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It was hard for Win Variation to not love December. Sure, the icy mornings bit at her toes and made her want to dig deep into her covers like a porcupine, and it was harder to find people to run with in five-degree weather. But at the same time, December meant apple cider and tinsel and showings of the Nutcracker on every stage in Japan. It was as if the world had decided to hang a thousand little pieces of happiness in the sky like snowflakes for children to reach out and grab.
And if anyone should’ve been happy, it was Shion. Her father had given her two tickets to an exhibition baseball game with Verxina, and it had turned out to be one of the closest games they’d ever watched together; they’d nearly blown their voices out cheering from behind the dugout. Verxina had even caught a foul ball that had beelined straight for her forehead during the sixth inning, and was currently rubbing the red threads holding it together with her thumb as they walked through the shop-clustered streets leading away from the stadium.
Verxina was especially pretty today, or so it seemed to Shion. The stray snowflakes nestled in her hair accentuated the richness of her navy locks, and her petticoat and purse seemed especially royal with the backing of the beryl-gray sky. Something about the winter air and strands of lights seemed to draw out the violet in her eyes, too, and Shion found herself sneaking glances at them as they walked side by side. Did anyone else see that second color in her irises, the thin tint that pulled Shion’s gaze in and asked her to swim laps inside? Or was it only her?
“Someone’s enjoying themselves today,” Verxina said with a grin.
Shion’s tail shot up; she hadn’t realized that Verxina was paying attention to her. “Well, I mean, of course I am. It was such a fun game.”
“It was a very good game,” Verxina agreed, even though the glimmer in her eyes said something else entirely. “I know that Chevacchi will be jealous that I caught that fly.”
“Probably,” Shion said. “She’s jealous of a lot of things.”
“She is. I keep telling her to relax and not think about Kitasan so much, but, well… I suppose I understand.”
Shion nodded. Cheval was always talking about Kitasan Black—her races, her training routines, her karaoke stamina—to the point where she almost felt like the corona to Kitasan’s shadow. Verxina wasn’t quite as consumed by her rivalry with Gentildonna, but it was hard to not be a little aggrieved by someone that you kept losing to, over and over again. As for Shion… Well, she didn’t want to think about that right now.
They continued walking as the crowd thinned out around them, bobbing heads heading towards subway stations or apartment buildings. They were on a central avenue in the shopping district, and most of the storefronts were decked out to the fullest in order to create that marketable holiday cheer. And if anyone needed a little holiday cheer this year, it was Shion. She’d been wearing her soles thin in preparation for the new year’s spring crowns, and the balls of her feet ached more than they ever had during her ballet career.
But nobody had noticed her efforts. After a rare defeat in the Japan Cup at the hands of Gentildonna, the tyrant Orfevre had declared her intentions to never lose to her again, and their dispute had spread whispers through every corner of Tracen to pinch at Shion’s ears. At least out here, far away from the gossipers, she could pretend she was just another person in a crowd, someone who didn’t feel the constant urge to have people’s eyes on her. Out here—
A catch of wind snuck through the weave of her pastel hoodie. She pulled her arms into herself to fight the cold, still sour about the dark patina that seemed to cling to her.
“You look like you could use something to drink,” Verxina said.
Did she? “I wouldn’t mind a cup to keep my hands warm,” Shion admitted.
“There’s a coffee shop around the corner that I know. Want to go there?”
Shion nodded, not realizing that she was walking into a very affectionate trap.
The “coffee shop” that Verxina led her into was actually a fancy cafe. The interior was furnished with brightly stained wood, with touches of floral that felt like they belonged in a still-life. She was quickly led to a lace-lined table and placed in a firm chair, and by the time she’d worked up the courage to object, a waiter had already brought them apple turnovers and cappuccinos.
Shion stared at the treats like a raccoon being presented with a queen’s feast. “I didn’t want—”
“The pastries here are divine,” Verxina said, pushing one of them over to her on their porcelain dish. “Trust me.”
“But I’ve been trying to watch my weight for the—”
“Shion.”
