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Tinsel garlands of red and silver flopped around Rindo’s feet as Fret eagerly upended a cardboard box beside him.
“Here ya go, Rindude. Have at it!”
“Thanks,” Rindo responded with a hint of dryness. “And you expect me to put all of these up?”
“Well, yeah? The bar’s counter is like crazy long.” Fret splayed an arm out towards the sleek surface in question. “Mom wants the whole place decked out for Christmas. It brings in more customers.”
For the last two hours, Rindo and the other Twisters had been busily working through boxes of holiday gear in order to decorate the Tavern Nouveau, Ms. Furesawa’s bar—a place that had more of an old-style charm with its polished oak counters and tables, as well as a large stained glass window at the front of the building. Rindo had come to know it well from all his time hanging out with Fret.
“Why does everything have to be so bright, though? And reflective,” came Shoka’s irritated tone as she fought to unravel a string of gold and silver ornaments. Hissing, she finally wrested the last globe from its tangled prison and shoved it away from herself. “There.”
“Nice job, Shokie! Now you’ve just gotta loop them around the beams,” Fret said, indicating to the tall wooden pillars tucked between booths.
Rather than answer, Shoka shot Fret a tart glare.
“I can help if you want,” Rindo offered.
“No, I’ve got it. I’m not happy about it, but I’m not about to be outdone by Christmas decorations," she huffed, snatching the string back up. Rindo watched as she carefully balanced herself on the seat of one of the booths to slide each hook into place, muttering under her breath the entire time.
Shaking his head at his feisty girlfriend, Rindo returned to his own job of pinning up the garlands Fret had so graciously stuck him with.
“Uh, Rindude? Your swooping skills are kinda lacking. One side’s way longer than the other.”
“What are you talking about? They’re perfectly even.”
“No, they’re totally not.” Fret craned his neck back to look under the edge of the bar. “See? This one’s more droopy.”
“Perhaps working on something yourself would be more productive than instructing your friends, Lord Tosai.”
Rindo glanced over in time to see Nagi artfully slice and snip through colorful paper. “What are you making?” he asked as bits of wrapping paper swirled to the floor.
“What you see are the beginnings of present boxes to adorn the base of the Christmas tree.” Nagi smiled.
“Er, tree? Were we supposed to put one up?” Rindo looked from lights to the hanging stars to plastic Santa figurines that waved and obnoxiously ‘ho ho ho’d’ at them. But no tree. He didn’t even remember a tree being part of the process.
“Oh… Right—that.” Fret rubbed the back of his neck. “Who wants to run down to the wine cellar and grab it?”
“Aww, are you too much of a scaredy cat to go down in the dark, creepy cellar and get it yourself?” Shoka teased.
“No! It’s not creepy exactly. Just cold, and dusty, and…”
“And you’re a wimp. Got it.”
“I’d like to see you go down there!” Fret’s whine was loud enough to make Rindo wince.
“Pff. Please, I was a Reaper—no musty old cellar is a match for me,” Shoka boasted. Karma immediately got the better of her, though. She swayed, a gasp escaping her as one foot slipped. Thankfully her quick reflexes kicked in, and she managed to latch onto a beam. She looked like a cat clinging to a scratching post with the way her sharp nails dug into it. Her garland like strings of expensive yarn twisted over her sleeve, her hoodie’s tail swishing behind her to complete the image.
“Then why don’t you go get it?”
The cat girl rolled her eyes, transforming back into a human as she played off her previous blunder. “And let you foist more work on me? No thanks.”
“Now who’s the fraidy cat?”
Spurred on by Fret’s challenge Shoka clambered down, snatched a scrap of paper from Nagi’s pile, and wadded it up before sending it careening at his head.
“Hey! Watch the ‘do, Shokie! Do you know how hard it is to maintain this level of perfection?”
“Why don’t you and I just go get it?” Rindo spoke up before she could make a snide remark about Fret’s hair.
“Ugh. Fine. Let’s make it quick.”
“Sure. Just give me one moment, and…” Rindo affixed the end of his garland above the counter. “There!” Satisfied, he started toward Shoka just as Fret’s mom, Rizuko, burst into the room. Her wavy red hair bounced lightly against her shoulders with every step she took.
“Guess what I whipped up to make the festivities a little more fun?” she chimed excitedly, plopping down a tray filled with steaming mugs of cider. “And, I’ve added a little extra zip to them too!”
It was easy to see where Fret got his energy from when his mom radiated it nonstop. Part of that probably came from being a single parent who ran a bar all on her own. “By ‘zip’ you don’t mean anything alcoholic, right?” Rindo asked.
“Oh no, of course not. You’re all far too young for that still. Most of you, anyhow,” she tittered lightly, flashing Nagi a smile.
