STORY NOTE: If I had to set this during LC, then this three-chapter-story would take place shortly before chapters 74 and 75 of Lucky Child (AKA the New Year's chapters where Keiko is kidnapped by Itsuki).

CULTURAL NOTES: Due to certain very successful marketing efforts, most people in Japan eat a bucket of KFC (yes, seriously) and a "Christmas Cake" decorated with whipped frosting and strawberries on Christmas Eve. Beethoven's Ninth Symphony is also heavily associated with the holiday.

Christmas in Japan is mostly secular. Christmas Eve is regarded as a time for lovers, rather than a time for family togetherness (because that's what New Year's is for in Japan). It's like a December Valentine's Day but with cake and Colonel Sanders. And I might be a vegetarian, but that sounds nice to me!

A Very 'Keirama' Christmas

Part 1 of 3:

"Cookie Claus"

The day before Christmas Eve fell on a Friday, and when Kurama arrived at school that morning, he noted with disdain that someone had placed a bag of cookies in his shoe locker.

The cookies had been wrapped in a bag of translucent plastic, bright red sheet tied shut with a pair of white and green ribbons. A miniature candy cane hung from the ribbon, and a tiny tag read "Merry Christmas" in flowing katakana. Clearly the bag had been themed to the forthcoming holiday, but Kurama still suspected that this gift might serve as the preamble to a love confession—a possibility about which he felt decidedly less than enthused.

Kurama, to put it mildly, was not interested in receiving a love confession. He had received many during his time as a human boy, and he found each and every confession he endured to be inconvenient in the extreme. Dealing with the emotional fallout of a scorned human teenager was never a pleasant experience. Even after Kei had taken it upon herself to dissuade his 'fangirls' (as Kei unerringly called them) from becoming a nuisance, girls still fawned over Kurama on a regular basis. He was not sure precisely why. He had done his level best to engender a cold reputation, but in spite of his efforts, he received confessions at a frequency he considered alarming indeed.

But while Kurama was not keen on these confessions, they had at least prepared him for the forms love confessions tended to take. In fact, he had been asked on a date the previous Christmas Eve. Using that confession as a template, he'd likely receive a number of gifts throughout the day: one in his locker, one in his desk, and perhaps another in his locker again at the end of the school day. This final gift would reveal the identity of the gift-giver, who, upon revelation of their identity, would ask Kurama to spend Christmas Eve with them.

How very dull, Kurama thought as he examined the cookies. They had been cut in the shapes of reindeer, snowflakes and Santa hats, and they reeked of ginger and warm sugar even through the bag protecting them. Kurama disliked sweets, and he disliked the thought of spending Christmas Eve with a nigh stranger even more. Kurama had no intentions of spending the holiday with anyone, much less a random girl he barely knew, and—

"It's not just you, you know."

Kaito leaned against the lockers a few feet away, watching Kurama from behind his thick glasses. Kurama immediately noted the bag of cookies held loosely in Kaito's fist. The red wrapper was the same as Kurama's, and the same white and green ribbons and candy cane held the neck of the bag shut. His shoulders relaxed at the sight of them. Just as Kaito had said, Kurama was not the only one who had received cookies—and that meant the odds of a Christmas confession had just dramatically decreased.

"Were you expecting a confession for Christmas?" A mocking smirk curled Kaito's mouth. "You are awfully popular, as I understand it."

"A position not worth envying, I assure you." Kurama tucked the cookies into his school bag and allowed himself a smile, regarding Kaito with demure humor. "Unlike what the rumors may suggest, I do not actually enjoy turning people down."

"Some might say that's a good problem to have, if you're into that sort of thing. Which I'm not, for the record. Romance is overrated." Kaito's eyes flickered over Kurama's shoulder meaningfully. "It's not just us, either, by the way."

Indeed, Kaito spoke the truth. Several people nearby had pulled bags of cookies, identical to Kurama and Kaito's, from their lockers. They each exclaimed in surprise, several of them opening their bags and crunching into the gingersnaps within with gusto. All of them looked happy to receive such a gift, though more than a few exchanged glances of wonder and confusion. Who was behind this act of generosity? Kurama wondered the same, though he wasn't terribly invested in sussing out the truth.

