A/N: Welcome back! To a possibly (somewhat) monthly update of TPS. I say this because Chapter 34 is a Christmassy December chapter and thus will probably be out around Christmas. I need to set aside Wrecked for like two seconds so I can write the preview quotes at the end. Honestly, it's almost always the case where you burn out before the best chapter. Thanks to all new follows and faves, and to Zain for the review! Expect more tight knit group bonding ahead. And I think you're spot-on about Hisakawa there. She's the Wendy of this series, after all! Classic sassy cryptid.

Enjoy!

[Chapter 33]: Coming Closer

The rest of November was little more than an adjustment period.

End-of-term exams were in early December, so Yuri took Hejjiguchi up on his offer and joined them all in their classroom for lunch the next Monday. Talk of the Hisakawa hallway incident was beginning to die down, yes, but she enjoyed the privacy of an empty classroom. Said it felt like a hideout, or their secret headquarters or something. The feeling was "oddly specific" according to Hejjiguchi, but in a weird way Ayato knew what she meant.

In close quarters, even silent studying meant "bonding time" with this group. Ami was making a great show of implying she'd welcomed him into their fold (though in his opinion, it was very much the other way around). She even invited him to celebrate Hejjiguchi's birthday that was coming up on the 23rd. He told her, not too rudely to give himself credit, that he would probably be working.

"Your pop runs you on a tight shift, huh?" Hejjiguchi had said, and made a whip-cracking gesture and sound for good measure.

Ayato had looked at him dully, deciding to hold his tongue on his apt description. "Pretty much."

But also Yuri had glared daggers at Hejjiguchi for it, which was cute. He particularly enjoyed Hejjiguchi's high-pitched "what?!" and bug eyes before he went back to studying math with Masuda. Yuri's glower could put the fear of God into a man. His theory was that they could see their reflection in her eyes and watch themselves burn in green fire. The thought made him smile behind his schoolbooks.

Their group lunch period did get more tolerable as the days passed, as long as Yuri acted as his buffer. The troublesome trio was used to each other, as were he and Yuri, so many times it could've passed as the groups merely neighboring each other (featuring Masuda as the fence). Kurimu would draw up learning visuals that Masuda and Ami would admire while Hejjiguchi conspired to turn it into a comic. Hejjiguchi would try to distract the girls with corny jokes while Masuda desperately worked to ground them and get them back on track.

Meanwhile, Yuri sat closest to Ayato and collaborated with him to color-code notes. He would steal her coffee when she got too focused and see how long it took for her to notice. Sometimes he'd poke her with a pencil to remind her that lunch was also a period for eating.

But he couldn't always have her as a reliable safety net. One afternoon she left to visit the vending machine, and mentions of drinks made Ami realize she had go to the bathroom. Kurimu went with her in honor of the buddy system because apparently that was what girls did. And of course all of this had to happen on a day when Masuda was sick at home.

So he was left alone with Hejjiguchi, who apparently had a grand idea for simultaneously filling silence and breaking the ice.

"Hey, tell me a joke."

Ayato peered at him over the top of his book. "I'm not here to entertain you," he'd warned.

But Hejjiguchi had prodded him some more. "Seriously! Tell me your best joke." (To Ayato, this sounded a bit contradictory.) He'd insisted that "everyone's got at least one."

And he wouldn't shut up for three minutes, so finally he regaled the damn idiot with the only one that came to mind. The one that went, "A man is washing his car with his son. After a while, the son says, 'Dad can we use the sponge now?'"

It took Hejjiguchi a moment, first to realize he'd caved and then to let it process in his brain. His eyes bugged in that ridiculous way and he snorted with laughter, cracking up into his fist. "That's a great mental picture," he said after a few seconds, shaking his head and chuckling some more.

Ayato didn't like the effort it took to keep his smirk from turning into a pleased grin. Maybe it was the power trip? The guy was such a simpleton it made him easy to amuse.

He could appreciate that.

The Saturday of the parent meeting came around and Ayato was honestly glad to be at the shop with Kimito for most of the day. Just for that one reason.

He didn't know what went on at a hogoshakai, but the thought of his father going to one and having one or two things to say made him distinctly more uncomfortable than hurting his back stocking shelves. And then, his rational side knew he was doing well in most subjects, but he still knew Kimito was highly unlikely to take pride in anything a teacher had to say about him.

