Can't We Skip Dating?

Tobacco and alcohol.

They are the best offerings when going to meet a witch.

Akira bought the items, drove back home, and then took a taxi out again—he didn't want to drink and drive, nor drive back with a hangover.

He got off in an ordinary residential area. 

The houses were mostly standalone. In such a place, the population density was low, and during off-peak hours, there were barely any pedestrians on the street.

Between two buildings—more precisely, between a house and a taller building—there was a courtyard with cherry blossom trees. In the courtyard stood a two-story detached house mixing classical Japanese and European styles, adorned with several crescent moon decorations. 

A golden sun disk of unclear significance hung above the door.

There was no gate at the courtyard entrance, and the wooden fence wasn't very tall. In theory, anyone passing by could see the fantastical-looking house and feel curious. 

Yet oddly enough, no passersby ever paid it any attention. Even when their eyes brushed past it, their gaze would never focus as if seeing something real.

To the average person, it merely looked like an empty grassy field. Strangely, no one ever felt the urge to walk across it.

This was the legendary "store that grants wishes." Only those with a wish to fulfill, those with power, or those who had already become customers could see it. 

At this moment, Akira met all three conditions.

Akira entered the yard naturally. From the viewpoint of the few people on the street, it appeared as if he stepped into an empty field and vanished—yet no one reacted at all, as if they'd never seen him to begin with.

"Yuuko-san, I'm here~"

Akira didn't knock. He opened the door and called out as he stepped inside, then casually started changing his shoes at the entryway. 

Before he even finished, two little girls came running out excitedly.

"Ogiwara-san is here!"

"Ogiwara-san is here!"

The two little girls were so in sync they seemed like twins. 

One had long blue twin-tails that almost dragged on the floor and wore a dark red outfit of unusual design. 

The other had short pink hair tied into two cat ear–like buns and wore a white dress.

To most, they would look extremely adorable. But to Akira, they were simply eerie.

These were soulless children—only empty bodies—created as familiars to support the store. Their existence was akin to that of magical constructs.

But one gets used to it over time.

"Long time no see, Maru, Moro." Akira handed over his bag and patted their heads. "I'm not late, am I?"

Incidentally, the two were named Maru and Moro—literally "more" and "all" in Japanese. Clearly chosen for their rather twisted meanings.

"Watanuki hasn't finished cooking~"

"So you're not late at all~"

Watanuki, huh…

Though Akira had already guessed who it was when Yuuko mentioned a cute kid who could cook had come to the shop, hearing the name Watanuki still made him emotional.

Watanuki Kimihiro's Strange Record—or xxxHOLiC, if you prefer. From the moment Watanuki stepped into the store, the story truly began.

In other words, the stories of this shop were about to increase.

But that had nothing to do with Akira. He was just here for the booze—unless Yuuko gave him a specific task, he wouldn't get involved.

The karma tied to this place was too heavy. 

Even though he didn't cry while watching the anime, if he were to experience it immersively, the ending definitely wouldn't feel so lighthearted.

"Shhhk—"

Maru and Moro slid open the paper door and invited Akira into a mist-filled room.

And in that room, the most eye-catching presence was a stunning classical beauty lounging atop a tatami mat.

Hands like lily buds, skin like porcelain, shoulders sharp as if carved, waist slender and delicate.

Eyebrows like distant mountains, eyes like autumn waters, face like a bright moon, lips like crimson.

She was so beautiful it was hard to look directly at her. No matter what words one used, they all felt inadequate.

Every time Akira saw this woman in her quiet state, he was reminded of the poverty of his vocabulary—of course, that only held true if she kept this "personality."

But like a certain ultimate high school despair, this beauty was also highly unpredictable. 

Take for example her voice over the phone earlier, so energetic it stunned both Akira and Utaha.

If he could, Akira would have wished time stopped right here. Unfortunately, he did not have Za Warudo.

So the beauty eventually opened her mouth and shattered the grace—becoming...

"Aiyaa~! It's been so long, Ogiwara-kun! Huh? Did you even bring fine alcohol and tobacco? My, my, how courteous of you~!"

...a total gossip auntie.

The phrase "a goddess until she opens her mouth" perfectly applied here.

Akira sighed with regret, entered, and sat down at the table. He watched as the smiling beauty unwrapped the expensive tobacco and stuffed it into her pipe.

"It really has been a while, Yuuko-san."

Yuuko-san, full name Ichihara Yuuko, was known as the dimensional witch and the proprietor of the shop that granted wishes.

