CHAPTER FOUR: In Which Christmas Eve Comes and Goes
Christmas Eve snuck up on the Ichijouji household with hardly any warning. Sure, there were endless lights decorating the city, and festive displays in retail shop windows, but it had seemed like only a day or so ago that Ken had been talking to Daisuke about what they should do over winter break. Now, winter break had arrived, and it had been two weeks since Ken had had a proper conversation with his best friend. His phone sat harmlessly in his pocket while he attempted to focus his attention on the spread of winter break homework covering his desk. The load they'd been given was heavier than usual, but Ken had welcomed the distraction. When his mind was full of numbers, verbs, and dates, it left very little space for thinking about warm skin, soft lips, tight muscles and-
A soft knock at his bedroom door interrupted his endlessly wandering thoughts.
"Ken-chan?" his mother's voice called from the other side.
His shoulders relaxed. "Yes?"
At that, the door slowly eased open. There stood his mother, clad in a modest dress of periwinkle silk that Ken recognized as an old favorite. Ichijouji Asako was a demure woman, all sweetness and soft edges, and Ken couldn't help the gentle smile that crossed his face at the sight of her. He took a moment to admire the way she had coiled her normally loose curls into a pinned coifer, the diamond studs adorning her earlobes and, for the first time in years, that she had put on makeup. When his father had proposed that he take her out for a nice Christmas Eve like the Good Old Days, Ken swore he had never seen her look so bright. At least, not until that very moment, standing in his doorway, absolutely glowing.
"You look wonderful," he said, rising from his chair.
A soft blush rose to her face, one hand cupping her cheek.
"Oh, thank you, sweetheart. We're just about to head out, are you sure you'll be alright alone?"
"For the third time, yes," he replied. What might have been irritation was tempered with affection. "I'm not a child anymore, I can look after myself."
"Oh, I know that." she replied, and her hand lifted from her face so that she could lovingly smooth his hair. "You've become such a fine young man. I just thought you might be a little lonely is all."
"I'm alright. I have plenty to keep me busy. And, I have Wormmon to keep me company, too."
From his blanket nest in Ken's bed, Wormmon peered down at them both, his face aglow with pride and affection.
"You can count on me! I'll make sure he eats right, and doesn't stay up all night!"
"Wormmon…" Ken exhaled with exasperation, and his mother giggled.
"Alright then, you boys have a good night," said Asako, rising to the tips of her toes to plant a peck on her son's cheek.
But before she could depart the room, her husband appeared in the doorway. Broad shoulders cut in a smart suit and tie, thinning hair combed back and affixed with mousse, Ichijouji Masafumi looked like he had been plucked from the pages of a 1950's fashion catalogue.
"Sorry to interrupt, but we need to get going," he said, gesturing to his wrist watch, "our reservation is in 15 minutes."
"Oh goodness, look at me, just losing track of time," Asako fussed, "I don't imagine we'll be out too late though, we're not teenagers anymore."
"I wouldn't be too sure, you haven't seen what I have planned," Masafumi countered, all puffed up pride and a smile wide as the moon, delicately taking his wife's arm in his.
"And, Ken?" his father continued, "One of your friends is here to see you."
Despite the heartwarming image of his parents arm-in-arm, Ken felt all the heat swiftly drain from his body. There was only one person who sprung to mind, that would come all the way out to Tamachi on Christmas Eve, especially unannounced. Images of mahogany hair, dark eyes and white-rimmed goggles danced through his head. Ken felt as though he'd swallowed a stone, his heart dashing against his ribs like it meant to burst out of his chest. When he found his tongue again, it was dry and stuck to the roof of his mouth.
"One of my… friends?" he croaked.
"Oh, that's wonderful, you'll have some company after all!" his mother exclaimed, joyously oblivious to her son's discomfort.
"Ah… right…" Ken murmured softly.
