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“They call it “Christmas Eve”, apparently! It’s a day for people to spend time with their loved ones.”
“Isn’t that “Valentine’s Day”, Midare?” Taikogane shot back.
“It is not!” Midare exclaimed. “That’s only for lovers. This is different, the magazine said so!”
Kikkou strolled into the midst of a lively conversation being held in the common room. He had a bounce in his step. He always loved being assigned tasks for the saniwa, no matter how menial (or, perhaps, especially when they were). This time, he was being asked to retrieve a few documents from the bookshelf. As he sorted through the volumes on the shelf, the tantous continued talking behind him.
“You’re supposed to have fried chicken,” Midare continued, “And then you have cake with your loved ones! With strawberries and whipped cream!”
Kikkou could hear in his voice that Taikogane was grinning, even if he couldn’t see it. “Fried chicken, huh? I bet Micchan would take care of that if I asked really nicely.”
The conversation topic shifted, and as Kikkou carried the documents that had been requested back to the saniwa’s office, a thought lingered in his head. It couldn’t be too hard to make a cake, could it?
Mind made up, he started researching. He started with his main lead–he stopped Midare in the hallway and asked for more details. Christmas cakes, he was told, were usually a sponge cake covered with sweetened, whipped cream and decorated with strawberries and, sometimes, a message. The concept seemed simple enough. Kikkou paged through a few cookbooks that were kept in the kitchen, and stumbled across a well-explained recipe. He’d never baked before, of course, but he prided himself on his ability to follow instructions.
Of course, in practice, things did not end up going as smoothly as Kikkou had expected. So many of the steps were taking much longer than the recipe had implied. Many of the steps asked for him to do something while also doing something else, which was a test of concentration when so many of the processes were unfamiliar. He really could use an extra set of hands…
Just as he let out a longing sigh, he realized he had company in the kitchen. “Oh!” He exclaimed, “Ichigo, what a surprise.”
Ichigo smiled warmly, reaching out a hand to brush a bit of flour off of Kikkou’s cheek. “I heard from Midare that you were planning to make something, so I was hoping to find you here.”
Kikkou gestured at the bowls and ingredients spread out on the counter. “Here I am,” he replied. “Baking is much more complicated than I thought it would be.”
“Oh, I understand,” Ichigo agreed, laughing. “My brothers and I have baked a few times before, and it’s surprisingly involved.” He rolled up his sleeves, and asked, “So, would you like my help?”
Even though he had just been wishing he had someone there to help him, Kikkou paused, considering the offer. Getting Ichigo’s help for this, specifically, felt a little strange. Wouldn’t it be a greater sign of his devotion if he did this all on his own? Surely, the answer was yes. However, that felt outweighed by a much more pressing truth: he liked any excuse to spend time with Ichigo. Mind made up, he nodded, smiling. “Would you? If you don’t mind, I would appreciate it.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Ichigo replied with a soft smile. “What should I do?”
Kikkou hummed, glancing over the handwritten copy of the recipe he’d been referencing. “If you would combine the batter into the egg whites, I can start on making the whipped cream…that’d be very helpful.”
Ichigo nodded. “Of course, Kikkou.”
The two set to work together, chatting amicably about various things from around the citadel. “Have you heard about what Mutsunokami has been up to? Just this morning…”
“Last night, I was talking to Monoyoshi, and he was telling me about how…”
While the cake was in the oven, Kikkou set about boiling water for tea for the both of them. They settled in on two stools by the counter, legs touching as they continued talking. Their conversation turned from being about other people to about each other.
“I’m really happy you came to help me,” Kikkou admitted.
Ichigo leaned his head against Kikkou’s shoulder. “I wanted to spend time with you,” he murmured. “It’s been quite a few days since we’ve gotten to. We’ve both been so busy.”
Kikkou’s heart swelled at the love in the other sword’s tone. He would never get tired of Ichigo’s gentle, frank affection. “You’re so sweet. This was a good idea.”
Ichigo raised his head again, eyes widened in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what?” Kikkou replied, smiling. “I’m making this cake for you, of course.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Ichigo set down his tea and put both hands on either of Kikkou’s cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss. Kikkou wound his arms around Ichigo’s neck, keeping the connection for just a little longer.
When they pulled back, resting their foreheads together, Ichigo murmured, “Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Kikkou replied, not feeling the slightest bit upset that his surprise had been spoiled before the cake was even finished.
When it was, though–fully frosted and decorated with strawberries–another pot of tea was brewed, and Kikkou was overjoyed when Ichigo held out a bite of the cake to him, offering to feed him.
As they spent the evening together, Kikkou was sure of three things: First, that baking was not to be underestimated. Second, that Christmas was a wonderful holiday. And third, he thought, leaning in to kiss a small bit of whipped cream off of the corner of Ichigo’s mouth, he would definitely be making another cake next year.