A/N: Congrats to those who got it right! Yumigami got her name from the rabbit deity in Okami, which is still one of my favorite games to this day.

Something I forgot to say last chapter is that updates will be slower from now on. I recently got a part-time job, and between it and my college work, I don't have a lot of free time nowadays. I'll keep working on my fics and try to stick to a schedule, but don't be surprised if it takes an extra week or two for updates to come.

In celebration of the upcoming Valentine's Day, have a chapter of mostly fluff!

And so the year came to a close. It ended with a whimper; there were no wide-spread New Year's festivals, an oddity for Japan. But Ultimate Despairs and terrorists alike had taken to attacking public celebrations, and no one dared risking their attention. Chiaki spent the evening curled up on her bed, staring out the window at the night sky and missing the fireworks that normally bloomed across it.

But there was something else on the gamer's mind, something just as important. Hinata-kun had mentioned once, before he left, that his birthday fell on New Year's Day.

She remembered—she remembered waiting in the snow by the academy gates, shivering and clutching his present in mitten-clad hands. It had been during winter break and he'd surely gone home, but no matter how unreasonable, she couldn't stop hoping today, he'll be there. So she'd waited and waited for him to show up, waited until the sun had gone down; only then had she conceded defeat and brought his gift to the post office.

Chiaki tried very hard not to think about what had actually been happening to him during that time.

She hadn't been able to celebrate with him then, but she could celebrate with Kamukura-kun now. The problem was how. Chiaki didn't have the supplies to set up a big birthday party, and she got the feeling Kamukura-kun wouldn't like one anyway. She didn't even have a way to get him a present, or any idea what he'd even want. But she still wanted to try to show him she was grateful he'd been born, so she set her alarm to wake her bright and early January 1st.

Which turned out to be unnecessary, as her nightmares woke her up first. She was already laying on her back, breathing heavily and chasing the images of that damned maze out of her head, when the annoyingly loud ringing started. Chiaki jumped and swore, glaring at the red numbers as if they'd personally done her wrong as she slammed the alarm off.

I hate alarm clocks, she thought grumpily.

Popping the stiff joints out of her back, she slowly dressed. Skirts, buttons, ties; she could do that all on her own now, fingers only slightly clumsy. Chiaki still marveled at it sometimes; it felt like not long ago that Kamukura-kun had to do this for her. She grabbed a piece of paper off her dresser and slipped it into her blouse packet. Then, leaning on her cane, she tiptoed out into the hall, to the stairway. Her eyes darted to Kamukura-kun's door. It was closed, the lights off. Good.

Tentatively, Chiaki sat down on the top step. Kamukura-kun had her doing exercises to strengthen the anti-gravitational muscles in her legs, but she still couldn't quite manage to go up and down the stairs, especially not on her own. It was the one thing he still needed to carry her for. But if there was one thing video games had taught her, it was problem-solving.

Placing her cane on her lap, she very carefully scooted forward and down, bracing for the slight jolt. She took a moment to catch her breath, and then she repeated the motion. This odd slide-bump down each individual step scrapped her bottom and thighs, but it worked; she made it downstairs without making too much noise.

Chiaki didn't know how early Kamukura-kun got up—she liked to sleep in, and he was always awake by the time she was. So she'd set her alarm for six AM, hoping that he would be like a normal young man for once and not want to get up before then.

Unfortunately, he was.

"It is unusual for you to be up this early, Nanami," he commented idly from his position on the sofa, where he was dispassionately watching the morning news. The television's display was par norm, a news report tallying last night's murders and arsons. In the corner of the room was Yumigami's hutch, where even the rabbit was blinking as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "I do not believe it has happened before."

Chiaki's shoulders slumped. Kamukura-kun's face was cast in eerie blue light from the TV screen, which, combined with his blank expression, made him look practically alien. Had he been there all night? But his eyes showed no sign of tiredness, just slight curiosity. All that effort to wake up early and surprise him, and he'd beaten her to it.

Actually, for him to be up, dressed, shaved and ready at six, didn't he have to get up even earlier than that? She shuddered at the thought.

"I wanted to get up before you. I was going to try making you breakfast," she mumbled, moving to Yumigami's hutch. If she was up this early she may as well feed her. Kamukura-kun's head turned, tracking her across the room.