The very idea of being alone with Daisuke at that moment was completely terrifying. Saying he was 'not ready' to face him yet was a gross understatement. Wormmon shimmied down from the loft and crawled along beside him as he silently followed his parents down the hall, several paces behind them. He paused at the entrance to the living room, watching as his parents slipped on their shoes, grabbed an umbrella in anticipation of heavier snowfall, and then slipped out for the night. For half a second, he contemplated ducking into the bathroom for a surgical mask, just to drive home the idea that he might be contagious and shouldn't have visitors. Instead, Ken attempted to swallow his fears, steeling himself as he entered the livingroom.
Perched quite literally on the arm of the couch was a familiar bundle of sugar and rust colored feathers, slowly preening the snow-damped tangles from his wings. His human partner sat beside him on the cushions proper, gaze in her lap as she absently fidgeted with the brown paper bag in her hands. A thin lock of dusty hair spilled from behind her ear, and she absently reached to tuck it back into place, her heel bouncing anxiously against the floor. Ken released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, awash in relief. A hint of disappointment lingered like a bad aftertaste, but he pushed it aside.
"Hawkmon!" Wormmon called jovially, and the tense silence of the room shattered.
Miyako looked up sharply, her tapping coming to a sudden halt. As soon as her gaze landed on Ken, she seemed to come alive; her eyes brightened, and a smile that could have rivaled any Christmas display lit up her face.
"Hi, Ken-kun," she chirped.
"It's nice to see you, Miyako-san, Hawkmon," said Ken, smiling softly.
"Good Evening, Ken-san! Wormmon!" Hawkmon hailed, raising one wing in greeting.
Glasses glinting in the light, Miyako coyly twirled a bit of hair around her finger.
"It's been a while, hasn't it? I hope we're not intruding."
"No, of course not. You're always welcome. Would you… ah.. like some tea?" he asked.
Miyako beamed. "That'd be great!"
"Might I ask if there are any... snacks?" Hawkmon chimed.
"Hawkmon," Miyako hissed, and Ken chuckled.
"I think there's still some Christmas Cake. My parents won't mind if we polish it off," he replied, shuffling toward the kitchen.
Ken was the picture of calm as he filled and switched on the electric kettle, but one worry had been replaced with another. Inside, his brain ran circles on a hamster wheel. He'd been so relieved to see someone other than Daisuke in the living room, he was only just beginning to question his unusual visitor. What was Miyako doing here? She'd never visited him like this before. Why was she alone? Had the others noticed him withdrawing? Did she know about what happened? Certainly, Daisuke wouldn't have told anyone ...Would he? Why wasn't it Daisuke sitting on the couch?
...Did he want it to be?
Ken felt his neck grow warm, and he pulled at his collar for some relief. When he noticed that Miyako, Hawkmon and Wormmon had all taken up residence at the dining table, three pair of eyes intently watching him bustling around the kitchen, he realized that he had been unusual quiet in his preparations.
"Ken-kun, are you ok? You look a little flushed," said Miyako.
For a moment he froze, cleared his throat, then went to retrieve the necessary place settings.
"It's nothing, probably just... steam from the kettle." It was a stretch, especially given that he had just set the water, but he prayed Miyako would take him at his word as he swiftly changed the subject.
"I'm a little surprised to see you all the way out here, though. Especially by yourself," said Ken, as he set out four plates and four cups.
Miyako giggled nervously, her fingers back to spinning strands. "Well, you know. I was in the neighborhood."
Ken paused, knife halfway through the cake, and looked at her across the counter. One slender brow arched quizzically as he allowed the words to sink in. The smile twitched on her face, and then she deflated.
"Ok, no, I wasn't in the neighborhood, even I know that doesn't make sense," she amended, folding her arms on the tabletop. "It's just, no one's really heard much from you lately. Last I heard you hadn't been feeling well, so I wanted to come out and check up on you."
"O-oh." Ken stammered, then returned to slicing the sponge cake.
