Shirou rubbed his freezing mitten-covered hands together, blowing thick clouds of air onto them to try to bring feeling back into them to no avail. It was one of the coldest days of the year and he was feeling it down to his bones. Issei had asked him to stay at school longer than usual, and then the Copenhagen had been flooded with people trying to escape from the cold. His shift stretched on far past his typical clock-out time, so now he was walking home in heavy snow at 21:30, with faint streetlights the only illumination.
But he did not feel unsafe. With the War long over, the worst he had to fear was how he was going to catch up with all the school material he had missed. The War had weighed heavily on his mind, threatening to shatter his psyche into pieces, but he felt like he had emerged on the other side a better man. A more whole human being, at least.
He shivered and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat, focusing on walking home even more quickly. No point staying outside longer than he had to just because his thoughts were wandering.
He turned onto his street, his gaze locked onto the snow-covered sidewalk in search of potential icy patches. He nearly slipped a couple times despite that, but managed to not make a complete fool of himself and bruise himself by falling. Eventually, he made it to his front gate, opening it with a sigh—
—that promptly turned into a choked gasp as he noticed what appeared to be a chimney sticking out of the roof of his house. He had only recognized it from Western movies, though those were normally made of brick or stone. This one was... some kind of sick patchwork of metal and wood, no consistency or smoothness to be found in its structure. A hodgepodge of different items and—
Hold on. Those are pieces of the radiator I had been repairing. Is this...?
All thoughts of escaping the cold gone, he sprinted around the side of his house, begging for his expectations to not be fulfilled. But his hopes were dashed as he stopped, finding that his shed had become a skeleton of its former self. Its contents were stripped bare and all that was left was perhaps a third of the wooden frame.
He was... unhappy would be a mild way of putting it. Not so much so that he would rush through his back entrance in dirty boots to yell at her. But he was not exactly ready to enter with a smile. He took a few deep breaths as he walked back to his entrance. He was not going to explode at her. He was going to approach this calmly and rationally.
"I'm home," he called out neutrally as he opened the door. There was no one in the entrance hallway, and he got no reply. He took his shoes off and maintained his neutral mindset.
When approaching a lion, do not show weakness. In this case, weakness is lashing out.
Hanging his coat on the rack, he made his way into his living room without haste. The room was dark as he entered, and his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the lower half of the misshapen chimney. He noted the absence of his kotatsu, as the chimney was standing right where the table normally was. Rider knelt in front of it, stoking a small fire by throwing pieces of wood onto it, which provided all of the light in the room.
Please don't tell me those are pieces of the kotatsu...
She turned, her cool smile dimly visible amidst the flickering shadows of the flames.
"Welcome home, Shirou," she said as if this was just another normal evening. He recentered himself.
"Thank you, Rider." He chose his next words carefully. "Why is there a chimney in my living room?"
"Santa has magecraft that uses chimneys to teleport from house to house," she replied easily, "and without one in yours, I would have no way to return after delivering presents."
'"You're only going to find chimneys on Western-style houses, of which there are very few in Fuyuki." He kept his voice calm and collected. No outbursts. "This is impractical and unnecessary."
"Hmm..." she looked back to the fire, holding her chin. After a moment, she nodded. "The answer is simple. I will gift all of your fellow townsfolk a chimney for Christmas."
Nope. Nuh-uh. Can't do it anymore.
"Rider, no." He almost physically stamped his foot down. "You can't give people chimneys for Christmas. That's even more property damage than you caused last time, something that is still unexplained to this day."
"They do not appreciate the joy I bestowed upon them." She shook her head and sighed. "Being Santa truly is a thankless job, but it is my duty nonetheless. I do not need their gratitude."
"Rider—"
"Shirou, listen to me." Her eyes locked onto his, and everything that he wanted to lecture her about fled from her amber gaze. "I know that you cannot grasp the nuance that comes with this position, but I do not make gift choices lightly. There is a very specific reason why I have decided upon this."
"The only thing I can think of is that you want to make it easier for you to break into people's homes," he muttered, though of course it was picked up by her Servant-augmented hearing. She smirked.
"You know me too well, Master." The way she emphasized the title was playful, but it made him think back to the war and all the trials he faced in it. He sighed and sat down next to her, putting his bag down and leaning back on his hands.
"Are you happy here, Rider?" he asked, staring into the flames.
"That is a question derived from insecurity over your ability to retain my affections, isn't it?"
