Unlike previous years, the first two days of Golden Week were hectic, so I spent the next couple of days holed up at home. Well, "holed up" isn't quite right since I helped with my parents' restaurant on the first floor, but you get the idea.
Anyway, Golden Week had reached its fifth day. This year, with the holidays ending on a Friday and spilling into the weekend, we got a total of nine days off, meaning we were only halfway through.
Remembering my resolve from the first day to buy new manga, I left home around 10 a.m. and headed to Akihabara.
---
Akihabara (秋葉原).
Widely known as the holy land for otaku, but up until the early 2000s, it was more famous as an electronics district. Located in central Tokyo with convenient transportation, it's bustling with employees from the countless companies, big and small, that line the streets. Suited salarymen weave through the crowds, making it a peculiar place where otaku and corporate workers coexist.
"Excuse me, coming through."
During Golden Week, the subway is always packed. Stepping off at Akihabara Station, you're greeted by game ads and anime posters, as if the station itself declares, "No normies allowed." Unlike other stations, the barrage of subculture advertisements overwhelms the senses.
Climbing the station stairs to street level, you're met with a forest of towering buildings. But unlike other districts, their walls are plastered with anime and game ads, creating an otherworldly atmosphere.
I started studying this world out of necessity, but I'm self-aware enough to know I'm an otaku. Still, every time I come to Akihabara to buy manga, the street's eerie energy overwhelms me. Honestly, my resistance to this vibe is pretty low. Even with Kim Yuseong's memories, I can't quite get used to it.
"Was it a right turn here…?"
Today's destination was Shosen Book Tower, a subculture specialty bookstore in Akihabara that stocks the latest manga and light novels. It's perfect for people like me whose main goal is buying books.
Following the familiar streets, I soon arrived at the bookstore. Inside, the atmosphere was calmer than expected. Though Shosen specializes in subculture and hobby books, it feels much like any other bookstore—practically a sanctuary compared to the chaotic Animate or Gamers shops on Chuo-dori.
I scanned the manga shelves, organized by genre and publisher, picking up titles that caught my eye. I usually go for Jump series I enjoyed or rom-coms serialized in other magazines. Manga varies greatly by publication—*Shonen Jump* often mixes in battles, Shonen Sunday sticks to classic rom-coms, and Shonen Magazine, targeting older readers, leans into fanservice. To stay on top of trends, I make a point to check out new releases regularly.
After about 30 minutes, I selected ten volumes, paid at the counter, and stuffed them into the backpack I brought from home. With my Akihabara errand done, I figured I'd grab lunch and head back.
Leaving Shosen Book Tower, I checked my phone—it was almost 12 p.m. To beat the rush, I decided to take a shortcut to my usual ramen shop. The main streets were crowded, and during Golden Week, every shop in Akihabara starts soliciting customers around noon, turning the area into a bustling marketplace.
Hurrying toward the ramen shop, I heard—
"Move it!"
A sharp voice rang out from above.
"?!"
I looked up, and my vision was filled with… black lace underwear. Intricate embroidery, probably expensive—but that's not the point!
Instinctively, I spread my arms to catch the falling figure. The girl who'd shouted swiveled midair, curling into a ball, making it easier to catch her. Setting her down, I was about to ask what was going on when burly men in suits—foreigners—burst from the spot she'd jumped from, shouting down at us.
"Милая!"
I didn't know the exact meaning, but it sounded like Russian. Before I could ask her anything, the girl, wearing a baseball cap, grabbed my arm and yelled, "Help me!"
She took off running, and without knowing why, I followed. Something told me I had to help—most shonen manga start this way, don't they?
We sprinted until we reached Chuo-dori. Like hiding a tree in a forest, the crowded street made it harder for those men to spot us. Ducking into a nearby building to catch our breath, the girl leaned against a wall and held out her hand.
"I'm Sasha. What's your name?"
Caught off guard, I shook her hand. "Kim Yuseong."
"What, you're not Japanese? A tourist?"
"I'm second-generation Zainichi Korean."
"Ohh," she exclaimed, nodding.
"So why were those guys chasing you? They didn't seem friendly."
Sasha scratched her cheek. "It's… complicated. Hard to explain."
"Then I'm out. Good luck escaping."
As I turned to leave, she grabbed me, flustered. "Wait! Isn't it common sense to help a cute girl like me without question?"
"Not in my book."
When I brushed her off, she frantically opened her handbag. "Money! I'll pay you! I've got plenty of cash!"
I froze at the sight of a stack of blue bills. If my eyes weren't playing tricks, those were 10,000-yen notes—each one could buy twice the manga I'd just purchased.
I'd planned to walk away to avoid trouble, but the cash swayed me. Hesitating, I asked, "If you tell me why they're after you, I might help. What's it gonna be?"
Sasha thought for a moment, then nodded, tucking the money back into her bag. "Fine. Let's move somewhere else first. This place feels risky."
---
I took Sasha, the mysterious foreigner, to my usual ramen shop. It was a good spot to avoid attention, tucked deep in Akihabara's back alleys, known only to regulars.
"Welcome!" the owner's booming voice greeted us.
We picked a secluded corner seat, shielded by partitions, making us hard to spot unless someone deliberately checked. Noticing Sasha's slightly awkward Japanese accent, I asked what she wanted.
"Tonko*tsu*," she said without hesitation.
Good choice—it's the shop's specialty, made with pork bone broth simmered for ten hours. I ordered the same, grabbed tickets from the machine by the entrance, and returned to find Sasha sipping water, giving me a sulky look.
Placing the tickets on the table, I sat across from her. "So, why were those guys chasing you?"
She took off her cap, letting silver hair with a bluish tint cascade over her shoulders. "My papa's kind of a big deal in Russia. I think they were trying to kidnap me for ransom."
"…"
I was speechless. Until she removed her cap, I hadn't noticed, but now her face was unmistakable.
One of the main heroines of Scramble Love, ranked second in popularity—a Russian character.
It was something like Alex...