By the ti the fried food platter was ready, Sayuri had already rushed in through the front door.
"What happened, Kyousuke-kun?" she asked urgently, not even bothering to put down her handbag.
"Sothing ca up. I won't be able to attend Toyogasaki High School," Kyousuke replied, stepping out of the kitchen and setting down the tray.
"You won't? May I ask why?" Sayuri looked surprised.
"I made a promise a long ti ago to attend Soubu High instead... but I completely forgot. That's on ."
Although he knew Sayuri was asking this for Eriri's sake, hoping to smooth things over, Kyousuke didn't try to explain further.
A man doesn't earn forgiveness with excuses.
Even if he couldn't quite live by the motto "Never explain yourself", he knew it was better to face mistakes head-on and try to make ands.
That's what a man should do.
What good would justifications do?
Using soone else's generosity to gloss over his own mistake?
That wasn't who he was.
Just like years ago, when Mitsuha had caused a misunderstanding with Okudera Miki while in his body—he didn't explain much back then either.
He just told the truth, and trusted Miki's belief in him to carry them through.
There's a world of difference between those two approaches.
The first dumps all the reasons on the other person, forcing them to decide whether to forgive you or not.
That only frustrates them more—they're already upset about what you did, and now they have to listen to you justify it.
Cue the classic: "Why won't you just hear out?" "I don't want to listen!"—yeah, not exactly graceful.
But the second way, taking full responsibility, might earn you a "You better start explaining, mister!" but at least it shows sincerity.
Of course, if forgiveness is granted, then is the ti to explain the full story.
This wasn't strategy. It was Kyousuke's personal code. He—
"If that's all there is to it, Lily wouldn't be this mad," Sayuri cut in, frowning.
Her reaction confird what Kyousuke already suspected: Eriri kicking him out like that ant it was more than just a school choice issue.
Kyousuke swallowed hard.
If he had a choice, he'd much rather be facing Godzilla from Monster Planet than the gentle Sayuri right now.
For the first ti, the man who prided himself on honesty considered just... not telling the whole truth.
"...Eriri found out there are so girls living at my place," he finally confessed, sticking to his principles even under pressure from a crying girl's mother.
"Girls living with you? You an your childhood friends from Suimon?" Sayuri asked, her voice now tinged with understanding.
So it finally happened—the thing she'd been worrying about.
"Yes."
Kyousuke wasn't surprised she knew about Sakura and the others.
Eriri had ntioned on the very first day that her father had them investigated.
A mysterious entourage around the princess would naturally raise eyebrows.
"I see... leave Lily to , then. I'll take care of her," Sayuri said with a soft smile.
That gentle expression sent a chill down Kyousuke's spine.
Was she hiding a battalion of sword-wielding templars behind the door, ready to pounce?
"I'm sorry, Sayuri-san. I'll co back tomorrow."
"I made so fries for Eriri—they're in the kitchen. Would you mind bringing them to her?" he asked, bowing deeply and pointing toward the kitchen.
"I'll give them to her. But you'd better apologize properly tomorrow. A few fries aren't nearly enough to soothe the wrath of a beautiful girl," she said teasingly.
"I will," Kyousuke nodded seriously.
"Maybe you should apologize in a dress? That kind of thing happens in ani all the ti. Even manga artists crossdress for inspiration—it's perfectly normal."
Nope, absolutely not.
Only Sayuri-san is into that sort of thing.
Eriri may be an otaku, but she's a normal one. She plays oto gas—she's into princes, not traps.
"Well then, I'll be heading out."
He stepped outside, gave a quick nod to Sayuri who was waving from the doorway, and revved up his bike.
Instead of going to Utaha-senpai's place to apologize, or back ho, he made his way to his small apartnt in Sendagi.
The lock on the door had been upgraded to a biotric system—no more keys hidden in the doorfra.
Everyone close to him had already been registered in the system, including Mitsuha.
She'd often stop by when she had free ti, hoping to jog more mories.
He drew the curtains open. The midday sun poured in, bright and golden... but it did nothing to lift the gloom in his heart.