The young woman rose to claim her piping mug and lifted it to her nose to give it a small whiff. “I imagine these notes of cinnamon and vanilla in its aroma are what give this drink its so-called ‘zip.’”
Something warm sounded just about perfect to Rindo right now, but he still had the task of the tree to worry about. “Let’s hurry and get stuff, then we can have our drinks,” he said, grasping Shoka’s hand just as it drifted towards one of the golden beverages.
“Excuse you,” she snapped. “I’d like to have my cider first.”
“Wouldn’t it be better not to put this off and just get it over with? Then you can relax and enjoy it without worry.”
Though she pouted, Shoka didn’t argue any further. “Do you even know where the cellar is?”
“Yeah—I’ve been down there before,” he replied, guiding her towards the hall that led to the restrooms, only to pause. Wait, this couldn’t be right—he doubled back and started for the kitchen doors instead.
“You sure about that?”
“I think it’s through here?”
“‘Think’ isn’t the most promising. Ask Fret’s mom where it is.”
“I know where I’m going, don’t worry,” Rindo replied, placing a hand on the door to open it.
But rather than let him have the chance of showing off, Shoka whipped around, deftly yanking him with her. “Hey—um, Ms. Furesawa,” she called across the room. “We need to get to the cellar. Mind telling us where it is?”
“Oh, just call me Rizuko, dear.” The young mom waved a hand. “And it’s just through the kitchen. There’s a door leading down. But be careful you kids don’t trip on anything,” she warned, taking a deep swig of her drink.
“Thanks!” A smirk played on Shoka’s lips as she glanced up at Rindo.
Frowning, he mumbled, “I was going in the right direction. It’s not the biggest place.”
“You didn’t know for sure, so I made the smart choice and asked instead of waiting for you to figure it out. I don’t even know why I’m going with you anyways.”
“Because you wanted to prove you’re still as tough as a Reaper to Fret? Even if you aren’t one anymore.”
Shoka rolled her eyes at him. “Just rub it in, why don’t you?”
“You wanna be a Reaper again?” Rindo asked sarcastically.
“No. But I wouldn’t mind having my powers back.”
Though he shook his head, every now and again a drop of worry trickled its way through him. Like what if one day, the RG wouldn’t be enough for her?
“But now I’m just a Grade B human again,” she huffed.
More like a Grade S, Rindo thought, but the words wouldn’t form on his tongue. Instead, he sputtered, “Isn’t that good enough?”
Shoka turned a sour glare on him. “This is where you’re supposed to say I’m Grade A, not Grade B.”
Crap, he’d been caught. “Er, sorry? Obviously you’re top class, but I figured you’d just know?”
Rather than answer, she nudged him. “So, gonna take charge or what?”
“Fine—whatever, follow me.” He pushed through the swinging kitchen door and led Shoka past an island of cooking equipment. With no employees to use it during off-hours, the normal clattor of the kitchen was absent, making it eerily quiet. The strong scent of cinnamon tickled Rindo’s nose. Glancing at a large chrome island, he spied the curly remnants of apple peel shavings and a bottle of cinnamon left open. His stomach couldn’t help but growl at what he was missing out on back in the other room.
Shoka must’ve had the same thought as him, for she grumbled, “Could you hurry it up a little? I’d like to get back to our nice hot drinks before they turn into ice cold summer ones.”
“You don’t think I’m trying? The door’s right—” But before he could even reach for the cellar door’s handle, Shoka briskly wooshed past him and snatched it herself, shoving it open with a creaky groan.
“Or you could. That’s fine.”
“If it makes you feel better, you can go first.” Shoka nodded at the yawning darkness before them and the steps heading down into it.
“Thanks,” Rindo muttered, taking the lead once again. Just a few steps down the stairs, the air grew instantly chillier and mustier. Rindo quickly found himself missing the delicious scent of apples and cinnamon they’d left behind.
“Is there some kind of light down here?” Shoka questioned, phone out and flashlight on. “I’d rather not have to rely on my phone’s battery to search for this dumb tree.”
“There should be? I think Fret pulled some sort of chain on the ceiling last time we got stuff from here.” Rindo carefully weaved around shadowy boxes lurking on either side, like they were just waiting to trip him. Finally something whapped lightly against his head—the chain that belonged to a hanging bulb. Giving it a prompt tug, the room filled with soft yellow light. “There we go.”
He found himself face-to-face with an elf, its legs dangling off the edge of a shelf. Rindo bit back a yelp, praying that Shoka wouldn’t notice.
“At least now I won’t have to go back to the UG from a broken neck,” Shoka’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she finished descending the stairs.
