If the first chapter is full of cringey jokes and annoying dialect maybe it'll drive away all the weaklings that weren't gonna finish reading anyway

“The judges’ counts are in, and Mikai Kyouko wins her 10th decisive victory in a row!

Every fucker in the sports bar bellowed out in cheers, and I’m sure half the bloody beer in the place ended up on the floor. Personally, I just kept quietly sipping away at my own and pretending the noise wasn’t getting on my nerves.

“Come on, Yuuki, you’re at a sports bar. If you don’t care about the sports, why the hell are you even here?” asked the bloke sitting next to me. I expected he wouldn’t be a recurring character so I didn’t bother learning his name.

“‘Course I like the sports, you prat. But what’s even the point with this one? As if that two-bit was gonna stand a snowball’s chance in hell against ‘the untouchable woman.’”

“Yeah, but that ain’t the point, is it? She’s a homegrown talent fightin’ right here at the home field, her winnin’ is a big occasion, innit?”

“Right, in the same way it’d be a ‘big occasion’ if Shohei Ohtani hit a home run against a bunch of middle schoolers,” I said, rolling my eyes and taking another sip. “It’s nice ‘n’ all that a Japanese fighter is so dominant, but I like actually feeling some suspense when I watch MMA. Ain’t all that fun to watch a bunch of rank amateurs get curbstomped by a rampaging bull of a woman.”

“Ah, pish. You’re no bloody fun.” the bloke chucked back the rest of his pint like he was drinking for Japan, though I’m pretty sure half of it ended up down his front. He wiped his sopping beard with the back of his arm and started talking with a grin. “By the way, you know why else they call her ‘untouchable?’”

“Enlighten me.”

“‘s cos they say no man’s ever touched her either. Never so much as been seen with a bloke in public. She keeps bein’ all evasive about it but all the interviewers wanna know.”

“And that is because celebrity culture is followed exclusively by intrusive arseholes who can’t mind their own bloody business.” I threw back the last bit of lager and got to my feet, chucking on my hoodie as I went.

“Not stayin’ for another round? Celebration’s just startin’, innit?”

“Much as I would love to drink meself into a stupor then try and walk home when I can’t even bloody see straight, I prefer waking up without new and exciting bruises on my arse. ‘sides, gettin’ late already, innit?”

“Eh, more drinks for the rest of us then.”

“That’s not how tha- y’know what, nevermind. Enjoy throwin’ up in the toilet stalls in an hour. Assumin’ you make it there.” Before any other drunken bastard could slow me down, I powerwalked to the front door of the pub and started on my way back home.

The streets were as quiet as you’d expect from Yokohama during a major sports victory. That is, not fucking very. People everywhere across the city were celebrating as loud as they bloody well pleased, without any concern for those who didn’t give a shit. Thankfully, though, I knew a way home that was a bit more on the quiet side. It took me through some dodgy streets and back alleys, but I felt safe knowing the crime rate here in good old peaceful Japan was too low to be worth worrying about.

“Oi! Drop your cash if you know what’s good for ya!” said the suspiciously well timed thug with a knife and ski mask. Real subtle there, dickhead.

“Y’know, mate, world’s becomin’ a more digital place. I know Japan’s a bit behind the times and all, but soon enough people are gonna be carryin’ cards instead of cash. Ain’t that gonna put you out of a job?”

The bloke politely informed me that he didn’t want to hear any more of my smartass comments by punching me square in the nose. I won’t say the delivery method was pleasant but the message was definitely received loud and clear.

“Your money. Now.”

“Alright, alright, calm your tits, mate.” I reached into the inside pocket where I kept my wallet, but really slowly.

“You wanna die or something? The hell are you waitin’ for?”

“The plot to start.”

“What? The hell does that mean?”

I didn’t have to answer, because a second later, a woman in a long grey cloak and a pair of shades ran up and stopped dead in front of us. Yeah, great job hiding yourself, love. Sunglasses in the middle of the bloody night. Proper inconspicuous, that.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, looking between the two of us.

“Well considering this prick is holding a knife and I’m holding a wallet, either one of us is really into back alley knife play, or I’m getting mugged. Take a wild guess, love.”

“Y’know, I was thinking about helping you out, but since you seem to have this whole situation down pat I guess I’ll just move on with my day,” she said dramatically turning on her heel and taking a few steps away, whistling a merry old tune to herself. I’ll admit, that may have been a cock up.

“Helping out? I’m holding a knife, you stupid tart, what were you gonna do, catch it between your teeth?”

Seems the bloke with the knife really fucked himself over with that one. The girl stopped on the spot, then slowly turned back around to face him. Then she took two steps forwards, raised her right hand and socked him square in the jaw.

“Aw- you bitch!” the knife bloke took a wild swing at her, which she dodged so easily she almost looked bored. As she stepped to the side she brought her knee up and slammed it into his gut, taking all the wind out of his lungs. The numpty stumbled backwards a few steps before receiving a quick side kick to the chin. He quickly hit the deck, his knife falling at his side.

“You’re welcome,” she said, before quickly turning back the other way.

“Yeah, cheers for that,” I said, watching her back get further away. “If you want anything in return, Mikai-san, I’d be happy to teach you how to actually hide your identity if you want.”

She froze up on the spot, same as you would if the coppers pulled out the breathalyser on your weekly recreational drunk drive.

“How… did you know who I am?” she said, without turning around.

“A suspicious woman in an obvious disguise shows up and kicks the shit out a bloke right after a match from an MMA fighter notorious for escaping interviews? I knew who you were ‘cause I know how to put two and two together, you bloody fool.”

She stayed dead quiet for a second, before letting out a sigh so deep you’d think she was a single mother watching her fourth kid today stick their grubby hands on her freshly painted wall.

“You. Come with me.”

“No one ever teach you manners, love?”

“Come with me if you don’t wanna look like that guy,” she said, jabbing her thumb towards the bloke trying not to throw up in the street.

“Awfully convincing argument, where are we going?”

“Ain’t it obvious? You’re gonna learn how to fight, so I don’t have to save your stupid ass next time.”

Awh fuck. As if I wasn’t already expecting to wake up with a headache tomorrow.