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“Are you sure this is how you want to spend your birthday, Keiji?” Koutarou asked, eyes narrowed in concern.
Keiji smoothed his apron, then glanced back up at his husband. “If I didn’t,” he replied, reaching up and fluffing the collar of Koutarou’s jacket, “I would certainly hope that I would have told you before now.”
Koutarou’s face scrunched. “It’s just that it’s your 30th,” he insisted, “and I would have thought you’d want to spend it doing something else.”
Keiji smiled. It was so like Koutarou to be worried that Keiji wasn’t enjoying himself, even after Keiji had insisted that it would be fine—it had been his idea, after all!
When Keiji saw his husband’s promotional schedule for the month of December—he always had Kuroo send them each a copy, so that Keiji could mark off any special events and schedule their own things around them—he saw that there was one event that had been crossed out:
Santa for Tokyo Metropolitan Children’s Care Center.
The reason it was crossed out? Keiji could only come up with one answer:
It was scheduled for the same day as Keiji’s 30th birthday.
“But Keiji, I can’t do anything work-related on your birthday!” Koutarou had protested. “I’m supposed to pamper you all day long! Make you coffee, take you to lunch, to dinner, to bed…”
“I know how much you look forward to this event every year, Darling,” Keiji had replied. “I would hate for you to cancel just because it’s my birthday.”
“But it’s a very special birthday!” Koutarou insisted. “You only turn 30 once!”
“Just like you only turn 31, 32, 33…” Keiji had cupped his husband’s cheek lovingly. “I’ll have many more birthdays for us to spend together.”
“But it won’t be this one.” Koutarou had crossed his arms and pouted, and he looked so cute, with his drooping silvery hair and wide golden eyes, Keiji hadn’t been able to resist kissing him. Koutarou leaned into the kiss, filling Keiji with the same warmth and passion that Keiji had come to know as Koutarou’s love. “I can play Santa next year. I don’t want to miss your special day.”
His words had given Keiji pause. He stopped to think, mind working out the dilemma that had been placed before them.
Was there a way for Koutarou to play Santa, and to spend time with Keiji? Could there be a solution?
And then, an idea flashed through Keiji’s mind, and he smiled. Yes. It could work.
“What if…” he’d said, ghosting Koutarou’s lips with his own, “there was a way for you to be able to do both?”
And now, as they stood at the door to the surgical ward, Koutarou’s Santa suit nice and fluffy and his bag of toys full to the brim, Keiji was sure they had made the right choice.
“Ready?” Koutarou asked him.
“I am,” Keiji assured him.
“Do I look okay?” Koutarou worried, looking down at his suit.
Keiji huffed a laugh and ran his fingers through the soft fluff of Koutarou’s collar, then up to his hair. He straightened his husband’s famous silver spikes, then planted a soft kiss on his mouth.
“You look perfect,” Keiji assured him. “The perfect Santa Claus.”
“Good.” Koutarou’s eyes gleamed. “Because you’re the perfect Mrs. Claus, so cute in your little dress, only for me.”
Keiji’s face heated up, but Koutarou just laughed and pushed the door to the ward open.
“Hey hey hey!” he shouted into the hospital wing. “Who’s ready to see Santa Bo?”
Commissioned Artwork by RhapeSeuhans
The joyous cries of children rang in Keiji’s ears. He ran his hands down the front of his apron, over the soft cotton of his skirt. Kuroo had asked if Keiji wanted to be Santa’s elf, but Keiji knew that Mrs. Claus was just the right part for him to play.
“Santa Bo!” a little boy cheered; he was hobbling over to them on a pair of crutches, entire right leg in a cast. “You made it after all!”
“’Course I made it!” Koutarou replied proudly; he and Keiji accepted masks from one of the staff and put them on. “Couldn’t miss my chance to hear what all of you want for Christmas, and maybe hand out some goodies a bit early, too!”
