There's Just No Competing with Santa
For @fairysdarkestnight (no spoilers for Reunion)
From @pigeonsimba
“Have you ever heard of Christmas?”
Nezumi pauses in the doorway and scowls. “I barely have a toe in the room and already you’re accosting me.”
Shion pulls a face and apologizes. He waits until Nezumi has locked the door to the underground room and taken off his superfiber and jacket before trying again. “So, have you?”
Nezumi scoffs. ”No one’s heard of Christmas, Shion. It’s a dead holiday.”
“Obviously, that’s not true, since you know of it.”
“I know a lot of things that other people don’t. And now, unfortunately for me, so do you.” He eyes the bookcase with malice. “I see now why No. 6 forbids books. They invite so many pesky questions.” He plods into the bathroom and a moment later, Shion hears the shower run, so he couches his questions until Nezumi has finished and, hopefully, is in a more accommodating mood.
A Long History of Christmas is cold and smooth beneath Shion’s fingers. His eyes trace the outline of the child reaching for an ornament on the cover, and he feels a flicker of excitement and anticipation, as if he is that very child and the thing he seeks is just millimeters away.
He has a lot of free time between dog washing, especially now that the weather has turned inhospitably cold, so Shion has had many hours to spend familiarizing himself with the underground room and its shelves and shelves of knowledge. Today he happened upon a selection of religious books, which had all been fairly interesting to skim through, but A Long History of Christmas had caught his attention best. The combination of religion, culture, history, and festivities had made the synapses in his brain light up like a Christmas tree.
He has spent the last hour combing through the chapters and trying to get a clearer idea of what the last Christmas had been like before the world ended. The holiday seems to have gone through several iterations, and by the end, it was an amalgamation of several beliefs and cultural practices, cherry-picked from what made the day the most fun for celebrants. Naturally, he couldn’t wait for Nezumi to come home so he could chat with him about it.
And speak of the devil: Nezumi comes out of the bathroom, looking cleaner and calmer. He takes one look at Shion’s face and winces. When his gaze falls to the book resting on Shion’s lap, the wince becomes a grimace. Shion takes this as reluctant acceptance and relaunches the discussion.
“I know better than to ask your opinion on the holiday, but I’m thinking it might be fun to celebrate it.”
“Of course you are,” Nezumi mutters, toweling off his hair.
“Would you be okay with that?”
“What are you asking my permission for? Do whatever you want—just don’t expect me to join in.”
Shion grips the edge of his book tighter. That is permission, no matter how flippantly granted. He is careful only to allow himself a closed-mouth smile in response.
—–
Shion roots around in the can, careful to avoid nicking himself on the jagged edges of glass. He scoops up a handful of broken shards in his gloved hand and pours it into the bucket he brought with him, smiling at the high shimmering clinking the pieces make as they land. He blows his bangs out of his eyes for the fourth time in row and peers into the next can for anything that might be useful. He paws through several more cans and collects a few more handfuls of useful bits before deeming this section thoroughly dredged.
When he exits the mouth of the alleyway, he’s stopped short by a flash of cool silver. Shion’s heart leaps and his mind crows, Nezumi! before his eyes and brain catch up with each other. He realizes that the flash of silver is a knife, and its owner is not Nezumi, but a disheveled middle-aged woman.
“What’re you doing in my alleyway?” the woman growls.
Shion raises his arms in a sign of surrender. The contents of his bucket jingle faintly with the motion. “I was just looking through the bins.”
“Those are my bins.” The woman’s shrewd dark eyes lock onto the bucket in his grip. “What’d ya got?” she demands, but instead of waiting for an answer, she yanks it under her nose with her free hand. Her other hand stays steady at the height of Shion’s throat. “No food?” The woman sneers and gives the bucket a shake. “Any of that shiny shit valuable?”
“It’s just some broken bottles and paper.” Shion keeps his voice level, but the knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach grows. He should’ve known better than to look through trash in West Block; even discarded things are regarded as some vagrants’ due or another. He wishes he hadn’t come out here alone.