Eriri wasn't the only one hurting—he was too. Even if he caused it all, seeing her like that tore him up inside.
He threw himself onto the bed, and imdiately caught the soft, comforting scent of white plum blossoms—Mitsuha's scent.
She'd taken naps here more than once.
He lay there for fifteen minutes, his mind blank.
But then he forced himself to snap out of it.
Anyone could give in to despair—but he couldn't. Not him. He'd chosen this thorny path himself. There was no turning back now.
Tomorrow, he'd show up with the heartfelt romance novel he promised Eriri.
With that thought in mind, he dragged himself out to a small bookshop hidden in a side alley—Black Cat Books.
The familiar white sign with the cartoon black cat, the blue outdoor umbrella shading the white wicker chair... all of it brought back mories.
'Ding-ling.'
The bell above the door chid as he stepped inside, rousing the elderly owner from what looked like a nap.
Wasn't her na... Grandma Asami?
"Welco," she greeted warmly, raising her head, her silver hair catching the light.
"Oh, it's young Hojou! It's been a while."
"I moved, so I haven't been able to visit often," he replied, a little surprised she rembered his na.
"I see... starting a new Chapter, huh?" she nodded knowingly.
"Haha, yeah, sothing like that."
There was sothing soothing about talking to the elderly—people who'd weathered decades of life could often say things that cut straight through confusion.
"Got ti to stay and read today? I just made so cookies," she offered with a gentle smile.
"I think I can stay for a bit." He couldn't say no to her kindness.
He headed for the romance section.
'Huh... not much here.'
Kyousuke frowned at the sparse selection.
"Not going for mystery novels this ti?" Grandma Asami called, slowly making her way to the staircase.
"No, I'm planning to write a romance novel. I thought I'd study so from others."
"I see. I'm looking forward to it, then. I hope to see your book in next year's Honya Taishou nominations," she said with a nod.
"I'll do my best." He bowed, genuinely touched. He hadn't expected her to know he was an author.
He picked out five award-winning romance novels and brought them to the counter.
Next to it sat a stack of decorative paper for covering books.
He was tempted to wrap them himself... but resisted the urge—for now.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," said Granny Asami as she walked over with a tray.
Kyousuke quickly got up to help her carry it. Just like last ti, there was a pot of tea and a plate of cookies.
"Not at all," he replied with a shake of his head.
"Most of the people who co to this bookstore are regulars, so the books I stock are based on their preferences."
"Strangely enough, romance novels don't get much love around here. But if you're interested, I can ask the publishers for more next ti," she said as she made her way back behind the counter.
Her voice had the calm, deliberate rhythm unique to the elderly—neither rushed nor dragging.
"That would be much appreciated," Kyousuke said with a smile.
Sure, he could just ask the all-powerful Kisaki to send over a mountain of romance novels, but this was different.
There was a special charm in finding treasures in this hidden little bookstore, where the owner ran things in her own quirky way.
It was relaxing, even healing.
After paying, he helped wrap the books in protective covers.
"Sunny days like this are just perfect for reading, don't you think?"
Granny Asami said with a satisfied sigh as she sat beneath the blue patio umbrella, a cup of chrysanthemum tea in hand.
Strangely enough, despite her words, she didn't have a book with her.
"Yeah," Kyousuke replied, flipping open a novel titled Sumr Surfboards.
The quiet residential neighborhood was peaceful at midday, and a spring breeze drifted lazily through the streets, full of life and promise.
"Sunny days make everything more enjoyable, don't they?" a sudden voice chid in, cutting into their peaceful chat.
"Hehe, that's true. Long ti no see, Imai-kun," Granny Asami greeted the newcor without a hint of surprise, her smile as gentle as ever.
"Good to see you too, Granny Asami. I'm glad you're looking so well. And you, young man—good afternoon."
The man plopped himself down without hesitation and flashed Kyousuke a wide smile, baring eight dazzlingly white teeth.
Whoa, that's bright, Kyousuke thought.
This was his first ti seeing a Japanese man with such perfect teeth. Just from that, he knew this guy had to be sothing else.
