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Mukuro Ikusaba stalked the late night halls of Hope’s Peak Academy.
Like always, she was on patrol. Thanks to her childhood and her time with Fenrir, she had a hard time sitting still for extended periods of time. It was… a personal weakness if nothing else. She was apt with stakeouts and an expert at ambushes, but just sitting around? Nestled in the same spot for some sense of unguarded domesticity? She could never.
So she was on patrol. Hunting the halls of Hope’s Peak Academy for an enemy that she was having the sneaking suspicion did not actually exist. An enemy that did not exist because even though many of the students present were braggarts and blowhards, loud and overconfident… scant few of them were genuine threats.
Still, Mukuro would be remiss if she did not do her (admittedly self assigned) rounds across the grounds of Hope’s Peak. She’d done the outside earlier, during sundown, when the air was slightly warmer and there was still a touch of natural light to help illuminate a few corners that pre-placed artificial lights did not hit.
For some reason, the buildings were open twenty four seven. Mukuro thought it a bit silly. Things across the Hope’s Peak campus were meant to… what was the phrase? ‘Nurture talent across the student body’. As though people should be experiencing ‘flashes of genius’ in the early morning hours. If Mukuro had it her way, there’d be a regiment, and these lazy students would get whipped into shape sooner rather than later. But Mukuro did not have it her way, so she simply did rounds.
Her path took her past one of the many large, looming windows in the main academy building, and Mukuro took a moment to glance out into the night.
The sight before gave her some pause, and Mukuro found herself mildly infuriated by the presence of sentimentality. Beyond the window, clouds had overtaken the sky. And while she had not been watching, they had begun to drop snow from above. Fat white flakes, spiraling through the air in meandering paths that made them far too difficult to predict.
Mukuro used to try to predict them, as a child. Would sit in the attic of one of her foster homes, the one with the little round window just barely looking out over the street. Would press her face to the freezing glass as Junko snored behind her and watch the snow fall. Watch clumped flakes, ever unique in their creation, drift downwards on currents and flows. She’d try and follow a single one, eyes sharp up until the moment where her particular flake would bounce into the space she couldn’t see, where her breath fogged the glass and made it opaque.
Such a scene was reflected before her now, save for the wide eyed child pressed against the glass. The space beyond the window, over the grounds of the campus, was filled with falling white. The ground was already coated in a near pristine layer, an unbroken film of cold across the walkways and the grasses and the fixtures. The path lights cut yellow beams down through the swirling snowflakes, and the city around them rose up in an indiscriminate outline beyond the walls of the campus.
For a second, Mukuro let weakness take her. A testament to the time she’d spent here, among much softer people. She reached out and pressed her palm to the glass, the tiniest shiver rolling up her spine at the feeling of the freezing windowpane. Just like old times.
She stared out into the darkness.
A moment later, Mukuro pulled her hand back. She was almost done with her rounds, as Hope’s Peak’s main building was the last stop of her observations, and then she would go back to her dorm and sleep. She moved to finish her patrol, taking in the silent halls of the ground floor, before finally finishing up with a sweep of the entryway.
Empty. Quiet. Serene.
Mukuro nodded and pushed through the front doors.
Immediately, the cold bit at her. Mukuro adjusted her jacket and took her first step, letting the snow crunch beneath her heavy boots. At Hope’s Peak, she always felt a little lost once her rounds were done. When she wasn’t performing sweeps or drills or rounds or anything of the sort… she was barely the Ultimate Soldier. Without a weapon in hand, she was just… a high school girl. One with very little of a past beyond war.
She tightened her jacket around her shoulders and walked.
The snow continued to pour down in a heavy, frigid sheet. It landed on her shoulders and atop her head, soaking into her hair, chilling the tips of her ears and biting at her extremities. Still, Mukuro was nothing if not resilient. She had handled the elements before, and she would do so again.
As her boots crunched fresh snow under their tread, Mukuro remembered something. She hesitantly reached into her pocket. From within, she drew… her smartphone. Mukuro wasn’t exactly well versed with these things, even now. There was far too much they could do, and far too many ways to make yourself vulnerable with them. She only had one at all because Junko insisted on buying her one, because she ‘was not going to be sisters with a loser ass normie’, in her words.
Mukuro pressed the button, and the screen winked to life, a few snowflakes falling on the exposed face. 11:36 PM, December 24 th . Still twenty four minutes left before the day rolled over and Christmas began. Twenty four minutes before her birthday ended.
She had, naturally, wished Junko a happy birthday at 6 AM sharp, the moment she’d woken up. Junko had responded by telling her to fuck off, and then returned the sentiment of a happy birthday wish a few hours later, when she passed her by in the hall. As per usual, neither of them had provided each other any gifts. They knew each other well enough to know that gifts were for sentimentality. The two of them had no need to be sentimental with each other. So there was no need for gifts.
That was how it had always been.
Which was why it felt strange to see an assortment of texts on her phone this morning. Mukuro was not sure how to respond, so she simply had opted not to. Still, she looked over the texts again.
‘Happy birthday, Mukuro Ikusaba! I hope you have a splendid and enriching day!’ from Kiyotaka.
‘happy birthday!٩(◕‿◕)۶ love you bestie!’ from Sayaka.
‘hope you have a good one! me and sakura will be in the gym this afternoon if u wanna get birthday lunch after working out! my treat!!!’ from Aoi.
‘Hope you have a good birthday!’ from Chihiro.
And…
‘Hey Mukuro! Let me know when you’re free today!’ from Makoto.
…that one was the most baffling text out of all of them. For a reason she wasn’t sure of, Mukuro had made sure to avoid Makoto today.