They were just cookies, after all.

Kurama fell into step beside Kaito, the pair of them walking to class without speaking. Kaito was an odd fellow. He typically spoke to Kurama with an air of resentment, or one of wry distaste coupled with pointed needling, but he also sought out Kurama's company at the oddest of times—such as when walking to class, for instance. Perhaps he was just being polite; Kurama wasn't certain, just as he was not certain if he and Kaito truly qualified as 'friends.'

'Friends.' Kurama did not have many of them in his human life. He had to wonder when he'd begun to even think about humans in such terms to begin with…

Upon arriving at their classroom and walking in its open door, Kurama scanned the room and spotted the one person whom Kaito seemed to treat with something even close to resembling friendship: Kei, who sat at her desk with head pillowed on her arms, presumably sleeping. Their assigned seats were scattered all over class, but after depositing their bags, both Kaito and Kurama wander over toward her.

"Morning." Kaito kicked her toe with his when she failed to respond. "Wake up and smell the opportunity for academic achievement, Yukimura."

Kei roused slowly, blinking up at them with owlish languor. Her hair stuck up at the back like she'd perhaps fallen asleep with it wet, her long bangs curling against one smooth cheek in a dark wave. Light bags decorated the skin beneath her eyes, bruises faded with time and salve, stare just a touch glassy with fatigue. So she had actually been sleeping, then. Kei was the punctual sort, but typically she arrived to class after Kaito and Kurama. To get there ahead of them with enough time to fall asleep was unusual. But why…?

Ah.

Perhaps, Kurama thought, he knew why she was here early. Or at least he had a hunch.

"Oh. Hi, guys." Kei yawned, fingers splayed over her open mouth. "What's up?"

"Trying to solve the mystery of Cookie Claus, like the rest of our class," said Kaito.

"Cookie—?" She stopped, thought about it, and laughed as she got the joke. "Oh. Cookie Claus. That's funny, Kaito."

"Did you receive cookies too, Kei?" Kurama asked, watching her expression with shrewd attention.

"I did." She didn't meet his eyes, instead reaching into her desk to retrieve a bag of cookies, which she held out for his inspection—perhaps too insistently, proof on proud display. "How about you?"

"The entire class seems to have been gifted holiday treats, us included," he said. "Perhaps the whole grade…"

"Hmm. Well." She put the cookies away and smiled, hands folding carefully atop her desk. "Seems we have a Secret Santa in our midst. How nice." Kei turned toward Kaito just a hair too quickly. "Hey, did you happen to watch that documentary last night about—?"

She changed the subject, chattering to Kaito about the documentary on the Rosetta Stone she'd managed to catch the night before. Kurama nearly laughed, smothering the urge by pretending to look interested in the topic at hand. Kei was a poor liar. Normally she would debate and gossip about the identity of the cookie-giver; she liked a puzzle nearly as much as he did. Her willingness to write off the mystery suggested she, too, had a hunch about the identity of the anonymous giver of baked goods. Perhaps she even had more than a hunch.

"Kei." Kurama leaned toward her, suppressing a smile. "Hold still."

She blinked up at him, lips parting in confusion. "What?"

Kurama didn't reply. He just leaned forward, reaching around her until his nose skimmed the top of her head. Because he knew she did not appreciate it when he used this particular talent, he kept as quiet as possible when he inhaled. Even without his fox senses engaged, her scent came through to him loud and clear, notes of sugar, vanilla, ginger and warm baking washing over his senses like a cloud of perfume. Beneath these aromas he detected the paper, sandalwood, lavender and shea of her usual scent, unmistakable after spending so much time together. The sugar and ginger, however… that was new, and it matched the scent of a certain batch of cookies he'd smelled that morning.

So his hunch had proved correct, then. Interesting.

