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It was approximately midnight in the city of Yokohama, and the usually busy atmosphere had long been put to rest. The snow was a sharp blanket of white against the pitch black of the night sky, a unique contrast of jarring dissonance and soothing beauty. Sadly, however, not many had the privilege of beholding such a sight, hence the current time. The harsh wind froze all it brought its wrath upon, icing the deserted streets and chilling the windows with light frost.
Additionally, all of said windows were as dark and deep as the sky they reflected- that is, all but one.
This window in particular belonged to three night owls by the names of Nikolai, Sigma, and Fyodor, all of whom were wide awake. Their living room light pierced through the frosty glass window parallel to the group, making their lack of sleep clear to their sole company of wispy clouds and scattered stars.
Upon learning this information, one would likely be curious as to what on earth they’re up so late for. Well, they’d be delighted to know that the group was not up planning some malicious scheme, was not discussing strategies and operation plans, and was hardly even involving themselves with any business-like topics of the sort.
In fact, the three happened to be in the middle of a lengthy few rounds of Texas Hold‘em poker.
Sigma, for one, was just as confused as most with this information would be. He had sworn not a half an hour ago he was alone in his room, peacefully jotting down anti-anxiety activities in his anti-anxiety notebook (he had an entire notebook for these, which he was constantly worrying over filling out), yet some way or another he had ended up being roped into a game of cards for “friendly bonding purposes”.
Of course, that last phrase should have made it very clear whom the game was started by in the first place; one could live a thousand years and never witness Fyodor suggest anything remotely close to a “bonding activity”. So, Nikolai, out of what one could only assume to be an astronomical level of boredom, had dragged his poor housemates along to rebuild the nonexistent normality of the group’s relationship.
Currently, the three were seated around a circular wooden table, about halfway through their third game. Two cards rested in each of their hands, a small pile of coins- their replacement for poker chips- lay just in front of Sigma, and a set of four upturned cards were lined up near the table’s center; an ace of clubs, a ten of hearts, a nine of hearts, and a five of spades.
Sigma had been chosen as the dealer that round, so Fyodor, seated to his left, was the first to bet. He slid three coins to the pile without a word, raising the previous bet of two. Nikolai’s eyes lit up at this move, and he made a faint “ooooh!” in response, before flicking three coins of his own to Sigma, who struggled to collect them all.
Once he managed to nudge all three into the pile, he added his own bet in and reached to draw the final card to the set. “Now, the river,” he breathed softly, almost to himself, placing the final community card in line with the four others.
Fyodor nodded faintly, and Nikolai made a face at the card, as if mildly disappointed that it wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping for. A moment later, however, he shrugged it off, and the three made their bets as usual.
Sigma grouped the coins into a slightly tighter pile, turning back to his hand as quickly as he had left it.
“Alright- reveal your cards.”
At this command, all three players laid their hands down face-up. Sigma had an ace of hearts and a king of spades; a pair, Nikolai turned up a five of hearts and a five of diamonds; three of a kind, and Fyodor, of course, revealed a ten and nine of clubs, resulting in a full house.
Nikolai immediately sat up straighter, mouth agape in almost comedic disbelief at Fyodor’s hand. “HUH? WHAT?!” he yelled, much too loud for the others’ ears to take at such an ungodly hour (Sigma decided to write “Nikolai” down in the list of things that were the complete opposite of anti-anxiety). The clown then turned insistently to his long-haired friend.
“SIGMAAA! HE CAN’T DO THAT, RIGHT? THAT MUST BE AGAINST THE RULES. HOW DID HE BEAT ME? I’M LITERALLY THE POKER GUY! I HAVE A CARD ON MY FACE!” He pointed emphatically to the strange white card tucked beneath his bangs.
Sigma sighed. “No, Kolya, his play was perfectly in line with the rules. He just got lucky as he always does.”
“Well… stop that! Stop being lucky! GIVE ME YOUR LUCK!” Nikolai reached across the table to grab the fur on Fyodor’s coat and began shaking him violently.
“I’m afraid I cannot simply produce my luck out of thin air, nor could I gift it to you if I so desired,” Fyodor replied flatly, prying the jester’s hands off of him and instead grasping them by the wrists.
“Awww, why not?”
“…Is that a genuine question, Kolya?”
“‘Course it is! What do you take me for, a… a guy who asks questions without meaning them?”
