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Sunflower got cold in the winter time. The heater was prone to breaking down, and often thick, black smoke would spill from the closet where it was kept. It was at times like these that the caretaker would grumble, grumble, grumble, and enlist Kiryu and Nishiki to keep the other children busy outside.
And so they would wrap up the kids in old, thick coats and fraying scarves and gloves with holes in them and take them out into the snow. Nishiki would pay special attention to Yuko in moments like this, claiming the nicest scarf and hat from the pile of outside clothes the kids shared. Kiryu would often watch with a stony expression as Nishiki wrapped Yuko up, ensuring her warmth and comfort as he led her outside by the hand. He would watch her like a hawk as the children gallivanted, often shouting at them- just as he did on this chilly, snowy, December day.
His sharp eyes spotted a trio of boys snickering and yowling as they tossed snowballs at each other— they dodged the projectiles, though their running around interrupted Yuko and Yumi, kneeling together as they packed snow together to form a base, and then a body, a snowman taking shape beneath their hands. A boy barrelled through the little culture, knocking Yumi onto her back.
“OI! Yamamoto! Rokuro! Iwata! You numbskulls, play nice! Stop throwin’ shit around Yuko!” He stormed into the crowd of kids and batted snowballs out of their hands, scowling as he saw rocks fall from the middle of their discarded handfuls of snow.
“You coulda hurt someone! You idiots angling for a beating? Huh?!”
Kiryu approached from behind him and clasped a hand on Nishiki’s shoulder, his round face pressed into a stoic frown. “You kids need to be more careful, don’t play games that could hurt yourself. Or other people. You won’t like the consequences, either way.”
The trio of boys, red-faced from the cold and from the scolding, bolted away. The wind knocked out of his sails, Nishiki calmed and checked on Yuko, fussing over her, while Kiryu silently offered Yumi a hand up and helped her brush snow from her jacket. The girls all settled, the two retreated to the stoop and sat down to survey the kids again.
“Idiots,” Nishiki said. “Fuckin’ idiots, rocks in snowballs…” He fumbled around in his pocket and found what he was looking for- a crappy, half-torn cigarette packet. That thing hadn’t been new in years, Kiryu knew. Nishiki kept it to store the loose cigs he’d buy from random men coming out of the conbini.
“They’re kids,” Kiryu said. “They get restless. Especially so close to Christmas.”
“Don’t remind me,” Nishiko moaned. He stuck the cigarette between his lips and fished now for a pack of matches- shitty cardboard things he got from businesses and bars after running errands for them, slipping the hand-out into his pocket surreptitiously. “Been busting my ass getting something nice for Yuko… Fuck, what do you want, Kiryu?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Kiryu said simply.
“Aw, come on. There’s still time for me to blow you away!”
“I don’t want anything.”
Kiryu couldn’t help but see a brief look of relief cross her face. He knew how hard Nishiki had been working to secure the perfect gift for Yuko- and he knew it was hidden under his bed, stashed away, deep, where no one could ever find it.
“Sure. If you say so.” Nishiki lit his cigarette and took a deep breath of the nicotine, his eyes flickering way for a moment. “... Are you going to ask me what I want?”
“No,” Kiryu said, his eyes on the kids, stomping through the snow.
“What, not getting me anything?”
“I have your gift.”
Nishiki went cold, very still suddenly, eyes wide. “Wh-what?” he said. “Wait, what?! You really got me something— Kiryu— What did you get me?!”
“You’ll find out on Christmas.”
“Kiryu!” Nishiko cried, throwing his arms up. “Come on, I can’t wait that long! Oh, you bastard, you have to tell me— and you HAVE to tell me what you want now!”
“Why?” Kiryu asked, scrunching his face up in confusion.
“Because I just— I can’t get a gift from you and— and not have anything to give back! Augh! Fuck!” He stood and kicked at the snow, aggravated. “Can you handle the kids? I need to— I need to go! I’ll be back, Kiryu!”
Nishiki bolted out of the orphanage’s front lawn and, as Kiryu could only assume, into town. He let himself smile, watching him run, and he had to admit— Nishiki was pretty cute when he was flustered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For the next few days, Kiryu rarely saw Nishiki. Only at dinner, when he seemed ready to pass out into his rice, or when it was time to bed down and he fell into bed with such a thundering THUD that Kiryu was sure it caused an earthquake somewhere far away.
When they were able to speak, for the brief moments Nishiki was conscious enough to speak to his best friend, he would glower at Kiryu and mutter, “You’ll… see. It’ll be… great…” and then sleep would take him, snoring into his pillow.
When Kiryu spoke to Yuko about it, she laughed. Her thin hands curled together a handful of rice and an umeboshi, shaping it into an onigiri. “Oh, you lit a fire in him, Kiryu-san. Now all he wants to do is win.”