"Good afternoon," Kyousuke nodded politely.
"I'll go grab another cup," Granny Asami said, hobbling back inside with no intention of formally introducing them.
It seed her living quarters were right above the bookstore.
"Sunny skies, stormy clouds—it doesn't matter. In Granny Asami's eyes, every day is perfect for reading."
The man casually grabbed a cookie and continued speaking like they'd known each other for years.
"I'm Imaizumi Sanshirou. Nice to et you."
"I'm Hojou Kyousuke. Likewise."
"Wow, this is amazing! I thought I had the wrong person, but it really is the famous Hojou Kyousuke!" Imaizumi leaned forward, hands on the table, exclaiming loudly.
"It's just a book or two. Nothing worth calling 'famous,'" Kyousuke waved it off.
"Oh, co on, you're not just so writer. You're the hottest na in mystery fiction since Seicho Matsumoto!"
Ahem.
Honestly, if that guy didn't exist in this world, I was seriously thinking of just copying his stuff, Kyousuke thought as he silently sipped his tea.
Before their conversation could go much further, Granny Asami returned with a refilled pot and an extra teacup.
"Looks like you two have already hit it off. That's lovely," she said, her eyes forming deep smile lines as she bead warmly.
"So, Imaizumi-kun, what brings you here for tea today?"
"Well, sotis I just need a bit of personal space, you know?" Imaizumi waved it off, then turned to Kyousuke.
"But let's talk about you. I'm surprised—soone like you, troubled by love?"
"Huh? ?" Kyousuke pointed at himself.
What the hell?
Did he really look like he was suffering from heartbreak?
Since when did the 'ruthless heartbreaker' have "lovesick" written all over his face?
"Heh, nothing escapes Imaizumi-kun. He's a real love expert," Granny Asami chuckled.
"A love expert?" Kyousuke raised an eyebrow. Should I call Kisaki and Onizuka over for a crash course?
"I'd hardly call myself that. Just a humble kept man," Imaizumi declared proudly, thumping his chest.
Kept man?! Kyousuke blinked.
That was his dream job once upon a ti—who knew he'd actually et soone who made it a reality?
"But Granny Asami here," Imaizumi went on dramatically, "is the real deal. A legendary love witch who knows every shape and form of romance."
"I bet she brewed that chrysanthemum tea just for you, sensing your heartache."
"A love witch?" Kyousuke echoed, bewildered by their manzai-like banter.
"That's right," Granny Asami laughed, "Back in the day, I was a love witch brimming with magical charm."
Kyousuke grinned.
Yep, this was exactly the kind of whimsical encounter he seed destined for—getting more and more interesting by the minute.
"So... even witches can't resist the passage of ti?" he joked.
"A true love witch never ages," she replied with a delighted cackle, every wrinkle dancing on her face.
"But..."
"The love witch fell into her own love trap and lost all her powers," she and Imaizumi said in perfect unison, then burst out laughing together.
They're really close, Kyousuke thought, watching them fondly.
"Well, trading magic for love sounds like a pretty good deal to ."
"Exactly! Without love, how could you ever beco a witch of love in the first place?" Granny Asami nodded sagely.
"And... what happened to your husband?" Kyousuke hesitated before asking.
"He passed away," she replied, her tone surprisingly firm and clear.
"...I'm sorry."
"No need. It was sothing to celebrate, actually. He lived to be ninety-nine. Even as a witch, I doubt I'll make it that far," she said, raising her bony hand to form the number nine.
"Granny Asami, you're eighty-three this year, right?" Imaizumi asked, clearly a long-ti patron of the bookstore.
"Wrong, wrong. I won't be eighty-three until the end of the year. I'm still eighty-two for now," she said with mock seriousness.
Then turned to Imaizumi, scolding, "You can't go to work looking like that. You'll get fired in no ti."
"Ah, sorry, sorry. That's exactly why I didn't go in today!" Imaizumi quickly put his hands together in mock apology.
"So, this 'kept man' thing...?" Kyousuke asked curiously. This was his dream job, after all—eting a senior in the field was basically fate.