Still bent over her head, he skimmed his fingertips over Kei's shoulder before leaning back, flicking his fingers where she could see them. "Just a loose thread," he said, pretending to brush such an object away. "I thought it was a spider."

"Oh." Kei didn't seem suspicious, smile rather grateful. "Thanks, Minamino. Anyway…" She beamed at both him and at Kaito, sitting up a little straighter. "So do either of you have Christmas plans?"

Kaito exhaled through his nose, eyes rolling. "I imagine my parents have ordered the traditional dinner and cake, if they're even at home that evening at all. But apart from that societally obligated purchase, no. I abhor frivolous holidays like Christmas."

"Wow, really? You do?" Kei said with deadpan snark. "Color me shocked. Just shocked, I say!"

"Sarcasm does not become you, Yukimura."

"It doesn't? Darn. Guess I'll have to ask Santa for a better sense of humor this year." Grinning, she turned back to Kurama. "And you, Minamino? Do you have any Yuletide activities planned?"

"I'm afraid not," he said.

"Really?" Kei appeared surprised, though he could not imagine why. "You're not doing anything with your mother?"

"Alas, no, but I'm rather happy we aren't spending Christmas Eve together this year," he said. "She's made plans with Hatanaka-san."

Kei gasped before breathing a delighted 'aw,' one she held out for quite some time. "How romantic! That's so sweet. I hope they have a nice time." She paused before asking, "Did you get her a gift?"

Kurama shook his head, not sure at all why he would have done such a thing.

And yet, Kei appeared quite shocked. "You didn't?" she said with undisguised disbelief. "You should at least get her a little something, though, right?"

"Only couples exchange gifts on Christmas Eve in Japan, Yukimura," Kaito said with his usual curt delivery. "Everybody knows that."

"I mean, not necessarily," she said, hunching a little in her chair. "I get gifts for my parents and friends and stuff every year. And we always go see the lights on Christmas Eve together." Kei fidgeted under Kaito's withering gaze, staring at the floor. "Traditions are really important, so…"

Her carriage conveyed awkwardness most intense, though Kaito did not appear to notice (not that his was particularly surprising to Kurama). Kurama, meanwhile, had puzzled together the pieces of Kei's behavior rather quickly. He couldn't say what he'd concluded in front of Kaito, however. All he could do was catch Kei's eye and give her a meaningful look to show her he understood.

"Gift-giving on Christmas is more of a Western tradition, isn't it?" he said.

And she smiled back, eyes alight with wordless gratitude. "Yeah, it is. And I just think that's a pretty cool tradition to have, y'know." She let out a laugh, bright and cheerful. "Any excuse to spoil the people you love, right?"

"The practice seems entirely unnecessary, in my opinion," Kaito grumbled.

"Oh. That's too bad." Kei leaned back in her seat, nose thrusting high into the air. "Then I guess you don't want to know what I got you for Christmas, in that case."

Kaito appeared quite taken aback at that. "You… you got me something?" he said, almost (but not quite) stammering.

"You're off your linguistics game today, Kaito," Kei said. "I said I get something for all of my friends, didn't I? And last I checked, you're one of them, so…"

He considered this for a moment in silence, eventually turning away to shove his glasses further up his narrow nose. "Harrumph. Well. Far be it from me to turn down an act of goodwill…" Kaito eyed her askance. "So where is this gift, hmm?"

"Eager beaver," Kei teased. "You'll get it at lunch. Yours, too, Minamino."

For a moment, he thought he had misheard. As the teacher came into the room, he stared at Kei in silence, only moving back toward his own desk when the teacher called for attention and began the day's lessons. Kurama knew that Kei considered them to be friends. He certainly considered her to be his friend. But to receive a gift from her, to celebrate Christmas? Kurama had never been given something by a friend to celebrate this holiday; as such, he was not certain what such a gift indicated. He had been given tokens from admirers on Christmas, yes, but never a gift from someone whom he…

His blood ran a little colder, suddenly.

Happy though the thought of receiving a Christmas gift from Kei undoubtedly made him, there was a problem. One he did not see an immediate method to remedy. Not before lunchtime, at least.