Kimito truly did not care, as long as he wasn't making a fool of himself in public and he didn't become a grade repeater. So he just didn't go. To him, it was like Ayato going to university – not worth his time.

Although the fall festival fever customers had trailed off, the traffic picked back up again almost immediately with early Christmas shoppers. He could smell the crispness of December in the air already. It also helped that it was getting dark earlier and earlier. Whenever he mopped by the window, he could see colorful lights strung up in the trees and buildings. He didn't get a lot of time to linger, but sometimes he glanced over the customers' shoulders while he rang up their sake sets and candy dishes. The glimmer of green, red, and gold sparked a resurgence of energy that usually got him through the rest of the day.

On the other hand, his father wasn't quite as festive. He called him into the back room during a lull and screamed at him for not re-tying a bag of clay tightly enough. Now it was too stiff to work with, and Kimito would have to poke it with holes and leave it in water for a day or two until it was moist again. And it was all thanks to Ayato's thoughtlessness! He'd smacked him in the back of the head, hoping to "jostle something back into place."

Someone sneezed in the store area. Kimito frowned at the disturbance and headed towards the back door.

"Go get that," he rasped. His voice was hoarse from yelling. "I need to run back to the workshop."

Ayato headed down the short hallway and turned into the front room, rubbing the place where he'd been hit. Standing by an aisle of kitchenware was none other than Kurimu, who was fishing through her bag for something. She looked up when she heard him coming.

"Uh… welcome to the store," he said out of policy, in case Kimito was still within earshot. "Can I help you with something?"

Kurimu nodded, pulling out a small bottle and clasping her hands bashfully.

"I thought that maybe, with Souma-kun's birthday coming up and all, I could get him something nice," she said with a smile, a faint blush on her round cheeks. "Like a vase, or cup, or bowl. And I could paint something special on it for him. Do you have…?" She trailed off, looking at him oddly.

Ayato frowned a little. "Unpainted ceramics? I'll show you where."

"Thanks!" she burbled. And then, as he was about to lead her down the aisle, "Oh, hang on."

When he glanced over his shoulder, she'd snapped open the lid of the bottle, which he now noticed was hand sanitizer. She smiled sheepishly when he caught her rubbing it into her hands.

"I tend to get sick the most in winter," she explained. "My immune system isn't my dearest friend, so I don't take any chances."

"Good idea," Ayato said, thinking of the little coughing kids who tried to put their mouths on tea cups.

He meandered through the aisles, Kurimu making one or two bunny-like sneezes behind him.

"I think it's too late," he said absently.

Kurimu gave an embarrassed giggle. "Luckily my mom makes the very best chicken soup!" she said cheerfully.

He didn't respond, chancing a slight glimpse at her out of the corner of his eye. Going from Kimito to Kurimu's unbridled optimism in a matter of minutes was physically unsettling. They stopped at a shelf of dishware that she could easily use for a canvas. He gestured toward the cups in particular, and she picked one up and turned it delicately in her hands.

He thought his work there was done, until her features twisted into an expression of uncertainty. She looked at him with troubled eyes, face pink with a struggle she seemed to be holding back.

Unnerved, he shifted his weight, unsure of her mood swing. "Is there something—"

"Is your dad always so mean to you?" she blurted in a rush.

Ayato blinked twice, taken aback by her outburst. "You didn't know he was like that?" he asked, a little dumbfounded.

Kurimu, who'd put down the cup, was wringing her hands at him with sad eyes.

"I knew he was scary," she said mournfully. "My mom knows people's hearts. She says his aura is dark, she says your mom's is damaged and he probably doesn't treat her very well." He tried not to scoff at this. "But I didn't think… and then I heard him yelling at you back there! That's so sad, Naoi!"

"It's nothing new," he said awkwardly, nervous at the tears that had welled up in her eyes.

"But you're always working!" Kurimu squeaked. She trembled with emotional energy. "Do you even like this job? I help Mom run her business too, I love the bakery and I'm going to take over when I'm older. Because I want to! But if Mom ever yelled at me like that…"

She looked fearful all of a sudden. He had a feeling her mother had never yelled at her in her entire life.

"What about your father, he doesn't raise his voice from time to time?" he asked, idly moving some plates around on the shelf.

