Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

12/14 A walk under the pretty lights

When he woke up, Saihara’s whole room smelled like those cookies Tojou baked for everyone yesterday. It was enough of a pleasant difference from his usual routine to momentarily distract him from the racket at his door. Where was that smell coming from? Were there more being baked? Why this early in the morning? And why did the aroma reach the dorm rooms?

Finally, Saihara registered a bastardization of his name being shouted at him. Only one person he knew would call him that. Was something wrong? Saihara stumbled to the door, getting tangled up momentarily in his bedsheets. He had enough awareness to make a semi attempt at sorting out his clothes and smoothing down his hair before opening the door.

Saihara flinched as Iruma raised her fist at him. Then she just sighed dramatically, lowering her hand. “Damn, fucking finally Sleepyhara! Remind me never to waste time waking you up in an emergency.”

Gokuhara and Kiibo were behind her, looking a mix of sheepish and anxious. 

“Yes, Saihara-san. Sleeping so hard cannot be healthy behavior. You should see a doctor about a sleep study.” Kiibo nodded firmly.

“Uh,” Saihara managed intelligently, trying to not get too annoyed with them yet. He had a feeling he’d need to ingest quite a bit of coffee rather soon in order to deal with today. “I’ll think about it, thank you, Kiibo. Did you all need something?”

It was an odd group. They were all friends, of course. He’d seen them together often with Ouma and occasionally Amami. What was very strange was that they were bothering to wake him up. And where were the other two?

“We needed some advice on-”

Iruma rolled her eyes. “ We don’t need anything. I swear I can just tell him! That little abortion is going to find out eventually. And that’s assuming this isn’t just a massive prank on all of us anyway, which it probably is.”

Saihara bit his tongue to keep himself from wincing. There was a headache setting in from his interrupted slumber and they weren’t making any sense which really wasn’t helping. “What’s going on, exactly?”

Kiibo placated Iruma by touching her arm and sending her a look. She rolled her eyes but nodded for him to continue. “Right, It’s probably best if we just show you. We’ve all agreed to do what you think is best-” Iruma snorted, but cowered under Kiibo’s gaze, “since no one was entirely certain on how to approach the situation. And you seem to know Ouma-san the best since he responds well to you.”

Saihara refrained from pointing out that he wasn’t exactly a babysitter and Ouma definitely listened to Amami and Tojou more than him. “Is Ouma-san alright?”

“He’s fine, oh my God. They’re really blowing this out of proportion. Just go downstairs and see for yourself already. I have shit to get to and I’ll be damned if Ouma puts me behind schedule,” Iruma huffed, pulling Saihara out of his room.

“Ah, wai- Iruma-san! Ho- Hold on, just a second.” Saihara stammered, hating how warm his skin got with his surprise. 

“What?” Iruma demanded in exasperation.

“Can, sorry, would it be alright if I got dressed first?” Saihara requested, wishing he’d thought to put his hat on before answering the door. He hated how all their eyes were on his ruffled state, probably judging him.

“That is okay! We will meet you in the common room once you are more decent,” Gokuhara nodded firmly, already dragging the other two away, saying something about how Saihara was a good gentleman.

****

When he finally made it downstairs, Saihara was able to identify the smell to be cinnamon. He was at least eighty-five percent certain he had seen Tojou use that as one of the ingredients yesterday. It still begged the question of how it was permeating so much of the dorm building, but at least that small, solved detail satisfied him for now.

The common room was oddly active considering it was only just seven am. Sure, Saihara himself was never up this early, but neither was Yumeno or Hoshi, normally. However, today, all fifteen of his other classmates were up. Several of them seemed to be setting up decorations, overseen by Tojou and Yonaga. Akamatsu was playing the piano in the corner while talking with a few of the other girls. (It made Saihara feel slightly better to see that Yumeno was nodding off to the tune of whatever Akamatsu was playing. There were several near misses with her face and the half-eaten plate of pancakes in her lap. He hoped someone thought to move them away from her before something happened.) 

Amami was bouncing between several of the groups, barely achieving anything before being called to help with something else each time. Which explained why he had not dealt with whatever was wrong with Ouma. Speaking of, Saihara noticed the trio from earlier in the far corner of the room away from the others stealing furtive glances between themselves and Ouma. 

Ouma was in the middle of it all, scribbling on a piece of paper and looking absolutely delighted with himself. He wasn’t even trying to shove Yumeno’s face into her pancakes, which was the only thing noticeably odd about whatever was going on. Saihara raised an eyebrow, opting to just observe the scene for a moment.

Ouma knelt on the floor at the coffee table with several pens and construction paper spread out around him. The other half of the table was holding some of the feast Tojou must have made everyone this morning. It looked like a decent spread of various winter-holiday-themed breakfast items. Chabashira, who was on the couch across from the coffee table with Yumeno and Shirogane, was piling a plate with marshmallow-snowmen, pastries with pretzel antlers, and an egg casserole. She and Shirogane seemed to be having an intense discussion that Saihara didn’t really understand most of. He felt very pleased to see Shirogane move Yumeno’s plate to the table, much to Ouma’s chagrin. Ouma started shoving some of the food away from his apparently very important craft tools and yelling at the girls to be more careful. Saihara was rather surprised when Chabashira let him be and gave him somewhat of an apology after ascertaining he hadn’t woken Yumeno.