Right. Not feeling well. He had used that excuse quite liberally with Daisuke recently. He'd only meant to imply minor maladies - a headache, or being tired, just enough to make it reasonable that he would not want to come all the way out to Odaiba. He only kicked it up a notch when Daisuke implied he might come to him instead. And that's when he responded at all. It hadn't really occurred to Ken that it would get back to the others, or that they might become concerned about him.
"I didn't mean to make anyone worry," he continued, "I'm fine, I've just been busy with the end of the term, and I wasn't getting much sleep before the break. Then, our teachers gave my class a lot of homework for the break, too." It wasn't entirely a lie, but he may have been stretching the truth a bit to serve his needs. True, the assignments had been substantial, but nothing he couldn't handle without needing to sacrifice sleep or social engagements.
Miyako propped her chin in one hand, giving him a sympathetic pout.
"Ehhh... That's rough. But, I guess that's what it's like to go to a private school, huh?"
Ken murmured a sound of agreement as he stacked the sweets and dishes onto a tray
"Should be worth it in the end, though. It will look good on my university applications."
Ken shut the kettle off just before it reached a full boil, and poured the water and tea leaves into the pot.
"What, you mean 'former-boy-genius' isn't enough to get by these days?" Miyako joked.
"You know it hasn't been so effortless for me in years."
Tray contents delicately balanced, Ken rounded the corner, and took the last free seat beside Miyako.
"I know, I know…" replied Miyako, waving her free hand dismissively, "Maybe you're not a Child Prodigy anymore, but you're still in the top percentile. I bet every university in the region is going to be fighting for your attention. I mean, you are still a little famous."
Ken wordlessly dismissed the subject by focusing his attention on the tea and cake. As soon as the tray touched the table, the attention of their digimon amplified ten-fold. Ken was no fool - he served them first to avoid a mess, then passed a plate to Miyako, a small silver fork laid delicately alongside the whipped-cream and strawberry topped sponge. Ken could have sworn he saw her eyes sparkle at the sight of the simple cake, and he smiled softly as he began to pour tea into plain white ceramic cups. Both Hawkmon and Wormmon had already set upon their treats like starving wolves, and Ken suppressed the urge to laugh.
"I hope you like it, my mother baked it herself," he said, taking the final plate for himself.
"Ehhh?! You mean I get to eat Ichijouji-san's home baked Christmas Cake?" Miyako exclaimed, as if it were the greatest honor she had ever received.
Ken's smile turned awkward. "It's just a cake, Miyako-san. But I'll tell her you appreciated it."
Miyako was completely nonplussed, fork poised and stars in her eyes. "Thanks for the caaake!" she trilled, reverently cutting into the sponge and then savoring the first bite of strawberries and whipped cream.
Gradually, the tension eased from Ken's shoulders, and the buzzing in his mind quieted. He found himself relaxing, listening distractedly as Miyako told him at length the things he had missed by not going to the same school as the rest of them. Most of it went over his head, names he didn't know, events he hadn't attended, but he didn't mind, nor did he have the heart to interrupt her. She filled him in on Iori's endless studying, and how her parents were cutting back her hours at the store after the New Year, so that she could focus on her upcoming final year in highschool. Ken mildly sipped his tea, enamoured with her display of energy and vitality. He even found himself laughing along with her now and then, and if she noticed how little he talked, she didn't call him out on it. In a lot of ways, she and Daisuke were very much alike.
And there was Daisuke again, slipping unbidden into his thoughts. Ken's face clouded and his soft laughter trailed off. He drowned his own awkwardness in tea, holding the cup to his lips for far longer than was necessary, so he wouldn't have to speak. Why did it seem like everything reminded him of Daisuke?