"Why? The quality and nutritional value of your food would not be as high as my own."

"Well…it's your birthday today."

A beat.

"So it is," he said, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. "However, I still fail to see why such an occasion warrants you deviating from your normal routine."

"It's your birthday," she stressed, "That means—you should be getting treated today. And…" She fiddled with the food bag, feeling suddenly nervous under the weight of his stare. "Normally friends do that with presents and a party, but you aren't particularly material and it's hard to party with just two people anyway. So…I don't know, I just wanted to do something nice for you." Aware she was starting to ramble, she flushed and hurriedly turned back to pouring out Yumigami's food.

"How illogical," was all he commented. "A birthday is nothing particularly celebratory. It is merely a reminder that an individual's cells have aged, bringing them closer to perishing."

"No, it's a day where I show my appreciation for you," she corrected, turning so he could see her puffing her cheeks out. "Where I show how happy I am that you were born."

He was quiet for so long that Chiaki had time to finish feeding Yumigami and decided to make breakfast anyway. Even if it wouldn't be a surprise anymore, even though she knew he didn't have a favorite food, she still wanted to treat him.

She paused on her way to the kitchen, recalling the paper in her pocket. Hesitantly, almost shyly, she drew it out and gave it to him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you a proper present," she apologized as he stared and stared at the hand-made card, Happy Birthday written on the front in bright blue ink. Held in his elegant hands, against the stark formality of his suit, it suddenly looked very childish. It didn't help that her art skills were terrible. "I couldn't think of anything you'd really want, though."

"I am talent incarnate; I was created for that purpose, not to want."

That struck Chiaki as incredibly sad. Does he really see himself that way? She placed a hand on his arm, and his eyes snapped to it.

"You're not just your talent. You're a person, too. There must have been things you've wanted."

They locked eyes. His gaze did that thing it did when he was analyzing something intently, where he stopped blinking and stared and stared as if he were looking into her soul. I'm missing something, she thought, feeling her face warm under his intense stare. She didn't dare think about what it was.

Then he turned away, gently placing the card on the seat beside him, and the moment broke. "There are exactly two things I have desired. One is beyond my reach for now. The other is your company."

Chiaki was quite glad he wasn't looking at her, since she couldn't hide the surprised, flattered smile that crossed her face. "Just…spending the day with you is enough?" I'm enough?

"Yes." A pause. "However, if you really desire to cook, I will not stop you."

Her smile became a beam. "Thanks. I appreciate you letting me treat you. Even if you don't think your birthday is anything special…I do." Western-style, she decided as she ambled off, the bounce in her step not hindered by her cane at all, just to shake things up a little.

And so, fifteen minutes later, she proudly set down a tray of fluffy pancakes, biscuits and sausages before him. Chiaki knew her cooking level wasn't the highest, but it wasn't so low as to make her comically burn everything, either. But Kamukura-kun was Kamukura-kun; he saw every little flaw, and he couldn't stop himself from pointing them all out as he consumed his breakfast. Still, he did eat everything, and that pleased her more than it warranted.

Watching his unchanging face as he chewed, Chiaki suddenly realized something. I've never seen Kamukura-kun smile.

Her bite of food paused on its way to her mouth.

It was true, she hadn't. Hinata-kun hadn't smiled often, either, and they'd usually been bitter. But there had been times he'd smile a true smile, one where he wasn't weighed down by self-deprecation and cynicism. They had been so, so rare, but Chiaki had loved the sight of them. He'd had a gorgeous smile, and bringing it out had felt better than beating her high score.

Kamukura-kun, though, he never smiled. Ever. Or laughed, or ever seemed happy. His indifference to life had never struck her more clearly than it had now, seeing his apathy to his own birth. And she'd tried to help him enjoy life, tried to show him fun with her video games, but that suddenly didn't seem enough for her. Determination burned in her chest.

That's it, then. That's my new year's resolution. I want to make Kamukura-kun smile.

"I fail to see the purpose of this," Kamukura-kun said, repeating his words from his birthday as he settled down on the couch with his back to her. "Human beings change how they wear their hair according to environmental needs, such as being overheated, or to attempt to increase how others perceive them. I feel no discomfort at the moment and you are not so shallow as to be swayed by a hairstyle; ergo there is no need to perform such an action."