Given Kurama had no means of fixing the only problem with Kei's Christmas gift-giving he could discern, he rather dreaded the arrival of their lunch hour, though he still rendezvoused in the usual spot to spend the period with Kaito and Kei. There he found the pair awaiting his arrival on the stairwell landing, Kei sitting beside a set of packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with glittering red twine.

Not the same packaging she'd used to wrap the cookies, he noted. She had been clever to obscure her identity as 'Cookie Claus.' But why had she bothered to do so in the first place?

"Merry Christmas Eve-Eve!" she said when Kurama approached. She picked up the smaller of the two packages and handed it to Kaito, who had been eyeing the gifts with a look of overt impatience. "Here you go, Kaito."

He all but snatched it from Kei's hands, eliciting a giggle from her as he yanked off the ribbons and tore open the wrapping paper. Kaito's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets when he saw the package's contents, fingers quite a bit more gentle as they clutched the edges of a hardback book.

"This…" He swallowed, sweat breaking out across his brow. "This is…!"

"An advance copy of Sato Shogo's newest. Signed, of course," Kei said, eagerly urging Kaito to open it to the title page. "And he said if you write a review to send it to him, he'll be sure to have his publisher circulate it. Isn't that awesome? His email is inside so you can even talk to him about the book if you want! He said it was fine; I made sure to check, so you don't have to be nervous or anything, promise."

Kei beamed at him, obviously quite proud of gift. Kaito, however, just stared at her in silence. He looked at the book. Then at her. And then at the book again. He pushed his glasses up his nose with a fingertip, clearing his throat before glancing once more at Kei.

"Yukimura," he said with plodding gravitas, "I am afraid that you have rendered me speechless."

She pumped a fist into the air. "Knew it! Damn, I'm good!" Her elation did not last, however, eyes taking on a brittle edge of nerves Kurama had seen so many times in their warm, brown depths. She turned these eyes toward Kurama soon enough, teeth worrying her lower lip—charmingly anxious, in Kurama's opinion. "But, ah… I don't quite know if your gift's gonna hit the bullseye in the same way, Minamino."

Her anxiety was much less charming now that he knew he had been the source of it. Although he could not imagine why she'd be nervous to give him anything, he nevertheless took the remaining gift from her, removing its wrapping paper with less haste than Kaito (who still sat silent with his book, shell-shocked and numinous in the face of his latest linguistic acquisition).

When Kurama finished unwrapping his gift, he likewise sat in silence—though not for the same reasons. The package contained a medium-sized ceramic pot, perhaps ten inches wide at the top and eight inches at the base. Thin rivulets like the close-textured lines on a vinyl record ringed the pot from top to bottom. The piece had been painted and fired a lovely jade green on the outside, pale blue limning the interior. The pot wasn't perfect, as a few of the lines near the top and bottom had been slightly smudged, a few more wobbling as they completed their encirclement of the wide cylinder. At the bottom of the pot, too, he spotted a defined fingerprint, glaze pooling in the whorls and lines of the imperfection like rain in a running gutter.

"It's a planter," Kei said, anxiety still evident in her voice. "I made it in art class. We were using the pottery wheel, and…"

Kurama turned to her with a start. "You made this?"

"Yeah. Signed it with a fingerprint. I'm a dork, I know, I know." Scooting a bit closer to him on the stairs with the scent of ginger and sugar, she pointed into the pot and grinned, eagerness leeching into her words as she searched his face for a reaction. "Oh, I put a drainage hole in the bottom, but I guess it's one of those decorative platers you stick another pot inside? Something like that. Anyway…" The eagerness faded, hesitation taking its place. Her next words came soft and low: "Merry Christmas. I hope you like it."

"It's beautiful," Kurama said, meaning it. "Thank you, Kei."

A relieved grin broke out across her face. "You're welcome," she said, letting out a long breath that had her slumping in her seat. "Thank god for that…"

"But," said Kurama, putting his own anxieties into words, "I'm afraid I don't have anything to give you in return."

