this shirt in installments by breaking my back waiting tables at Grandma's candy shop... and now all that blood, sweat, and tears goes down the drain for a waifu tee! RIP!
With heavy steps, Toma approached the old woman running the shop, slipping effortlessly into customer-service mode.
"Excuse me, ma'am," Toma bowed politely. "Would you be willing to trade my shirt for that t-shirt with the blonde girl on it?"
The old lady looked Toma up and down, then took a long drag of her clove cigarette. "You wanna trade that button-down for a busted graphic tee? You sure 'bout that, youngblood?"
"Yes, ma'am," Toma nodded in defeat.
"Come 'ere. Let me get a good look at it."
Toma unbuttoned his shirt and handed it over. The exact millisecond the old woman's fingers brushed the fabric, her eyes blew wide open.
"LORD HAVE MERCY!" The old woman shot out of her chair, holding Toma's shirt up to the light. "This fabric quality... honey, this is on par with garments spun by the Shifu tailors!"
"Shifu?" Toma raised an eyebrow, totally lost.
"You from Itokyo, ain't ya, baby?!" The old woman stared at Toma, her eyes practically sparkling with dollar signs.
"Oh, uh, yeah, I am from Tokyo." Toma gave a small nod. Technically, he was from Tokyo—the capital of Japan.
"I knew it!" The old woman clapped her hands together. "You gotta be from one of them busted-up noble clans in Itokyo! Bless your heart, falling on hard times and having to trade high-end threads for a raggedy tee."
Itokyo? Toma blinked. Not Tokyo? And what the heck is a noble clan? But sensing an absolute win, he wisely decided to keep his mouth shut and let the misunderstanding ride.
"Alright then!" The old lady smiled, looking extremely satisfied. "I'll take that trade. And 'cause I'm feelin' generous, I'll throw in a little bonus for ya!"
She waddled into the back of the shop, returning a moment later with a small cloth pouch and the blonde waifu t-shirt.
"Here's 1,000 Kinito silver coins," she said, dropping the heavy pouch into Toma's hand. "That oughta keep your belly full for a whole month, youngblood."
"SERIOUSLY?!" Toma's eyes turned into literal stars. He had no idea his mundane shirt was worth a small fortune here.
1,000 silver coins for a month's worth of food?! That's gotta be like 30,000 to 40,000 Yen in Japan! I've never held this much cash in my entire life! Suddenly, a brilliantly devious idea sparked in Toma's brain. He glanced down at his black dress pants.
"Say, ma'am..." Toma flashed a massive, hustler's grin. "Wanna buy my pants, too?"
SWISH!
Without a single shred of hesitation, Toma unzipped and ripped his pants off, standing right there in the middle of the street in nothing but his boxers.
"SWEET MERCY!" the old woman gasped, totally caught off guard. "These are Shifu-made too! How much you want for 'em, youngblood?!"
"I'll leave the pricing to your expert judgment, ma'am," Toma said smoothly as he pulled the waifu t-shirt over his head.
"Say less! 2,000 Kinito silver and 500 Kinito gold coins!" She practically sprinted back into the shop to grab another money pouch.
Toma bit his lip to stop himself from screaming in joy. I finally have 3,500 Kinito coins!!! I'm gonna eat like a freaking king tonight!!!
On the flip side, the old woman was doing an internal victory dance. Even if I gotta dip into my gold stash, if I flip this boy's whole set in Itokyo, I can easily pull over 10,000 gold! That's a massive hustle!
"Oh, where are my manners." The old woman smiled warmly. "Name's Bota Naguramomo. Nice doin' business with you, youngblood. Don't be a stranger to my shop now, you hear?"
What kind of weird-ass name is that? Toma thought.
"I'm Toma Houku. Pleasure doing business with you too. And thanks for the absolute hookup, Grandma Bota!" Toma bowed deeply.
"Just keep your head on a swivel," Bota warned, pointing at the heavy coin pouches in Toma's hands. "Plenty of pickpockets runnin' these Hiho-mura streets. 'Specially down them narrow alleys."
After exchanging goodbyes, Toma walked away from Bota's shop wearing absolutely nothing but the blonde graphic tee and a pair of black boxers covered in emoji prints. Sure, it was deeply embarrassing, but hey, at least he was finally paid.