“Friggin trash,” the woman scoffs and shoves the bucket away. She steps in front of him and waves the knife in his face. “Empty your pockets!”
Shion swallows. “Okay… Just let me…” He slowly lowers the bucket to the ground and sticks his hands in his pockets. He shows the contents to the woman: balls of twine and pillow stuffing.
“What the actual fuck! Is this some kind of joke?!”
“I’m sorry,” Shion mumbles, because for some reason he is sorry that all he has to offer are a bucket of scraps and pockets full of fluff.
The woman rattles off another round of curses, her knife hand shaking. She looks ready to slash him apart just for wasting her time.
Shion takes a step back, but before anything can escalate, both he and the woman flinch at the sound of rapid footfalls and snarling. A huge black dog barrels toward them, jowls pulled back to reveal a row of sharp yellowed teeth. The woman gasps and bolts, but Shion stays put and releases the breath he’d been holding. The dog stops a few feet from him, barking wildly at the woman’s retreating back. Once she’s out of sight, it quiets, pads over to Shion, and sits. It stares up at him and the tip of its tail thumps once.
“Good girl,” Shion praises. He stuffs the twine and fluff back into his pockets and pets the dog’s head. Her tail goes wild.
“You are one lucky bastard.”
Shion raises his head and spots Inukashi ambling down the street toward him.
“Thank you, Inukashi. You saved me.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Inukashi nods at the dog. “She’s the one who got all crazy when she saw you were about to become a pincushion. What’re you doing out here all alone anyway?” They peer into the bucket by Shion’s feet, then look at the dog questioningly. The dog barks and wags its tail and Inukashi’s expression drops. “You’re collecting trash? Why?”
“Oh, um… I was looking for things that I could repurpose for decorations.”
“Hah?”
Shion laughs self-consciously at the look on Inukashi’s face. “It’s…for Christmas. It’s an old holiday, where people decorate for the winter and exchange gifts. It hasn’t been practiced in a long time.”
“Uh huh.” The edges of Inukashi’s mouth turn downward. “Makes sense. If this ‘Christmas’ is about buying a bunch of stuff, no wonder no one celebrates it anymore.”
“Well, I mean, it’s not about buying stuff. It’s about family and togetherness.”
Inukashi stares blankly. “Even more obvious why no one celebrates that shit anymore.”
“Ah. Yeah… I guess so.”
Inukashi’s dark eyes rake him up and down. “Nezumi know about this?”
“About Christmas? Yes.” About the dumpster diving? Decidedly not. “He thinks the same as you about the usefulness of it.”
Inukashi’s shoulders relax and they mutter, “No duh,” before assuming a serious expression. “That bastard should be the one to tell you this, but don’t go digging through anyone’s trash, Shion. You’re going to get yourself killed, and it’s a shit time of year to bury a body.”
Shion laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess that wasn’t the smartest idea….”
He glances at the bucket of things he managed to collect before the violent interruption. It wasn’t as much as he would’ve liked, but it would have to do.
—–
“What the hell is this?”
“Christmas!” Shion declares.
Nezumi takes a long look around the room. The shock on his face begins to thaw, revealing a mixture of emotions: disturbance, amusement, confusion, and perhaps a smidgen of awe. Almost every surface has been festooned with Christmas flair. Couch stuffing snowmen wave toothpick arms from the tops of bookshelves; ragged newspaper snowflakes hang from the ceiling like a deluge of sooty sleet; garlands of colored glass shards, acorns, and bottle caps shiver softly in the slight draft coming in under the door. Shion has convinced himself that if he tilts his head just the right way, the slight vibration against the bookshelves sounds just like sleigh bells ought to.
Nezumi finishes his perusal and spears Shion with a long-suffering look. “I told you not to involve me.”
“You’re not involved. You said I didn’t need your permission to celebrate and I could do whatever I want. So this is me,” Shion swings his arm out at the riot of homemade decorations, “celebrating how I want, with no involvement from you. Just ignore it and carry on like usual.”