A litany of emotions crossed Kei's lovely face, one fading into the other into the next. At last she settled on 'humored,' a laugh bursting from her lips as she waved one dismissive hand.

"You don't have to give me anything! Don't be silly!" she said, shaking her head with every word. "I'm just happy to get something for the both of you. It's a nice excuse to be good to my friends and stuff. It's Christmas, after all."

She said the name of the holiday with intention, meeting Kurama's eyes with one of her knowing looks—but for all of their shared experience and unspoken communications, Kurama was not sure what she intended to convey. He just smiled back, not wanting to disappoint her.

"And you have been good to us, indeed," Kaito said, inadvertently covering for Kurama as he drew Kei's attention onto himself. "Very good. Supremely good." He traced his fingers over his book with reverential solemnity, eyes alight with adoration. "The pinnacle of friendship, camaraderie encapsulated, a compatriot until the end of—"

"I see you've recovered your ability to talk," Kurama observed.

If Kaito heard the sly comment, he gave no sign. He simply waxed poetic, droning on and on about his expectations for this book, the good fortune Kei had possessed to acquire it, the anticipation he had begun to experience at the thought of emailing the Sato Shogo. Kei listened with a smile on her face, clearly delighted by Kaito's delight, his happiness informing her own. Kurama watched them in silence, though he mostly watched Kei. She sat with an elbow on her knee, chin resting on her hand, all but beaming at Kaito while he spoke. One slender finger toyed with the longest portion of her bangs, twirling them around her fingertip again, and again, and again, silk slipping and sliding over smooth skin in a loop. It formed a loose curl when her finger pulled free, a lock that lay along her cheek in a soft crescent, brown against copper, satin against silk.

She caught him looking eventually. Kurama did not try to pretend he had not been staring. He only smiled, pleased when she returned the expression with a warm, affectionate smile of her own.

"Hey." She tipped toward him, voice dropping to a whisper. "If you change your mind about getting your mom a gift, let me know. There's a Christmas market we could go to before her date."

Kurama's brow arched. "We?"

"Yeah." Her smile widened. "If you want help picking something, I'm happy to help. Gotta have that Christmas spirit."

"And what, precisely, are you two whispering about?" said Kaito, not keen on being interrupted.

"Oh, it's nothing," said Kei with faux sweetness (Kurama knew her too well to not recognize when she was trying to charm away a problem). "You were saying, Kaito?"

Kaito continued to drone on, satisfied he had ensnared their attention once again. Kurama only half listened, however. He had to wonder how serious Kei was about that invitation. To spend time together with a girl his (human) age, alone, on Christmas Eve—that was an activity traditionally reserved for romantic couples in Japan. Surely Kei knew this was the case. She had not received the sheer amount of love confessions that he had, but there was no way she was not aware of this particular Japanese cultural norm. There was no way she would propose such an outing on that particular day unaware of what said proposition implied.

Or perhaps she was aware, but simply did not care. She followed a Western tradition of giving Christmas gifts to friends and family, after all, and she was not one to adhere to convention in general. Perhaps she meant to spend time with him on Christmas Eve out of a similar sense of Yuletide obligation. Perhaps no ulterior motives lay behind her friendly invitation. Perhaps she was just trying to be helpful.

Such a thing was well within Kei's character… wasn't it?

As Kaito continued to talk, Kurama examined Kei's gift, turning it over in his hands to touch the divots wrapped around the planter. Kei had given him a handmade gift. Kurama knew from Valentine's Day that handmade gifts were of particular significance to humans. This gift, too, demonstrated thoughtfulness on Kei's part. She knew what he enjoyed, how he spent his time, and she had given him a gift that complemented his interests. This gift was practical, and furthermore, it reflected her knowledge of Kurama's aesthetic sensibilities, as well. The decorations on the planter were not overstated, as he preferred. The gift as a whole was the opposite of frivolous or ill-thought. It demonstrated she knew him well, and that she cared enough about him to put time and effort into his present.