“I… may actually have to sit and think about how to explain this to you; give me a moment, if you will. By the way, I will be spending said moment locked in my room, alone, and reading like a civilized person instead of responding to petty inquiries.”
With a final passive-aggressive smile on his face, Fyodor left the room, leaving behind the pile of coins he had won. Nikolai looked back and forth between the place Fyodor previously sat, the pile, and Sigma for a few good seconds, before scooping up the pile and shoving it in his coat. Before Sigma could stop his wild card of a friend, Nikolai had picked up the coat and ran off to his room again, leaving his long-haired companion alone with his thoughts once more.
Sigma, unsure of what to do now, sighed and picked up the cards that had been strewn about and placed them neatly back into their box. He then set the box on a nearby shelf and went to check up on the others- just in case, his anxiety told him.
Fyodor’s door, as expected, was locked, but Nikolai’s was wide open. He appeared to be busying himself with the presentation on birds he often promised he’d show his housemates someday, but he glanced up immediately at the sight of his friend standing idly in the doorway.
“Hello again, Sigma!” He giggled, beckoning for his friend to enter the room. “You need something?”
Sigma shook his head, stepping softly into the dark room. Nikolai had an odd tendency to keep his lights off at all times, but leave his computer brightness all the way up. Sigma worried this might be why he was always complaining about constant migraines.
“I just wanted to make sure the night ended smoothly. That seemed like an unfortunately quick ending to our game, so I thought you might’ve been disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” Nikolai gave him an odd look. “Why would I be disappointed? I’m just glad I finally got us to do something that doesn’t involve murder together!”
“Well… that’s true, I suppose.” Sigma drew a finger to his chin, perplexed.
“Sooo… that’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“Okie-dokie! Goodnight!”
“Goodnight, Kolya.”
And with that, the casino manager shut his strange companion’s door quietly, making his way down the hall to his own bedroom. He entered the room and sighed as he shut the door behind him. No later had he collapsed upon his bed, too tired to bother with putting his notebook away. He decidedly left the issue of his clothes and hair for the morning; right now, all he could think about was a good night’s rest after such a long night of trivial entertainment.
As Sigma laid drowsily atop his unmade bedsheets, questions drifted in and out of his head, as faint and delicate as the wispy winter clouds outside. It seemed all he did for a long while was ask questions, questions addressed to no one in particular- why did Nikolai choose to have us play poker, of all games? Why at such a random hour of the night? How did all three of us happen to be awake at said hour?
But the question that puzzled him most of all was why Nikolai was content with such an unresolved end to their time together, as long as it meant they got to spend time together at all. Surely their company couldn’t mean that much to him… could it?
Or perhaps it wasn’t the company in the moment that mattered so much. Perhaps it was the few fond memories amongst the endless dark ones the three would make that Nikolai cared about so much. After all, he supposed it wasn’t every day three of Yokohama’s most dangerous gifted took time to sit around and genuinely enjoy each other’s company for a little while.
Sigma often wondered why the three could not have been part of the vast majority of people that live with the privilage of making endless delightful memories with their companions in the first place. He wondered why they, of all people, were the ones who had to suffer knowing their chances for a happy ending were as slim as they were. That night, it seemed his exuberant friend had unintentionally changed his view on their relationship as a whole; he almost found a sense of comfort in the idea of cherishing good memories while he still can, rather than worrying about how many dark ones were to come.
At last, a faint smile spread across his face, and his fingertips started to brush the gateway to slumber. It had begun to snow outside, the snowflakes drifting down against the wind in such a way that made it appear as if the stars were falling to the ground, soon resting upon the freezing streets of Yokohama. The wind still blew fiercely against anything it encountered, refusing to leave the city in peace or quiet of any sort, and the night sky remained a black hole of darkness against the piercing white of its surroundings.
Sigma noticed he was much calmer than usual that night. Not as many reminders or random ideas shot through his brain, as he was too focused on toying with this newfound philosophy. He figured it might take a little getting used to, but it certainly helped him worry less about the inevitable future of darkness that lay before them.
He sighed, knowing he’d have to write this down in his notebook later, along with the bajillion other things he had to do. For once, however, he let his expectations for himself go, and he drifted into sleep.
Perhaps enjoying oneself for a little while was worth postponing one’s problems until later, after all.