Chapter Text
“…Iorin, did you forget about the party?”
At Tamaki’s words, any blood flow Iori has rushing to his head stops cold. He has naught but a lizard brain in that moment, he surmises, because his mouth is hanging open agape, seeking reason like a fish would for water. There’s no way. There’s no way…!
Calm down, he tells himself. Nothing is going to change the fact that your brother also mentioned plans for the party. If it were Yotsuba-san, he muses, it was unlikely he’d make those poor jokes, but it was within the realm of possibility if he were goaded into it by Nikaidou-san. That kid was fundamentally obedient, after all.
But Mitsuki wouldn’t pull such a cruel joke on him. In fact, he would be more likely to thwack Yamato and Nagi on the head for trying it. So Iori resigns himself to craning his head backwards in almost owl-like stupefaction to see the calendar. The circles that signify Christmas day are much closer than he’s comfortable with, the red ink almost mockingly boring into his eyes.
“Excuse me,” he says stiffly, shrugging Riku’s shoulder off of him. “I have something I need to take care of.”
“Iori?” Riku calls. “Where are you going? Iori!”
.
“Hey, what exactly are we going to do about this?”
Mitsuki’s voice comes out more hushed than usual, and it’s for that reason that Iori hangs behind the wall and doesn’t directly enter the kitchen for snacks like he’d intended—unlike Yotsuba-san, he understands what tact is.
“Dunno,” Yamato replies, non-committal. “There’s a lot to prepare, and we’re not gonna have time to do it for a while… we’re still filming the Christmas drama, and between that and Nemesis I’ve barely found any time to sleep. Ahh, I miss my afternoon naps,” he says, crying out mournfully as he reaches for the couch. Mitsuki kicks him in the shin lightly.
“Don’t be like that, old man! You suggested the idea in the first place!”
“Well, Mitsu, surprisingly onii-san can be wrong sometimes.”
“But it’s our first Christmas! I don’t want them to have to spend it being filmed in public when we’ve already sacrificed our New Years’ for Black and White!”
“It’s not like I wanted this either,” Yamato says with a huff. “But we’re sure as hell not gonna have enough time to prepare for a whole party, are we?”
“It doesn’t have to be something big, you know. We can just ask Manager if we can bake a cake, have some fried chicken, pop a few beers for the adults.”
Yamato eyes him, and then his posture slackens in defeat. “There’s no convincing you otherwise, is there.”
“Nope,” Mitsuki cheerfully tells him, opening the fridge and reaching for a drink. “You’re just gonna have to deal with it. We’re giving these kids a Christmas they won’t forget!”
“I’m not helping you with it unless you ask Manager for her approval. If it’s not possible, you’ve gotta drop it, okay?” Yamato says, sighing. “I worry for you, Mitsu. With Black and White, we’ve all got so much stuff on our plates, and you already work twice as hard as everyone else. If this keeps up, you’re gonna collapse before we even get to perform with Douglass Rootbank. Do you want Nagi and I to lift you up like the captured alien again?”
“There’s no way I’ll be letting you do that!” Mitsuki cuts in, surly and pouting. Yamato’s mouth stretches into a cat-like, fond smile. “I’m an adult, I can manage myself.”
“That’s your second beer today. A third and you’ll be too tipsy to dance.”
“Shut up,” Mitsuki says fondly.
Iori chooses this moment to finally walk into the kitchen, and Yamato sits up. “Ichi! Rare seeing you raid the kitchen at this hour. Usually it’s Tama, isn’t it?”
Iori refuses to fall for the bait. “If you don’t have proper nutrition, you won’t be able to focus on your studies properly.”
“So our manager’s home-cooked bentous aren’t enough, I see? I’ll make sure to tell her that.” Yamato says as he leans back on the couch, grinning. Mitsuki looks like he’s seriously deciding whether to hit him or not.
“Har har, Nikaidou-san. Very funny,” Iori says, reaching for one of the pre-prepared pickled vegetables. “I’m sure Oogami-san would appreciate your joke, and reduce the current nori bentou to a plain rice bentou for you.”