Before Saihara could decide what to make all of this, an arm falling across his shoulders startled him out of his thoughts.

“Good morning, Shuichi! Happy holidays! How do ya like all the decorations?” Momota asked, very loud and startling in Saihara’s ear.

“Ah, good morning, Momota-san. It’s looking very nice. How long have you all been working on them?”

“Most of us just started helping today, but Angie and some of the others have apparently been planning this since the end of November. Make sure you tell Akamatsu how much you like what she’s playing, by the way. Mention… damn, Harumaki do you ‘member the name she said?” Momota rambled.

Harukawa appeared at Saihara’s other side, startling him. She’d just been on the other side of the room with Akamatsu. How did she manage that? “Tchaikovsky.” 

“Right! Mention what’s-his-name! It’ll impress her. She seemed pretty put out when we didn’t recognize what she was playing so she could use it, okay?” 

Saihara nodded, not saying that it had already been familiar to him. He’d been trying to place it, and now it made sense. He had never heard The Nutcracker played on the piano, but he had seen the ballet a few times with his uncle when he was younger. Saihara made a note to discuss it with Akamatsu later. For now, though, he had a different goal. 

“What’s going on with Ouma-san and his friends?” Saihara prompted, hoping they knew something about it.

He received mixed feedback from the other two. Harukawa only sighed in mild annoyance, crossing her arms. Momota, on the other hand, drew away from Saihara in order to look at Iruma, Kiibo, and Gokuhara. “Ah, so they did wake you up. Sorry ‘bout that, bro. I tried to talk them out of it. It’s really not that big of a deal. I tried sayin’ that we should just leave him be. If he’s messing with us, then he wants us to make a scene out of it, right? And if not, well…” Momota trailed off, staring at Ouma for a long moment, looking absolutely baffled. “I mean, he has to be messing with everyone.”

“I don’t like it. You shouldn’t get involved, Saihara-san,” Harukawa said, glaring out at the room.

Saihara shifted, really wishing he’d gone for the coffee pot immediately upon going downstairs. He was far too tired to decipher what had everyone so harried about Ouma. He’d definitely woken up to far worse scenes on Ouma’s behalf. In fact, he looked rather tame today. The picture of innocence. He’d already stopped bickering with the girls on the couch and no glitter had been upended in someone’s hair. It really appeared to be a good day. Maybe that alone had unnerved everyone? It was understandable. Quiet days with troublemakers like Ouma often led to no good. But still. 

Saihara suspected something else must be up, “I haven’t had any coffee yet. Would you mind elaborating a little? They didn’t exactly tell me what was going on. Has Ouma done something?”

Momota’s expression morphed into something akin to amusement like he was fighting a fit of laughter. “He’s, well… He’s writing a letter to Santa Claus.”

Saihara stared at Momota for a long moment before pinching the bridge of his nose, hoping the brim of his hat hid most of his frustration.

 They had to be kidding. 

Saihara shook his head and walked away, towards the kitchen area. He barely stepped foot through the thick, oak door before stopping dead in his tracks. Every available surface was covered in various types of cookies and desserts. Several of his upperclassmen were bustling about taking orders from a pink-haired senior Saihara was fairly certain he’d never seen before. She seemed rather focused on decorating her mass neighborhood of gingerbread houses and hadn’t noticed his arrival. 

Hope’s Peak really went all out on the holidays, apparently. There hadn’t been nearly this much preparation for Halloween. No wonder Tojou had been particularly frazzled the last few days. Saihara made a mental note to try to find a way to lighten her usual load and gave up on his hopes of having coffee to ease the ridiculousness of his day. He would just have to deal if everyone else was working so hard. He could manage.

At least this explained the heavy scent of cinnamon in the air of the dormitory. Another mystery solved. And yet, he still had very little to go on with the Ouma situation. Kirigiri would be so disappointed in him. He had to prove himself, even if it was for something as silly as this. His peers were counting on him to make sure Ouma wasn’t planning some elaborate scheme. He definitely could not be allowed to interfere with everyone else’s hard work.

Saihara took a deep breath to give himself enough time to grieve his caffeine fix, fixed his hat more securely on his head and headed back into the common room.

In the several minutes he had been stunned by the feast preparation happening in the kitchen, it seemed the class’ decorating committee had moved on, leaving the common room much quieter than it had been. Akamatsu was still there, now playing what Saihara believed was the section of The Nutcracker where the snowflakes came out. This one was usually a crowd-pleaser and his uncle’s favorite song from the ballet. The familiar tone made something inside Saihara ache a little bit, distracting him once again. He couldn’t afford to go home for the winter holiday this year, so he was going to be stuck on campus. Kirigiri had told him it would be an excellent time for him to trial run a few cases so he was excited for that, but still… Saihara was going to miss seeing his uncle this year.

Ouma was exactly where Saihara had left him, although he seemed to have taken a break from his letter writing and was now wolfing down a serving of steamed rice and a couple of the pancakes. From what Saihara could see of the remains, they’d been drowned in thick, blue syrup and topped with several spoonfuls of whipped cream and chocolate chips. The overdose of sugar made Saihara a little nauseated just looking at it. 