But what, if anything, did it mean?

Slowly, Kurama traced his finger along the bottom of the planter.

His fingertip eclipsed the print on the bottom, grooves of one fingerprint meshing into the other like interlocking puzzle pieces.

Lunch came to an end more swiftly than Kurama had anticipated. It felt as though he had barely consumed the last bite of his meal when they were called back to class, walking alongside Kaito and Kei down the stairs and into the first-floor hallway. Shortly after they exited the stairwell, Kei let out a cry and ran ahead, catching up to Junko before their classmate could be swallowed by the crowd. Kei pulled a small gift bag out of her satchel as she waved Junko down, handing it over with a flourish.

The bag was made of brown paper… but the handles had been tied with familiar white and green ribbon.

"'Cookie Claus' strikes again," said Kaito.

Kurama turned toward him with a start. "You knew?" he said, gaze sweeping over Kaito in surprise.

Kaito just rolled his eyes. "Obviously, Minamino."

"How?"

He shrugged. "She's a terrible liar."

"True." Kaito occupied the upper echelon of human intellect, so Kurama supposed it was only natural that he had also caught on to Kei's ruse. Still… although Kaito was perhaps just as ill-informed of human nature as Kurama, he nevertheless asked him, "Why do you suppose she didn't just tell us the truth?"

"No idea," Kaito said, shrugging. "But then again, I really don't care." He stepped forward, caught up in the whirl of students like a snowflake on the wind. "Merry Christmas Eve-Eve, Minamino."

"Same to you, Kaito," said Kurama—but Kaito had already vanished into the blizzard of students.

Kei, meanwhile, had not yet disappeared from view. She had pulled Junk to the side of the hallway, the pair bowing their heads over Kei's glimmering gift. A giddy light shone in her bright brown eyes as Junko unwrapped a compact mirror embossed with a pretty golden design, the two young women reflecting delight back at one another—Junko because of the gift, and Kei due to the act of giving it.

As Kurama walked through the door, his mother's voice rang out, "Welcome home!"

She met him at the ganken as she always did when he arrived home from school, taking his bag with a chipper greeting as was her custom of many years. She was in a good mood, Kurama noted as he toes off his outdoor shoes and donned his house slippers. He did not doubt her mood was due to her upcoming date with Hatanaka-san. Christmas Eve was just a day away, and as the month had progressed, Shiori had seemed to shine brighter and brighter with happiness and light. Hatanaka and Shiori had made Christmas Eve plans at the end of November; Shiori had chattered about these plans to Kurama for weeks, and he expected to hear even more about them over dinner that night.

But Shiori surprised him, as she so often seemed to do. When she took his school bag, she also reached for the box he held in his elbow, staring at the bits of wrapping paper still clinging to its edges in confusion.

"What's this, Shuichi?" she said in her gentle, mellifluous voice. "Did someone give you a present?"

Kurama nodded. "Kei did, actually."

"Oh! She's such a sweet girl, isn't she?" A spot of color appeared in Shiori's pale cheeks, bow lips curving in a delighted smile. "But a Christmas gift… is she perhaps trying to tell you…?"

She couldn't keep her excitement at bay, unable to hide the knowing glint in her dark, liquid eyes. Kurama just chuckled, trying not to give away that he had been wondering the same question all afternoon.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's a gesture of friendship, I'm sure." His evidence for this conclusion included: "She also gave gifts to her other friends, and she baked cookies for our entire grade."

"Well, then," said Shiori, impressed regardless. "How generous of her!" She pointed at the box. "May I…?"

Kurama wasn't sure why a murmur of disquiet crept through him, but he felt oddly and inexplicably unsettled as his mother lifted the box's lid and removed the planter from its interior. The jade green glaze gleamed in the light above the ganken, Shiori turning the gift this way and that as she examined it from top to bottom. Soon she gave a quiet gasp of recognition, eyes widening like pools of spilling ink in her alabaster face.

"Why, it looks like she made this." A lock of black hair fell across Shiori's brow when she lifted her head, eyes questing as they met her son's. "That's quite a bit of effort to go to for just a friend, Shuichi."