Through all of this, Ken had failed to notice that Miyako had placed the paper bag from earlier, under her chair. That is, until he saw her glancing there, for even a split second, appearing to give it some heavy consideration. The two of them had officially lapsed into silence. The only sounds in the room were Wormmon clattering with his fork, and Hawkmon attempting to slurp some tea through his beak. Ken watched as Wormmon attempted to scrape the last bits of whipped-cream off his plate. Discretely, Ken slid his own half-finished slice across the table to his partner. Wide blue eyes shimmered in gratitude, and he turned to share the half-slice with Hawkmon. Ken smiled warmly at Wormmon's display of kindness.
"So, um…" Miyako began, drawing his attention back to her. "There's one more reason I came by."
Ken canted his head to the side, and something in his gut twisted. Something about her tone and the sudden change in her demeanor had him certain that she was about to broach a very serious topic. He was suddenly quite glad he'd already given away his cake, as there was no way he'd be able to stomach the rest. Miyako shifted in her chair, glanced down at the floor, and then back up again. Hawkmon noticed her discomfort, and immediately drew attention to himself.
"Ah, goodness me, I seem to have gotten whipped cream in my feathers!" he cried dramatically, even as he dipped his wing directly into the remains on his own plate. "Wormmon, might I trouble you to show me where I could wash up?"
The green caterpillar blinked owlishly, looked back and forth between Ken and Hawkmon, then set down his fork.
"Ah, sure!" he replied, hopping down from his chair. "Follow me."
Ken eyed them suspiciously as Wormmon skittered from the room and Hawkmon followed close behind. While he was distracted, Miyako reached under the table, fished into the paper bag, and withdrew its contents.
"I wonder what that was all about," Ken mumbled to himself.
He turned back to face his guest, and was startled nearly out of his chair as Miyako thrust a glittering blue package two-handed, directly into his face, narrowly missing his nose.
"Merry Christmas!" Miyako cried, ducking her head. "It's nothing special, but I hope you'll accept it!"
Heat rushed to Ken's cheeks, painting them an unflattering shade of pink.
"You got me a -"
Blinking wide eyes, Ken took in the object invading his personal space. The fluffy silver ribbon was only moderately flashy against the holographic powder-blue paper. Miyako gripped the mid-sized, flat box with such intensity that her knuckles nearly matched the crisp white tag dangling from the center knot. Once the shock wore off, Ken gently laid his palms against the package, softly pushing it back towards her.
"I couldn't possibly accept it."
"Please, I insist!" Miyako continued, thrusting the package once more with even more intensity, her elbows locked, and her eyes nearly boring holes through him.
Ken swallowed. Normally, he would have attempted to reject it at least once more, but Miyako could be quite stubborn, and a bit scary; he suddenly felt that not upsetting her was of much greater value that abiding by gift-receiving etiquette. Gingerly, he took the box into his hands, and finally she released it. Pulling it closer, he quietly admired the presentation, thin fingers plucking nervously at the fluffy bow. He suddenly found it difficult to look her in the eyes, though he could still feel them, and the heat of their focus.
"I'm sorry, I… I didn't get anything for you." he murmured, finally glancing up through his lashes.
Her cheeks glowed a brilliant cherry color, and she nervously adjusted her glasses.
"Oh, no, don't even think about it, you didn't have to get me anything I just…I wanted to get you something. So…"
When it became clear that she wasn't going to finish that sentence, Ken looked once more at the box. He turned it this way and that in his hands, uncertain what to do with it. The table was fairly covered with plates and cups, so there was no room to set it down. When he lifted his head, he found Miyako much closer than he remembered. Her hands were curled into fists on the table as she leaned ever closer to him, eyes unblinking. She said nothing, though her eyes shifted from him, to the box, then back to him.
"Did you want me to … open it now?" he asked hesitantly.