He blushed and shook his head with force.
"No, no... I mean, you're not really doing anything except waiting for me to come home. You built this because you had nothing better to do, didn't you?"
"Hmph." Her silence spoke volumes. "I cannot completely deny that. But know that my stated purpose was the intention behind this craftwork. I am simply trying to make my job as Santa that much easier."
"Do you think if you started working, you wouldn't have done this?"
A hand wrapped around his face and forcibly turned it to face a very serious Santa.
"Shirou, I already have a full-time position," stated the stern Saint Nick. "There is no such thing as self-delivering presents, or a self-building chimney."
"I-I mean, you're not usually building chimneys..." He trailed off at her growing smile.
"Well, if it is as you say, and Fuyuki represents your entire nation," she let go of his face, and he rubbed the sore spots she had held onto while she stretched her arms out, "then the description of my position has just had 'chimney builder' added onto it. Japan may be an advanced country with technology far beyond what my own had ever known, but a lack of chimneys bespeaks its true backwards nature."
"We just have different kinds from what you know!" he protested, but she shook her head.
"The magecraft only works on the kind I am familiar with," she countered, then waved her hand. "Be silent, Shirou. We have spoken of this enough and it is already set in stone. I do not care to waste air and time on this subject. Prepare the traditional Christmas meal."
"What, like... a turkey?" he asked, befuddled. "Are you kidding me? Those aren't even native to Japan, and to import one is extremely expensive!"
He only had so much money for her endless appetite.
"Of course not," she huffed. "I mean the traditional meal for Santa. I have done no small amount of research and acquired you the proper ingredients, and in return you are to prepare me at least four dozen snickerdoodles along with an unlimited amount of glasses of milk."
It was very hard to keep his jaw from dropping.
"You... actually went outside?" He almost rubbed his eyes, unsure if seeing was believing in this case. "You bought me... wait, with what money?"
Rider scoffed.
"The bills that you left for me in your closet, of course."
Just like that, he found his resolve to lecture her once more.
"Rider, that wasn't for you—"
"Then why did you leave it for me?" she pressed.
"That was my backup," he made sure what he meant was clear with the emphasis. "I was saving that for a bad day where I couldn't make it to a bank!"
"Well, obviously, I could not go to a bank myself." She rolled her eyes. "You already have control of your finances, Shirou. Are you unwilling to allot such a small amount to be gifted by Santa?"
"That was fifty thousand yen!" Despite his better judgement, his voice leapt to a new height, but it had no effect on her. She only nodded.
"Yes, and I was able to buy the best butter and sugar I could find with that. I thank you for the donation, Shirou." Despite her rather impish answer, a genuine smile graced her lips as she looked to him.
He could have said so much more. He could have shouted and screamed and stomped around, but by now he could see the writing on the wall. She was not going to listen to him, no matter what, and so he gave up. It was a large amount, but it didn't dip significantly into his savings. He considered it part of that deep pit of funds that he called 'Artoria's stomach' and let it go. Life was too short to get upset over...
...fifty thousand yen, no, damn it, I'm still angry.
He took a few deep breaths again, closing his eyes to block out the world. That was his only way of calming down at this point. He opened it up again to find her kneeling in front of him, her short stature and intense gaze inviting the comparison to a hungry lion eyeing a zebra. Her eyes betrayed her intentions, sparkling with innocent childlike desire.
"Okay, okay, I'm going!" he said, throwing his arms up and rising from the floor to walk to the kitchen, turning on the light in the small nook as he did so.
He had to dig through his cookbooks to find the specific one he needed, because though he had baked cookies on occasion, snickerdoodles were unfamiliar to him. He almost asked Rider how she knew what ingredients to buy, but somehow felt that whatever she answered with would just make him want to ask more questions, and he was trying to not fall into that trap again.
After blowing dust off the book of baked treats, he easily found a snickerdoodle recipe in it and got started. It was not a complex process, though, as with almost any kitchen-related activity, it required him to be able to keep track of multiple trains of thought and items, so it was very important to be able to maintain focus over long periods of time.
RIder sitting on his counter and occasionally picking at his cookie dough did not help.
"Stop that," he said for the eighth time, smacking her hand as she reached for yet another tray of unbaked cookies.