"Excellent work! Now, proceed to the dead-end alleyway right next to Bota's establishment," Ame-chan's voice chimed back in.
"Why do I need to go to a dead-end alley?" Toma asked, already heading toward the narrow gap between the buildings.
"All shall be revealed momentarily," Ame-chan replied, her tone dripping with mystery.
Meanwhile, Bota quickly scurried up to the second floor of her shop with Toma's clothes secured in her arms. She grabbed an empty tin can with a long string tied to the bottom. At first glance, it looked exactly like a kid's tin-can telephone—and honestly, that's exactly what it functioned as, known in this world as an Itopon.
The frayed string of the Itopon wasn't physically connected to anything. Yet, the moment Bota brought the can to her lips, the string snapped taut and floated straight up into the air, phasing right through the ceiling as if pulled by an invisible force. The fibers vibrated softly, catching a frequency from somewhere incredibly far away.
"Saiya, baby, you on the line?" Bota spoke urgently into the can.
On the other side of town, Toma reached the end of the dead-end alley. It was claustrophobic, pitch-black, and only barely illuminated by a single, flickering gas lamp.
"Now, utter this incantation," Ame-chan commanded. "Enkai!"
"Enkai?!" Toma grinned like an idiot. "Bro, is that like a parody of Bankai from Bleach?!"
"Bankai? Bleach? Do such things exist in your realm?" Ame-chan sounded utterly bewildered.
"Uh, no. It's just an anime about—actually, never mind," Toma shook his head, his hype levels rising. "But wait, Enkai? Are you throwing a literal banquet to welcome me to this world?"
"The 'Enkai' I speak of stems from 'Enso'—the full circle, the visual representation of a garment's button! But... if a grand banquet is what you truly desire, I could certainly arrange one!" Ame-chan offered, her tone suddenly shifting into a playful tease.
"Ah, so you mean Enso. Gotcha." Toma nodded in understanding, though his brow furrowed in confusion. "But then why not just call it Botankai or Kōkai, since those actually mean 'button'?"
"You need another hundred years to comprehend a Heavenly concept! Just chant the incantation, mortal!"
"Uh, alright..."
Toma took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and screamed at the top of his lungs.
"ENKAI!"
KABOOOOOM!
A massive explosion of thick white smoke blasted directly out of the t-shirt Toma was wearing, violently engulfing his entire body. The smoke spun like a miniature tornado, flashing with blindingly bright light.
When the smoke finally cleared, Toma stood there completely unchanged. However, the blonde girl who had previously only been a print on his shirt was now standing directly in front of him in the flesh—striking the exact same pose. Leaning forward, winking playfully, blowing a kiss at him.
"Greetings, Toma-kun!" the girl chirped in a voice that was instantly familiar—the exact voice that had been living rent-free in his head. "I am Ame-chan, your employer, and officially a Goddess of this realm!"
Toma stared at Ame-chan, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull. She was tall, slender, with eyes as bright blue as a summer sky and long, shimmering blonde hair. Her white crop top did an absolutely terrible job of hiding the sheer volume of her chest, which... which immediately sent Toma into a full-blown panic as his eyes crossed.
"A-Ame-chan... You... your boobs..." Toma mumbled, his face burning tomato-red.
"Now then, I shall explain the precise details of your new occupation, but before that—"
SPLOOSH!
Blood violently erupted from Toma's nose like a high-pressure geyser. A second later, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed into the dirt, out cold.
"TOMA-KUN!" Ame-chan shrieked in absolute panic, dropping to her knees beside his unconscious body. "Why are you suddenly bleeding from your nose?! Are you stricken with a terminal illness?!" she cried out in genuine horror.
From the second-story window of the thrift shop, Bota watched the entire spectacle unfold, her jaw practically hitting the floor.
"Lord, ain't no way..." Bota muttered, her voice trembling. "That raggedy little t-shirt was actually a... Suppafuku!"
Far away, a polite woman's voice answered the Itopon call.
"Greetings, Grandma Bota. For what reason do you call at this late hour?"
"Saiya, honey," Bota said, her tone dead serious as her eyes remained locked on the alleyway below.
"You better ring up the Nudo-Gun brass. Looks like the promised one just touched down!"