"I suppose." He brushed his noncommittal answer aside to ask, "Can I help you with dinner, Mother?"

The distraction worked, at least for a little while, as they fell into the familiar routine of cooking dinner, each telling the other about their day while they worked. Kurama kept details about his interactions with Kei to a minimum, lest he tempt his mother to ask other awkward questions—questions he fully intended to explore on his own, in private. To keep her preoccupied, Kurama made sure to prompt Shiori with questions about her Christmas Eve date with Hatanaka-san, encouraging her to reiterate their plan for the evening in full. First they would eat dinner at a nice restaurant, and then they would visit a Christmas light display and market together. Finally they'd attend a choral performance at an amphitheater, where they would listen to Christmas carols and Beethoven's Ninth Symphony under the stars.

Judging both by Shiori's demeanor and her eager pontification on the subject, Kurama could tell his mother felt positively elated at the prospect of spending Christmas Eve with Hatanaka-san, her boyfriend of some months now. This was happier than he had ever seen her, however, especially since her recovery from her near-death experience at the hands of the illness that had tried so desperately to claim her life. Kurama had had some reservations when his mother had started dating Hatanaka, it was true. This was the first romantic relationship Shiori had pursued since the death of Kurama's human father in Kurama's childhood; her choice of partner needed to be vetted with careful consideration to ensure her happiness. But while Hatanaka's intentions toward Shiori had progressed at what some might consider startling speed, Hatanaka had passed all the tests Kurama had seen fit to give him, and thus Kurama approved of their burgeoning romance with the assurance Hatanaka intended to make his mother happy.

Her happiness was Kurama's fondest wish, after all. In light of that, he would support her relationship with Hatanaka-san… 'with bells on,' as Kei would put it, and in honor of the season at hand.

"But here I am, chattering about my plans like a teenage girl!" Shiori reached across the dinner table to pat Kurama's hand, a look of regret and apology slipping over her soft face. "I'm sorry for not ordering KFC or arranging for a cake. I've been so busy planning my date, and we haven't ordered either in years, that I just…"

"It's fine, Mother." And Kurama meant that; he found the entire Christmas holiday puzzling at best, an entirely unnecessary annoyance at worst. When Shiori's regretful smile didn't fade, though, he added for good measure, "You know I've never been one for sweets, anyway."

"That is true," she replied, remorse clearing somewhat. "Do you have plans on Christmas Eve, Shuichi? I hate the thought of you spending the night alone while I go gallivanting across town…"

"I don't." Because Shiori once again looked, remorseful, he quickly told her, "A quiet night in with a book sounds perfect to me, in all honesty. I confess I will enjoy spending some time with myself."

"I see…"

That time, his assurances did not ameliorate her guilt. She cleaned up after dinner with head hanging, long tail of thick black hair lying silken and limp upon her chest. Watching her, Kurama wondered what, if anything, he could do to ease the discomfort radiating so clearly from her slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. Clearly she felt guilty for leaving him at home while she went out, but he never intended to make her feel that way. Kurama truly did not mind staying home alone on Christmas Eve; in fact, that was how he would prefer to spend the evening, though clearly she did not believe this assertion.

The truth was that he did not understand the seemingly universal human fixation on Christmas. It felt like an entirely arbitrary evening to spend money, flaunt wealth and express affection. Other countries held the holiday in a religious regard, but Japan did not. Kurama's human family had celebrated it in some small ways before the passing of his father, but since then, they had not so much as consumed cake on Christmas Eve. As the holiday was an entirely commercialized affair and he had little emotional attachment to it, Kurama felt perfectly content to ignore the entire event… but the look on Shiori's face was pitiable, and in the end, the desire for her happiness won out over Kurama's personal preferences.

It was just one evening, he reasoned. What would be the harm in indulging her for just one night?

"Well… Kei did invite me to a Christmas market with her tomorrow," he said eventually—and just as he'd predicted, his mother turned toward him with a startled (and delighted) smile. "She said we could visit the market before she goes to see the holiday lights with her parents in the evening."