Yamato pales. Oogami Banri was not a force anyone would try to mess with even on a good day. “Now, now, Ichi, there’s no need for that…”
Mitsuki snickers, completely unsympathetic. “Always the herbivore, aren’t you.”
“Carnivores are too scary for women,” Yamato points out, and Iori thinks he knows who he’s about to mention. “That Yaotome doesn’t have a chance with our manager.”
Mitsuki fixed him with a half pitying look. “The only thing our manager will consider at this rate is being married to her work.”
Yamato downs the rest of Mitsuki’s beer. “Well, that’s probably true. Don’t grow up to be like that Yaotome anyway, you hear? If he offers you a seedy cologne...”
“In what sort of situation would he even offer me that in the first place?” Iori asks, and then shakes his head. “Nevermind. I’ll leave you two to talk.”
“What does he assume we’re talking about…?” Mitsuki asks, in a quiet voice as he leaves. “Do you think he’s onto us?”
Yamato sighs. “I highly doubt it, Mitsu. He’d be jumping our bones to assist us if he was, right? The kid’s got exams, so he just needs to study. Don’t worry about it.”
“I sure hope you’re right…”
.
“Manager,” Iori says, in lieu of a greeting. “Thank you for coming here so early.”
“No, no, don’t mention it!” Tsumugi says, waving her hand. “I’m sorry that you could only meet me at such an inconvenient time, really…”
“Both of us are early birds, so there is hardly anything to be concerned about. I just wanted to ask, have nii-san and Nikaidou-san brought up the idea of a party up to you yet?”
Tsumugi tilts her head adorably. “No, I don’t believe so… should I have been informed?” She asks, distress creasing her face and already ready to say sorry.
Iori holds a hand out to stop it before it comes. “There is no need to apologize. In fact… it’s good that I got to you first. You see, you’re probably thinking right now that we don’t have time for a party, what with the preparations we need to make for Black or White, correct?”
Tsumugi places a finger to her lips. “Mm, that’s true, but I wouldn’t say it’s impossible. After all, we want everyone to have a chance to relax sometime this holiday season, right?”
“I’m glad that you say that, because as you’ve assumed Nii-san and Nikaidou-san wish to hold something of an informal party at the dorms. So I want you to give them the okay for that.”
Tsumugi, alert as always, senses there’s something off. “But if you simply wanted permission for this, you could have simply asked me through Rabbit Chat. So what else are you here for?”
Iori makes a satisfied sound, somewhere between a huff and a hum. “Well, in short, I want to ask you to provide little assistance if any to this event. You’re already quite overworked, so I wish to take over the planning in your stead.”
“But…!”
“What, Manager?”
Tsumugi seems to sink into her chair a little more, pouting. “But you’re already quite overworked, and um… there seems to have been something else that has come up…”
Iori can feel himself get a little more impatient already. “Speak up, Manager.”
Tsumugi sits up a little bit straighter, meeting his eyes. “Well, you know the talk corner? They want to film IDOLiSH7 and TRIGGER exchanging presents during that segment, so this is going to be a little more on your plate… I’m sorry, if I had known you were already planning to do this…!”
“It’s fine, it’s only looking for present, after all. I’ll make sure to put it in my schedule. Who will I be giving it to?”
Tsumugi signs a paper and hands back to Iori. “Nobody knows that, actually! It’s part of the challenge, to find a suitable present that represents you and would be a good thing to give to anyone. Since this is a form of wish fulfillment for the female audience, after all.”
Iori honestly hadn’t considered the heterosexuals. “That makes sense. Of course, if it’s from the perfect Izumi Iori of IDOLiSH7, there is only one thing that can be given.”
Tsumugi smiles wryly. “Cool and sharp stationery?”
“Of course.”
.
Iori does not wish to roll up the sleeves of his blazer, as that would crease the material, so he takes it off and neatly folds it on a hanger in his room before getting to work.