Okay, he was safe. Ignoring the creepy object staring into his soul, Rindo surveyed the cramped room. Between the rolling shelves laden with more boxes, the miscellaneous decor pieces, and the empty wine crates, he could barely see the concrete floor. Though, no immediate sign of the tree. It wasn’t like he expected some grand, flashing sign pointing to the fake foliage, but the scattered glass balls and fake poinsettias—remnants from last year’s Christmas, if Rindo had to guess—only served to spit in his face.
“Do I want to ask what this is?” Shoka had already pried into a box and unearthed some clothes—ones that definitely belonged in the past. Caught in her hands was a t-shirt for a very dated rock band. Rindo only knew of it because his mom occasionally listened to the very same one.
“Fret’s mom might’ve been into them?”
Nose crinkled, Shoka let the shirt back fall back into its box and plucked out an alarm clock in the shape of a pink-spotted cow holding a guitar. “Who’d ever think this is cool?”
Rindo shrugged. “Ms. Furesawa, apparently. She has a lot of weird stuff like that in their apartment, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Yeah. It’s like she’s an adult who never actually grew up.”
“I sorta like that about her though—even if she’s a little extra. She’s more chill than my mom, and she thinks gaming is cool.”
“Mmm, yeah. I guess that earns her a few points.”
Choosing a long box in the hopes it held the tree they were looking for, Rindo flipped its flaps open. Damn. Nothing but old bottles of shampoo and various hair dyes.
A tickle scratched the back of his neck, sending a prickly shiver right up his spine. “Wha—?” He reached around then flinched as something cold and slippery fell across his hand. “The hell?”
Snickers erupted as Shoka bounced out from behind him holding a plastic snake with red rings. “Gotcha.”
Grimacing, Rindo snatched it from her. “Really, Shoka?”
“What? This little guy was practically begging for attention.”
“More like you just wanted an excuse to mess with me.”
“Maybe.” Her raspberry red lips puckered into a coy smile, the kind of smile that always made Rindo’s pulse quicken.
“R-right. Anyway, let’s split up and keep looking.”
“Whatever you say, Rindykins.”
Minutes passed by and still no sign of the tree, though how anyone could find anything in all this chaos was beyond Rindo.
“Hey! Rindo, look!” Shoka’s voice broke through the silence, making him jump. She’d taken over searching one rack, while he’d taken another.
“Huh? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, just—look.” She strode over and shoved a thin box into his chest. “It’s an old copy of Jrandia. I think it’s an original.”
“Oh yeah! You’re right!” Rindo’s eyes lit up, taking in the game’s colorful box and old-style cover. “I don’t think I’ve ever played this one.”
“Me either. I played the second, but the first is so hard to find.”
“I know, right? I’ve tried looking for it, but I never could get my hands on it.”
“Do you think Fret’s mom would let us borrow it?” Shoka’s voice shot up in her giddiness, dazzling Rindo with its cuteness.
“I dunno. She might. We’ll have to ask when we go back up.” He grinned, setting the game on the nearest shelf.
“Okay, but don’t forget. I really wanna play it if she’ll let us.”
“I won’t.”
“Better not...” Shoka’s voice trailed as her gray eyes blinked, staring right past Rindo.
His brow creased in a frown. “You’re not trying to trip me up again are you?”
“No, dummy. I think the tree’s on the rack behind you.” Shoka swept past him and right up to the tall rack, reaching for the top shelf.
Turning, he watched her stand on the tips of her toes, trying in vain to catch the bristly green tip of the tree. “Come on!”
“Here—let me get it.” Rindo easily lifted an arm and wrenched the bulky tree free from its shelf. “Ha! There we go,” he wheezed under the weight of the decoration. However, his win curdled thanks to the sour look Shoka now pinned on him.
“I was only trying to help since…” He bit his next words back.
“Since, what?” Her gaze turned steely.
“N-nothing,” Rindo said hastily.
A soft thunk sounded as something green hit the floor.
The duo’s eyes were drawn to the object—a sprig of mistletoe.
Awkward silence stretched between them until Rindo finally spoke up. “Uh… think you could get that? I still have the tree, so…”
“Yeah—no. I’m good.” Shoka’s pale cheeks suddenly grew flushed with color. “We can just leave it.”
“We can’t just ‘leave it.’ Someone might come in later and step on it. Besides, it’s not like we have to kiss.”
“I-I wasn’t thinking that,” Shoka snapped.
“You sure? Because your face could give some of those red Christmas ornaments a run for their money right now.”
“J-just give me that stupid tree and you can get the mistletoe!” Paying no mind to anything around her, Shoka stepped toward him and onto the fallen mistletoe. With a startled yelp, she fell forwards.
“C-careful!” Rindo shoved the tree aside. His arms opened to catch her, but nothing could break the force of her fall. Her body pushed him into the shelf behind, and he landed on his rear with Shoka on his lap.