Nezumi arches an eyebrow. “How am I supposed to ‘ignore it and carry on like usual’ when your dirty laundry is hanging from the bookshelf?”
“Those are sockings!” Shion exclaims, excited that Nezumi noticed so soon, thus allowing him to share his ingenious pun. “And they’re clean,” he adds, a little insulted. Nezumi knows very well he keeps on top of the laundry.
“…”
“I couldn’t find stockings,” Shion explains, fussing with the sockings’ positioning for a moment before deeming their tilt jolly enough. “I’m not even sure what stockings are made of, exactly, but from the pictures it seems like they’re pretty much just big fancy socks, so I improvised.”
Nezumi kneads his temples. “I worry about you sometimes.”
Shion smiles beatifically. “Your concern is appreciated, but unwarranted.” He surveys the room with pride. “I’m still working on a few decorations. I was hoping to be able to find things that I could make fake holly and mistletoe out of, to add to the garlands. They look too industrial right now… What do you think?”
“Mistletoe?”
“Mm? Yeah.” Shion points to the open page in A Long History of Christmas, his designated Christmas instruction manual. “They’re a plant used in Druid and Norse rituals, to promote good luck, health, and fertility.”
The tension around Nezumi’s eyes and mouth eases as Shion talks. He approaches, assesses the coffee table bible, and clicks his tongue. “Yes, but what this book doesn’t say is why it’s supposed to promote good luck and health. It’s because mistletoe is used to ward off evil, and it can do this because it’s evil incarnate. Its berries are poisonous and it chokes trees. It’s a parasite.” Nezumi flips the book shut and levels a hard stare at Shion. “So keep that shit out of the house. I’ve had enough parasites in here for one winter.”
Shion’s hand instinctively raises to brush the back of his neck. “Noted,” he says with a swallow, and Nezumi’s glare dissipates. “Then I’ll just focus on the holly. Oh, and the Christmas tree!”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, you are not bringing a whole-ass tree into this room.”
Shion squares his shoulders. He anticipated this objection. “Of course not,” he says. “It’ll be a little one. Like…chest height.”
Shion expects to argue back and forth for a bit, but to his surprise, Nezumi doesn’t answer immediately. Shion’s spirit rallies and he leans forward in suspense.
At last, Nezumi says, “I’m willing to allow something mouse-sized.”
Shion’s burgeoning hope snuffs out like a candle. “…So you’re willing to allow a twig.” His voice sounds dead. Like his dreams of cozy Christmas cheer in the underground room.
Nezumi slaps him with the most malicious smile Shion has ever seen and Shion has to bite his tongue to keep himself from biting Nezumi’s head off. A Christmas twig isn’t going to cut it, and Nezumi knows that.
“I’ve already made over a dozen ornaments. I need something bigger than a tree branch to hang them on.”
“Mouse-sized is as big as I’ll go. If you don’t like it, there are plenty of trees outside.“
“You,” Shion seethes, “are a curmudgeon.”
Nezumi’s smile stays fixed as he shrugs imperiously.
“Fine.” Shion folds his arms across his chest. “I’ll decorate a tree outside. But I’m still decorating what I can inside.” He says this last sentence with steely determination. This is the compromise and Nezumi has no right to claim any more ground.
Nezumi takes another look around the room and shakes his head. “So this is what you almost died for? Broken bottles and cotton balls?”
Shion has a moment of confusion before his cheeks heat. Obviously, Nezumi ran into Inukashi at some point.
“I didn’t think people would get so territorial over trash…” He realizes it’s a foolish thing to say. He should’ve known better and the look on Nezumi’s face suggests as much. “But, I mean…” Shion clears his throat and tries to look busy tidying up a few newspaper trimmings on the coffee table. “It was my first time crafting decorations, but I think they turned out pretty nice. Almost worth almost dying.”
“Almost, huh?” Nezumi murmurs, and Shion wonders which “almost” he’s meditating on. “I’m not sure about that,” Nezumi says drily. “It’s hideous in here. Thank goodness the Christmas season only lasts a month.”