“Win? Win what?”
“Win at giving presents. He wants to be the best,” Yuko replied with a chuckle. “The gift everyone will be talking about months from now! You know, that sort of thing.”
Kiryu just smiled slowly, a warmth in his heart. Of course, just like Nishiki. A desire to be the best, but Kiryu knew it was not just for the sake of his own pride. Nishiki was a proud young man, but more than that, he desired to be the best for those around him.
“Well,” Kiryu said softly. “Whatever he gets for me will be wonderful, I’m sure of it.”
“I know it will,” Yuko agreed softly. A beat, as she worked on the rice balls, carefully wrapping a sheet of nori around one of them. “... Do you know what he got me, Kiryu-san?”
“You’ll find out on Christmas,” he replied.
“NO! Oh Kiryu-san! You have to TELL me!” she cried, a bright excitement sparkling in her eyes. “I just can’t WAIT that long! I cah—”
She was silenced as Kiryu plucked an umeboshi from the counter and stuck it into her open mouth. She squealed and chewed on it, shuddering at the sour taste. “Mean, Kiryu-san!”
“Just be patient,” he chided with a smile. “It’s only a few days away, Yuko-chan.”
She grinned at him, then dug her elbow into his side, giggling, her hands sticky with rice.
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“She loved the kimono,” Nishiki said with a satisfied sigh, falling onto his bed, crashing into it. “I knew she would— she’s been eyeing that shop for months. And it looks so nice on her, Kiryu. Perfect fit, the pattern is the best, the obi and the gamaguchi, the tabi…” He smiled, eminently pleased with his own success.
Kiryu couldn’t help but smile as well, resting his hand on his chin as he sat on the edge of his own bed. There had been a tension in Nishiki’s body that was gone now, a strain in his eyes, across his forehead, brushed away by a successful Christmas.
“You know,” Nishiki said lightly, tucking his hands behind his head. One eye opened to glance side-long at Kiryu. “You haven’t given me my gift yet.”
“And you haven’t given me mine.”
“Well, you go first!”
There was no arguing with that smile. Kiryu nodded and reached behind his bed, pulling the carefully wrapped box from its hiding place. The paper was simple, an understated red, with a simple tag. “To Nishikiyama,” it said.
With both hands, Kiryu extended the gift to Nishiki, head bowed. The long-haired boy took it eagerly and tore into the wrapping paper, opened the gift box inside—
And he grinned. And he burst out laughing.
Sitting inside the box was a sleek lighter, a sleek silver metal with gold embellishments along the edges. Engraved into the silver was a kanji, “Akira”. His name.
Kiryu’s ears immediately began to burn red. “Is it silly?” he asked. “Do you not like it?”
“No! No! It’s great! Ah, shit, it’s so fancy!” Nishiki said, unable to stop laughing. “It’s just— it’s—- hang on.”
He carefully put the box onto the bedside table, gingerly and delicate, not wanting to jostle the precious gift. He then slid to the floor and reached under his bed, groping in the darkness until he found it— a brightly decorated gift bag, adorned with ribbons and bows. “I think we can both agree that mine is wrapped better.”
Kiryu took the bag and dug through the silver tissue paper slowly. He first found an envelope, inside of which were vouchers to a karaoke place, fourteen of them. He smiled, opened his mouth to speak, but Nishiki said, “Keep going. There’s more.”
And so he kept going, pulling away tissue paper until, at the bottom of the bag, he found a very familiar looking box. He picked it up and opened it—
And inside was a lighter, the metal dark and polished, flecked with gold embellishments and engraved with his name, “Kazuma”.
He laughed, slow and soft at first, the sound growing.
“Right?!” Nishiki cried. “Did we really just get each other the same gift?!”
“We’re a pair, aren’t we?” Kiryu asked, still chuckling, as he put the box to the side and joined Nishiki on his bed, sitting so close their thighs touched.
“Hey, I think I won this one,” Nishiki said. “I ALSO got you those vouchers.”
“Those are for both of us and you know it. Who am I going to take to karaoke besides you?”
At that, Nishiki sputtered, his eyes widening, a blush crossing his cheeks. He tried to find the words to retort, something quick and clever. But before he could, Kiryu leaned in and caught his lips in a soft kiss, stealing his breath, his words.
They sat there for a moment- quiet, breathless, lips brushing. Before Kiryu pulled away, red-faced, and muttered, “Merry Christmas, Nishiki.”
Nishiki grinned as suavely as he could, and he rested his hand in Kiryu’s shoulder, pulling him in to press their foreheads together. “Merry Christmas, Kiryu,” he replied in a soft whisper.
Their lips brushed again, and together they fell back onto the bed, curled close in each other’s arms.