Chiaki hummed, experimentally taking a fistful of black hair and running a brush through in search of knots. "Well, why do you think I want to?"

She hadn't succeeded in making him smile on his birthday. Or the days and weeks after. But she hadn't given up.

For the past few weeks she'd tried different activities. Sometimes instead of playing video games, she'd ask Kamukura-kun to spend the afternoon reading books with her, or watching movies, or folding paper cranes. Once she asked him to help plant flowers outside, under the pretense of wanting some color, and after spending a few days creating a formula that would help the seeds adapt to the pollution, he did just that. She was rather put-out to learn the seeds wouldn't be sprouting for several weeks, unlike in Harvest Moon.

None of it seemed to resonate with him, though. There wasn't any click, any moment where he looked like he'd found his passion. If anything the video games, especially competitive ones, came closest, since that was what Chiaki was best at. And it did make Chiaki happy to know he…well, found them less boring than most activities, especially when she noticed she was actually doing slightly better against him.

But she still looked for other activities or hobbies he might like. Today's attempt was hairstyling.

He paused, tilting his head slightly as he pondered. "The most logical conclusion is that you are attempting to increase your fingers' dexterity with exercises like hair plaiting."

She shook her head firmly. "Nope! I want to do it because I want to; there's no deeper reason." Other than wanting to make him smile, but she wasn't going to say that lest he feel obligated to. "Besides, who knows? Maybe you'll like whatever I do with your hair."

He didn't respond, and Chiaki took that as her cue to begin, filling the air with small talk to keep him from getting too bored. "I used to do this with some of the girls in my class, you know. When we were getting ready to go to a festival or something, we'd all help each other get dressed up. It was a lot of fun!"

"Hm."

"You wouldn't know it from looking at her, but Owari-san was actually pretty good at it. She said she used to have do her little sisters' hair all the time. Didn't care much for styling her own, but she'd do everyone else's." Nostalgia rose in her as she recalled getting ready for their first class festival, Owari-san rolling her eyes at Saionji-san and telling her to "stop squirmin', you're worse than my youngest sis."

"You're yanking too hard, you stupid—ow!"

Giggling with the other girls as Saionji-san pouted, looking very much like a child.

Swallowing the bout of wistfulness, Chiaki smiled, though he couldn't see it. "Oh, but don't worry, I think I gained enough EXP in that skill! You shouldn't look too bad."

She placed the brush aside and started weaving. There was something oddly soothing about this, the motions of looping and twisting his strands of hair together into a thick braid. They felt smooth, like silk, and Chiaki took a guilty moment to run her fingers through them in admiration. His hair was just so nice, and she spent a bit longer than she should stroking it.

Her fingers stilled in their dance across his skull. There was a bit of raised skin beneath them, rough in texture, and she traced it, hypnotized. It snaked from the side of his head down to behind his ear and around to the other side; with his mass of hair, it would have been completely invisible to the eye. This must be…

"The scar from my various brain surgeries," he monotoned, guessing what she was thinking. Chiaki paused; the air suddenly felt heavier, as if she'd set foot onto sacred ground.

"Does it hurt?" she asked quietly, so soft as to almost be inaudible. But she knew he'd hear.

A noise that almost qualified as a scoff left him. "Of course not. There is no reason it would."

She didn't answer that. Her scars hurt sometimes, phantom blades of pain slicing them in the waking hours of her nightmares. But then again, he cared about what had happened to him far less than she cared about what had happened to her. A somber mood settled as she wordlessly resumed her work.

"Alright, done," she announced a short time later, wrapping the end off with a band.

He rose; his hair was so long that even now it still fell to his waist. Chiaki handed him a small hand mirror and took a moment to admire her handiwork; the braid was rather messy and loose, slung over one shoulder. But with his bangs pulled back and tied into it, you could actually see most of his face now. Combined with the suit, the effect was…striking. Her breath caught.

"It looks good on you," she told him as he dispassionately examined his reflection, and meant it. His eyes flicked towards her briefly, inscrutable, then away.

"Attractiveness is subjective. What you define as 'looking good' is not the same as what someone else defines it as."