He breathes a sigh of relief as he looks around in the common room, knowing some of the decorations were already set up by Sougo and Tamaki some time earlier. Riku sits in the corner of the couch, glasses on and completely immersed in his book, and Nagi is lying propped up on the former’s shoulder, tapping at a gacha game.
Sensing he will most likely remain undisturbed, he gets to work with stringing the rainbow-colored fairy lights around the ornaments, all the way to the top of the tree, stepping back with a hum of satisfaction when he’s done.
There is still, however, the matter of the star on the top of the tree. Tamaki, in his insistence, put a King Pudding plushie on top, but as he failed to secure it properly, he can’t count the amount of times it’s already fallen off.
“I wish we could put a proper star on the tree…” Iori says out loud, and Nagi’s ears perk up.
“A star, you say?”
And then, not even a beat later, Riku is being lifted on top of the tree by Nagi. Riku jerks in surprise, the book falling to the ground.
“Eh? Nagi?!”
“Rokuya-san?!”
“Oh, is that not what you meant? Riku is a glittering star beyond all compare, is he not? Just seeing him makes me happy.”
That may be true, Iori thinks, but that is not what he meant! “Rokuya-san, please put him down, he’s going to fall off!”
His prediction comes true. Riku, in his flailing, gets tangled in the fairy lights and he and the tree come crashing to the ground.
Thankfully, Iori’s managed to hold onto some of the tree, and Nagi’s holding Riku in his arms like some manner of injured puppy. Iori thinks for a minute that it’s almost cute, but brushes the thought from his head.
“Are you alright, Riku?”
“I’m fine…”
“Nanase-san, you should have known better than to start flailing around like that!”
Riku puffs out his cheeks. “I couldn’t help it! I was trying to find my balance so I wouldn’t fall off!”
“We would have been able to get you safely off the tree if you weren’t squirming! Be thankful you’re not hurt!”
Nagi holds up his palms and worms his way in between them to create some distance. “You two, please don’t fight!”
At the same time, they say, “We weren’t fighting!”
Nagi mournfully places a hand to his head, pained. “Then what do you call that,” he whispers.
Mitsuki swings around from across the hallway, the rest of the members at his heels. “What happened, there was a loud crash—oh.”
Everyone in the room steps away from each other as if they were burned, and Sougo takes this moment to come in and immediately bend over to pick ornaments from the floor.
After a beat, Mitsuki crouches next to him and does the same, looking directly into everyone’s eyes. “You’re not going to let Sougo do all the work himself, right?”
Everyone immediately scrambles to follow suit, even Tamaki, who sluggishly mumbles about still being sleepy despite the fact that it’s already well past noon. Even on their day off… Iori sighs, and moves over next to Tamaki. Part of this was his hard work getting destroyed, after all.
“Yotsuba-san,” he starts. “Do you have some velcro straps?”
“Velcro…? What’s that,” he asks, as Iori hands him an ornament to put in a 100 yen box Mitsuki’s offered them.
“It’s a material that’s similar to the straps on the white sneakers you have. The ones you don’t tie, that is.”
“Oh, the strappy ones! I like them. But Iorin, what do you need my shoes for?”
Iori sighs. “I don’t need your shoes, Yotsuba-san. Haven’t you considered they’d be much too large for me?”
“It would be cute to see, though,” he points out. “Hehe, Iorin’s got tiny feet.”
“Yotsuba-san, that’s not the point,” he says, but sighs again. “I was asking because I wanted to properly secure your King Pudding to the tree.”
“Oh, that’s true. He does fall out a lot. I hope he doesn’t get brain damage.”
“Yotsuba-san, I can’t believe I have to tell you this, but pudding doesn’t have brains.”
Tamaki looks at him, confused. “But isn’t glucose good for the brain? And glucose is kinda sugary-stuff, isn’t it? So King Pudding has to have a brain.”
Iori doesn't know whether to feel proud that Tamaki actually paid attention in class, or just shake him for the absolute idiocy that was that last sentence.