"You would deny Santa her right to hospitality as your guest?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I would tell Santa that she is welcome to enjoy my hospitality," he looked her in the eye before picking up the tray and putting it in the oven with one mitt-clad hand, the other grabbing a tray of finished cookies and pulling it out. He placed the hot tray on top of his oven to let it cool down and closed the door once more. "But I would ask that she have some patience so she can enjoy it fully."
Removing a large porcelain serving plate from his cabinet, he arranged the first finished batch of snickerdoodles in a nice pattern. It was not hard to hear Artoria's audible drool and her attempt to cover it up by wiping at her mouth. He couldn't help but turn away from her for a moment with a wry smile. He only handed it to her after pouring out a glass of milk filled almost to the brim.
With eagerness that would appear uncharacteristic to anyone else, she ate an entire snickerdoodle (they were the size of his entire hand, so this was not an easy feat) and drank half of the glass. Wiping at the small milk mustache that formed, she nodded.
"Good work as always," she said, letting herself fall off of the countertop with ease and refilling her glass with the milk that was still out. "I will await you by the fireplace. Do not mind the noise."
The noise?
The noise, as it were, referred to the clamor of construction she was creating, somehow forming a condensed cartoonish cloud of dust in his living room. It was just thick enough to be opaque and just small enough to not spread beyond the confines of that room. There was no way it was natural.
Is this another kind of... Santa magecraft?
Well, he wasn't exactly the most experienced student of the Moonlit World, so perhaps he wasn't qualified to comment on it. He turned back to his baking, his craft that he knew inside and out, and let his mind sink into the soothing repetition. The noise did not end up bothering him all that much, so immersed was he in his work, and after an indeterminate amount of time passed he had collected a few stacks of snickerdoodles. He balanced them precariously on another serving plate and poured another glass of milk.
"Rider, I'm finished," he called out to the living room, turning off the kitchen light switch with his elbow. With those words the 'cloud' slowly dissipated, revealing a very cozy Santa swaying in a red rocking chair, both an empty plate and glass beside her on a green wooden table.
"Ah, Shirou," she spoke softly, the first time that night he heard her speak in such a kind tone. She rose from the chair with her arms outstretched. "Thank you. Please take a seat."
"Uh, sure." He handed the contents of his hands to her and sat down in the chair, letting it rock him back and forth. Despite its hasty construction, it moved smoothly and he found his entire body relaxing just from sitting down.
Rider placed the full plate on top of the empty and the full glass next to it, then turned around and sat down in his lap. His face flustered further as she took his hands in her own, interweaving their fingers together and wrapping his arms around her. She sighed as she leaned into him.
"You make the perfect throne," she murmured happily.
"Err, happy to be... of service...?"
She tucked her head in the nook of his throat.
"Let me tell you a story," she said after a pregnant pause that left Shirou tense, though not frozen. This was not completely unfamiliar to him, after all. She was not one to engage in many affectionate measures, but when she did, they were never subtle. "This story begins with a question. What defines a king?"
Ah. She wants to talk about her past.
There were a few times during the War that she would talk about what she was before she became... 'Santa', but details had been sparse. All he knew was that she was some kind of royal related to King Arthur (hence the sword she called Excalibur), and that at some point she decided that she needed to answer a higher calling.
"Their... blood?"
"Hm." She replied with the kind of small chuckle that never left your throat. "The mediocre ones, perhaps. But you are at least, in some sense, a student of history, are you not? Think of the best kings, or I suppose, in the case of this land, consider the lineage of your emperors or shoguns. The Chrysanthemum Throne, as I believe it is called, is not always occupied by one with the wise forethought of Emperor Meiji. So what are the qualities inherent to a good monarch?"
"You should have started with that question..." he mumbled.
"Ah, but it does not roll off the tongue as easily, and is not nearly as fun." He could hear her smile. "Your answer?"
"Well... they rule fairly," he started, "they're decisive, diplomatic, and charismatic. They lead by example, not by just commanding and ordering. They're a role model for every one of their citizens. They're willing to sacrifice things in the short term for great gain in the long term, but... they know that people die when they are killed so—"
"Yes, yes, you have a rough grasp of it," she waved a hand to interrupt him. "So now I shall tell you a small story. You are familiar with the rise and fall of the Kingdom of Camelot?"
"I know some things about it, but probably not the whole story."
"Hm. Perhaps that is for the better. It will spare you unnecessary details." An uncharacteristic silence came over her as she stared down into the fireplace, and in that pause he took the time to readjust himself to get more comfortable.