Shion purses his lips. “Like you could do any better.”
“Oh, I can definitely do better. But too bad for you, I’m not rising to the taunt. Enjoy celebrating your trash holiday.” Nezumi boops Shion on the nose and scoots by to throw himself on the bed. He pulls out a book he stashed between the wall and the bedframe and cracks it open.
Shion scowls and turns to grab his own book.
“Oh,” Nezumi says, and Shion half turns to look at him. “Holly is also poisonous, by the way.”
Shion scowls harder.
—–
At last, the day arrives! Shion rolls over to wish Nezumi a merry Christmas, but the other side of the bed is empty, and from the temperature of the mattress, has been for a while. Shion clicks his tongue, but is not much discouraged. Nezumi will be back soon enough, and there’s much to do in the meantime.
He jumps out of bed and reaches underneath to pull out his Christmas gift for Nezumi. I hope he likes it…
Shion had thought long and hard about what he could get Nezumi—what the other teen might like as well as what Shion could feasibly find. He doesn’t make much money from washing dogs, and though West Block has a number of smuggled wares, there is a limit on the kinds of goods. Luckily, Shion has a secret santa.
On his way to work one day, Rikiga stopped him on the street, crying foul.
“Shion! I heard you were attacked!”
Shion ducked his head. “I’m fine. It wasn’t a big deal.” How did he hear about that? Nezumi was one thing, but he doubted Inukashi and Rikiga were chatting regularly.
“Not a big deal? From the way I heard it, you were this close to being chopped meat!” He seized Shion’s shoulders and gave him a worried once-over. Shion managed to extricate himself only after assuring Rikiga several more times that he wasn’t stabbed, slashed, nicked, or permanently traumatized in any way.
Rikiga huffed and crossed his arms. “They said you were looking through the trash? What’s going on? Is that bastard Eve not taking good enough care of you? Do you need help?”
“No!” Shion’s face burned. “No, it’s not like that at all. I’m doing this on my own. It’s for Christmas.”
And at that moment, inspiration struck. Rikiga had a lucrative side business and connections, and he was always asking Shion if he needed anything. It was time to put Rikiga’s dirty money and excess goodwill to work.
Shion smiles down at his present. It looks so pretty wrapped in newspaper. He can’t wait to see Nezumi’s reaction when he opens it. He doesn’t expect an outpouring of thanks, but if he could get a small smile or a moment of stunned silence, it would be reward enough for him.
There is so much time to kill before then, though. Shion busies himself with filling the sockings with small sweets and nuts, courtesy of Rikiga. He even has a collection of crumbs for the mice, which he decides he doesn’t need to wait for Nezumi to dole out. Cravat, Tsukiyo, and Hamlet squeak excitedly as they stuff their cheeks.
“Merry Christmas,” Shion says to them, and strokes each of their backs with a finger. Then he pulls on his coat, hat, and boots and ventures out into the snow to make sure all is right with his tree. It needs to be perfect for tonight’s presentation.
When he returns, he crafts a few more last minute decorations to pass the time. He wrangles two passable wreaths out of branches, pine cones, and yarn, and hangs them over the doorways to the outside and bathroom. After that, his creativity and hands are exhausted, and his restiveness too high, so he takes a shower, puts on a pot of soup, and resolves to pass the remainder of the afternoon reading books until Nezumi comes home.
Shion’s heart practically leaps out of his chest when he finally hears the key turning in the lock. He snaps his book shut mid-sentence and stands as the door swings open. “Merry Christmas, Nezumi!”
Nezumi stares blankly at him from the doorway, unmoved by the wide smile splitting Shion’s face. He glances up at the wreath. “Is this all you prepared today, or is there something to eat?”
“I have food. Special Christmas soup.”
“That sounds vaguely sinister.”
Shion laughs and lifts the pot lid. “Meat and bean soup.”
“Meat?” Nezumi says dubiously. He stirs the pot and tilts his head when he confirms that there really is meat. Shion’s chest puffs with pride as Nezumi meets his eyes. “Rikiga?” he guesses and Shion nods. Nezumi gives a low whistle. “Damn. It’s so helpful that he has the hots for your mom. We should use him more often.”
