Can't We Skip Dating?

"How did you know?"

"I actually didn't. I just suggested the most ordinary, most common possibility. I didn't expect that when it comes to love, even Kasumi Utako-sensei is no different from an average little girl."

Utaha gave a faint "tsk" and asked back, "What about you, Mr. Ogiwara?"

"I don't know. I've never been in a relationship," Akira shrugged. 

"Back then, it was because I was broke. I didn't want to drag anyone down, nor did I want to waste time and energy that should've gone to putting food in my stomach. 

So I always cut things off before they could begin. Parted ways on good terms. Now… I live too shut-in a life."

Utaha's expression became very odd. "Are you trying to tell me that a man who wants to turn a high school girl into his lover is surprisingly innocent?"

"Never having been in a relationship doesn't mean I'm innocent, Miss Kasumigaoka. 

I've had my period of debauchery, drinking and clinging to women on both sides. I've also played mutual affection games. 

Later, when I got bored, I just became a shut-in. But I still occasionally head to Kabukicho to take care of physical needs."

After hearing that, Utaha finally succeeded in giving him a true garbage-staring expression.

"Off-topic. Let's get back to the main point," Akira said as he listened to the GPS. 

"Oh, looks like we're almost there. You can walk the rest of the way. If the neighbors saw, it might cause trouble."

Akira slowed the car and pulled over nearby. He habitually took out a pack of cigarettes, then stuffed it back into his pocket.

"I don't mind," Utaha said.

"I do. I don't like smoking near non-smokers. Besides, if you reek of smoke, you'll have a hard time explaining it at home."

"I can get out."

"No. Like I said, this is your neighborhood." Akira fiddled with the lighter in his hand.

"Ogiwara-sensei's mental health counseling is just about done. I'll go get drunk under a table by a woman, and you can head home to your little dark room and lick your wounds. 

Then repay your debt with sincerity. Remember how much help you received. You need to repay it with equal effort. 

Otherwise, you'll never be able to stand tall again—unless you manage to take Tomoya for yourself, and everything becomes a complicated mess."

Utaha gripped the notebook in her bag tightly. "I understand."

Akira lit his lighter and watched the flame quietly for a few seconds, then shut it with a snap.

"Honestly, Tomoya being able to achieve this much is also a kind of ability. 

At least he managed to bring in a strong scriptwriter. Regardless of the means or whether the relationship can last, you're willingly burning yourself for his dream."

"And as you said, Tomoya is a passionate man moving forward toward his dream. So long as he doesn't plan on giving it up, he'll keep deceiving himself. 

It's a subconscious self-defense mechanism. If his relationship with the writer Kasumi Utako collapses, his dream will die in the cradle. 

That's the downside of using emotion to draw people in. 

Sure, conquering you directly is one solution, but he seems to have other ties—or maybe he just doesn't like you and is only using you."

Utaha bit her lip and hesitated. 

"Eriri… she's the illustrator. She likes him."

"Okay, so we can rule out pure exploitation. 

Back to the original conclusion—so long as he doesn't want to give up his dream, he'll keep deceiving himself, ignore every hint, dodge every direct confession. 

Because whether it's acceptance or rejection—BOOM—the club would be finished."

"Back to my question, which is also your problem—you've been revolving around him like a lovesick dog. 

He's grown used to it. Even if you're not a couple, he subconsciously thinks you belong to him.

But then someone… a guy who's kind of dazzling for a high schooler's standards, shows up around you. 

He has ulterior motives, yet you still maintain a somewhat peaceful relationship with him instead of outright rejection or drawing boundaries. 

You even spoke up for him in front of Tomoya. Then…"

Akira thought for a second on how to phrase it, then found the perfect term. 

"Ever read an NTR doujin? Yeah. He became the guy being cucked, and I'm the blonde bastard.

The cuck can't beat up the blonde, and he can't stop the girl, so he either shuts down into despair or rages with impotence. 

There's a third option: break up. But that means giving up on the dream, and until he makes that decision, it doesn't count."

Utaha pressed a hand to her forehead. She understood it perfectly.

"Alright, any more questions?" Akira pulled out his cigarette pack again. 

"By the way, everything I said today could've just been a big ploy to drive a wedge. Think for yourself. Don't go believing it all like an idiot."

Just when Utaha thought she had things figured out, her heart was thrown back into chaos.

"Why does it feel like… you're actually trying to defend Tomoya?"

"I'm not defending him. I'm just laying things out. He's not some villain. 

Factors like 'indecisiveness' and 'pursuit of dreams' aren't inherently malicious. He's just not thorough in his thinking. And now he's stuck on a tiger's back—can't get off."

Akira let out a cold chuckle, though it wasn't clear what he was laughing at.

Utaha, however, recalled a term he used earlier to describe something negative.

"So… really tasteless, right?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I do think so," Akira admitted easily, looking a bit surprised she said it first. 

"That's just my own value judgment. I don't like people like that. But you should form your own opinion."

"Yeah, I understand. Thanks for your… counseling session."

Utaha needed time to calm down and think, so she got out of the car and gave a small bow.

"Oh, wait—two more things."

Akira lit his cigarette, took a deep drag, then exhaled slowly.

"First, if you decide to keep things the way they are, let me know. I won't approach you again.

Once you clearly define the boundary, you'll feel a lot better. 

But hang onto those talismans. Rather than throwing away a potential weapon and praying disaster doesn't come, I'd rather hold it tight and face what's definitely coming."

Utaha nodded seriously. She didn't like the idea of facing the unknown with cowardice and prayer either. 

And after Akira's near-prophetic warning about the talismans and trouble, even with her scientific worldview, she couldn't entirely dismiss it anymore.

"Second, stop overthinking. Be careful when crossing the street. I don't want to see some ridiculous scene of you getting hit by a car just because you were zoning out."

Originally bracing for another serious line, Utaha suddenly burst into laughter.

"Alright, go on. Be careful on the road. If you really get into an accident, I'll be dragged into it by karmic misfortune—how unlucky would that be?"

"See you this weekend, Mr. Ogiwara."

Utaha bowed again, stretched her now-recovered limbs a bit, closed the car door, and walked home as usual.

Akira, on the other hand, was a little stunned. For a moment, he found himself unexpectedly looking forward to the weekend.

...

"Ugh, onions, mushrooms, tofu… oh, I need to buy more meat… waahh! Miss Yuuko, seriously! Saying you're hosting a guest all of a sudden—how am I supposed to be ready for that?!"

Inside a well-stocked supermarket, a boy in a summer school uniform with black hair, blue eyes, a delicate face, and small round glasses was frantically shopping for ingredients.

Despite his flustered demeanor, his hands moved with practiced efficiency. Clearly, he shopped for groceries often.

"Okay, this should be enough. As long as it's a human coming to eat… uh, it is a human guest, right?"

The boy mumbled to himself as he walked to the checkout and pulled out his wallet with a pained look.

"She said the guest would cover the cost, so I bought freely… but there's no way I could let a guest pay. Miss Yuuko, honestly..."

After paying, the boy rushed out of the supermarket, hurrying to the store. But after just a few steps, he stopped in his tracks, staring blankly at someone on the street.

It was a boy around his age, also wearing glasses—though with much larger frames—currently walking alone with his head down, muttering something.

But in his eyes, that boy was surrounded by wisps of twisted black energy, drawing in strange, shapeless monsters that slowly swirled and consumed him.

They were latching on.

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