“Over here, Bokuto-san,” a nurse called, and Keiji followed Koutarou as he trotted over to a plush seat next to a large Christmas tree. “Your seat is waiting.”
“Thank you, Kyoko-chan!” Kōtarō replied cheerily. He handed Keiji the bag of gifts before plopping down into the chair with a huff. His eyes twinkled merrily—just like the real Santa Claus.
Keiji watched as the children poured out of their rooms: some could walk on their own, while others had canes or walkers, and still others were pushed out in wheelchairs. But all of them had the exact same smile on their faces, and it made Keiji’s heart skip a beat to realize that all of them were excited to see Santa Bo—his Bokuto, his Koutarou.
“Now, now,” Koutarou said to the kids, who had started to line up and were (understandably) jostling for position, “Mrs. Claus and I aren’t in any hurry, and we’ve got plenty of gifts to go around. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Claus?” He added to Keiji, giving him a conspiratorial wink.
“Ah—well, yes, uh, that is, you see—” Keiji stopped when he felt Koutarou’s hand on his. He looked down; his husband was grinning up at him, face so full of mischief that Keiji had to giggle.
“What I meant to say is—” Keiji squeezed Koutarou’s hand, grateful for how his husband always managed to ground him, “yes, we have plenty of presents, and everyone will have their turn.”
“Excellent!” Koutarou bounced in his seat and turned back to the kids, who had settled down and were watching them both expectantly. “Then your nurses and aides will help each of you up here, one-by-one, and you can tell me what you want for Christmas! And then Mrs. Claus here will give each of you a present! Sound good?”
There was a chorus of yeses, but then one little boy, who was leaning on an IV stand, stepped out of the line. “Why should we tell you what we want for Christmas?” he demanded. “You’re not the real Santa! You’re a volleyball player!”
The children immediately burst out into a cacophony of sounds, too distraught and angry for Keiji to parse out any one individual child. He looked to Koutarou, panicked, but Koutarou just got to his feet and raised his hand, his face suddenly stern and serious.
The children hushed.
“What’s your name, kiddo?” Koutarou asked.
“Kenji,” the boy replied, his chin jutting out in protest.
“Nice to meet you, Kenji,” Koutarou said. “And you’re right. I’m not Santa.”
“See!” Kenji crowed. “I knew—”
“But!” Koutarou interrupted, his voice strong and authoritative, and Kenji fell silent at the sound. “Santa has asked me to be one of his official messengers, and he asked me to come here specifically to talk with all of you about what you want for Christmas. So after Mrs. Claus and I leave here, we’ll talk to Santa and let him know everything all of you want.”
“Really?” Kenji asked, voice fading at the confidence of Koutarou’s words.
“Really,” Koutarou assured him. “You just wait and see! Christmas morning, you can tell me if I’m right or wrong.”
“O—okay!” Kenji exclaimed, his face lighting up at the challenge. “I’m gonna tell you everything I want, and you better let Santa know!”
Koutarou laughed. “You bet, buddy,” he told Kenji. “I’ll be sure to tell Santa everything.”
For the rest of the afternoon, one by one, the children from the surgical ward made their way up to Koutarou and excitedly told him what they wanted for Christmas. Multiple times, Keiji had to force himself not to laugh at the children’s sometimes-ridiculous requests: a Porsche, a doll as big as them, a full workbench with tools, their own airplane—the list went on and on.
But as much as Keiji wanted to laugh and roll his eyes, Koutarou took every request in stride. When a little girl with her arm in a cast asked for her own airplane, Koutarou asked if she would also need a pilot to fly it. “I’m going to fly it myself!” the little girl exclaimed proudly.
“Okay,” Koutarou replied, “then how about if we get you some flying lessons, too?”
And so it went. After each child visited with Santa Bo, Keiji helped them pick out a toy. They were small, simple gifts: a yo-yo, a model airplane (the little girl who asked for her own airplane was very happy to take that one), a baseball glove, a set of drawing pencils, and more. But the children were ecstatic to get a gift, and no one complained; everyone managed to find something they liked, and Keiji was more than happy to help them find just the right thing.