Miyako nodded vigorously, and Ken schooled his face into neutrality. Whatever gift she had chosen, he wanted to be assured that she wouldn't think he disliked it. Taking extra care with the bow, Ken slowly worked out every knot, letting the ribbon slide to the floor. Then, he took equal care to peel back the tape, unfolding the paper without a single tear. He could hear the barely-suppressed squeak of anxiousness beneath Miyako's breath as he gently lifted the lid from the box. His poker-face faltered, jaw slack as he reached inside. Slowly, reverently, he withdrew the length of gray cashmere knit, admiring the feel of the lavender fringe between his fingers.
"Miyako-san…" he breathed, handling the scarf with both hands, genuine awe across his face. Judging by the weight and materials, it must have been on the expensive side. "You really shouldn't have."
She perked up almost instantly, hands clasped as if in prayer, tucked tightly beneath her chin.
"You like it?"
He nodded, his fingers closing around the scarf. "It's beautiful. Thank you."
Ken hadn't thought it possible, but at his words of gratitude, the wattage of Miyako's smile instantly doubled.
"You should try it on!" she cried enthusiastically.
Before he could blink, she was out of her chair, nimbly plucking the scarf from his hands. He startled at the sudden movement, instinctively tensing up as she began to drape it around his shoulders, coiling it around his neck.
"Wha- but, Miyako-san, we're inside-"
"It's fine, it's fine," she reassured, "it's just for a minute to see how it looks!"
A moment later, she stepped back to admire her work. Miyako thoughtfully held her chin, cheeks rosey, and smile ever brightening. Then, she nodded decisively, and folded her arms.
"It looks really good on you!"
"You think so?"
"Mmhm! Really brings out your eyes!"
He couldn't be sure whether she was serious, or making fun of him, but either one would have had the same effect. Suddenly bashful and uncomfortably warm, Ken sank into the scarf like a turtle withdrawing into its shell, his mouth and nose vanishing beneath the cashmere. "Miyako-san…"
Miyako attempted to smother her giggles with her hand, and failed miserably. For his part, Ken silently reached to unwind the scarf.
"Ken-kun?"
"Hm?" he paused in his task, and looked up at her. Her expression had turned suddenly serious.
"I have a confession."
There it was again; that sudden, heavy feeling in his stomach, and an uncomfortable heat in his chest. He said nothing, deciding it wiser not to interrupt her. Her eyes drifted to the side, momentarily hidden by the reflection of her glasses. Her fingers clasped, and unclasped, before finally finding their way to a loose piece of her hair, twirling, pinching and twisting. Ken finally recognized the gesture she'd been making all evening, as a nervous one.
"I didn't… get anyone else a christmas present."
Miyako shot him a pointed look; one that was heavy with wishing, and waiting. Her eyes pleaded for him to see her, to hear her, to understand what she meant, and not what she said. It was like they were speaking two different languages, and Ken felt a sudden inadequacy for being unable to translate her words. After a moment's pause, her expression faltered. She could see she would need to be more direct. Disentangling her fingers from her hair, Miyako grasped the back of her chair, pulled it out, and then sat down so that she was facing him directly. Hands in her lap, elbows locked and eyes closed, Miyako's fingers curled tightly into her knees. She inhaled deeply, and Ken watched her, his fingers still frozen in the loose swath of his scarf.
"I wanted to tell you, I … really like you, Ken-kun. More than just as a friend. I've had a crush on you since we were in elementary school."
All the blood drained from his face, leaving him cold and pale. Hindsight slammed into him like a freight train; The nervous gestures, the way Hawkmon made an elaborate excuse to leave them alone… the special gift, on christmas eve of all days? Ken had enough experience with twitter-patted girls and love confessions that he'd become well practiced at turning them down. But with Miyako, he'd been blind to all the usual signs. His mind was a terrible, white blank. What should he do? What should he say? Turning down all those other girls hadn't been easy, but they'd never made him feel like he was holding a glass swan in the palm of his hand. He barely knew those girls - most of them, he didn't even remember their names. Miyako was different. Miyako was his friend!
"Is there any chance you'd want to… go out with me?"