Chiaki's smile faded a little. "…You don't like it?"

"I hold no particular like or dislike for it," he said flatly. Her crestfallen look must have touched something in him, though, because after looking at her face he continued, "However, I appreciate the intent behind your gesture."

"Well, maybe I can try a different one another day, if you don't mind?"

"Do as you please," was all he said, but the words lacked any real coldness.

February came brisk and cold. But not as cold as the past few months had been, and so the snow outside was beginning to melt. Chiaki appreciated that—her cane was prone to slipping on the wet clumps, and after the fourth time she'd fallen she'd decided it was just better to stay indoors before she permanently hurt something.

"Start with your strong leg going up, start with your weak leg going down."

The stairs were her current opponent. Kamukura-kun was a step below her, supporting her and ready to catch her if she fell. Chiaki really was trying to pay attention to what she was doing, but she was oddly distracted by his hand, large and warm, against her lower back.

She let out a tiny yelp as she started to tilt backwards. A light but sure push righted her. "Balance," was all the black-haired man repeated.

The Ultimate Gamer exhaled, shakily lifting her right leg. She had to raise it higher than she did for regular walking, and tears stung the corner of her eyes as the underused muscles screamed. Even with the cane and Kamukura-kun helping, her left leg trembled, almost crumbling from the combination of keeping her balance and holding her up.

Move the foot forward. Set it down. Take a moment to breath; push up with the stronger leg and use the momentum to lift the weaker one. Drag it up behind you. Set it down. Take a moment to breath; repeat.

"Enough," Kamukura-kun proclaimed, when he saw how much she was sweating. Relieved, Chiaki lowered her foot. The Ultimate Hope quickly scooped her up and carried her back down the steps, moving so swiftly he may as well have not been touching them at all.

Five steps isn't so bad, she decided, as he set her on the couch and moved to get her some water. That was a third of the way up. The key to grinding wasn't to think about how far you had to go, but how far you'd come.

Even so, it was harder to keep a positive attitude about her physical therapy lately. It felt like her progress had hit a plateau. Chiaki could successfully look back over the past nine months and point out the milestones, but now there were far less. There hadn't been any major changes; it was mostly just rebuilding her strength again and improving the skills she'd already regained.

Not helping things was that she still had to use the cane to walk more than a few steps. They'd been practicing walking without it, and Kamukura-kun estimated she could be off it permanently in another month or two, but that seemed very far away. She sighed.

"Nanami," Kamukura-kun called, and though his voice hadn't raised in inflection, she could still hear the question in it. She hummed and glanced over. He'd walked out of the kitchen, and she could see he was holding—oh no.

"Could you maybe forget you saw those?" she asked with a wince. "They were supposed to be a surprise…"

"You did a poor job of hiding them in that case," he remarked.

"C'mon, they kind of had to stay in the fridge. And I was going to give them to you soon anyway. They're tomo choco," she added, in case he mistook them for giri choco.

Nervousness fizzled in Chiaki's stomach as he continued to stare at the handmade chocolates in his hands. It hadn't been easy to make them without him noticing—she hadn't even had a chance until he ran errands this morning, and her nerves had been on fire as she hurried them out. She'd gotten her male classmates tomo choco last year, of course, but those had been store-bought. Making them herself felt more…personal.

Then he said something that surprised her. "After lunch, eat them with me."

She blinked. "Huh?"

"I will not consume these all myself. High amounts of sucrose cause a variety of health problems," he said dryly, placing the chocolates down and handing his original goal, the cup of water, over. "And you are the one who insists things are more enjoyable with someone else."

Chiaki smiled softly as she took the cup from him, their fingers barely brushing. "That's right, I am."

A/N: In Japan, there are several types of chocolate you give out on Valentine's Day—giri choco is "obligation chocolate", which isn't as bad as it sounds but is still kind of impersonal. Tomo choco is "friendship chocolate", and honmei choco is the romantic chocolate. Generally, giri choco is cheap and store-bought, tomo choco can be homemade or better-quality store-bought, and honmei choco is almost always homemade. If you're disappointed she's giving him tomo choco instead of honmei choco, honmei choco is the equivalent of a confession. Chiaki's definitely not at that stage yet.