“Ew…” Shion mumbles. “Did you have to say it like that?”
Nezumi snorts and helps himself to a bowl of soup. Though it’s hard to rein in his enthusiasm, Shion manages to conduct dinner in a normal manner. They chat about Nezumi’s day, murmur praises at the wonders meat does for a soup broth, and discuss ways Rikiga’s obsession might benefit them in the future. This last topic is thankfully brought up as they’re finishing eating, because it reminds Shion of the gift he has been waiting all day to present and his eagerness is about to break containment.
“We can clean the dishes later,” Shion says, taking Nezumi’s bowl and placing it inside his empty one. “I have something for you.” He reaches under the bed and whips his gift out with a flourish.
Nezumi raises an eyebrow as he inspects the gift, though he’s obviously not surprised. “Nice wrapping.”
“Thank you,” Shion lilts. “Open it.”
“And ruin your expert wrapping?”
“Yes!” Shion bounces in his seat. “Come on!”
“Alright. But first…” Nezumi puts the present down and moves toward the bookshelves. Shion’s eyes widen as Nezumi fishes out a cylindrical wrapped parcel and hands it to him.
“You got me a present?” Shion squeaks. “But you said you weren’t going to participate!”
“Yes, well, I wasn’t, but then I thought of this,” he gestures to the gift in Shion’s hands, “and it was too perfect for you. I had to buy it.”
Shion inhales sharply. A gift so perfect Nezumi had no choice but to buy it? Come to think of it, isn’t this the first gift he’d ever received from Nezumi? The wrapping is neat, made of patterned cloth and tied closed at the top. As Shion stares at the package, he’s convinced that only the magic of Christmas could convince a Scrooge like Nezumi to exchange gifts with him.
Nezumi sits and says with a smirk, “Go ahead and open first. I can tell you’re barely holding yourself back. I’ll open mine after.”
Shion is not one to ignore Nezumi’s fits of generosity, so he immediately begins picking at the knot to reveal the cloth’s contents. Inside is a vibrant green and yellow canister. Shion frowns and rolls it around until he finds the label.
“Wasp and Hornet Killer,” he reads aloud. He narrows his eyes at Nezumi. ”Gee, thanks.”
Nezumi bursts into laughter. “I told you it was perfect,” he chuckles. “Now you’ll never have to worry about a relapse.”
Shion screws his mouth to the side and huffs through his nose. He should have known Nezumi would get him a gag gift. He had made it very clear that he thought the whole idea of Christmas was a joke.
“As an added bonus, it’s a piece of home,” Nezumi grins. “That can had to be directly sourced from the Holy City itself, so you better treasure it.”
“I’ll keep it close to my heart,” Shion drawls. “Or neck, I guess.” He places the wasp spray down on the table and nudges his gift at Nezumi. “Your turn.”
Nezumi’s laughter has petered out, but he looks too smug for his own good as he tears open the paper. His smile evaporates once he lifts the gift from its wrapping. The corner of Shion’s mouth quirks up. A moment of stunned silence! Christmas is officially worth it. He will have to give Rikiga something nice as thank you.
Nezumi raises the tin of hot chocolate up and demands, “How much did this cost?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Shion says. “It was worth it.”
Nezumi drops his hand and glares down at the tin. If Shion didn’t know him, he would have interpreted his reaction as anger. But he does know Nezumi, so he recognizes that the feelings behind his expression are more complicated.
“It’s not the same brand as what we had when we were kids,” Shion says warmly, “but knowing Mr. Rikiga’s preference for the finer things, I bet it tastes just as good, if not better.”
Nezumi doesn’t respond and Shion’s stomach flutters. He’s not sure if it’s from concern or triumph, though, because seeing Nezumi’s complicated reaction is making him have equally complicated feelings. He hoped Nezumi would be surprised, but he didn’t expect him to be rendered speechless.