How had he gone so long without even suspecting her? Maybe somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought, being friends made them immune to such complicated possibilities.
He'd been so foolish. He wondered if there was any way to answer that wouldn't hurt her.
"Miyako-san…" Ken began delicately, and her head snapped up. He became the center of her undivided attention. His mouth felt dry, and he licked his lips to moisten them. "...I'm sorry."
He watched as the hope drained out of her eyes. Slowly, her face fell, then her shoulders, rounding forward in a slump. Miyako had never been good at hiding her true feelings, so she rarely tried. This was no exception, but it didn't make Ken any less remorseful.
"It's no good, huh?" she murmured, her eyes falling into her lap.
"I'm sorry," Ken repeated, as if this time he could make it sound more comforting. Slowly, his hands came to life again, and he slid the scarf from around his neck. "You're a very dear friend to me. I care about you very much. But I can't ...return those feelings."
Miyako couldn't help the sigh that escaped her as she sagged back in her chair, her eyes drifting to the ceiling.
"Hikari-chan warned me you might say something like that."
Ken's hands immediately stopped folding the scarf.
"Hikari-san did?" he was openly balking at her now, as the world flipped suddenly on it's head. "But, why would she-"
"There's someone else, isn't there?" Miyako cut in, and Ken snapped his jaw shut with a sharp clack of his molars.
His fingers clenched in the scarf, his heart suddenly springing back to life. He could feel it beating viciously against his sternum, his pulse spiking suddenly as his stomach did a single, dramatic flip. Fight or flight; that's what this was, wasn't it? The urge to leap from his chair and flee the room was certainly strong enough for it, despite the fact that he couldn't seem to move his legs. His throat closed up.
He didn't know how, but he was convinced, Miyako knew.
"I- I don't know what you-"
"Ken-kun, listen to me." Miyako interrupted him once more, and he didn't know when she had come to be sitting so close to him, her hand laid over his, her own feelings carefully packed away behind a thin mask of understanding. His entire body went rigid as he fought the impulse to pull away. He didn't even notice the two sets of Digimon eyes peering at them from around the corner of the living room doorway.
"Don't be like me," she continued, giving his hand a firm squeeze. "If there's...ever someone you like, don't wait so long to tell them. By the time you do, you could lose out, and no one will be happy with that kind of situation."
If only Ken were in the right frame of mind to make any sense of her words. Before he could even attempt a response, her hand was gone, and she had risen from the chair, arms stretched over her head.
"Mmm. Geez, I'm so tired. Thanks for the tea and cake, but we should probably go."
Ken glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's not that late, are you sure-"
"Yeah, I told my mom I wouldn't be out too late anyway. It's not like I had a date or something," said Miyako, dismissively, already moving to collect her coat.
Suddenly jolted back to reality, Ken set the box and scarf in her vacated chair, and quickly rose to his feet.
"Let me walk you to the station," he said.
"No, no, that's okay! I wouldn't want to make you go out in this weather just to turn around and come right back. It's not that far, and the stations are probably going to be extra crowded tonight."
A heavy guilt settled in the pit of his stomach. He remembered Daisuke trying to walk him to the station That Night, and how he had patently refused. He'd just wanted to get away, and seeing the same reaction from Miyako was slowly eroding the wall of pride and self-preservation he'd built around himself. He wanted nothing more than to assure her that this didn't change anything… and clearly, all she wanted was away from him.
That heavy, sick feeling returned, and he closed his mouth against the wave of emotional nausea.
"Hawkmon! C'mon, it's time to go!"
The pair of Digimon spies jumped and shuffled through the doorway, making their presence officially known. Ken didn't need to ask what they had been doing all that time. A thick layer of guilt coated his throat, making speech impossible. Instead, he followed her quietly to the door, watching her back as she sat to put on her shoes, and Hawkmon joined her in the genkan. Tapping her toes into her boots, she looked up and gave him one last, watery smile as she reached for the doorknob.
"Merry Christmas, Ken-kun."
"Mm. Merry Christmas… Miyako-san."
Ken stared at the door for a full minute after they'd left, a hush falling over the apartment. Outside the window, snowflakes danced in the streetlights. He wished he'd thought to send her with an umbrella at least. All the while, Wormmon sat loyally at his feet, gazing up at him.
Then, something vibrated against his leg. Startled by the sensation, Ken instinctively reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. '(1) New Message' blinked back at him, and he reflexively opened his emails. He shouldn't have been surprised to see one more email added to the growing list of rarely-answered messages from Daisuke, but it still caused his stomach to do an odd sort of flip.
[[ Merry Christmas, Ken! You doing anything? ]]
For a long moment, he just stared at the screen, his thumb hovering over the keypad as he re-read the words over and over. Anxiously, he gnawed at his bottom lip. He knew he should respond.
[[ Merry Christmas. Busy with my winter homework. ]] He typed. He re-read the simple message once. Twice. A third time. His thumb hovered over the send button.
But what if Daisuke wanted to meet up? What if he wanted to come over?
There's someone else, isn't there? Miyako had said.
But it wasn't like that. ...was it?
"Ne, Ken-chan, what's wrong?" Wormmon asked, pulling Ken sharply back to reality.
"Ah… Nothing. It's nothing." he said, turning his attention to his Digimon partner. "Hey, there's still some cake left, do you want another piece?"
"Can I? Really? Oh boy!" cried Wormmon, leading the way back towards the kitchen.
Ken took one last look at his screen. Instead of hitting send, he tapped the trash can icon, then woefully tucked the phone back into his pocket.
Author's Notes: Aaaand, I'm back! Wow. I wanna apologize for the MASSIVE gap of time between the posting of Chapter 3, and this one - nearly 3 months! I had a major project come up and had to set aside writing for a bit in order to make my deadline, but I wasn't completely unproductive; I spent some time during that hiatus outlining the rest of this story (It has a fully planned outline and ending now, YAY!), as well as working some sporadic scene writing and outlining for the planned Sequels and Side Stories. :) I hope to get these things out at least one chapter per month going forward, but we'll see how it pans out. This one came out as the longest chapter so far, clocking in at over 5k words!
There are LOTS of notes for this chapter, for which I apologize.
X. Ken's parents were not given canonical names. Since I plan to use them at least a bit in the future, especially further down the road, I thought that referring to them as just "Mr and Mrs Ichijouji" and/or "his Father/Mother" would get kinda clunky. There's actually a HUGE pattern canonically of the chosen children's parents being named after their Voice Actor/Actress, so I went ahead and followed the trend for Ken's parents.
X. There are several terms used commonly in Japanese that don't have a practical use/application in English. I've tried to avoid an excessive use of Japanese in my writing aside from the use of honorifics, so in some places I have tried to use a reasonable English substitute. For example, Miyako would likely have said "Itadakimasu" before diving into that cake, but here I have substituted "Thanks for the cake!"
X. In Japan, Christmas cakes are traditionally eaten on Christmas Eve. They are simply a sponge cake, frosted with whipped cream, often decorated with strawberries, and usually topped with Christmas chocolates or other seasonal fruits, and a Santa Claus decoration.
X. Christmas, particularly Christmas Eve, is celebrated in a more general good-cheer manner, with the focus on couples, and sometimes children/friends. Between couples, Christmas Eve is much more like how Valentine's Day is celebrated in the states, involving giving a nice gift to your significant other, and going out to a nice dinner or on a particularly nice date. It's considered a Romantic day.
X. When it comes to giving gifts in general, there is a very strong sense of etiquette to the whole thing, which I've tried to convey properly in this chapter.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I've already got the next one started, and now that I'm off Hiatus, it should hopefully be out faster than it took me to do this one. All of your comments are appreciated and, truly, make my day so much brighter 3