Privately, he hopes that his gift of stationery will be given to him. Maybe he’ll actually use it for something useful. Or maybe he’ll start doodling on his notes again, because there’s no way someone would be able to understand what glucose’s primary function is and also somehow assume for some bizarre reason, that King Pudding could also have a brain with the same line of logic. (Or lack thereof.)
“I… no comment.”
“Boo, Iorin, you’re no fun!”
“You’re beginning to sound like Nanase-san.”
“But what if Rikkun is correct? You’re not an old man like Yama-san,” Tamaki points out, and Yamato erupts into a pained wheeze, whispering the words “felt that,” as Tamaki mercilessly continues on with, “But if you can’t have fun and let things go sometimes, you’re gonna be one before we’re even adults.”
“I… too can have fun,” he mumbles, slightly offended. “Just because I happen to have priorities doesn’t mean I can’t relax when I need to. I wouldn’t be able to function as an idol otherwise.”
Tamaki’s eyebrow rises. “Sure, Iorin.”
Not wanting to say anything more to the obvious disbelief, he calls Sougo over when the cleaning is done.
“Ousaka-san, can I talk to you about adding more decorations?”
Sougo blinks. “To think you came all the way to my room for that…”
“Your room is just a few doors away, Ousaka-san. May I come inside?”
“No, no!” Sougo interjects, “I’m merely happy you thought I was someone you could ask about for this, Iori-kun. Truthfully, I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he says, opening a window on his computer to reveal a whole catalogue of decorations and candles, all color coded in reds and greens and silvers.
Iori blinks. "Ousaka-san, you have a whole Pinterest board?"
Sougo waves his hands frantically in an attempt to defend himself. “Ah, is that a bad thing, Iori-kun? I just thought it would be a good idea to be able to organize it properly...”
“No, no,” Iori says. “Just… surprising. What decorations did you think would be a good idea, again?”
“Ah, Tamaki-kun suggested that we get scentless candles. He doesn’t like them, and the fumes from them wouldn’t be good for Riku-kun, anyway.”
“That’s certainly true… don’t you think that candles might be a little dangerous?”
“It should be fine if we put them in cups. Say, like these votive candles?”
Sougo points to the corner of his screen, where little candles in cups glow with an eerie red light. Rather than anything festive, this reminds Iori of the stereotypical horror movies that take place in haunted churches, and he instinctively takes a step back.
“Could we find something… less,” Iori fumbles with his words. “...ominous?”
“Is it ominous? I just thought the red would match the color of Christmas…” Sougo says, his expression slowly turning into a pout. Iori thinks of Tamaki, and wonders what horrors they’ve wrought onto the world by bringing them together as MEZZO”.
“If you can, maybe we could look for green ones?”
“Oh, you might be right… green has a warm and calming presence, like Nikaidou-san.”
Iori doesn’t think this is the best descriptor, but Sougo has always been kind in his descriptions of everyone. “Certainly. It would be good to have this quality reflect on the others.”
Sougo smiles knowingly. “You’re thinking everyone might be a bit rowdy at this time of year, correct? While I can see where you come from, it’s fine, isn’t it, Iori-kun? After all, this is how IDOLiSH7 is. It wouldn’t be the same family without them, don’t you think?”
A word catches Iori’s ears. “Family?”
Sougo’s posture becomes ramrod straight and his ears color pink. “I, I mean,” he spouts out intelligibly. “IDOLiSH7 with people like Riku-kun, Nagi-kun, Mitsuki-san, and the others feels warm, doesn’t it? Everyone cares about one another, and even when we auditioned, even though we didn’t want to lose… we wanted to give everyone a fair chance. And here we are.”
“I wasn’t disagreeing,” Iori objects. “It’s true, it feels like IDOLiSH7 is almost a second home.”
Sougo places a hand on his chest. “Thank goodness I’m not the only one that feels that way.”
Iori thinks that just maybe, he understands.