Izuku shivered as his antlers pulled him further north, into bitter, chilling winds and icy clouds. The ocean froze over, and glittering snow stretched across the horizon. The sun cast its feeble light, the slight warmth driving home how terribly cold it was. His thick fur was the only thing keeping him from turning into a flying popsicle.
With the way the light danced off the ground below, Izuku couldn't tell how high up he was until a vast glacial ridge passed near his antlers. With a yelp, Izuku tucked his hooves under him and waited to touch the ground. The barest dusting of snow parted as his hooves scraped across the ice. Izuku slid to a stop amidst a sea of stranded icebergs, frozen in place on an icy plain.
Izuku shivered and tugged his backpack closer. "Uh, hello? Is anyone here?" He looked around for anything to identify where he was. "This is the North Pole, isn't it?"
The wind howled across the icebergs, singing a shrill tune over the frozen crevices. Izuku felt cold, numb terror creep into his heart. He checked his phone and found no signal. He had no food besides the mountain of cookies, no water, no wood to start a fire. He had no idea where he was, no idea how to activate his Quirk to fly out of there, and no other way home.
He was going to die out there.
His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by the imperious clearing of someone's throat.
"Well? I haven't got all day, boy."
Izuku yelped, and his hooves skittered across the ice as he turned to see who had snuck up on him. An elderly woman with gold-rimmed spectacles, a thin red jacket, and the fuzziest green mittens Izuku had ever seen glowered down at him.
"Uh, who are you?"
"Someone who's been badgering that old codger to get a new mailman for the past three hundred years, that's who! Now hand it over!"
Izuku hesitantly gave her his backpack. The woman flapped it like a tablecloth, and everything inside flew out onto the snow. She tsked and shook her head.
"He told me he canceled all these subscriptions. The nerve of that man!" She kicked a box of cookies and said, "Heavens forbid he eats another cookie. Do you have any idea how many households leave them out every year? If he didn't dunk his coat in a tub of vaseline he'd never make it down the chimneys. Last thing he needs is an excuse to break his diet."
At the pile of shoes, she picked one up and rubbed the leather. "All these shoes, absolutely wasted on that man. He wears one pair for five hundred years until it falls apart. We have enough junk cluttering up our closets as is."
She moved on to the pile of forged metal. "We used to make our presents to last. But these days? Give a kid a stainless steel bat and we get five lawsuits in return. It's all plastic and electronics now."
The woman snapped her fingers. Elves streamed out of an iceberg, scooped up the offending items, and hauled them away. One elf started taking a suspiciously-scented burlap sack, but she snatched it from him.
"This, I will dispose of myself. No need to trouble yourself with it."
The elf, face downtrodden, went to take Izuku's schoolbooks. Izuku was too stunned to stop him, but he did reflexively snatch up his hero journal.
"So, uh, does Santa smoke weed?" Izuku asked.
The woman hesitated. "Yes, yes he does. It's medicinal, you know, you don't get that old without all sorts of medical issues cropping up." She rummaged in the bag and handed Izuku a wrapped paper package. "Keep this between us, and definitely don't mention it to Santa. He is, well, quite sensitive about it. Okay?"
Izuku reluctantly nodded and put the package in his backpack.
"Good! Now, where's the rest of it?"
"The - the rest? That's all I got."
"That's all! Three hundred years, and all we get is a pile of junk! Where are my Home Life magazines? Where are the dish towels I ordered? The puzzle boxes and weight watchers cookbooks?"
Izuku checked his nose. It didn't flicker once.
"I don't really know how any of it works, but I think it would've taken me there if there was anything."
She facepalmed. "Oh, that idiot. He specifically said you're delivering his mail, not mail for the North Pole, didn't he?" Without waiting for his answer, the woman kept fuming. "Oh, that's just typical of him, isn't it? For all that his whole schtick is getting people what they want, there's not one thought given to what poor old little Mrs. Claus wants now is there? He can remember what hundreds of millions of children want but can't think of a single good anniversary gift? I have eight hundred mugs. Eight hundred! And half of them just say Happy Holidays junk, like he can't be bothered to look outside of the seasonal gift section."
Still grumbling to herself, Mrs. Claus walked up to an iceberg, took an ID card out of her pocket, and pressed it against the ice. A section slid aside, revealing soft light and the scent of gingerbread cookies. She looked back and said, "Get your fuzzy butt in here or you can spend the night with the sleigh pullers."
Izuku ran inside. He stopped, awe stricken by the sight before him. Row upon row of workbenches stretched as far as the eye could see. Short elves with long pointed ears, green coats, and pointy yellow-striped hats moved in perfect unison, nimble hands tightening a screw, or welding a transistor in place, before passing it to the next elf. Izuku watched as thousands of elves transformed a pile of plastic fuzz and circuit parts into a boxed, wrapped Tickle Me Elmo, laid atop a hundred others as a reindeer pulled the cart away.
Mrs. Claus stepped sideways. The entire factory slid like a slide projector to reveal elves clad in face masks and thick aprons pouring out delicate panes of glass for game console screens. Another step revealed oil bubbling out of the ground, piped into massive refining chambers, then sent elsewhere across the building. The floor shifted once more, and elves in protective goggles and lab coats mixed giant vats of oil and chemicals and poured out the resulting plastic into molds. A cafeteria flitted by, then a break room full of hot chocolate dispensers and candy bowls, then a grooming stable with hundreds of reindeer getting fed and fitted with saddles by elves clad in overalls and cowboy hats.
