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A snowflake in the palm of the hand felt like home nestled in the nook of his hand. Toshiro felt an acceptance he’d never felt from anyone but granny—perhaps even Momo—before becoming a shinigami. Nor could he explain the feeling beyond the fact it matched his zampaktuo spirit.
“It does feel that way,” Rukia Kuchiki said, making the young taicho turn his head to look at her, wide eyes. “But so does the Kurosaki family.”
Which was the way the Shiba family felt, though knowing what he did now regarding the Kurosaki patriarch, that familiar feeling made sense.
“You going to join them for this Christmas thing?”
“Christmas thing?” Toshiro murmured, amused at her wording.
“Ichigo said he invited you.”
“It’s your first one, isn’t it?”
“My first Christmas thing?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not a Japanese tradition.”
“He never cared that it was. They never did,” Toshiro said, thinking of the antics of both his former taicho and the former fukutaicho of the thirteenth. “And yes. I’m going. Hadn’t planned not to.” After all, he did miss the Christmas celebrations they put together.
“Good. Something Ichigo said—apparently Karen wouldn’t be pleased if you didn’t come.”
“Ah,” Toshiro acknowledged, amused by what Rukia said.