Anime Crossover: The Losing Heroines Have Become Witches

In the melodramas Kawaragi Momoka had watched, there was always a similar line: Even if you buy my body, you cannot have my soul.

She just never expected that one day, this line would be related to her.

"Oh my, what a forbidden relationship, is this something an older sister like me can watch without paying..."

Hiroi Kikuri cupped her face, feigning shyness.

"Just a moment of inattention—" Asakura looked at the person whose face was flushed, and couldn’t help but click his tongue: "Where did you get alcohol again, you...?"

"The kitchen."

"Isn’t that cooking wine?! So you really don’t care what you drink as long as it has alcohol, do you?!"

"...Asakura, do you know, for survival, humans sometimes even have to drink the bitter tears from below."

"Is alcohol already a necessity for your survival?! What bitter tears from below, it’s just [beep]! Don’t say such unappetizing things while eating!"

Asakura’s cooking wine was basically replaced by yellow wine, which theoretically wasn’t undrinkable, but someone like Hiroi Kikuri, who usually only drank beer and sake, definitely wouldn’t be used to it...

"Compared to that, can you first explain my situation?"

Kawaragi Momoka didn’t know if it was a lingering effect of yesterday’s alcohol, or simply that she couldn’t stand the noisy pair in front of her. She rubbed her temples and said through gritted teeth.

"You’re right. But instead of just talking, let’s talk while we eat. It’s rare for me to cook, and it won’t taste good if it gets cold."

Asakura greeted them.

After getting support from his house elves, he barely cooked anymore (though his cooking skills were only average before), and occasionally cooking once gave him a sense of accomplishment.

In the white porcelain bowl was freshly removed from the fire, rice porridge that had been bubbling in the pot just minutes before. The thick rice soup shimmered with a soft luster, and a few blooming rice grains still steamed.

To accompany the porridge were some pickles, not only Chinese shredded pickled mustard greens bought from the supermarket—the mustard root cut as fine as hair, mixed with chili oil, shimmering amber, crispy with a hint of spicy numbness, a homely flavor—but also Japanese fukujinzuke and dried daikon. In addition, Asakura also found some sugared garlic that hadn’t passed its best-by date in the corner of the refrigerator. Unfortunately, the fermented tofu and olive vegetables at home were already finished, and nearby convenience stores didn’t carry these items, making it impossible to restock, which Asakura found quite regrettable.

On a plate nearby were a few tea eggs. The eggshells had fine cracks like ice patterns. Asakura naturally didn’t have the time to wait for the eggshells to crack naturally. The cracks on the eggshells now were all made by him tapping them with a soup spoon. But even so, as long as they were braised long enough, after peeling, the egg white would be permeated with a soy sauce color, and the outer ring of the yolk would be covered with a sandy, waxy golden edge, with a dense texture that was captivating when bitten to the core.

Most eye-catching were the fried anchovies piled like a small mountain on the oil-absorbing paper in the dish. The willow-leaf-sized anchovies were coated in batter and fried until crispy, and due to their size, even the fish bones were roasted to a fragrant crisp. Scattered with bits of green scallions and salt and pepper, the fragrant aroma rose with the heat, and just by smelling it, one could feel that savory and fresh taste, making one’s appetite stir.

Even Kawaragi Momoka and Hiroi Kikuri, who were initially unaccustomed to the cusine, ate until their bellies were round, seemingly quite satisfied with the breakfast.

And at the dining table, Asakura also briefly explained to Kawaragi Momoka what had happened yesterday.

"In short, I intended to punish the bad woman who corrupted Hitori with an unrestricted fight—"

Asakura said in all seriousness.

Kawaragi Momoka chewed on the golden-fried crispy anchovies, looking at Asakura with an expression that seemed to ask, ’How did this start lead to me selling myself?’ as she waited for him to continue.

So, Asakura vividly described how he used his Proud joint skills (signature joint lock) on Hiroi Kikuri, with such detailed process that Kawaragi Momoka even felt her own joints ache.

"A frail, useless bassist was naturally no match for me, someone whose body has been thoroughly trained, so after I applied the reverse wrist lock cross-body hold, she could only slap the tatami mat with her remaining left hand and shout for surrender..." Asakura said triumphantly.

"Then what?" Kawaragi Momoka asked.

"Then? Then the waitresses and manager of the izakaya came out to stop me, and I took them down with a knee cross-body hold and a Hell’s Iizuna Drop respectively."

"Don’t hit innocent people! The izakaya waitresses and manager are too pitiful! Asakura, you’ve completely turned into a villain!" Kawaragi Momoka couldn’t help but denounce him.

"Is that so? But compared to someone who tricks their girlfriend into thinking ’giving the middle finger means praise and politeness,’ I think I’m still quite righteous..." Asakura said meaningfully.

"No one normally does that, often..." Kawaragi Momoka mumbled, "Don’t bring what you see in anime or something into reality..."

Asakura looked at her, smiling meaningfully without speaking.

Kawaragi Momoka, with some strange images suddenly appearing in her mind, felt cold sweat trickle down her forehead: "That was a joke you saw on TV, right?"

"Never mind, those are unimportant things, let’s skip them for now..." Asakura said.

Kawaragi Momoka breathed a sigh of relief, nodding repeatedly in agreement.

"After skipping trivial matters like me single-handedly challenging the Chiba Police Department and winning a great victory, confronting the arriving Self-Defense Forces, and finally engaging in a firefight with the US forces stationed in Japan, almost triggering a third world war on Japanese soil and dragging the entire world into a nuclear war..."

"No, no, no, it feels like something magnificent enough to be recorded in human history happened?!"

"Anyway, after those minor things, you told me that because you had no work income, you were living very frugally, almost in a desperate and very serious situation."

"Compared to the almost-triggered Third World War, my problems are completely insignificant, right?!"

"At that time, I suddenly remembered that I happened to have a shop that needed staff, the work wasn’t too heavy, and the pay could at least be guaranteed to be slightly higher than ordinary part-time jobs. If you wanted to perform on the street, using the entrance as a way to attract customers would also be completely fine..." Asakura continued, ignoring her complaints, "After I told you about it, you happily agreed and accepted the deposit I paid, indicating that you would be my employee for at least the next month."

After a few seconds of silence, Kawaragi Momoka dug into her pocket, but found nothing: "Where’s the deposit?"

Asakura gestured with his chin towards behind her.

She turned her head and saw several boxes of high-end mineral water, which she usually only dared to admire from afar, stacked in a corner not far behind her.

"Is it still too late for me to return them now?" Kawaragi Momoka asked in despair.

"Highly unlikely..." Asakura said, eating a small dried fish, "I think it’s better for you to honestly work hard for me."