"King Arthur attempted to reach his ideal of kingship by becoming more than human," she spoke. "Being trained by his half-incubus tutor and inheriting the promised future of humanity through Excalibur caused him to... throw away sin. He left lust behind, and with it passion. He left greed behind, and with it ambition. He left envy behind, and with it empathy. Discarding his humanity allowed him to become a king, and yet he was still betrayed multiple times over. Why do you think that is?"
Shirou processed what she had said. It was... intense, and too familiar to be comfortable.
"How can a king rule fairly if he can't understand his people?" he finally replied. She turned her head up and gave him a satisfied smile.
"Yes," she said, "that was the ultimate problem. A king is supposed to be a role model, but he has to be one his subjects feel they can reach. If they do not feel they can become the person, the human, that the king is, then they will not try. They will be upset by how he cannot truly understand their hearts. Eventually, they will betray him and revolt, and he can either die as the ideal he wished to become, or crush them with his might and see himself turn into the tyrant he never wanted to be. So when King Arthur engaged his son in battle, even though the rebellion came from an unjust place, it was not just for him to reply in kind."
She sighed and leaned into him even more, and he could feel her weight sag. She felt... tired.
"What should he have done, Shirou?" she asked, and this did not feel like a whimsical question.
"He..." he started, only to stop in thought. It took him some time to come up with the answer. "If he couldn't negotiate, and he couldn't change, then he should have... moved on."
Another sigh.
"And so he did," she said quietly. "He was offered a deal unlike any other, one that he accepted. Now he has a new kingdom, where he spreads joy and cheer to everyone he can."
The implications of that took a few moments to sink in. While they did, Santa said softly, "I believe this time that king can better understand the hearts of his subjects. After all, that's the most important task of the King of Christmas."
"Wait, you—"
"Shush," she hit his forehead with her palm, causing him to wince. "The story is over."
Her abrupt mood shift was familiar but something about it resonated with him. As she snuggled against him, he thought about the last time she'd delivered gifts to Fuyuki. It had caused quite a bit of trouble, but somehow the trouble—and the mystery—had lured the frightened inhabitants of the War-riddled town out again. They'd worked together to repair the damage and marvel over the gifts. Santa had helped start the town on the path of healing.
And now here he was, cuddling the warm form of one of his favorite people in front of a fireplace. She'd taken his cash reserve, but she'd given him the gift of baking, and he'd thoroughly enjoyed it under his cranky exterior. As for the chimney, well… cuddling in this exact way simply didn't work with a kotatsu, and yet she had awakened a new craving for it in him.
He tightened his arms around her, pressing his nose into her Christmas-scented hair. "I think the king does understand his subjects, and I hope his reign will be very long."
"Of course it will be," said Rider. "Now hush and let me enjoy this Christmas Eve with you."
"We're still in February..." he said quietly. She turned to him with a beautiful smile that sent his heart aflutter.
"Shirou, spending time with you makes every day Christmas for me," she stated confidently. He would have groaned had she not leaned up to kiss him. The lasting aftertaste of cinnamon and sugar paled in comparison to the taste of her lips, a gift that kept him company even as the night drew long and the fire faded to embers. When Shirou finally fell asleep in the embrace of his lover, he found that there was no amount of guilt or self-loathing that could keep out the warmth of her soul, and he was content with that.
Shirou Emiya didn't need to save anyone. He had already been saved.
You know I had to do it to 'em.
Thanks once more to the members of the Loresingers: Aberron, TungstenCat, Exstarsis, Katkiller-V, and our latest addition KentaKazami. Kenta has gone back and rewritten Tamamo to look a little better, and also made some changes that I would like to try to spread to the rest of the story, like removing a lot of Japanese words. Initially I was using them to try to immerse the story more in the culture of the land, but now I realize that it was clunky and awkward and made for harder reading and writing. Going forward I will be better about that.
Speaking of cats, TungstenCat wrote another fanfiction for this story, Happiness is a Warm Puppy. It's some very lovely and fluffy Shirou x Tamamo Cat smut, and I highly recommend you go check it out if you want to retain the (hopefully) WAFF you earned from this chapter.
This chapter's ending theme, in keeping with the theme of the last, is Xmas Love by SinclaireStyle All Stars.
Thanks for reading, and from me to all of you, I wish you a Merry Christmas and a season of happy holidays.