Kurimu bit her lip softly.

"I never knew him," she said, turning to the cups again. "He died before I was born. It's always been my mother and me."

"I'm sorry." He was making her cry all over the place today, wasn't he…

"No, don't be." She smiled wistfully at him. "I've always been so envious of people who have fathers. Ami's dad is so funny! I just… I need to remember that I've got my mother, and she loves me and protects me. And we get paid to decorate cakes together. I'm lucky."

He narrowed his eyes a little, feeling uncomfortably pitied. "Good for you."

Realizing, Kurimu made a tiny squeak of a gasp and clapped both hands over her mouth.

"Oh!" she yelped. "I didn't mean! Um!"

She was such a strange girl. "Don't worry about it," he said gruffly.

Kurimu still looked upset. "To think… you work so hard here, and we caused you so much trouble at school," she said. "I wish you could just come work at the bakery instead."

Ayato actually found himself laughing at the thought. Kneading dough every day instead of wedging clay, ovens instead of kilns… Kurimu was such a dreamer.

"That'll be the day," he said, still chuckling.

"My mother would love to have you," Kurimu insisted, and he had to bite his tongue from laughing even harder. Her fairy godmother complex was worse than Yuri's!

But she looked so earnest that, out of mild guilt, he let it die off.

"I don't see myself ever leaving this business, Kurimu," he told her. I don't see him ever letting me. "But… thanks for the offer."

She nodded, managing a smile. They spent the next ten minutes or so on Hejjiguchi's gift, her babbling happily about her ideas on what to paint (he truly had not needed to know that his favorite colors were split between red, blue, and gold) and what else she might get him (no, Kimito did not sell ceramic guitar picks).

Ayato would later remember this as the day he accidentally became friends with Kurimu Aoki.

At dusk, when the November evening had darkened but the sky was still blue enough that the Christmas lights fuzzed in his vision, Ayato locked up the store behind him and headed home with Kimito for dinner. It had been a long day, but… not a bad one. Not entirely.

He took in the crisp leafy scent of the forest as they walked, occasionally getting small glimpses over his shoulder at the glittering town they were leaving behind. Kimito had to yell at him to keep up. Ayato didn't know what he was complaining about – he was never out of the old man's shadow.

When Kimito opened the front door, the house was warm and smelled of soup. Chicken, maybe? But whatever it was, it wasn't on the table yet. Kimito scowled his disapproval and stalked toward the kitchen with Ayato in tow.

"Did you get home late?" he demanded, towering in the doorway and watching his wife scurry around. Ayato piqued an eyebrow – home late from what?

"No, no. I'm sorry for holding up dinner," Mother said, her head bowed over the stove. "It's ready, I'll just be a moment—"

Kimito gave Ayato a quick shove into the kitchen. "Help your mother set the table."

He did as ordered, even though he thought Kimito believed it to be women's work. Perhaps that was the point.

During dinner, the woman was unusually quiet. Of course it wasn't uncommon that she remained completely silent at the table, having learned long ago that her husband didn't work well with small talk. This silence was heavier, though, and it seemed to weigh down on her shoulders. Even her sips and eating utensils made little noise. At times, she just stared thoughtfully into her bowl with a tiny frown.

Eventually her ruffled demeanor caught Kimito's eye, and he squinted at her in suspicion.

"Ayame," he said, making her jolt. And Ayato too – it wasn't often the man used his wife's name. Too intimate. "What's the meaning of this? What are you so unhappy about?"

Her gaze fell into her bowl once more. "The hogoshakai – I don't want to attend it again. I didn't like it at all."

Ayato stared in disbelief. She went to—?

"Did his teacher have something to say about him?" Kimito growled, interrupting his thoughts with flared nostrils and an accusatory glare. "Have you been slacking off, Ayato?!"

"No!" his mother said quickly, cutting short the life montage that flashed before his eyes. "No, he's doing very well. He's studying hard."

"Then what?" Kimito looked impatient, gripping his water glass. "Why did I have to wait on dinner?"

She frowned down at the table, loose hairs from her bun falling in front of her eyes.

"Do you know what goes on at a hogoshakai?" she said, herding a few carrots and peas into her soup spoon. "All the parents do there is talk badly about their children. Everyone just focuses on the negative."