As if feeling Saihara’s stare, Ouma glanced up from his meal and all but threw his plate down when he registered that it was Saihara. Saihara braced himself for the impact as Ouma scrambled to his feet and leaped at him. “Good morning, Saihara-chan!” 

Saihara caught a whiff of blueberry syrup and peppermint as Ouma hugged him a little too tightly. It threw him more than anything else, Ouma’s insistence on invading his personal space already commonplace at this point. Normally, Ouma trailed a cloying grape scent with him everywhere, one Saihara was certain was intentional.

“Ah, uh, good morning, Ouma-san,” Saihara sighed, returning the hug a little awkwardly. He may be used to the overdose of affection from several of his friends, but he still hadn’t quite figured out the appropriate way to return the sentiment. This seemed to appease Ouma well enough, however, as the boy pulled away to return to his breakfast.

“No coffee this morning? That’s a shame, I was hoping you’d bring me some,” Ouma pouted, poking sadly at his rice.

Shame flooded Saihara immediately. Had Ouma requested coffee and Saihara forgot while he was distracted? His hands instantly began to shake, worsened as he contemplated having to actually interrupt the chaos of the kitchen for something as silly as coffee. Surely if he explained the situation, Ouma would understand, right? 

Suddenly, Ouma snorted, pulling Saihara out of his spiral. “That was a lie, of course! Geeze, you’re really terrible at this without coffee, huh? You should definitely go uncaffeinated more often, this is super fun.”

Saihara rolled his eyes at the teasing, more relieved Ouma had been messing with him than truly annoyed at the lie, and knelt on the floor beside Ouma. “Perhaps for you. I do prefer being able to concentrate.”

Ouma just hummed in response while he finished his breakfast. Saihara took the opportunity to have a bit of toast and examine what Ouma had been working on. It did appear to be some kind of Christmas-themed letter, although it was pretty elaborate.  Ouma had used a purple sheet of construction paper as his base and folded it in half. On the cover, he’d glued a white piece of paper cut into a circle with a pair of wavy-edged scissors so that he could draw a picture. It seemed to be a half-finished scene of snow-covered trees behind snowmen wearing checkered scarves. It was shockingly well done, actually. Saihara had only ever seen Ouma scribbling with crayons the way a toddler would, so he’d never assumed Ouma had any real artistic talent. 

“That looks really cool, Ouma-san. I didn’t know you liked to draw.”

Ouma turned away from Saihara to look at his letter before making a face. “Oh, I don’t. It’s super tedious and annoying so I threatened Angie into doing it for me! It has to be absolutely perfect and supreme leaders can’t waste time on stupid details, you know. If Angie takes too long on it though…” Ouma gave Saihara a dark smile and ran a finger across his own throat in a steady line from one ear to the other.

Saihara only looked back, unamused. He was certain he’d seen Ouma coloring this himself and he couldn’t imagine Angie being easily goaded into something she didn’t want to do, especially with everything else she was doing for the holidays this week. Besides, the implied throat-slitting Ouma’d done had exposed his lie as it had allowed Saihara to see how much smudged green, grey, and blue colored pencil ran along the side of Ouma’s hand from the end of his pinkie to past his wrist. Even Ouma’s usually white sleeve was stained with a mix of colors. “That’s a lie.”

“Aw, you got me, Saihara-chan! Perhaps you were trying to trick me earlier about being all tired to make me go easy on you?” Ouma asked in a mock baby voice, a grin lighting up his features once again. “Anyhow, I have work to do like you pointed out so, shoo! As much as I love your company, you’re a distraction. Of course, that’s a lie. You’re annoying so enough spying for the Dumb Slut Squad already.”

Saihara wasn’t sure if his face was burning due to Ouma’s sudden crude wording or because he’d been found out. He opened and closed his mouth several times and it wasn’t until Ouma had finally chosen what color to work with next that he regained his composure. “I don’t really think you can call them that. Besides, what makes you think I’m spying for anyone?”

Ouma barely turned back to him to acknowledge what Saihara said, already absorbed in his project. “Well, firstly, because you knew exactly who I was talking about. And secondly, you’ve got your intense case-solving face on.” Ouma didn’t give him time to sputter out a lame protest before plowing on. “And thirdly, sure I can. They’re idiots and Iruma-chan is an ugly whore. So really, I was being pretty generous, don’t you think, guys?”

The last part of Ouma’s sentence increased in volume, clearly directed towards the group Saihara hadn’t noticed returned and was lingering once more at the edge of the common room. Iruma squealed (whether at the insult or being caught Saihara didn’t care to hazard a guess) and marched up to them. 

“ I think that you’re a shitty little brat who-” Iruma started, but was cut off by Kiibo. 

“Please knock it off, Ouma-san. You’re being extremely rude and we’re only trying to help.” 

Ouma didn’t even bother to stop what he was doing long enough to acknowledge their existence by looking up for two seconds. “That’s interesting seeing as I’m pretty sure none of you are remotely skilled enough for what I’m doing and couldn’t possibly help me in any way.”

Saihara really couldn’t understand how the four of them got along. They were hardly even civil towards each other, with the exception of Gokuhara. Yet, for some unknown reason, they spent most of their free time together. Saihara wasn’t entirely certain he’d go as far as to call them friends but… they had to have some sort of positive relationship at some point if they tolerated each other so much.

Still, he couldn’t handle their bickering so early with no coffee. “Guys, you asked for my help, and I’ve really got this, so please?”