Mukuro made it back to the dorms with ten minutes to spare before the end of the day. She stomped her boots, clearing the snow from the treads, and made her way back to her room. The halls of the dorms were rarely quiet, and even now (or maybe especially now), on the even of a holiday, Mukuro could hear the excited chatterings and movements of excited students, hidden within their rooms.
And even despite all that, Mukuro was not prepared for what was awaiting her.
Nine minutes to go, and she turned the corner to where her room was… and found two figures. Two figures she had seen before, but was surprised to see together.
Her sister, Junko. And Makoto.
Both Junko and Makoto turned to look at her as she came into view. Junko, as per usual, just stared at her. A beautifully done up facade, which Mukuro could see through clear as glass. As sisters, they could barely hide things from each other, and Junko was not hiding her boredom. Still, she leaned against the wall next to Mukuro’s room, tapping away at her phone even as Mukuro apporached.
Makoto, meanwhile… was different. His eyes lit up as Mukuro came to a stop before him, evidently pleased. He straightened his back and his smile grew slightly and he greeted her evenly and sweetly, as per usual.
“Hey Mukuro! I’m glad I caught you!” Makoto said, “I saw you didn’t respond to my text, and just figured you were busy. I wasn’t gonna press it or anything!”
“I wasn’t busy.” Mukuro replied, stone faced. To the side, Junko snorted.
“Oh! Well, that’s okay too, hah,” Makoto said, rubbing at the back of his head, looking away with an embarrassed smile, “I don’t wanna overwhelm you. It’s your first birthday at Hope’s Peak, and all.”
Mukuro looked over his head, at Junko. Junko sighed and looked back, rolling her eyes and hauling herself off of the wall. “Don’t look at me, I didn’t tell him anything. He just pestered me all day.”
“Well, ah… it’s your birthday too,” Makoto offered lamely.
Junko just snorted, glancing down at her nails, “Yeah, well, so it is. Muku, I’m gonna leave you to have your fun. I’m starting to get bored, and when I get bored…” She trailed off for a second, glancing up to make sure both Mukuro and Makoto were looking at her before she continued, “I hit the bricks! So later, you losers, I’ve got better things to do and larger presents to open back in my room. Adios, chumps.”
Junko turned around, flipping her phone shut and stuffing it in her pocket. As she shot a limp, dismissive wave over her shoulder, Mukuro could see a little gift wrapped box in her other hand. Mukuro watched her stalk down the hall, shooting one more chilly glance over her shoulder before disappearing.
Makoto stared after her, rubbing his neck. Then, he turned back to Mukuro and smiled. “Well, um. Good evening.”
“Good evening, Makoto. Is there a reason you were waiting outside of my room?” She asked.
Makoto turned a little red, and laughed, “Um, well, yes. Junko asked me to hang out today, and I figured you’d be with her since you’re… twins. But I guess you have your own way of celebrating birthdays, huh?”
“We’re very different, yes,” Mukuro said. Makoto almost seemed to wilt under her gaze, but continued on.
“Yeah! I think that’s really cool. Everyone is different,” He said, nodding to himself, “But, well. I didn’t want to be unfair. And I also consider you a friend, so. Here.”
Makoto stuffed his hand into a pocket in his jacket, and pulled out a little box, almost identical to Junko’s. It was wrapped in plain blue and purple wrapping paper, and had a little bow on top, adhered with tape. She spent a second staring at it, then flicked her gaze back up to him.
Makoto stared at her a second, confused, before realization dawned on his face, and he laughed. “Oh, right. You’re not one for surprises. You know, you and Junko really are different.” He held out the package a little more, “It’s just a box of chocolates. I figured you’re the kind of person to like dark chocolate, so I got you one of the bitter ones. I hope you enjoy it.”
Mukuro…
Mukuro took it. The box was light, the wrapping paper glossy and kind of slick against her skin. She had never been one for presents, receiving little in her time as a child and even less as a mercenary in Fenrir. Gifts came from spare kindness, and she was not one to live in a world with much of that.
But Makoto was, and here was a little emblem of it, placed directly into her palm like a medal of honor. Mukuro tightened her fingers around the little box.
“I will see what I can do,” Mukuro replied, finally.
Makoto’s smile grew easier, as if that was the only answer he needed to hear. He laughed and relaxed and took the smallest of steps closer. “That’s good to hear. I was worried you wouldn’t want it. Junko said you don’t like presents.”
“I don’t usually receive them,” She said.
“Oh,” Makoto said. The surprise was obvious, painted across his face in broad strokes. He stared, bewildered, before nodding with resolve, “Well, that kinda sucks… Hmm…” He put his hand to his chin in thought, brow furrowing. Then, a moment later, “Well, I’ll just have to do my best to get you something tomorrow then. For Christmas.”
“You don’t have to,” Mukuro said.
“I know. But I want to.”
And then Makoto was turning away, all smiles just like before. He gave Mukuro a warm look, something that would look too happy for anyone else, and said, “I think I’m gonna go to bed. I’ve got to brainstorm and see what I can get my hands on tomorrow. Talk to you later!”
“Goodnight,” Mukuro replied.
And he was gone, jogging down the hallway.
Mukuro looked down at the little box in her hand, wrapped in paper and topped with a bow. An unconditional offering, one which expected nothing in return. And it was all for her. A simple, personal offering, from one person to Mukuro.
She reached down, plucking her boot knife from its strap and slicing open the paper with it. The paper split like skin, peeling away from the single, even slash and displaying the simple box of store bought dark chocolate beneath. Mukuro flicked, popping the box open, and found an assortment of small morsels within, organized neatly in little plastic pockets.
Mukuro retrieved a chocolate between two fingers. Smelled fairly processed, nothing to be concerned about. She popped it into her mouth and chewed.
…
At that moment, a few minutes after midnight on Christmas, the day after her birthday, Mukuro decided that she wanted to learn to enjoy dark chocolate.