Verxina’s mouth was set into a straight line. Shion felt her throat twist. She’d been following a diet in order to keep herself at full running form, and something about the temptation her friend was offering grated at her. A sanguine black bled into the edges of her vision, cruel and perverse—but she pulled it back into herself. It was only a pastry.
She picked it up from the plate, feeling the crust flake under her fingers, and nibbled at the edge of it. Immediately her expression bloomed like a flower, and she took a second, larger bite.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Verxina said as she sipped her own drink. “The icing is delicate and rich, and the pastry itself just crumbles in your mouth.”
Shion nodded as she took a few more bites, kicking her feet under the table as she did. “The filling is so good, too.”
“It is. Do you feel a little better now?”
A small panic gripped Shion. Had she been too distracted today to make good company? Verxina giggled at the girl’s ears folded inwards. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Shion. You’ve just been very tense for the past week or so. It seemed like today’s game didn’t shake it off fully, so I wanted to see if something tasty might cheer you up.”
“Oh, well, um…” Shion looked down at the pastry in her hands, now more than halfway eaten. Another ounce of guilt dripped into her chest. “I do, even though I don’t know if I should’ve eaten this.”
“Your trainer is always telling you to go easier on yourself, dear, and I agree. There’s nothing wrong with a small dessert and a coffee.”
Shion’s eyes quietly looked over at the cappuccino that Verxina had ordered for her, which was sprinkled with bits of peppermint in service of the holidays. The steam seemed to play at her nose as it rose into the air, and Verxina’s considerate stare sapped away all of Shion’s resistance. She picked up the cup with both hands and took a sip, humming as the faint chill of the mint played with the bitter notes of the espresso. “I suppose you’re right, Verxina.”
“I’m always right, Shion. Don’t forget it.”
Now that Shion was properly relaxed, the two of them were able to have a proper conversation. Verxina laughed as she described the Umstagram trends that Vivlos was imitating; Shion lamented the dirt stains that Cheval tracked into their room from her late-night training sessions. And to Shion’s surprise, Verxina talked about Gentildonna, and very spiritedly at that. “And the worst part is that she doesn’t say anything when I tell her that we’re rivals. She just closes her eyes and smiles and does her arrogant little hmph. Couldn’t she just tell me ‘yes’ or ‘no’ one time?”
“It’s almost like she enjoys not talking,” Shion said.
“Right?” Verxina shook her head, scattering a few snowflakes onto the table. “But I don’t need to complain about her all day long. What about you and Orfevre? Has she stopped walking around with a stick up her ass?”
“Orfevre is…” Shion’s voice trailed off as that black film seemed to grow on her again. “I don’t even know if I care about what’s wrong with her. I just want to beat her into the ground, to have people cheer my name instead of hers. And instead of all that, she just keeps getting in my way.”
She knew it wasn’t bad to feel frustrated or disappointed with her results—her trainer had gone out of their way to teach her how to use those negative feelings as motivation. But the loneliness, the feeling that she’d somehow squandered her potential, the idea of performing on a moldering stage for an empty audience… She didn’t know how to handle that.
Verxina seemed to notice the turn in her mood. She reached down into her purse and pulled out a gift-wrapped box, large enough to require both hands to hold properly. “I’ll admit that I didn’t bring you into a cafe just to make you eat dessert. I wanted to give this to you here instead of at the train station.”
Shion’s mouth started to let out embarrassing noises as she stared at the present and its ruby bow. “Oh, you don’t have to—I didn’t get anything for you, and—”
“You got me baseball tickets and a delightful afternoon,” Verxina said. “This was the least I could do.”
Lacking a coherent response, Shion ended up taking the gift from her, and began to unwrap it. The paper came off in precise sheets, and what was inside was a clamshell mahogany box of some kind, inlaid with curling silver trim and lacquered until it shone, a metal winding mechanism sticking out to one side. She undid the fine clasps and opened the box to reveal…
She took in a delicate breath.
It was a music box. The interior wood sank down slightly as it moved in from the edges before rising to form a platform at the center, where a ballerina balanced in a perfect arabesque, with the lines of her clothes carved by hand and painted in delicate whites. The top of the case was sculpted to form the outlines of a stage, with whittled curtains and rhinestone lights hanging above the ballerina’s head. Shion turned the knob on the side, and soon the ballerina had set herself into a spin as a lilting tune radiated out from the stage in waltz time.