"Yep, that's ," Imaizumi said without a hint of sha, pointing to himself with pride.
Before Kyousuke could ask more, Imaizumi launched into his story on his own—clearly, like the love witch, he loved sharing tales.
"...Start by taking over the kitchen. Getting up early, putting on makeup, picking outfits—it's a hassle for girls. But if they co out and find a delicious breakfast already waiting on the table? Instant bonus points!"
That was Rule #3 from Imaizumi Sanshirou's Kept Man Bible.
"Rember: for us kept n, the goal isn't eating the food—it's making it!"
Kyousuke listened with a respectful nod as "Soft-Rice Man" raised his index finger and declared,
"Timing is everything when you wake her up! It has to be right when the butter starts to lt and that rich aroma fills the air!"
Unfortunately, my kitchen exhaust fan is top-notch—the sll doesn't even make it to the second floor.
"Not bad, coming from a Tsukuba University graduate in Information Science. Your brain really works. But if you put this level of patience and attention into a real job, you'd have no trouble getting promoted."
Kyousuke gave a thumbs-up.
Yes, this man—who proudly shared his freeloading strategies—had not only a fairly handso face but also a degree from one of the top ten universities in Japan.
"No, no, no. Absolutely not. There's no way I'm working. Work is just not an option."
"But at this point, you're practically a stay-at-ho husband. A modern man! I don't think that counts as freeloading anymore."
This life was nothing like what Kyousuke had imagined.
"Exactly. That's why I ended that relationship," said Imaizumi Sanshirou, nodding seriously.
"So now you're dating five won at the sa ti?"
"Yep. I make sure it's affordable for everyone involved."
He never directly asked for money—just accepted tips after als and shopping dates.
"So basically free als, shopping, and pocket money?" Kyousuke asked, a bit skeptical.
"No, no, no. That's not what this is about. Kyousuke-san, do you know what the most precious thing in the world is?"
Imaizumi asked solemnly.
Nearby, old lady Asami turned away, sipping tea while gazing at the pine tree stretching into her yard.
Clearly, Soft-Rice Man was about to deliver another one of his pseudo-philosophical catchphrases.
"What is it?" Kyousuke asked, genuinely intrigued.
Maybe there was sothing he could learn from this eccentric senior.
"Ti," Imaizumi answered with unwavering seriousness, as if he'd just dropped the ultimate truth bomb.
Asami burst out laughing, even slapping the table.
"Oh, Imaizumi-kun, you're tireless in promoting your little theory, aren't you?"
"What do you an my little theory? How rude! These are the distilled truths of my life experience!" Imaizumi protested loudly.
"And if that young lady were here today, would you still be saying this?" the old woman asked with a playful grin.
"Of course not! I wouldn't even dare get close to her!" Imaizumi replied matter-of-factly.
"After all, she's the Snow Witch! Honestly, I'm still surprised you, the Love Witch, are so chill being friends with ."
"Hehehe. You already know, don't you? I understand all the shapes love can take."
"Why can't soone adore the snowy white of winter while still yearning for the lotus ponds of sumr?"
As she said that, Asami looked straight at Kyousuke. Her cloudy eyes felt as if they could see right through to his soul.
"Oh? So that's what's been bothering you, Kyousuke-kun?" she teased. "I figured it couldn't be new clients, like . Must be nice being a novelist—you get forgiven no matter how many lovers you have."
A true expert in love—she saw through it in an instant.
"She really is the Love Witch," Kyousuke thought. "She believes in her kind of love, but still accepts others' too."
In the end, Kyousuke never did share his story aloud, but both of them had already figured it out. And thanks to the Love Witch, his heart felt just a little lighter.
As he walked away, he couldn't stop thinking about Asami's past.
The Black Cat Bookstore had originally been her late husband's.
She had never even liked reading much. But after he passed, she quickly learned how to run the shop and even found joy in making new friends through it.
It turns out, not every day is ant for reading books— but every day is perfect for rembering the man who loved them.
Reviews
All reviews (0)