By the way, Ichihara Yuuko might be an alias—or maybe it was a real name that happened to mean "alias."

Faced with an old smoker and two non-human existences, Akira had no need for formalities. 

He took out a cigarette, lit it, and began smoking with them, then asked, "So, why did you call me here today?"

"Of course, to have you taste Watanuki-kun's cooking!"

"...That's it?"

"Of course! You're the one who said it: 'Only fine cuisine and fine wine must not be betrayed!' Now that we have good food, naturally I had to invite you to share~"

Yuuko smiled with childlike joy. Whenever she mentioned food or drink, she lit up like a kid.

But Akira narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious.

It wasn't that he thought Yuuko was lying—but with his understanding of her, every word and action she took often held hidden meaning. 

The more casual she acted, the more likely she had some deeper motive.

She simply knew too much. 

Like the first time they met, when she exposed the deepest secret buried in many transmigrators' hearts in one sentence—you're not from this world.

Even if those actions carried no malicious intent and only ever led to good things, as someone who believed in fate, Akira still found it unsettling.

A healer cannot heal themselves. 

A diviner cannot divine their own fate. When one cannot read their own destiny yet it feels like someone else already has—what even is that?

And today, the most suspicious element had to be...

"Has the guest already arrived, Yuuko-san?" came a male voice from outside.

"He's here, he's here! Hurry and bring it in, Watanuki-kun," Yuuko replied cheerfully as she took out the bottle from the bag.

The paper door slid open again, and in came a boy with a headscarf and apron, carrying a tray like a professional househusband. 

At the same time, a mysterious black ball suddenly bounced up and flew straight at Akira's face.

He caught it like cradling a cat.

It was a round, plush creature with long ears resembling wings and a gem on its forehead. 

It lay comfortably in Akira's arm, raised a tiny paw, and waited for a high five. "Long time no see, Ogiwara-kun!"

But Akira didn't return the gesture. He simply rubbed its head while keeping his eyes fixed on the tray.

"I'll greet you later, Mokona."

"Eh?"

As Mokona stared curiously, the apron-wearing boy set down each dish on the table and smiled awkwardly. 

"Nice to meet you. I'm Watanuki Kimihiro. You must be…"

"Ogiwara Akira. Nice to meet you. Thanks for the meal. I'm digging in."

"Eh… Eh?"

Without waiting for Yuuko's invitation, without waiting for all the dishes to be served, without waiting for the alcohol to be opened, or everyone to be seated—

Akira, rudely and unbothered, picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of miso-marinated grilled sablefish, and put it in his mouth.

First came the sweet, gentle flavor of Saikyo miso. Just a light bite and his teeth broke through the perfectly grilled surface to meet the tender flesh of the fish. 

The marinade had not taken away the fish's natural umami—it had condensed it. As the skin broke, the rich flavors burst in his mouth.

Not bad.

That wasn't just a polite remark. As someone who wasn't short on cash, Akira occasionally sought out gourmet food. 

He'd eaten at this level before—so no, he wasn't going to strip down and moan from one bite.

Though he was surprised that Watanuki's cooking was comparable to a professional chef, it was only mild surprise.

That wasn't the issue.

Akira pressed down on the tray, making Watanuki reflexively set the remaining tray on the table.

Then he picked out two seemingly ordinary dishes—aburaage (fried tofu) and chicken with mushrooms—and sampled them.

Then, after a moment of silence, he slammed his head onto the table.

As if cursing his mortal enemy with his dying breath, he growled through clenched teeth:

"Yuuko-san, you tricked me…"

"Ara, what are you talking about, Ogiwara-kun? How could I possibly trick you?"

Yuuko covered her mouth gently, her expression both surprised and innocent. 

"Was there something wrong with the food? Watanuki-kun, did you put something strange in the dishes?"

The moment Akira collapsed, Watanuki's first thought was that something had gone wrong with his cooking. He was terrified. 

Yuuko's question jolted him out of his panic, and he hurriedly tried to help Akira up. "M-M-Mr. Ogiwara!? Are you okay!? Do you need a hospital!?"

Akira raised a hand and patted Watanuki on the shoulder, calming him first.

"No, my body's fine. Your cooking is excellent. The problem lies with the woman who let me eat this food."

Then he slowly raised his head, fixing a resentful glare on the all-too-innocent Yuuko.

"After eating food that tastes like home—how the hell am I supposed to go back to eating takeout I was already sick of!?"

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