It's one of the coldest Decembers Yusuke remembers. Tucking his face into the scarf, he wraps his arms around himself and quickens his pace as the chilly wind nips at every centimeter of exposed skin. A part of him wants to stop, though, and watch the snowflakes spill from the sky, cling to people and buildings, painting everything white. It's — beautiful. It makes him imagine how to portray it properly, watercolors on porous paper, blurry shapes, muted colors, or maybe acrylics, sharp and decisive brushstrokes, the contrast—
"Hey there," someone says from behind him, and Yusuke turns around, startled. It's Ann, bundled up in just as many layers, only her sky-colored eyes visible from above the bright pink facemask.
"Hello, Ann," Yusuke replies, dipping his head in greeting. He realizes he has, in fact, stopped to stare at the scenery and winces as he checks the hour. "Ah. It seems like we're going to be late."
Ann huffs, shrugging. "Don't even tell me. It's so cold, I didn't feel like going outside at all! Should've taken a taxi, for heaven's sake. Brr." Sneaking an arm around Yusuke's elbow, she adds, "Let's get moving before I freeze to death."
"That would be quite troublesome," Yusuke says with a smile. Ann glares at him.
They aren't that far away from Leblanc, so it takes them just a few minutes to get there. Yusuke holds the door open for Ann, who grins at him as she pulls down her mask and steps inside, then follows her. The rest of their friends have already arrived, and they greet them with smiles and a loud—
"Took you long enough, nerds!" Futaba jumps down from her perch on the barstool and waltzes up right to them, throwing her arms around Ann's neck. "Merry Christmas or whatever."
"Happy holidays," Ann softly replies as she returns the embrace. Yusuke shakes his head, bemused, then reaches out to pat Futaba on the head. She sticks her tongue out at him before giving him a quick hug as well.
"Yo, Yusuke," Ryuji calls from where he's sat in one of the booths, a plate of food in front of him. "Get over here and check this out, Makoto's outdone herself."
"Oh, shush," Makoto says with a wry smile, taking a sip from her cup of coffee. "Boss helped quite a lot with preparation, so all I had to do was cook it."
Sliding into the booth beside Ryuji, Yusuke accepts a plate from Haru and asks, "Speaking of, where is he? I'd hate to think he wouldn't feel included in our festivities."
"Don't worry about it, dear heart," Haru says, eyes crinkling with a soft smile. "Boss had to go buy cigarettes." She wrinkles her nose.
Yusuke shakes his head in bemusement, then starts digging into his food. It's pork katsu with rice and pickled vegetables, fragrant and still steaming; soon enough, he tunes out others' conversations and focuses on eating. The flavors melt and mix in his mouth and, as he washes them down with a cup of tea, he feels pleasantly full. Futaba and Ryuji are bickering about something or other while Haru, Makoto, and Ann are giggling by the bar, their voices soft and quiet. The bell jingles as Boss opens the door — Yusuke pauses to greet him — and steps inside, shaking the snow off his umbrella. It all feels — quite wonderful. Safe. Like a home straight from an American holiday movie.
The moment Yusuke thinks that, Futaba turns on her laptop and says, "So now that Inari's not dying of starvation again, why don't we call Akira?"
Oh. Right. This is the first proper Christmas Yusuke has spent with people he cares for, and the one to whom he owes so much is not here. Pushing his plate away and wrapping his fingers around his cup, Yusuke nods, looking around. Everyone has a similar expression — features soft, but with a hint of longing.
It is going to be three more months until Akira comes back to Tokyo for good. He's visited, of course, took a train from his hometown all the way down in the Aomori prefecture during the golden week and the summer break, but could not make it for the holidays. Apparently, his parents have objected to that, said they want to spend this time with their son — but Akira has voiced his dismay about it during the last Phantom Thieves' group call.
"You guys feel more like family," he had told them. It made Yusuke smile without having to think about it.
"Okay," Futaba says, pulling Yusuke out of his thoughts. She sets her phone down and smirks. "He's free to talk. His parents got tired of his bullshit—"
"Understandable," Boss interjects dryly, to which Ryuji laughs.
"—so they let him off. Ugh. Whatever. Here we go." She puts her laptop down on the booth table and, as everyone sans Boss squishes themselves inside, worms herself between Ryuji and Yusuke. Just as the camera turns on, she loses her balance and falls backward, elbowing Ryuji in the stomach.
"Oof! Futaba, what the f—"
"Well," says Akira, who's just answered the call. "Seems like you're guys having fun."
"Akiraaa," Ryuji whines as Futaba cackles. "She's being a meanie again!"
"Not my fault you're such a bad chair," she shots back.
"What she said," Morgana adds, his face barely visible as he sits on Akira's shoulders, tail swishing. "You better try harder, blondie. No offense, Lady Ann."
"None taken," Ann says, beaming. Ryuji opens his mouth, most likely to argue, but then gasps in pain again. "Whoops."
"You kicked me...!"
"Sure did."
"Guys, please," Makoto says, sounding a tad helpless. Haru, sat between her and Ann, giggles into her hand; Makoto glances at her, brows furrowed.
"Okay, okay. At least I didn't kick Yusuke," Ann says cheerfully. "He didn't deserve it this time around."
"If y'all want to assault each other, please do this outside of this place," Boss says tiredly. "I've got enough trouble with Futaba on my plate."
As everyone is bickering, Yusuke makes eye contact with Akira — who is smiling as well. "Happy holidays," he says softly, and Yusuke smiles back.
"Happy holidays," he replies. "Is this — hm. Is this kind of chaos something to be expected?"
Akira laughs. "Yeah. Yeah, it totally is."