"Really?" Shiori said, taking an eager step toward him. "She did? On Christmas Eve?"

Kurama nodded.

"You have to go," Shiori declared, tone uncharacteristically firm for his soft-spoken mother. The iron in her voice faded when she gasped and added, "Maybe you can buy her a present! I'll give you money, not to worry."

Shiori expressed nigh palpable glee, for which Kurama felt grateful indeed—but once his mother gave him spending money and he excused himself to do homework in his room, Kurama realized he had laid for himself an unexpected trap. He sat at his desk in his room staring at the phone resting on its corner, wondering if there was a way to get out of his predicament. Not that he wouldn't like to spend time with Kei—he would gladly do that, of course—but the Christmas part was… less than interesting to him, even if it involved making both Kei and his mother happy. Could he, perhaps, merely sneak out and spend the afternoon at the library, instead? Ask Kei to do something else that day, rather than visit a Christmas market?

But, no; lying to his mother was not in her best interest, and Kei's annual New Year's Eve party was in just a week. If there was any chance his mother could attend that party and learn of his deception, Kurama would not take that risk. Kurama had but one choice, and loathe though he felt to make it, he nevertheless picked up his phone and dialed Kei's familiar number.

Kei answered on the last ring with a perfunctory, "This is Keiko."

"It's me."

"Oh, hey!" Her voice warmed considerably once she recognized the sound of his, a fact Kurama filed away for future consideration. "What's up?"

He hesitated, but only for a moment. "Today you mentioned a Christmas market. One where I could find a gift for my mother?"

"Oh!" She knew what he would ask even before he could put it in words. "Did you change your mind?"

"I'm allowed, aren't I?"

"Of course! I just didn't think you would." She laughed brightly, pleased and not bothering to hide that fact. "Anyway. What time will your mom be leaving tomorrow for her date?"

"7 o'clock."

"Cool. Then we should probably meet up… oh, I dunno, 10 AM? Make it a brunch outing?"

"That sounds perfect," said Kurama. "Should I meet you at your place?"

"If it's convenient for you, sure. The market is close by me, anyway."

"See you tomorrow at 10 at the restaurant, then."

"See you!" said Kei, a giddy sound piercing through the phone. "Oh, this is exciting—!"

She hung up mid-exclamation. Kurama stared at the phone in amused silence, chuckling as he returned the receiver to its cradle on his desk. Reluctant though he felt to celebrate Christmas, hearing Kei laugh was a reward in and of itself. Hopefully he'd hear her do more of that tomorrow, during their…

Well. Kurama was not sure what to call their outing. He certainly wouldn't presume it was something as serious as a date without Kei's consent. But…

Kurama pulled his school bag into his desk, lifting the flap and reaching inside for a textbook and a worksheet. Before he removed the book, however, the rustle of cellophane caught his ear, and then the bag of cookies Kei gifted him fell onto his desk.

He looked at that bag for a long time, toying with the ribbon around its neck with his fingertips—but then, movements slow yet purposeful, Kurama untied the strands and ate the cookies, one by one.

They were sweet, Kurma thought.

Yet he enjoyed them just the same.

NOTES

PART ONE of THREE! Come back tomorrow for PART TWO!

This chapter can be summed up as "Kurama stresses out over a girl" and that's a sentence I never thought I'd write. Poor guy needs to tear the petals off a flower and play "she loves me/she loves me not" for Pete's sake… Stars know he has the flowers for it!

This fic is dedicated to a very special person who basically enabled me to keep writing when I thought I wasn't going to have the resources to do so consistently. They inspire me as a person just as they inspired this story, and I'm so grateful to them for reaching out and being such a kind, supportive presence in my life. 2020 may have sucked, but they reminded me that there's still a lot of good out there and that there a lot of kind people in the world, so this one is for them. It's the least I could do to repay their kindness, and for them I do it gladly indeed. SOLITA, YOU HAVE ALL OF MY HEART!