“I saw it and immediately thought of you,” Verxina said.
“You did?”
“Of course. It’s beautiful like you, after all.”
Normally, a teasing comment like that would’ve made Shion’s hairs stand on end. Right now, though, with that dark film sticking to her skin… Her mouth curled as she stared at her hands. “Am I really, Verxina? Because if I was beautiful, if I was someone worth watching, then people would be watching me. Instead, everyone talks about Orfevre. No matter how hard I try, no matter how I place… It feels like nobody sees me at all.”
“But I see you, Shion.”
Verxina’s was staring at Shion fervently, as if she was a rainbow that Verxina hoped wouldn't break. Her heart skipped two beats.
“I know I’m not an entire audience,” Verxina said quietly. “I can’t give you trophies or accolades. But… I am watching you. So even if there’s no one else, I hope you keep running for me.”
It was a deeply embarrassing thing to hear—Shion could feel her ears burning up beneath their covers. It must have been even more embarrassing for Verxina to say. But the girl was as dignified as ever as she returned to her cup of coffee. “That’s all, my dear. I’m sorry for flustering you.”
“It’s f-f-fine,” Shion said, eyes fixed on the dancer in the music box. “I just didn’t expect something so… genuine.”
Verxina’s smile held multitudes. “The holiday spirit got to me, I think.”
“Right.” In absence of something to say that seemed to match the moment, Shion closed the music box and pulled it into her lap. “Whatever it is, um… Thank you for the gift, Verxina.”
“You’re very welcome, Shion.”
They returned to normal conversation afterwards, although there was an undercurrent to the rest of their trip, a sense that something else besides the gift had passed between them. The drinks were lighter than their cream content should have allowed; the concrete that she stepped on as she walked back to the subway station seemed to be made of air. Before she knew it, Verxina had given her a hug on their shared floor of the Ritto dormitory before leaving to her own room, leaving Shion alone in the hallway with the music box still in her hands.
She went back to her own room, fumbling the key twice before she managed to unlock it. Cheval Grand had returned from training a long while ago, and she offered a wave to Shion as she entered, which Shion returned faintly.
“Was the game good?” Cheval asked as Shion took a seat on her bed without removing her coat.
“The game? The game was… It was good,” she said absently. “Verxina caught a fly ball. We got coffee afterwards.”
Cheval watched as Shion set the music box on her desk and opened it. “Verxina gave you her gift, then.”
“Yeah, she did.”
“Do you like it? It seemed like a strange gift to me, but Verxina was dead-set on it, as if…”
The words dissolved in the air as they approached Shion. Instead of answering, she wound the mechanism on the side of the music box four times. Then she removed her ear covers and watched with bated breath as the ballerina in front of her sprang to life.
She hadn’t been paying full attention to the ballerina’s movements the first time she’d set her in motion. Now she could see that the figure did more than spin—the piece directly under her feet was separated from the rest of the music box by a millimeter, allowing her to bob up and down in time with the music. Shion pulled her knees up to her chest as the dancer moved through the entire waltz, her figure reflected in the jewels hanging above her head.
The song finished and the dancer returned to inertia, but the tune continued to play in Shion’s mind. She squeezed her legs and felt a new warmth rushing through them.
“It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” Shion said finally.
Cheval didn’t understand, of course—the true meaning of the music box would stay between Shion and Verxina forever. But she still saw something special in that small moment. “Big Sis spent a lot of time choosing it. I’m glad you like it.”
“I am too.”
She only let herself play the music one more time before she went to bed—Chevacchi was watching, after all, and she needed to maintain her sleep schedule if she wanted to be in running shape for the spring. But even after the lights went out and Shion had curled up between her blankets to push away the cold, she found herself looking at the wooden ballerina as it stood at attention in a bath of gentle moonlight.
Shion had always dreamed of being the principal player on the stage, of drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. She wasn’t that kind of star yet. But if she couldn’t be performing for the world, then maybe being admired by one person wasn’t so bad.
I’ll keep on dancing, Shion whispered to herself as she closed her eyes. For myself… And for you, too.