Kimito grunted, a noise that almost sounded like a laugh.

"Is that a problem?" He took a scornful gulp of water. "Doesn't sound so hard – it's not like he's anything to brag about."

"Then…" Mother frowned some more, wrinkling her forehead, and dared to look up at him. "Maybe… it would have been better if you had gone?"

He slammed his hand on the table, throwing a glare so sharp it could've stabbed her.

"You can't do this one thing while I'm working?!" he snarled. "Now I see where he gets his uselessness! Are you honestly so—"

Ayato was able to sneak off and put away his dishes while the man spiraled into one of his tirades. He found a thermos in one of the cabinets and crept upstairs into his room with seconds.

As he closed the door behind him, a part of him felt remorse for leaving her alone down there to bear the brunt. After all, the argument was… about her not wanting to criticize her son. She had gone to the parent meeting, and she hadn't wanted to say a bad word against him.

He thought of Kurimu, and her mother, and sipped pensively at his thermos of soup.

He wouldn't call himself lucky, but that was… something.

It was something.

November faded out with a flourish of studying, with Ami leading the charge in a frenzied state.

Type A time bomb indeed. Final exams were not a good look for the girl. Unlike Yuri's endearing growls of frustration and lip-biting and adjusting of her reading glasses (which had made their reappearance), Ami squawked and hovered over shoulders like a parrot, and shredded her erasers into nubs. A lot of the shrapnel ended up on his pages, which he'd flick back at her. She sent him deadly looks for that.

Once, she'd caught Hejjiguchi with his nose buried questionably deep into the book he was holding up – and she swooped in and plucked the manga he'd hidden between the pages. Then she'd rolled it up and started battering the poor idiot over the head, yowling at him, "This! Is not! A textbook!"

Yuri and Ayato had roared with laughter. That is, until the latter recognized it as the volume of Kamisama Suzuko he'd gotten from the school festival and justly began to protest the bending of it.

"Sorry!" Kurimu said, while Hejjiguchi was smoothing out his hair. "I found it under my desk, and I guess I put it on Souma-kun's."

"And I thought it looked interesting, so…" Hejjiguchi shrugged. "I'm halfway through, so do ya mind if I borrow it?"

He considered for a moment. "Fine, whatever. That's your belated birthday present then."

"Thanks," Hejjiguchi said, beaming at him.

Ayato made a face.

"Disgusting," he said, turning to Ami. "Hit him again."

She complied, which Yuri and Ayato found hilarious, so it quickly turned into a cherished inside joke. At any time, if either of them was holding something (be it a jacket or a bag of snacks, or his manga once he got it back), there was always a chance that the other would randomly grab it out of their hands and smack them around with it, bellowing at the top of their lungs, "THIS! IS NOT! A TEXTBOOK!"

Which got them some looks in the hallways for sure, but he and Yuri came to find that they didn't mind very much. It certainly eased some of the tension of the upcoming final exams week.

December crept in, and cold rain and end-of-term exams followed. Ayato had to admit that the group studying had paid off. They laughed off the stress in the cafeteria during lunch, Yuri regaling them with a dream she had of students' chairs blasting into the air. Ayato almost fell out of his seat cackling with glee at the splendid mental image of Hejjiguchi's head going through the ceiling tiles.

Only a couple more weeks with these hopeless goons. He might be calling them that by habit at this point, since the only one who truly annoyed him at this point was Hejjiguchi. Even Ami minded herself, not even hogging Yuri very much! Sometimes she scribbled hearts on Kurimu's sketchbook, or cooed at Hejjiguchi that his next guitar project should be a love song, or asked Masuda if his roommate was still under that sugar ban. Apparently he had willingly invited her into his house at one point and Hachihama had gotten too overstimulated and broken a ceiling fan. Ami thought he was cute. ("Spend 24 hours with him," Masuda had said tiredly.)

Ayato thought back to summer, and Hachihama's stunt at the pool. Perhaps Masuda was more than qualified for this group's friendship.

As the day for the term's closing ceremony closed in on them, Kurimu happily brought each and every conversation back to Christmas. Her mother made the best Christmas cake in Japan, she told the table, and Hejjiguchi and Ami readily nodded their agreement. They were all sharing their plans for the holidays, Ami dropping anvil-sized hints about how romantic Christmas dates could be, when Masuda abruptly realized Yuri and Ayato had not offered their own input.