Breathing heavily, he could feel her every puff of air against his neck, sending a very different kind of shiver down his spine from the one he’d experienced earlier. New emotions surged through him as he became hyper aware of Shoka’s presence. The heat of her body on his, the way her hoodie slipped off her shoulder, exposing the skin below. The scent of her pomegranate shampoo seeped into his nose... They’d never been so close—not like this at least—and all Shoka did was stare at him with flushed embarrassment.
“A-are you okay?” he asked, voice cracking slightly.
“Y…Yeah—you kinda kept me from hitting the ground.”
“Okay. Good…” He took a deep breath, trying in vain to calm himself.
Shoka’s hair brushed against him as she shifted closer to his torso, not moving from his lap. Her eyes captured his, rendering his voice useless when he tried to speak again.
A few beats went by, and Shoka fully leaned against his chest, angling her head like she might kiss him.
Rindo’s heart began battering like a caged butterfly. His fingers twitched, as if yearning to be let free. All he wanted to do was slip his arms around her, or let his hands get lost in her hair. Little by little, his arms lifted to loop around Shoka’s frame as the warmth of her face drew near. His eyelids fluttered closed—
“I think it came from down here?” An abrupt voice startled Rindo. “Rindude? Shokie? You guys good?”
The plaid of Fret’s pants became visible, along with the rest of the boy as he clambered down the steep steps. He squinted, eyes sweeping the room until—“Oh—uhh, should I just come back later?” he asked, a wide grin spreading across his face.
“Oh my,” came Nagi’s voice as she appeared right behind him, pushing up her glasses. “Perhaps that would be best.”
Rindo’s nightmare continued as Fret offered him a double thumbs-up. “Damn, I didn’t know you had that in you, Rindude. Nice going!”
“S-shut up!” Rindo found himself practically shouting. “It’s not—we’re not—!”
“We just tripped!” Shoka shoved herself away from him in one rapid push. “Literally nothing’s going on.’”
“Yeah—we tripped, like she said.”
“Riiight. ‘Tripped.’ Sure, I getcha,” Fret winked, threatening to make Rindo boil over with embarrassment.
“Are you for real right now? Just—no. Get your head out of the gutter, Galaxy Brain!” Shoka scrambled to her feet, hastily patting dust from her hoodie.
“T’was certainly quite the pose to happen on,” Nagi chuckled. “I see you’ve found the object you were sent to procure.” She nodded to the forgotten Christmas tree.
“T-that’s right. We were just coming back before… we fell,” Rindo finished his sentence awkwardly, scooping up the tree before rising to his feet.
“Excellent. Then perhaps you’d like to come back up and partake in Lady Furesawa’s carefully crafted drinks.” Nagi turned to leave, giving a Fret a tug to follow her.
Left alone again, Rindo glanced at Shoka. “You… good?”
“I’m fine.”
Her words were flat, but Rindo couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on her, hoodie still disheveled from their fall, and he wondered whether her face burned from their mishap, or their friends walking in on them. Probably both.
Overly aware of the fact he stood beside her, his gaze drifted back down to the mistletoe laying on the floor. Disappointment wormed its way into his heart, along with the desire he’d felt to have Shoka pressed against him, kissing him.
What the hell. They were dating, weren’t they? And they wouldn’t have another moment alone like this tonight. Drawing in a breath of courage, he drew Shoka to himself and placed a gentle kiss on her warm lips.
Though she tensed and uttered a soft squeak of surprise, the tension soon melted as she leaned in to press back.
Time slowed as he held her, every sense in his body attuned to the way her body felt against his. Her soft lips, his hand easing into the small of her back, her arms loose on his—until eventually, Shoka pulled back just enough to break their kiss.
“I-I’m not sure this is how mistletoe is supposed to work, but… That kiss was better than your last one.”
He knew he shouldn't expect any different response. Not with Shoka as his girlfriend. “You’re rating my kisses?”
“Obvi. I have to keep track of whether you’re getting better at it or not.”
“Are you saying I was bad the first time?”
“Well… I dunno.”
“Oh come on. It’s not like you know what you’re doing either.”
“Says who?” She grinned then tugged his sleeve. “Come on, let’s get back up there before they come up with any other stupid ideas.”
Rolling his eyes, he let Shoka lead him back into the warmth of the bar, the game they’d found earlier entirely forgotten from their minds.
After the pair had settled into one of the bar’s booths with their other friends, it didn’t take Rindo long to begin enjoying his hot cider and the chaotic merriment of decorating. However, his thoughts wouldn’t let go of Shoka tripping into him, and the special moment they’d shared. Was it wrong to hope maybe, just maybe, they’d fall into each other again?
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The idea for this fic was inspired by Hoshu's lovely art that can be found below:
