Day 25: "Prickly"

Meiou High School's greenhouse glowed like a translucent jewel in the thin afternoon light, its panes lit from within by refractions of the setting sun. Around it the snow had melted into the ground, revealing a ring of dead grass not visible elsewhere on the white-covered lawn. Few people came out here during the winter, I'd learned, but Kurama visited the greenhouse daily to care for its vegetable inhabitants. I followed his tracks through the snow, jumping from one carved footstep to the next with crunch after crunch of compressed ice. He had a much longer stride than I did; it was like playing leapfrog, keeping up with the tracks he'd left, but soon enough I made it to the greenhouse and pushed past the heavy glass door.

Inside was hot and humid, in sharp juxtaposition to the bitter, dry cold outside. I began to sweat the second the heat hit my face, and when I turned to shut the door behind me, more heat crept beneath my scarf to lap at the perspiring skin on my neck. I shivered at the transition, and as I began to strip out of my heavy coat and gloves, Kurama appeared from behind a towering trellis of blooming honeysuckle.

"Kei," he said when he saw me—and then he saw what I carried in my hands. Kurama eyed the box, wrapped in its bright blue paper and gold ribbon, with polite suspicion. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

At the sight of my beaming smile, his suspicion only intensified. "Why, it's your birthday present, of course!" I said, and I set the box on the nearest planting table with a flourish.

Kurama, who had been carrying a watering can, set the object at his feet. His eyes narrowed, brow furrowing—but as he looked at the gift I'd brought him, his expression cleared.

"My birthday—yes." He nodded once, then twice. "Yes, of course."

My hands planted themselves on my hips. "Wait a tick. Did you forget your own birthday?"

His mouth quirked. "In my defense, I haven't had this birthday for very long."

"Only for 16 years," I teased. As Kurama rolled his eyes, I pointed sharply at the box and demanded, "But that's not the point! Open your present! I had to go to a lot of trouble to track that thing down at this time of year, and it's rotting away under that box!"

One brow lifted. "Rotting away?" He stepped toward the workbench, eyeing the package over like a butcher sizing up a piece of prime meat. "I admit, you have me intrigued."

It was interesting, watching Kurama unwrap a present. He was methodical about it, removing pieces of tape and un-creasing the wrapping paper with far more care than was warranted—like he intended to reuse the paper or something and couldn't bear to see it marred unnecessarily. I shifted from foot to foot as he worked, fidgeting with my hands and the scarf I'd balled up in them, and soon the paper gave way to reveal a small cardboard box. Movements precise and slow, Kurama peeled back the box's top and peered inside.

For a second, he didn't move.

Then he said, matter-of-fact: "It's a cactus."

"A prickly pear cactus, specifically." I watched with a smile on my face as he reached into the box and removed a small pot, from which sprouted a tiny prickly pear bearing six paddles covered with long, thin spikes. Suddenly feeling a little out of breath, I rasped, "Do you like it?"

He held up the pot, turning it this way and that as he examined its contents. "It's lovely," he eventually said. "But what inspired this, may I ask?"

"Well, you love plants, right?" And that suddenly sounded really stupid, really surface-level-character-analysis or whatever, and then I was second-guessing myself and wondering if he got plants for all of his birthdays and if my gift was totally boring and predictable. In a hurry to not seem like a total dumbass, I added, "And I don't see any cacti in this greenhouse, so I thought I'd…"

I trailed off, uncertain. Kurama turned the pot a few more times before looking my way. When our eyes met, he smiled, setting the pot gently next to its wrappings.

"It will fill out this greenhouse's roster nicely," he confirmed, smile genuine and clear. "Thank you, Kei."

And just like that, I perked up again. "And that's not all it does!" I said with a wide grin.

Kurama's head tilted to the side. "Oh?"

"It can also be used as a weapon!" I waggled my eyebrows as he stared at me, mystified. "You know. A little demon energy here, a little demon energy there, and… stabby-stabby, eh? Eh?" I mimed poking someone with a sword, still grinning. "Multipurpose gifts are fun!"

He eyed me over, lips pursed. "You are far too enamored with the idea of 'stabby-stabby' for comfort, Kei."

"Oh, don't ruin my fun." I crossed my arms and thrust my nose into the air. "We can't all have awesome demon plant powers, and I need to live vicariously through you."

His pursed lips twitched a little. "I see," he said. "I'll take care to remember that." Kurama picked up the cactus and tucked it under his arm. "I'll place this near the best heat-lamp."

In silence I followed him to the back of the greenhouse. A few desert plants, although no cacti, sat on a little set of risers in a secluded corner, their ranks flanked by a dehumidifier and a scorching UV lamp. He set the cactus on the highest riser and turned it so the plant's paddles could get maximum light. I smiled as he arranged the various plants around the cactus, leaning my shoulder against one of the greenhouse's glass walls.

"Those grew wild where I grew up, you know," I said with a nod at the prickly pear.

Kurama paused. He turned my way with a curious knit of his brow, hands falling still at his sides. His long hair had been pulled back with a tie, rich strands dark against the fabric of his uniform. I barely noticed, though. I was staring at the cactus, which had been living on my desk at home for the previous week as Kurama's birthday inched ever closer. A little potted reminder of home, taunting me every night as I lay sleepless in my bed, staring at it in frustration.

"My grandmother made jam out of cactus fruits each summer, once the fruit purpled." I shifted as the outside cold soaked through the glass, through my uniform and into my shoulder. "It's nostalgic for me." I winced. "And I've had those spines stuck in my legs enough times to know it'd make for a great self-defense last resort. I figured you'd make better use out of it than I would." Offering him a chipper smile, I concluded, "So happy birthday, Kurama. May the prickly pear serve you well."

He smiled, too. "Thank you, Kei. I promise I'll take good care of it"

"And use it as a weapon should the occasion call?"

Kurama lifted a finger and traced it down the length of one of the cactus's many spines. "I admit, this specimen does provide certain… inspirations," he said, smirk tugging at his mouth.

I gave a delighted cackle, hands curling into claws as I roared out my glee. "Now that's a happy birthday if I ever heard one!" I crowed—and in my chest bubbled the hope that Kurama would one day use that cactus to slay his enemies, just as I wanted him to.

But Kurama, expression wary, cleared his throat. "Can I have another gift?"

"Of course!"

He pinned me with a Look sharper than any cactus spine. "Never," he said, "laugh like that again."

His request only made me giggle, though. "I make no promises," I said, skipping past him back the way we'd come. "See you in class, Kurama."

He murmured an agreement, and when I turned to wish him another happy birthday, I swear I saw him break off a cactus point and slip it discreetly into his pocket.

NOTES: IDK why so many of these prompts inspired birthday-related shorts in me, but that's what they've done and I'm enjoying it. Kurama's birthday is in December, hence the snow mentioned in the first paragraph.

There will be a follow-up to this one shot in prompt #28, for the record. Thanks for reading!