"What about you two? Anything special?" he asked.

Yuri stared blankly for a moment, then slapped her drink on the counter in realization.

"Wait a damn minute," she said, turning in her seat to look at him. "Ayato, isn't your birthday on the 17th?"

"Yes," he said dryly. "Should I have sent out the invitations? It's going to be a big bash."

"You—" Yuri face-palmed with a groan of dismay. "I should've started a list a week ago! Damn it!"

"A list for what?"

"Gift ideas, genius! What do you want?!"

Ayato gawped at her, not exactly taking very well to being put on the spot like this. "I don't know!" he said, frustrated. "I don't really get gifts!"

From across the table, Kurimu gasped and wilted against Ami as if this was the most devastating news she'd ever heard.

"No gifts…?" she repeated weakly, gripping her chest. "Not even a little bit?"

Not even a little bit. If anything, Kimito just bought more paint and glaze and clay, which was really for work. Or for himself. The man didn't even know what he liked. Neither did he for that matter. Except books, maybe.

"Not really," he said. Hejjiguchi frowned at him in an annoying way, and he debated kicking him in the shin.

Yuri frowned at him too, but in a way that was less pitying and more… pleasantly ominous.

"You're getting something this year," she said decisively, turning back to her lunch and popping a cherry tomato in her mouth. "Better start giving me ideas."

"You don't have to do that," he argued. "What ever happened to 'your presence is enough'?"

"Never mind that!" Her eyes took on that severe, obstinate glint where she was beyond backing down. "Come on, just tell me. Anything you want."

Hejjiguchi's eyebrows shot all the way up his forehead.

"Anything?" he repeated, flashing a cheeky grin. Masuda, who had gotten out his phone a moment ago without anyone noticing, casually tapped a button that played funky jazz music.

Yuri gasped, cheeks ablaze with fury, and Hejjiguchi yelped in pain as she delivered a kick hard enough to jostle the table.

"Why don't you kick Masuda?" he complained. "He played the music!"

"Can't reach," Yuri said sweetly.

Ayato grinned at her, filled with a warm pride. As far as gifts went, that was a fairly good start.

The con was that Yuri didn't let up on it. The pro? She passed up on drama club for a few days to walk home with him so she could badger him some more.

Well, it had been about that. At first.

"Wow," she said, pulling her jacket tighter around her as the outside air attacked her with a gust of cold wind. She gazed out at the muted grey clouds blanketing the town before them. "Akuma gets… so beautiful this time of year."

He snorted with laughter. Although he did admire the slivers of desaturated gold peeking through the grey, winter clouds were never as flattering as those of a storm. "We're lucky it's starting to get darker earlier, so we can see more of the stars." He gestured grandly to the sky.

Yuri smiled, even more so when her shoe crunched a leaf into oblivion in passing.

"It's dark by the time drama club lets out. So I get to see stars then." She glanced around musingly as they walked through the school gates into town. "And the Christmas lights at their finest."

"Sounds like the best time to walk home," Ayato considered, a little jealous.

She hummed in vague agreement.

"It's alright," she said, and moved closer to him on their way across the street. "Could be better."

"Miss me?" he teased, side-eyeing her with a knowing grin.

"Of course I do."

He felt a little cocky about that, shifting his schoolbag strap on his shoulder as his grin broadened. "Well, Ami will just have to miss you for now."

Yuri shrugged. "She's going to walk home with Masuda instead. She'll be fine."

Interesting, he mused to himself. Brow furrowed, he turned to Yuri after they'd hopped up onto a curb. "Do you think…?"

"Yeah," she said without hesitation. "He does, at least."

Ayato nodded pensively, allowing this new information to ruminate in his head for a moment. "Can we stay out of it this time?"

"At all costs." They stopped briefly in front of the florist's to shake on it.

The trek home went on like things used to be. Just the two of them – just talking. He'd missed this, and admitted as such. She grazed his shoulder and cast him an acceptably contrite glance.

"If it makes you feel any better," she told him, "we might not be doing drama club as much next school year. Gotta study for those entrance exams, you know?"

Well, he didn't know, at least not in the same way she and Ami did. Those were for getting into universities, which didn't quite apply to him. But hearing it did make him feel cheered. And then slightly guilty. "You were enjoying it, though."