One more step made Izuku stumble back as the infinite space collapsed into a tiny security office. An elf in a blue uniform, shoving donuts into his face, held up a shiny new ID badge. Izuku's name and shell-shocked face stood out brightly.
"This one's courier restricted access," the guard said. "Break rooms and loading docks only, if you need further access, you'll need to run it through me."
"Wonderful. Now that you got that all settled, I get to pass you on to Todd."
Before he could ask who Todd was, Mrs. Claus shoved him aside. Rooms flickered past in a dizzying phantasmagoria before he stumbled to a stop in a small meeting room. An elf quickly took his arm. "Welcome to Santa's workshop mail room three steps left breaks at ten and four food's free here and at Japanese KFC otherwise don't feed reindeer and don't let Santa break diet any questions?"
Todd accompanied the rapid-fire lecture by shoving Izuku from room to room until his stomach did backflips. Once his dizziness faded, Izuku asked incoherently, "What?"
Todd facepalmed. "Contractors. I have fifty-thousand other elves to onboard today, I do not have time to hold your hand and walk you through your first delivery. You'll learn as you go. Now, here's the safety training video. Pay very close attention."
A screen dropped from the ceiling. A video played at ludicrously fast speed, the audio blurring into a high-pitched whine. Izuku thought he saw a giant gingerbread monster eating elves for a second before the video went black.
"Get all that? Good. Sign this."
Izuku held the paper up to read, but Todd shoved it into his pen and said, "Good enough. Let's get your work attire."
Todd swung open a closet and pulled out a rack. Hundreds of shirts, hats, and stretchy pants slid across the room. Todd pulled off a shirt and jammed it over Izuku's head. His antlers tore it to shreds, leaving tattered scraps hanging off his chest.
"Do you have anything in a larger size?" Izuku asked.
"Hmm… maybe we should do the sleigh-puller's uniform." He slid the rack further out, revealing rows of glowing branding irons.
"This is fine!" Izuku tightly hugged the tattered shirt to his chest.
"If you insist. Now, let's review your employee contract."
Todd tapped a blank, rolled-up parchment to Izuku's head. Text scrawled itself onto the surface. Todd put on reading glasses and skimmed it over.
"Oh dear, Santa dug up one of these? Legal's going to have a fit."
"Is something wrong with it?" Izuku asked nervously.
"I'll say! Flexible work hours? Work from home? Vacation and maternity leave? Absolutely outrageous! Do you have any idea how little work would get done if elves could take off whenever they wanted? And it doesn't say you have to be on retainer, just that if mail shows up, specifically addressed to or from Santa Claus, you have to deliver it. The number of loopholes in this document, I swear."
"Loopholes?"
"Yeah! For example, there's nothing stopping you from addressing something to or from whoever. You could deliver yourself to a tropical island! The absolute horror! Then you'd be free to come and go as you wish, and I wouldn't have to have the old courier's quarters cleaned out, or give you a tour of the loading docks, or track your hours or have special rations provided in the cafeteria since I'm pretty sure human reindeer mutant monsters need more than the four elf food groups to survive."
"Elf food groups?"
"Candy corn, candy cane, candy, and maple syrup." Todd looked him over. "You don't feed on elven blood, do you?"
"Uh, no?"
"Good. I'd hate to think we'd have another Long Night War. Those recruitment videos and training drills take forever! Now where was I?" Todd tapped a pen against his chin. "Ah yes! I was in the middle of very subtly suggesting that you take this pen, mail yourself to wherever in Santa's name, and get yourself out of my hair. I think I'm at the part where I drop my pen, whistle, and turn the other way."
Todd dropped the pen on the table, whistled, and turned around. "Oh gee, I sure hope the courier I really don't feel like training right now doesn't mail himself somewhere while my back's turned getting all these forms ready!"
Izuku took the pen and looked around. "What do I write it on?"
"Oh, for the love of-" Todd whirled around. "Just pick a spot!"
"I'm kinda covered in fur."
"What does that have to - oh, I see the issue. Hold on."
Todd flung out the rack of branding irons and kicked it to a stop. He rummaged around the bins and said, "Let's see, I've got Colonel Sanders, the Queen of England, and Oscar Meyer. Got a preference?"
"Wait, no, there's got to be another way."
"I could always say you tried to drink my blood." Todd shoved the glowing iron at Izuku. "For Santa's sake, how much clearer do I need to make this?"
Izuku shoved back. "I don't want to get burned!"
"Don't be such a calf. It'll only hurt a moderate amount!"
The iron slipped. The glowing end struck Todd's thigh and left scorched skin.
"See?" Todd said as smoke curled around him. "Hardly worth raising a fuss over."
Izuku's nose lit up. He clamped both arms around Todd, and his antlers whisked him out.
"No, wait! It's not my break minute yet!"
The world zipped by. Izuku nervously looked for home as they got closer to the ground. His heart soared as he landed right outside a KFC in the middle of Musutafu.
Todd shakily stepped onto the ground. "Oh no. No, this can't be happening."
"I'm really sorry. I can try to mail you back, right?"
Todd didn't acknowledge him. "There's all those elves to onboard, then I need to fill out all their employment forms, and update the undertime tracker, and - and…"
Todd stared up vacantly at the stars. Izuku nudged his shoulder and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Okay?" Todd stared blankly at him. "I have nothing to do. No purpose. No reason to exist."
"I, uh…"
"I'm free!"
Cheering, Todd ran into the road. A truck raced by, and Todd disappeared in a cloud of powdered sugar.
Too done with existence to process what just happened, Izuku followed his stomach's rumbling and the scent of fried chicken.
As it turned out, Santa's workers really do get free KFC.