When the last child had talked to Santa Bo and picked out their gift, Koutarou got to his feet and stretched. “Man,” he bellowed, reaching his hands to the ceiling, “that was a lot of kids!” He looked at Keiji, who was busy picking up the bits of plastic and cardboard that had fallen around him when the children shredded the gift packaging. “I hope you were keeping track of what everyone wants, Mrs. Claus!”
Keiji nearly choked. “Wha—what?” he sputtered, dropping the pieces of paper and packaging in his hand. “You—you wanted me to—”
Koutarou belted out a laugh. “Nah,” he said, pulling down his mask to press a kiss into Keiji’s Mrs. Claus cap, “you didn’t have to do anything but help the kids and look pretty.” He looked Keiji up and down; something warm unfurled in Keiji’s core. “You did great at both, you know,” Koutarou added, a slow smile curling up his lips.
Keiji was sure he was beet red, but he mustered up a smile for his husband. “You—you were amazing too, Kou,” he whispered. “As usual.”
Koutarou’s smile turned bright and knowing. “Really?”
Keiji nodded, his cheeks pink. “Really.”
Koutarou gave him another kiss, this time on a blushy cheek, then took the bag of gifts. “That’s good!” he cheered. “Because you know, we’re just getting started!”
Keiji blinked. “We—we’re just—”
But Koutarou was already off, going to the nurses’ station and handing out more gifts from his Santa bag. He laughed and chatted with them, asking about the kids they worked with, their holiday plans, and wondering if they ever got any time off. Keiji followed shyly; if he was being honest, his social battery was nearly drained, and he was ready to go home, get out of his Mrs. Claus dress, and into one of Koutarou’s big, cozy, MSBY hoodies.
He knew, though, that Koutarou wouldn’t be ready to go until he’d talked to all of the staff, until his bag of treats was empty, until his feet were dragging and his body was done. And that was fine with Keiji. Because the truth was, he loved seeing his husband like this: talking to everyone around him, a light in the darkness that all were drawn to. Keiji had been drawn to him too, from the time he was 14 and first saw Koutarou play. Koutarou’s light had captured him, heart and soul, and Keiji loved it—loved Koutarou—with all that he was, and all that he could ever be.
He was content to bask in that warm, radiant light, to feel Koutarou near him, around him, with him, and he would be content to do so for the rest of their lives.
And in his heart of hearts, he knew that Koutarou felt the same.
When the last gift had been given, when the last nurse had been complimented and praised, Koutarou turned to Keiji, took off his mask, and gave him a sly smile. “That’s all the gifts,” he said.
Keiji took off his own mask and smiled back. “So it is,” he answered. “You did amazingly well today, Darling.”
Koutarou puffed up, his hair seeming to ruffle with pride. “I know! It was super fun! I loved getting to talk to all the kids and the staff and the nurses!” He rolled up the bag and used the strings to tie it closed. “But you know what I love more?” he added, leaning close so that his lips brushed the shell of Keiji’s ear.
“Doing cartwheels at the beginning of games and giving Iwaizumi-san a heart attack,” Keiji quipped.
“Close!” Koutarou laughed. His hand circled Keiji’s wrist, and he pulled Keiji in close. “Now that we’re done here,” Koutarou whispered, his voice sending delicious shivers down Keiji’s spine, “you got any plans after this?”
Keiji shrugged, even as his heartbeat picked up impossibly fast. “I was just thinking of going home and getting out of this outfit,” he remarked. “Why?” He glanced up at Koutarou, whose cheeks were pink and whose breath was sharp. “You have something in mind?”
Koutarou’s lips traced Keiji’s ear again. “You bet I do,” he growled, kissing the place just below Keiji’s ear. “It’s still your birthday, after all…and I did say you’re the perfect Mrs. Claus for me.”