"I enjoy the people." Yuri ran her hand along a Christmas-decorated pole as she passed it. "It's nice to work with them, to be part of a team. Feels like…" She paused, closing her eyes in thought. "Well, it feels good, I guess. To be surrounded every day by a lot of people who love each other."

He could understand that. She deserved to have it every day of her life, but yes, their final year of senior high was only four months away. And entrance exams were in little more than a year. Though he still didn't even know what her goal was afterwards – especially if she was so absolutely fine with sacrificing her theatre arts time.

Perhaps he shouldn't worry about that. She'd figure herself out – it was her strategically chaotic way.

They entered the forest after a time, just as a wintry evening darkness was seeping into the clouds, and Yuri stared wistfully over her shoulder before following him onto the dirt trail.

"It really is beautiful, though," she said, tightening her jacket again. "Do your parents decorate at all? Or is your dad…" She trailed off, not really needing to say much else after mention of Kimito.

"My mother does a little." He thought back to the years when Hayato was alive; there had certainly been Christmas trees more often back then. "Greenery, candles, pictures of family. She tries to make the house smell nice. But when I'm not with Kimito in the studio or the shop, I'm usually in my room trying to keep away from him. So I don't get to appreciate it much."

It was sad, now that he thought about it. He really did love the smell of pine, spice, and berries. He would bathe in it if he could.

Yuri exhaled a puff of cold air. "My parents go all out," she said. "Granted, they'll usually still be busy with work. But they're really festive. They love karaoke – lucky for me they're good singers." Ayato snickered appreciatively. "It's their way of apologizing in advance before they go out on their big Christmas date night. Huge sparkly tree, streamers and art everywhere, plus a nice rich Christmas cake and a bunch of chicken."

She kicked a stray branch off the path.

"What they don't realize is, they're still baking and buying the same amount every year." She added, with rolled eyes and an affected sigh, "Used to have Shion and Ajisai there to help me make a dent in it. Now my parents are just trying to make me fat."

He did a quick once-over of her small form, hidden underneath the jacket, and smirked a little. "It's perfectly natural. They're only trying to help their child survive the winter." Yuri frowned then, slowing her pace as she cut her eyes to the side. When his brain played it back to him, he swore under his breath. "That—that was not supposed to—that was in bad taste—"

"It's fine, I knew what you meant," she said, and gave him a little jab in the side. "But I'll feel better if you let me shower you with birthday gifts."

"Why are you making such a big deal over this?" he asked, squinting at her. Truth be told, the enthusiasm was foreign to him.

"Someone's got to!" Yuri said impatiently. "Besides, I already know you'd do the same for me."

Then she gave him a look, and he couldn't very well challenge it. He had done the same, he'd tried to and failed, and she'd ended up being the one to treat him. And now she was trying to do it again. But he knew there was no stopping her.

"Fine, whatever," Ayato said after a beat. "But I told you, I don't know what I want. You're going to have to think of something yourself."

She groaned then, possibly just realizing what she had gotten herself into, and kicked at the dirt.

"Man! Boys are so hard to shop for!"

"Should've thought of that before you promised me presents," he said haughtily, and tapped the top of her hair. "You're smart. You like missions. Use that pretty little head of yours and figure me out."

"Oh, I will," she said resolutely, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You just wait."

He tapped his wristwatch at her mockingly, she made a decidedly rude gesture back at him, and they parted ways at the bridge. But just before he returned to the trail, he glanced over his shoulder and watched until Yuri disappeared beyond the trees.

Operation start, he thought with a smirk. Then he shook his head and headed toward the Naoi estate.

A/N: I could continue the chapter, but it's kinda long already… so feel free to scheme up birthday presents right along with Yuri. And honestly? I'm so glad this chapter is pulling things back into a better pace. October was SEVEN CHAPTERS LONG. One month, seven chapters? I can't afford this story to be THAT much slow-burn. Seriously, I might have to do a time jump or two at some point.

Until next time!

Preview:

"Happy birthday, Ayato!"

"We were supposed to wait until lunch!"

"You're smothering me, wench."

"I didn't know how else to make today special."

"They're secondhand friends."

"Are you doing okay?"

"I don't want that."

"It's just different between us somehow."

[Chapter 34]: Blessings.