*Wait, is this a canon event?*
Something felt off.
If Sasha was appearing at this moment, Sakamoto Ryūji, the protagonist, should've been in Akihabara. From what I'd observed, the opening moments of canon events always happened as scripted. But I was the one who met her, and the protagonist was nowhere in sight.
That meant this was likely before her first appearance in the original story.
So, a main heroine from the manga is being chased by Russians, huh?
Honestly, I couldn't fully grasp the situation. Those guys from earlier had impressive builds, clearly trained for combat. Sasha wouldn't last long alone.
Not knowing the future, I was torn between leaving her or protecting her. As I mulled it over with a serious expression, Sasha, sensing my hesitation, pulled out the stack of cash from her handbag again.
"I'm hiring you as my bodyguard. Protect me until 7 p.m. tonight—that's all. I'll pay upfront. What do you say? Six hours for this kind of cash is a pretty sweet deal, right?"
My heart pounded at the sight of the money.
'Hold on. Stay calm. This is a trap'.
Why would someone I just met offer me a fortune like this? Trying to hide my excitement, I asked calmly, "You're hiring me with that?"
Sasha frowned, then pulled out another stack of bills. "Fine, one million yen isn't enough? If you protect me until 7 p.m., I'll add another million. That's my limit."
The amount doubled in seconds. My head spun. With this money, I could buy not just manga but the premium weight rack I'd only dreamed of. I could even start building a home gym—a fitness enthusiast's fantasy.
Without thinking, I grabbed the cash on the table.
"Deal."
"Hehe, contract sealed?" she said with a sly smile, shaking my hand firmly.
---
Alexandra Ivanovna.
Known to friends as Sasha, the Russian girl smirked triumphantly.
'Lucky'.
She'd come to Japan under the guise of an exchange student, but her overprotective dad and his goons smothered her. So, she'd slipped out of a Shibuya hotel with cash withdrawn secretly.
But her escape was nearly foiled within an hour by her father's elite bodyguards, some of Russia's finest trackers. That's when she'd ran into Kim Yuseong, a Korean guy, in that alley.
'This guy's strong.'
Growing up alongside her dad, nicknamed Russia's "God of Destruction," Sasha had a knack for sensing strength. Among the underworld figures she'd met, Yuseong ranked in the upper-mid tier. A fighter like him could buy her enough time against Boris, the bodyguard her father trusted most.
To stumble upon such a powerhouse in a foreign land while evading her escorts—pure luck.
"Two tonkotsu ramens! Enjoy!"
As she split her chopsticks to dig into the Japanese ramen, Sasha calculated the remaining time. "Six hours… plenty for some Akihabara sightseeing."
If she played a bit and returned, her dad wouldn't be too mad. With that plan, their partnership began.
---
After finishing our ramen, we returned to Chuo-dori. Sasha's outfit—black blouse and a long, frilly skirt—was too cumbersome for moving around, so we stopped at a random clothing store. She bought jeans and a baseball jacket, changing quickly in the fitting room.
With her natural beauty, she looked like a model in anything. She asked the clerk to ship her old clothes to a hotel lobby, then strode over, adjusting her cap.
"How's this? Blend in like a local now?"
"More like a tourist."
Even in a manga world with colorful hair, her bluish-silver locks stood out. It screamed "heroine design" meant to highlight her uniqueness.
"Tch, harsh critic," she muttered, tying her waist-length hair into a ponytail while checking a mirror. "Know any good spots around here? It's my first time in Japan."
"Didn't you say you're fleeing kidnappers? You got time to sightsee?"
"More eyes around is better. Even reckless guys won't act bold in a crowd."
I wasn't thrilled, but I went along. If push came to shove, I'd protect her.
"Let's move. Staying in one place too long will get us spotted."
"But who are these kidnappers you're so wary of?"
Opening the shop door, Sasha glanced back. "Ex-KGB elite agents."
…KGB? The only KGB I know is lemon-flavored vodka.
---
Let me be honest.
In 21st-century Tokyo, in the middle of a bustling city, I didn't expect Sasha's kidnappers to pick a fight so brazenly.
"You said they wouldn't act with people around!" I shouted, dodging a fist that grazed my head.
Holed up in a phone booth, fending off men in black suits, Sasha yelled back, "I didn't think they'd be this reckless!"
"Damn it!"
I kicked a hulking guy away, then grabbed the necks of two others trying to pry open the booth, slamming them down.
"Urgh!"
They groaned, likely from pressure on their carotid arteries, and passed out. But I had no time to check, swinging fists at more charging goons.
'These guys are on another level compared to street punks.'
Normal people would crumple with a little force, but these men held up better, probably thanks to their visibly chiseled muscles. Still, they were just unlucky to face me.
In rom-coms, the bigger muscles always win.
"Монстр!" (Monster!)
After nearly ten minutes of fighting multiple foes in one spot, the Russians surrounding me were visibly faltering. One scowled and shouted something. I didn't know Russian, but it was probably an insult—most shouts in fights are.
As the battle lulled, the men hesitated, exchanging glances but not attacking. I counted the remaining foes.
One, two, three, four…
From nearly twenty, their numbers had dwindled to less than half.
'This is doable.'
Clenching my fists, I heard—
"Все отступите." (Everyone step back).
A deep voice cut through from behind the men. "Капитан Борис!" (Captain Boris!).
They parted swiftly, saluting sharply, as if he were their superior. I'm tall, but this guy was nearly 2 meters, glaring at me.
He's strong.
I'd never met him, but I could feel it. This Russian was a natural-born powerhouse.
Our eyes locked—his browless face intense—and my warmed-up muscles surged with energy, as if my body was thrilled to face a worthy opponent for the first time.
I didn't know how things escalated this far, but I had only one choice left.
Fight.