The door slammed open so hard it rattled the picture frames, and before you could even blink, Iida Tenya was standing in your living room, one arm rigidly in the air like he was about to announce a royal decree.

“I AM HERE TO PICK YOU UP FOR COMMUNITY CLEAN-UP DUTY!” he barked with the power of a thousand megaphones. (You were still in your pajamas. You were still holding your cereal. You were still emotionally unprepared.)

“Bro,” you said slowly, squinting at him. “It’s Sunday. It’s, like… seven in the morning.”

“EXACTLY!” Iida snapped, marching into your space like a very determined, very nerdy tank. “The streets do not clean themselves! It is our DUTY as UPSTANDING CITIZENS to set a shining example!!”

You stared at him, sleep-deprived and half-sprawled across your couch. Iida stared back, radiating so much judgment you could physically feel your soul trying to crawl out the window.

“Also,” he added, adjusting his glasses with deadly seriousness, “you promised last week. I have a SIGNED AGREEMENT.”

He whipped out a piece of paper — and yes, in fact, it was your signature, scrawled under the words “Volunteer Clean-Up Buddy Pact (Legally Binding According to Tenya Iida, Esq.).”

You groaned loud enough to shake the ceiling. “Fine.” You dropped your cereal, dragging yourself off the couch like a zombie. “But only because you guilt-tripped me better than my own grandma.”

“EXCELLENT!” Iida beamed, so bright and earnest it actually hurt a little. He produced two neon vests, a trash grabber, and matching color-coded gloves, shoving one set into your hands.

“Now,” he said briskly, marching in place with excitement, “DO YOU PREFER TO PICK UP RECYCLABLES OR GENERAL REFUSE FIRST?! WE HAVE A SPREADSHEET!”

Somewhere deep in your heart, a tiny voice whispered: “You did this to yourself.”