Shion clears his throat and tries to liven the mood. “Cheer up. You can’t help that I’m a better gift giver than you. You’ll just have to up your game next year.”
As if he said the magic words, the spell breaks. Nezumi lifts his head and fixes Shion with an appraising frown. “Alright,” he says slowly. “I concede defeat. But I’ll still always be a better decorator.” Nezumi flicks a cotton ball snowman off the corner of the coffee table. It lands without a sound on the green carpet. The mice sniff its stiff corpse, but quickly realize it’s not a fallen snack and retreat.
The tension melts from Shion’s shoulders and he smiles. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You haven’t seen my tree yet.”
Nezumi’s grey eyes spark with challenge. “Well, then. Lead the way.”
Shion dons his winter gear and they trek out into the snow. Shion’s main excitement for the day was to see Nezumi’s reaction to the hot chocolate, but a very close second is to hear Nezumi’s opinion of the tree. He put painstaking hours into the ornaments and decorations, all for this moment. There’s no point in announcing it as they approach—the decorated tree stands out like a beacon against the frosty desolation of the landscape—so Shion walks alongside Nezumi and waits for his assessment.
Some of the things hanging on the tree are more of the same, but Shion got creative with a few pinecones and ribbons he scrounged up. He also had a little help from Rikiga in this area. The man was able to find him a selection of genuine ornaments: two red balls, a blue bell, and a tiny plastic gingerbread house with glitter-frosted eaves. Shion made sure these premium items were dispersed between the homemade decor, but were still displayed front and center.
Nezumi takes a long moment to scrutinize the tree. “Needs more lights. But not bad.”
“Not bad is decent praise from you,” Shion laughs. “I’ll take it.”
Nezumi sniffs in amusement and nods at the tree. “One of your decorations fell off.”
“What? Where?” But then Shion spots a splotch of red half buried in the snow at the base of the tree. He panics for a second, worried it’s one of his prized red balls, but a quick check reveals that both are accounted for.
Shion cants his head and approaches. The object is a red box with a cream bow. It’s so pristine, it looks like it belongs in a window display. Shion blinks at the box, unable to reconcile how such a thing appeared under his tree. He lifts it out of the snow and looks questioningly at Nezumi. “Did you put this here?”
“Me? No. I already gave you a present, remember?”
“Right. That’s true…”
Shion checks the box, but he can’t find any indication of its sender or where it came from. But someone had to have put it under the tree—and recently. The present definitely wasn’t there when he went to check this morning. Shion eyes Nezumi with deeper suspicion.
“Maybe it’s from Santa,” Nezumi suggests.
Shion raises his eyebrows, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Santa?”
“Or the old geezer. Or Inukashi. It could be from anyone, really. Your activities have hardly been a secret.”
“Hmm,” Shion hums. Except no one but him and Nezumi knew about the Christmas tree. Rikiga had procured things for Shion, but the man had never been to the tree itself. Maybe Inukashi could have found out about the tree, but Shion has a hard time imagining them going out of their way to surprise him with a Christmas present, let alone one that’s wrapped well.
Shion’s chest feels irrepressibly warm as he stares at the handsomely wrapped gift. It’s almost too precious to tear open, but curiosity wins out and he says, “Maybe there’s a clue inside.”
The box has some weight to it, so he crouches down in case the contents are fragile and runs a finger along the seam where tape holds the paper together. Inside is a cake box. Shion’s mouth starts to water even before the scent of cherries registers to his nose. He inhales sharply and rips the box open. A gorgeous cherry cake sits nestled inside. Shion covers his mouth as tears prick at his eyes and run silently down his cheeks. He stays crouched and crying over the cake box for a long time.
When Shion finally masters himself, he sees that Nezumi has wandered away to view the tree from the far side. He notices Shion looking at him and strolls back over.
“That cake?” Nezumi asks.
Shion swipes at his eyes and hugs the box to his chest. “Alright. I concede,” he sniffles. “Santa wins best gift.”
Nezumi sucks his teeth and shakes his head. “There’s just no competing with Santa.”