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Yuuki’s the one who comes up with the idea to exchange Christmas gifts this year. She proposes a specific game, explaining that her aunt—who lives in America and sends her nieces gifts every Christmas—introduced the idea originally.
At lunch, Yuuki hands out scraps of paper with names written on them.
“It’s called Secret Santa,” she says, the English a bit awkward on her tongue.
Asako and Maki take to the idea with enthusiasm. Hikaru jokes about giving his gift recipient shiitake mushrooms, which Yuuki shoots down immediately.
“It’s a limit of four thousand yen per person,” she says, frowning at Hikaru. “You can do better than that, mushroom boy.”
Yoshiki draws a name from Yuuki’s little pile last.
Of course, as luck would have it, he draws Hikaru’s name.
“So who’d ya get?” asks Hikaru as they’re heading home later.
“Can’t say,” says Yoshiki.
“Aww, c’mon. I’ll tell ya mine,” says Hikaru.
Yoshiki shakes his head. He rarely denies Hikaru anything, but the whole point of this game is to keep it a secret.
“Fiiine,” sighs Hikaru.
They part ways at Yoshiki’s house, and Yoshiki sets to work researching options for Hikaru’s gift. It’s almost unfair that Hikaru is his gift recipient, because it’s too easy to just mail it in and choose something obvious for him: the newest volume of Master x Master, a new phone case to replace his cracked old one, or a pair of grip socks for soccer. Practical gifts are easy enough to pick, and maybe would even be expected from him, but Yoshiki wants to pick something special.
He’s not particularly artistic, unfortunately. He wouldn’t be able to craft something that Hikaru would like or use.
They have the rest of the month to decide. Christmas falls on a Friday this year, right before they leave school for winter break.
Yoshiki has no idea what he’ll pick, but he wants it to be perfect.
December flies by. By the time the 25th rolls around, Yoshiki has picked out what he hopes is a one-of-a-kind gift for Hikaru: a personalized soccer ball with his name etched on it in bright orange. It had cost a little over their price limit—five thousand yen—but what Yuuki doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
The last day of school before the break is buoyant and bright; everyone is in a good mood. After their last class of the day, they take the bus together to Mion mall and stake out a table in the food court. The mall glimmers with string lights and cheerful pop music, and tons of people stream around their table en route to stores and the movie theatre.
Yuuki instructs them all to place their gifts at the center of their table.
“Remember, no telling each other who ya got until later,” she says.
“We can’t jus’ reveal it now?” whines Hikaru.
Yuuki silences him with a glare.
Asako opens her gift first. It’s a set of hair clips, each with a different color or pattern. She immediately plucks one out and slips it into her hair, beaming at all of them.
Maki goes next, and his gift is a red shirt with a dragon on the back. He also immediately tries it on—making Yuuki squawk as she warns him not to change in public—and raves about it, going around the table and pointing at each of them as he tries to guess who got him.
Yuuki opens her gift next and grins at the little Labor Cat handheld mirror and comb set she unwraps. She nudges Hikaru to go, and he does eagerly, tearing into the wrapping paper and staring, gobsmacked, at the gift when he pulls it out.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he says, eyes snapping to Yoshiki. “This has gotta be you, ain’t it?”
Yoshiki looks away at the same time that Yuuki scolds Hikaru for making a guess.
Yoshiki opens his gift last. He unwraps it carefully, sliding his nail along the seam of the cheery, bright red wrapping paper. It’s probably a book—it’s thick and rectangular.
It’s an illustrated, pocket-sized field guide to rare and common-encounter insects in Japan. Underneath it is an insect identification logbook with a shiny cicada sticker on the cover, which he flips through in awe. Each entry features boxes for the weather conditions, season, time, scientific name, colors, number of legs, notes, and a photo or drawing. It’s a hobbyist’s dream gift, and it’s something he’s coveted for a long time.
Yoshiki lifts his head and stares at their group in silence, stunned by how thoughtful and perfect his gift is. No one had slacked on picking a suitable present for each person, but his present feels especially tailored for him.
“This is amazin’,” he says weakly.
Hikaru leans over to look at it, frowning.
“A bug book?” he says.
“Yeah.”
Yoshiki gingerly flips open the field guide and stares appreciatively at each colorful, bright entry. The illustrations are beautiful. The descriptions are detailed and informative.
