Can't We Skip Dating?

I could have endured the darkness if I had never seen the light.

Due to the high cost of labor, the food delivery industry in Japan isn't well-developed. There are no dedicated platforms, and most restaurants don't even offer delivery services. 

Of the dozen or so takeout menus Akira had, half were from places he had personally negotiated with—restaurants outside their delivery radius that agreed to send food for an extra fee.

After three years, Akira had long grown tired of all of them.

Other restaurants, though not yet sickening, always emphasized strong flavors to attract customers. 

Occasional indulgence was enjoyable, but eating that kind of food long-term grew tiresome. Even mild dishes became overwhelming after a while.

As for cooking himself...

Not every long-term single dweller is a great cook. 

Some enjoy cooking, others don't. Some are skilled, some are not. Akira belonged to the kind that neither liked it nor was good at it.

He didn't make anything horrifying, but it certainly wasn't delicious either. His repertoire was limited, only enough to fill his stomach. 

Given his laziness and dislike of cooking, he still preferred takeout.

That was, of course, before he'd ever tasted this kind of high-quality "home cooking."

So-called "the taste of home" is really just food that matches your palate—simple, comforting, and easy to eat. 

Unlike fine cuisine at high-end restaurants that you savor with every bite, home cooking lets you scarf down mouthfuls with rice and still feel deeply satisfied—and never sick of it.

Matching someone's palate is the hard part. Every family has its own flavors, and what one finds normal might be strange to another. 

But once your cooking skill surpasses a certain level, this problem fades.

Which is why the one with the problem became Akira.

In a sense, this was the greatest crisis he'd faced since transmigrating.

He could never… go back…

"You just wanted to show off a guy to me today, didn't you?! Didn't you?! You've got some guy who can cook, and now you think you're all that?!"

The intense envy completely stripped Akira of his rationality and composure. 

After all, deep down he was still a man from China, and China lives by the creed: food is the god of the people.

Now that god had collapsed, who cared about image anymore?

Faced with Akira's hysterical accusations, Yuuko only smiled brightly and nodded vigorously.

"Mm! To be able to make Ogiwara-kun like this with just one meal, Watanuki-kun really is amazing!"

Defeated.

Akira collapsed backward, listlessly rubbing the black orb in his hand. Never in his life did he imagine being bested by a Japanese high school boy.

They were both among the "three most dangerous types of people," and yet he had lost this badly. 

He had completely disgraced transmigrators from China.

Watanuki gave a sheepish, slightly troubled smile. 

At least he now understood that it wasn't his cooking that had gone wrong, but rather that it was too good in a way. 

As someone who loved to cook, such sincere praise made him genuinely happy.

Akira put down the nearly writhing-with-pleasure Mokona in his hand—his technique was pretty solid, having been honed by years of cat kneading. 

He then composed himself and said to Watanuki, "Sorry for the outburst."

"Ah, no no, it's totally fine!" Watanuki scratched the back of his head shyly, waving his hand. Then he quickly picked up the tray again. 

"I'm just glad Ogiwara-san liked it. There are still a few more dishes—I'll bring them out right away!"

With that, he dashed off happily.

Yuuko stepped down from the couch, sat across the table with the wine bottle, and poured three cups of sake. "So? He's a good kid, isn't he?"

Thinking of the last male high school student he'd encountered, Akira sighed in agreement.

"Yeah. There aren't many that pure and honest left. Where'd you abduct him from?"

"How could you call it abduction? That child was destined to come here. And then, in order to pay the price for his wish, he willingly stayed to work part-time."

"Oh, I get it, I get it. When I lure in innocent girls, I also follow a principle of mutual consent."

Yuuko's smile took on a sharper edge.

"Then, Ogiwara-kun, as his senior—shouldn't you prepare a gift for your junior?"

"…Damn it. So that's what you were waiting for."

Akira darkened and fumbled through his pockets, pulling out a few paper talismans he always carried. 

But they felt a bit too cheap, so he tucked them back. Since he was now the senior, he needed to maintain some dignity—especially when he quite liked this junior.

After thinking for a bit, he recalled something fitting. It would serve not only as a respectable gift but might also have a deeper, more interesting meaning.

Watanuki returned with the rest of the dishes, filling the table. Finally, he removed his headscarf and sat down with hands clasped, beaming. "Thanks for the meal!"

Akira drained his cup of sake in one gulp and pushed it to Watanuki. "Please."

Watanuki, just about to dig in, paused in surprise. Then he let out an "Oh," put down his chopsticks, and picked up the bottle—showing no hint of impatience on his face.

"And this," Akira continued, "is both a thank-you for the meal and a senior's welcome gift."

He raised his hand. 

A golden light sparked at his fingertip. Before Watanuki could make sense of it, Akira tapped his forehead with it.

Yuuko's eyes widened slightly when she saw the glow.

"Eh? Eh?" Watanuki rubbed his forehead in confusion. "What was that?"

Yuuko slowly swirled her wine glass and smiled. "That was merit, Watanuki-kun."

"Merit…?"

"In short, it's something very good," Yuuko said, nibbling at her wine glass. 

"Originally, I was going to have Ogiwara-kun pay for today's meal. But since he even gave away merit, I suppose it's not appropriate to ask. 

Instead, it's you who now owes a little something, Watanuki-kun. Ogiwara-kun, don't you think you might have given a bit too much?"

"A rare meal I truly enjoyed. A junior worth welcoming. And sake offered to a senior." 

Akira picked up the freshly filled glass and raised it slightly. 

"It still doesn't quite balance, but the world can't be made of only equivalent exchanges. We need a bit of human warmth."

"Mmm… since Ogiwara-kun sees it that way, then let's leave it at that."

Yuuko finished her wine and also placed her cup in front of Watanuki, prompting Akira to snatch up the bottle and take over the pouring duty.

"Let the kid eat, please, Yuuko-san. You invited me for drinks, yet judging by what you said, Watanuki even paid for the ingredients?"

Yuuko tilted her head. "Ehehe~"

"Ehehe my ass! You know exploiting child labor is illegal, right? Please at least reimburse him properly."

"Aiyaa, fine, fine. Ogiwara-kun, you're acting like an old granny now. So mean~"

Watanuki, grinning foolishly, took a few bites of food, delighted both by the praise and learning that his living expenses wouldn't be squeezed out of him. 

Taking advantage of a moment to join the conversation, he thanked Akira and asked a question that had been on his mind.

"Thank you, Ogiwara-san, for the merit. Um, even though I don't know what it really is, since Yuuko-san said it's good, it must be amazing. But earlier, you said… you're my senior?"

"Mm, that's right."

Akira leaned in slightly, shielding his mouth with one hand as if to block Yuuko's ears, then whispered, 

"Actually, I'm just like you. I made a wish and ended up being exploited as this witch's part-time worker…"

"I heard that, you two!" Yuuko snapped, pointing her fan right at them.

Akira immediately straightened up, eyes forward, posture upright—and casually stuffed a few more bites of food in his mouth.

Now it was Watanuki's turn to be curious. "What was your wish…? Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't ask something like that."

"It's fine. It wasn't a private wish or anything," Akira said nonchalantly. "My wish was to get beaten up."

"…Huh?"

Watanuki had never heard of such a strange wish. 

He thought Akira was joking and looked to Yuuko for confirmation—only to see her calmly smile.

"That's right. Ogiwara-kun's wish was, at the appropriate time, to have me beat him up."

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