Chapter Text
Being a shikigami was not without its challenges.
Despite it being in his nature to do so, Shiki hated being bossed around. It seemed paradoxical to his very nature, of course; one created for the sole purpose of servitude should know nor want anything else, but 600 years of the same menial tasks left him hoping for something else, really.
He didn’t know he’d find that something else during the holidays, of all times, but call him a jaded old man or whatever.
It started as it normally did, with a petition. One singular petition that he’d received stood out amongst all the others; the petitioner with a rather peculiar request that Shiki thought hard about entertaining. He had to give some credit where credit was due, he’s certain that he hadn’t ever been asked something like this before. Accompanying a friend for his holiday traditions in another’s place because the petitioner fell ill didn’t normally match the expectations of a shikigami of his caliber. He’d been used to the summonings for combat purposes, or even the odd espionage mission, but this was tame.
This was different. Something new. And with a snap of his fingers, Shiki was in a place he’d never been to before: a guild hall decorated with what Shiki could only assume was holiday decor. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a Christmas tree, one decorated with a display of variable colors; vibrant blues, reds, purples, and pinks amongst others carefully hung from the branches. When he walks further in, he notices the stockings and takes a quick gander at the ones he can see from his vantage point.
A vibrant light blue for whom Shiki could only assume was their leader (judging by the small scribbling of the title about his own name multiple times by varying penmen), Altare, a deep purple for Hakka, the exorcist of the guild who’d summoned him here, a pink and purple quilted pattern for The Jester, whoever that maybe, and a vibrant nearing cherry red for-
“Who the hell are you and what do you want?”
Shiki turns quickly toward the sound of the voice. He sees a guy in black and red, thinking back to that last stocking. Machina X Flayon, it read. This must be him, Shiki thinks as he composes himself. “Ah-um, Shiki,” Shiki answers, “Shiki Katagami-”
“What business do you have here?”
“A petitioner sent me, the purple exorcist of your guild,” he continues, as calm as he can be. “Hakka if my memory serves me right.”
“And how can I trust that?”
“Here,” Shiki says. He puts the book of contracts in the guy’s hand, flipping to the contract in question. Please help my friend Flayon this Christmas Eve scribbled in Hakka’s very own handwriting, signed by the exorcist himself. Really, the meticulous documentation of his nature quite literally is a life saver in this moment.
This gets the guy in front of him more calm than when they started their interaction. Shiki could only imagine what was swirling around in his head, the amount of outright confusion seeing a complete and total stranger in your home was. He couldn’t blame Flayon for the reaction in the slightest; he’d probably act the same way if the roles were reversed and Flayon came unannounced to the shrine.
They stood there in silence for a while after that until it broke by a slight beeping noise in the distance. “Come on,” Flayon says, motioning Shiki to the kitchen. Shiki follows along, watching Flayon as he maneuvers. Shiki found himself fighting back a smile as the mech pilot pulled a tray of cookies out of the oven. They’d been slightly burnt at the bottom, just a touch too long in the oven, but the excitement on the mech pilot’s face outweighed any potential negative.
It was endearing, in a way, to see joy and excitement on another’s face without it being related to power and infamy. Refreshing, even.
Flayon says, “You barged into my house unannounced so you gotta do something for me, okay? Hakka was supposed to help me decorate 2 dozen holiday cookies for the Tempus Guild Christmas Day party tomorrow and when he didn’t show up, I was scared that I wasn’t going to be able to finish everything.”
“Ah, I see,” Shiki hums.
“I don’t think that I have to worry about not being able to finish this now that you’re here though. We can each do twelve and call it a day,” Flayon continues, back turned toward all the decorating ingredients set out and about. He’s a whirlwind in the kitchen, Shiki can’t help but notice. There were sugar sprinkles in bowls on the counter, gumdrop buttons scattered everywhere. It was a lot at once, that much Shiki could recognize.
A bag of red icing was put in Shiki’s hand. “What do you expect me to do with this?” Shiki asks.
“When the last batch of cookies cool down, I need you to help me ice them,” Flayon grins, “Eight need to be red, eight need to be green, and eight need to be white. It’s gonna take a steady hand.”
"But it seems like you're a tinkerer," Shiki motions to all the machinery in red and black strewn about, "Surely you'd do a good job-"
"Yeah but even then, help is nice."
Ah. He couldn't even argue with that, quite honestly.