Gokuhara nodded, setting his hands on his two other friend’s shoulders. “Yes, please trust Saihara! We can go help the others with decorations.” 

Iruma scowled, clearly wanting to say more, but allowed herself to be dragged away with Kiibo also in tow. Ouma waved obnoxiously at them as they left, sitting up on his knees to make sure they could see him over the couch. Iruma just flipped him off before she disappeared behind the doorway. 

Ouma settled back down so he could get back to work on his card. He opened it up and started writing something in pencil while humming a song Saihara didn’t recognize as off-key as he could manage. Saihara did his best to read over Ouma’s shoulder to figure out if everyone was actually correct in that he was writing a letter to Santa. Perhaps the cover was just a really elaborate disguise? It did, however, appear to be just that. The script was messy and the ink, from what Ouma had committed to, was smeared in several places making it difficult for Saihara to read from his current angle. The last thing on the list that hadn’t been inked yet wasn’t that difficult to read, though.

‘A hug from Onii-chan’

Saihara had barely read the characters before Ouma hurriedly erased them and closed the card once more.  “So, I’m being handled, huh?” Ouma said nonchalantly, propping his arm up on the table to rest his head on.

“What? No. I mean, I don’t really know exactly, I guess. Um, the others are just… confused? On what you’re doing, I mean.”

“So you are spying then,” Ouma pointed out in sing-song, using snowflake stickers to seal the card after signing his name.

“Well, I don’t have to tell them as long as it’s none of their business. This is all harmless, right?” Saihara shrugged.

“Bzzzt! Wow, Saihara! You’ve never been more wrong! But since I like you, I’ll give you a hint: I’m writing a command out to my subordinates to tell them we’re using this holiday as a cover to overthrow the government! Now that you know, though, I have to kill you-”

“That’s a lie, Ouma-san.” 

“What do you think I’m doing then?” Ouma frowned, lip wobbling. A sure sign he was about to start wailing any second.

Saihara furrowed his eyebrows, looking between Ouma, the card, and the strewn-out art supplies. All the evidence pointed to what he had been told. Should he trust his paranoia or the evidence? “Are- you’re writing a letter to Santa, right?”

“WAHAHAHAAAA- WAAAAA! You’re so mean! Guessing wrong on purpose just to bore me. Obviously, that’s not what I’m doing. You didn’t even try!” Ouma burst into loud sobs, voice trembling enough to make it difficult to get out his words.

“No, that has to be right. You never give me unsolvable puzzles and there’s been no evidence for any other answer. In fact… I don’t think you even thought to mislead me until you noticed people thought what you were doing was weird, right?”

Ouma’s wailing stopped instantly, tears slowing to a halt as his face went blank. “Hm, Alright. You’re wrong about that last part, but since you guessed correctly so fast I’ll give you one super special prize, Saihara-chan. You have the honour of being my look-out while I post this. Few ever get such a high position, you know? I have to screen all of the candidates very harshly. I can’t have stupid, lazy look-outs. And this is a top-secret mission. So no reporting back to the Dumbass Squad, got it?” 

“My lips are sealed,” Saihara grinned, relieved that Ouma’s good mood had returned. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Ouma in as high of spirits as today. It was hard to wrap his brain around, the prospect that Ouma Kokichi, quick-witted and clever and particularly cruel to those believing in what he perceived to be ridiculous notions, like religion, could believe in Santa so sincerely. It did seem to be what was going on.

Maybe it wasn’t so outrageous? After all, Ouma himself was rather childish in nature. He spent the most time with naive Gokuhara. And, of course, Saihara knew Ouma was secretly amazed by Yumeno’s magic. He saw the spark in Ouma’s eyes when Yumeno performed a trick he wasn’t quite sure how she pulled off. Ouma took delight in puzzles and mysteries so outlandish that others would write them off, even if out loud he ridiculed the trick as though he actually knew how it was done. 

Maybe this was just another contradicting facet to him?

“Stop thinking so hard, or all that pressure will make your eyes just pop out of their sockets,” Ouma said with an odd grin, tapping Saihara’s forehead. To Saihara’s surprise, when Ouma got up, he headed upstairs instead of towards the exit.

“Aren’t we leaving to mail your letter?” Saihara called after him.

“Well, I’d rather not go in my pajamas,” Ouma snorted, pausing on the stairs in order to gesture to his rumpled uniform. It seemed to Saihara to be the same white outfit Ouma always wore, the one that strangely resembled a strait-jacket. Did he have the exact same outfit for his pajamas? Sometimes, Saihara didn’t think he’d ever understood the other boy. “Also, you’ll freeze to death if we go out like that. Give me five minutes.”

***

It took Ouma half an hour to get ready. Saihara had been expecting as much, noticing the too-wide smirk curling up Ouma’s face when he’d given Saihara a time. Saihara took the time to clean up the mess Ouma had made and say good morning to Akamatsu. 

She was delighted, as Momota had predicted, that Saihara knew who Tchaikovsky was. And she needed the reminder to take a break. After chatting for a few minutes, Saihara made her promise to get up and stretch a bit. Maybe even have some breakfast before getting back to practice. Finally, Ouma pranced back downstairs and dragged Saihara away after handing him Saihara’s winter wear. Presumably having been stolen from his room after Ouma picked the lock. He’d complain about it if he thought it would discourage Ouma whatsoever. 

Ouma had put on a thick coat that stretched just past his knees. The arms were so puffy they were held out at a slight angle from his body and Saihara had to bite his tongue to keep from giggling. It made Ouma look weirdly cute and smaller than usual, somehow. If Saihara kept looking at him, he was going to blush and Ouma would taunt him about it. Although, so far Ouma in this good of a mood had been rather unpredictable, so maybe not. Saihara still wouldn’t risk it.

Ouma clutched the scarf wrapped around his neck, a dark black that contrasted his white winter coat, pulling it up over the lower half of his face as they trekked outside. It was snowing harder than Saihara had been expecting, so he was glad Ouma had convinced him to wear a coat. 

They were quiet for a while, both a bit in awe of the lights lining the whole street, gleaming through the heavy snowfall. Very few cars passed them despite the fact the school was just off a pretty busy street. It was oddly magical, even though the cold was biting at Saihara’s skin and making his eyes water and nose run. Saihara finally tore his eyes away from the scenery to check that Ouma hadn’t run off. He certainly wouldn’t put it past the little gremlin. Perhaps that had been his elaborate trick all along: lure Saihara out into a blizzard and ditch him to freeze to death. It was unlikely though. Ouma wasn’t really that cruel, and he wouldn’t have gone to the length of getting Saiahra’s coat for him if that had been his plan. Besides, Ouma was right next to him, eyes wide and full of absolute delight, reveling in the pretty decorations. The colors reflected off of Ouma’s face as they passed under a bunched section of lights and Saihara couldn’t help the fond smile that turned up the corner of his face, forcing himself to turn his eyes to the ground, watching the way his shoes crunched the soft snow under him. 

Ouma got more and more energetic the longer they walked, practically bouncing with every step. Saihara liked watching the way his ugly purple boots hit the snow just a little too hard, sinking further than it would if he were walking normally. “Hey, Saihara-chan? Did you know that Santa is one of the only legends that knows the location of my super evil organization’s headquarters?”

Saihara tilted his head, surprised by the sudden information. “Oh, really? How’d he find you guys?”

“Well, Santa knows everything obviously. And, this is top secret information so I’ll definitely have to kill you if you tell anybody, of course, but we use ducks to carry all our correspondence throughout the world! That’s how we’ve been able to stay hidden for so long. Everyone thinks a massive organization like us would be totally online but then we’d risk hackers spilling our secrets and decoding our messages.”

“All your messages are encrypted, huh?” Saihara said, smiling wryly. Sometimes it was fun to play along with Ouma’s stories, especially when he just wanted to talk and talk. It was so harmless, and it made Saihara wonder if anyone else ever really had the patience to let him ramble like this. 

“Oh, yeah! We had some of the world’s best cryptologists come up with them so it’d be basically impossible to decode it, but we like to err on the side of caution anyway. So as I was saying,” Ouma flapped his gloved hands eagerly like he’d remembered there was a point to what he’d been talking about, “we use ducks! This means we can really only talk with our members on the other end of the world during migration season but it’s the best system. We have very excellent animal trainers, you know. Even better than Tanaka-senpai! Well, because we use ducks and Santa has his penguin minions, as everyone knows, they communicate sometimes. So Santa is sort of an honorary member of my organization you know? You should think about that the next time you get in enough good grace with me to be offered a position with us. Santa reserves his nicest gifts for us, I always get everything I ask for. So you’ll be getting coal Saihara-chan.” Ouma stuck his tongue out at Saihara as he finished talking. 

Saihara chuckled, shaking his head as he processed everything Ouma had said. Sometimes it took him a minute to decide how to respond. Should he choose to keep quiet about the fact he was fairly certain penguins were only found in the South Pole? While he thought, Ouma sped up distracted by the post box they were drawing near.

“I thought I was your favorite?” Saihara finally landed on a fitting response.

Ouma turned with a weird, goofy grin on his face. “Oh, you are beloved Saihara-chan! That’s why you get coal. Nasty Iruma-chan and dumbass Momota-chan won’t get anything at all because I’d never waste my time on losers, obviously. You can at least keep your house warm in the freezing winter with coal.” 

Saihara shot Ouma a look, “Please don’t call Momota-san that.”

Ouma only rolled his eyes, pulling the card out from under his coat. “Whatever. Hey, hey, hey, where’s your letter for Santa, Saihara-chan? You can’t put it off any longer you know, else you won’t get anything at all!”

Saihara pondered the moment, palms getting sweaty from being put on the spot. Was Ouma testing him? Trying to figure out how many people would let him lie like this? Or did he really not know the truth? Should Saihara be honest? He just… couldn’t bring himself to, not with that gleam in Ouma’s eyes and oddly genuine grin being directed at Saihara. 

“Ah, I thought you said I was getting coal, no matter what?”

“Hmph, Santa doesn’t do anything for people who don’t even try, stupid.” 

“Don’t worry, I, um, al-already wrote one,” Saihara sighed, not meeting Ouma’s eyes as he stumbled over the lie. He was certain Ouma must be giving him that disbelieving look he always did whenever Saihara tried to lie to him. It was going to be followed by Ouma’s claim that he couldn’t stand liars and Saihara would drown in shame despite the obvious hypocrisy.

Only, Ouma was too busy rushing forward to open the post box and slide his letter in. He barely got the letter into the open slot, hand white-knuckling the slot’s handle keeping it open as his feet slid out from under him on a particularly nasty patch of ice. Ouma’s resulting shriek was bloodcurdling. Saihara had never moved so quickly in his life. Somehow, he managed to keep from slipping on the same section of ice. Catching Ouma before he could fall and keeping the slot open with his other hand so that its movement couldn’t throw off Ouma’s precariously regained balance. 

Ouma panted for a long moment, staring wide-eyed at Saihara’s hand, gripping his shoulder so tightly, before hesitantly letting go of the dropbox’s handle. When Ouma didn’t immediately start sliding around once more, he straightened, patting Saihara’s hand cheerfully with an obnoxious laugh. “Wow, great trust fall, servant! I totally expected you to let me crack my head open on the pavement and watch me bleed out. Awww, you didn’t think I really fell, did you?! You did! Nishishi, I’d never be caught off guard, Saihara-chan. Remember that, next time.” Ouma started skipping away like he hadn’t remotely learned his lesson with the first ice patch. Saihara was pretty sure he just wanted to leave the situation as quickly as possible. He highly doubted that had been a fake scream.

With Ouma’s back turned, Saihara stared at the letter still sticking out of the opened slot he’d been clutching. He wasn’t sure how Ouma had believed in Santa this long if there's ever been anyone in his life to fulfill his seemingly earnest requests, but at that moment Saihara couldn’t resist the urge to do something to keep Ouma’s wonderful mood going. How hard could it be to get him what he’d asked for? The last thing he saw seemed like a really easy task, even if Ouma had ultimately erased it. And Saihara would be able to do something nice for Ouma and probably bonus of his good-spirits making it less likely he’d torture the rest of the class with his pranks. Maybe it’d even be a good incentive for improved behavior so that Ouma would get everything he wanted? Before Saihara could overthink it any further and risk Ouma busting him, Saihara quickly slipped the letter out of the slot and stuffed it into his coat’s inner pocket.

Ouma glanced back at the squeak of the slot box sliding closed, “You coming?

Chapter Text

12/15 Two simple favors

Dear Santa~

Here are my demands:

-Weapons of mass destruction

- 烧卖

-More followers for my organization

-a pallet of grape Panta

- a hug from Onii-chan  

Saihara set the list down and rubbed his face. He should have expected as much from Ouma, really. In fact, he couldn’t remotely fathom why he had thought this would be an easy list at all. He could just picture Ouma in his room right now cackling at the confusing requests he’d made. Perhaps this had been his plan all along, tricking Saihara into trying to buy him a bunch of impossible and bizarre gifts. He must have known his meddling friends would decide to ask for Saihara’s help without Amami’s input. Known that Saihara always was eaten up with guilt and the need to fix other people’s problems almost as often as Akamatsu was. It was exactly the sort of convoluted prank Ouma would come up with. It would test his predictions of his classmate’s and if correct, he’d end up with fun gifts. If wrong, he’d be entertained by their surprising reactions and be able to reassess his opinions of his friends. Saihara had a headache. He wanted to chuck the list across the room and stop getting caught up on the weird, bubbly feeling seeing Ouma so excited had given him. 

Oh, God. Had Ouma figured out Saihara’s stupidly obvious crush? Right, Saihara was going to throw himself off a bridge.

But first, he wanted coffee. Maybe he’d be able to think a little better. He hadn’t slept much last night, mulling too much over the items on the list. Some of them were very Ouma. Others… he wasn’t even sure what they were . Saihara barely knew any Hanzi, just enough to recognize that’s what the second word was but not enough to read it. He’d probably ask Amami to translate it for him. It was kind of cute how much stiffer the character was like Ouma had tried really hard to make it legible and neat, unused to writing in a different language. The comparison to Ouma’s more familiar, messy, and almost child-like scrawl made Saihara smile just a little despite his annoyance.

No, wait. He wasn’t going to ask Amami for help. He wasn’t going to play Ouma’s stupid game at all. Saihara decisively folded the letter back up, sliding it back into the torn-up envelope, and shoved it into the top of his desk drawer. 

****

A gentle prodding to the side of Saihara’s head roused him. Oh gross, his hands were wet from where he’d drooled on himself. Saihara made a face as he lifted his head up and hurriedly wiped his hands and face off, hoping whoever woke him hadn’t seen that. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, he’d just been waiting for the coffee to brew and the overpowered LED’s in the kitchen were really bothering his eyes and he just wanted to lay his head down on the table for just a second- 

Saihara blinked rapidly to clear his blurry vision when he heard a soft giggle next to him, already flushing in embarrassment. Ouma had probably seen the slobber. Or Saihara’s hair was a mess. Maybe Saihara could melt into the floor and disappear so he’d never been seen ever again.  However, when his vision cleared, he only saw Ouma giving him the fondest smile he’d ever seen on Ouma’s face. Of course, it only lasted for a moment before Ouma straightened up, settling his arms against the back of his head and the smile curling up into his usual mocking smirk. “Passed out before you could even get your coffee, huh? What kept you awake all night to give you those terrible bags, beloved Saihara-chan?”

Saihara flinched as Ouma’s thumb pulled on the skin under his eye and swatted the boy’s hand away, “Stop that! I just was working on a case because I couldn’t sleep, okay?” 

Not a complete lie.

“Well, you should take better care of yourself, dummy. Your friends are super annoying when they’re worried about you. Don’t wanna be a burden, do you Saihara?” Ouma said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Saihara’s face heated up, the shame choking him. Of course, he didn’t want to be a burden. The idea of bothering his friends made him feel sick. He knew Ouma was just baiting him, probably to distract from the fact that Ouma was worried about him but… there was still some truth to his statement. “No,” he managed softly, staring back at the grain of the table.

Ouma huffed dramatically, skipping over to the crowded countertop. “Think anyone would notice if I smashed these babies?” Ouma gestured to intricately decorated gingerbread houses on the counter while he grabbed two mugs from the cabinet above.

“I don’t think Ando-senpai would appreciate that very much. I was asking about her yesterday and she’s really protective of her confectionery. I heard she had the Ultimate Pharmacist attempt to poison Komaeda-senpai after he ruined her assessment his first year.” Saihara advised dryly.

Ouma whistled. “We have a confectioner on campus? Well if she cares soooooo much about her stupid sweets, she should have given them a guard. Really just asking for them to be destroyed. Besides, candy is meant to be eaten!” 

“I’m sure she’d make you something if you asked, but definitely not if you destroy her work.” Saihara shrugged, not bothering to get up to physically block Ouma from the houses. If Ouma really wanted to smash or eat one, he would find a way. Hopefully, the promise of future gratification would be enough to fight the impulse.

Ouma didn’t respond, apparently preoccupied with the drinks he was making. Saihara watched him, mostly wanting to fall back asleep and feeling a little resentful that it was Ouma that had kept him up all night, even if that probably wasn’t the boy’s intention. Ouma appeared to be brewing some rooibos tea if Saihara was reading the label correctly. He also poured coffee into the second mug he got out, but then his body blocked the rest of his actions. After several minutes, Ouma brought the mugs over to the table, setting one in front of Saihara.

It appeared to be the coffee, but Saihara just stared up at Ouma in confusion. Why was Ouma doing something nice for him?

“You should say thank you, beloved Saihara-chan. I even went to such great lengths to make it the way you like it. Even I think twelve sugars is a bit much, but,” Ouma shrugged as Saihara blanched, “you do you!” 

Saihara’s eyes flickered over to the pot and saw that it was empty now. Had Ouma dumped the rest out? His hand shook as he reached for the coffee, he was too desperate for the caffeine to dump it out. Also, Ouma looked really eager for him to drink it, and even if it was most likely a joke, he couldn’t bear the thought of actually hurting him if it wasn’t. It was mostly caffeine withdrawal, though.

Naturally, he was flooded with relief when he took his first gulp of the warm coffee and discovered it was actually black. Saihara just raised an eyebrow at Ouma who was still steeping his tea, watching Saihara with his chin propped on his hand.

Ouma only burst into a fit of laughter, “ Nishishi, you were actually going to drink it anyways!” he crowed. “Was it because of sleep deprivation or the fact you didn’t have any yesterday?”

Saihara only glared at him and took another sip. 

“So, you haven’t told me what you want for Christmas yet,” Ouma said casually, pulling the tea bag out and proceeding to dump an ungodly amount of sugar into the mug.

Saihara tried to keep from gagging and was grateful that Ouma hadn’t actually sweetened his coffee. He forced himself to stop watching, half-convinced Ouma was just going to keep putting in spoonful after spoonful as long as he got a reaction out of Saihara for it. Focus, he asked a question.

“Uh, I don’t really know. I already asked… um, Santa for what I wanted, but I guess I should be preparing for coal.” Saihara said a little wryly.

Ouma snorted, “Come on, obviously, Santa has to get you coal otherwise there won’t be anything I can get you. Now tell me what you waaaant! I have to get my favorite something for Christmas.  How else will I be able to bribe you into my organization? You just want me to look totally selfish when I’m the only one who doesn’t get you anything, don’t you? You know Santa doesn’t tell anyone what’s on his list, Saihara-chan! Tell me tell me tell me tell me tell me te-”

“Okay, okay! As long as you know nothing you do will get me to join your organization… I just want this book… It’s sort of old and there aren’t really prints of it anymore though, so if it’s too much trouble-”

“Stupid, don’t you know we control like the entire black market? I can get anything I want. Just tell me the title, okay?” 

Saihara wrote it down and slid it over to Ouma. “Please don’t do anything illegal for this, promise?”

Ouma pressed his lips together in a thin line, looking oddly serious and contemplative, before nodding firmly. “Alright, but only for you, Saihara-chan! But that’s probably a lie!” 

Ouma fled the room before Saihara could protest, the piece of paper crumpled tightly in his fist as he skipped away, leaving his tea entirely untouched. 

****

“Hey, Amami-san?” Saihara asked, stopping Amami in the hall. 

Amami adjusted the strap of his carry-on, nodding to Saihara in greeting, “What’s up, Saihara?”

“Ah, I’m sorry to bother you. I just had a couple of questions about… um, Ouma?”

“No problem. Happy to help.” Amami smiled, leaning against the wall so they were out of the main path of students.

“Well, uh… do you know what this says?” Saihara asked, showing Amami a piece of paper where he’d copied down the hanzi character.

Amami frowned, processing it, before nodding. “Yeah, it’s shumai. Like the dumpling? Usually pork or shrimp. Why?” 

“Oh…” Saihara’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. Why would Ouma ask for dumplings for Christmas? Why not candy? And why a meat- specific dumpling? “I’m trying to get Ouma everything he asked for Christmas? Some of them are kind of complicated though. Honestly, I thought he was messing with me, but then he said he’d get me something and… I don’t know.”

Amami smiled a little too knowingly. “So you decided not to tell him, huh?”

“He really does believe in Santa?” Saihara asked.

“As long as I’ve known him. It’s kind of sweet actually. I’m glad you didn’t tell him.” Amami shrugged, handing the note back to Saihara.

“That’s right, you’ve known Ouma the longest. And he kind of trusts you… Any chance he’s ever mentioned any brothers to you?”

Amami tilted his head, pondering. “Not really. Just me, I think. For some reason, he finds it endlessly amusing to call me onii-chan. Reminds me of my sisters, so I don’t really mind.” 

Saihara rubbed his arm, feeling kind of awkward about asking. Especially since the request had been erased. Still though… It was so innocent and easy to have done. By far the easiest of any of the others. “Would you be willing to give Ouma a hug on Christmas?” 

Amami’s eyes widened, “That’s one of the things he asked for?”

“Sort of? He technically erased it but… I think he’d still like it.” Saihara said sheepishly.

Amami grinned widely, “I’d love to.”

(A/N: This is a scene for chapter three that I've already written. I thought I'd give a bit of it since chapter 2 is mostly just filler stuff and so short and probably boring. Hope this is okay. It's from Kokichi's POV. It will be removed in the event that I get around to finishing chapter 3 and will be posted on its own separate chapter so you will get a notification of any update.)

12/16 Three Free Time Events With My Beloved

Breakfast was super boring that morning. The last several days, all anyone wanted to talk about was the winter holiday. Honestly, Ouma was excited about it too. It had been a while since he’d seen DICE. Everything this time of year was so pretty with lights and the snow covering everything. It was excellent weather for snowball fights and hot chocolate. 

There was something about the way the cold air bit at his skin that thrilled him. Made him feel alive and calm and silenced the stir-crazy thoughts always racing in his brain. 

Maybe he could finally convince DICE to go ice skating this year.

Normally, Ouma tried to be a little calmer about the pranking this time of year, saving up all the best ideas for the new year… Today, though, Momota really deserved the whipped cream to the face, okay? Plus, Harukawa chased him around campus for two hours and that was so fucking funny. Definitely worth it. Wonderful Rantaro-niichan finally talked her down and then he and Ouma spent some time in the kitchen drinking water while Ouma caught his breath. 

“You didn’t need to do that, you know?” Rantaro sighed once Ouma had finished his water. 

Ouma tilted his head, gazing up at Rantaro with a small hum, “Oh? And what’s that?”

“It’s okay that Momota is excited about seeing his grandparents.” Rantaro shrugged.

Ouma rolled his eyes. “I didn’t care what he was talking about, I was just decorating his ugly face. Massive improvement.”

Rantaro shook his head, gesturing for Ouma to sit down at the kitchen table. He pulled a few bottles of nail polish out of his carry-on, setting them in front of Ouma to choose from. “I’m looking forward to Belarus, actually. I’m certain Suki is there. And I know Gokuhara is excited about keeping everyone staying here company. You don’t need to antagonize Momota over it. And if you wanted to talk about seeing your organization soon, I’m all ears.” 

Ouma stared at him cooly, prodding the neon green polish. “You’re totally right, onii-chan! Nobody staying here is bummed at all. You’re certainly not a terrible liar.” Saihara had been looking so sad at breakfast and if the whipped cream splattering all the way into Momota’s dumb hair had shocked him into laughing, even just a little… well, Rantaro didn’t need to know that. “But that’s a lie! I really just thought Momota should play Santa in the festival. Don’t you think he’s a perfect fit? He already has the obnoxious jolly attitude down.”

Rantaro raised an eyebrow, holding Ouma’s wrist firmly as he started painting his nails. “Hm, I thought you were a pretty big fan of Santa, Kokichi.”

Ouma tapped the toes of his shoes rapidly against the floor of the kitchen, trying to not move too much and mess Rantaro up. “Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?”

“Anyways, if you think you can stop yourself from getting Harukawa to stab you, everyone is planning on playing some games together the rest of the afternoon. Would you be interested?”

“Nothing has ever sounded more boring, ever!” Ouma whined, kicking at the legs of the table. He tried not to wince when it jolted Rantaro’s steady hand. Rantaro didn’t even look up, just wiped the streak of paint off his fingers and kept going.

 “Mhm, well they’re just playing a few different games right now, but I bet I could convince everyone to play BS… you know if you change your mind.” Rantaro shrugged.

Ouma scowled down at the table, trying to look pouty. Rantaro didn’t have to bait him like that! It would have been more fun when Ouma showed up anyways and roasted everyone for having such lame taste in games. Of course, BS was going to be super boring since he could always tell when his classmates were lying but... Their reactions to trying to bust him were always super entertaining. It was certainly interesting to see whether they cared more about keeping him from winning by calling him out every time and risking getting too many cards themselves.