Yuuki pipes up to say that they should contact each other later to confirm who got whom for Secret Santa, but Yoshiki barely hears her as he carefully examines his new book.
Hikaru nudges him.
“Are ya that happy about it?” he says.
Yoshiki nods, not looking up.
Hikaru huffs a bit, but says nothing else.
They grab a quick bite to eat after their gift exchange and spend an hour or so just talking, eventually drifting over to the arcade to play the claw machines. Yoshiki wins another Labor Cat plushie, which he resolves to take home for Kaoru, and the others take turns failing miserably at winning anything. Hikaru noticeably does not play, instead scrolling on his phone and staying silent and unengaged while the rest of them are busy.
Asako and Yuuki eventually leave first, citing the need to be home early for dinner, and Maki leaves soon after, complaining about the particularly long bus ride home in the snow. That just leaves Hikaru and Yoshiki. Yoshiki’s mom will come pick them up in half an hour; in the meantime, they sit on a bench in the vestibule by the mall’s main entrance.
Yoshiki pulls out his field guide and logbook again, admiring a passage on the golden-ringed dragonfly.
“Ya seem t’ really like that,” says Hikaru, speaking for the first time in a while.
“Mm,” hums Yoshiki.
“Any guesses as t’ who yer Secret Santa is?”
Yoshiki shakes his head. He doesn’t have the faintest idea of who could’ve given him his gift. He could make a guess: maybe either Yuuki or Asako, given how thoughtful it is. Maki isn’t off the table either, but it would surprise Yoshiki if Maki could prepare such a specific, generous gift, especially one that pays attention to Yoshiki’s core hobby and interest.
Hikaru is an obvious candidate too, but something tells Yoshiki it isn’t him.
“Kinda weird, don’t ya think,” mutters Hikaru, and he sounds so put-out that Yoshiki finally glances his way in confusion.
“Weird?” asks Yoshiki. “What d’ya mean?”
“Who knows ya like that, anyway,” says Hikaru.
Yoshiki frowns.
“Does it matter?” he asks.
“Kinda, yeah.”
“Why?”
“It’s jus’ a bit creepy, is all,” says Hikaru.
Yoshiki furrows his brow and closes his book.
“It ain’t creepy at all,” he protests. “I like it.”
“Ya shouldn’t,” says Hikaru. “I’d be weirded out if I were you.”
Yoshiki’s face schools itself into a scowl.
“There’s nothin’ wrong with my gift,” he says. “Are ya tellin’ me ya don’t like yers, either?”
“No,” says Hikaru, gripping his soccer ball tighter.
“Then why should I be weirded out about mine?”
“The intent’s jus’ a bit creepy, y’know? Who goes outta their way to give ya such a perfect gift? Seems like someone might like ya.”
Truly pissed off now, Yoshiki stands up.
“Yer bein’ ridiculous, Hikaru,” he snaps. “What’s yer problem?”
“I ain’t got one,” fires back Hikaru, frowning. “It seems like you do, though.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a problem with yer attitude,” says Yoshiki. “It’s s’posed to be a fun Christmas game. So what if someone knows me? Why would that bother ya?”
“It doesn’t,” says Hikaru sharply.
“No use lyin’ about it,” says Yoshiki. “Might as well come out an’ say yer jealous at this point.”
“Jealous?” splutters Hikaru. “No way. Don’t be stupid, Yoshiki.”
“The one bein’ stupid is you, Hikaru.”
“I’m jus’ sayin’ someone could have a crush on ya or somethin’, what with that gift,” says Hikaru grouchily.
“An’ that bothers ya for some reason?”
“No,” says Hikaru.
“Sure. That’s why yer so worked up about it.”
“M’not,” grumbles Hikaru.
Yoshiki sighs explosively, on the verge of throwing his hands up in exasperation. He doesn’t, though. He corrals his emotions and tries to settle down, taking a seat again with a huff.
“I doubt someone’s got a crush, so I dunno why yer bringin’ it up,” says Yoshiki.
“Suit yerself,” says Hikaru, looking away.
They wait in silence for the remaining fifteen minutes until Yoshiki’s mom picks them up. The car ride home is equally quiet, save for the radio playing cheerful pop music. When they drop off Hikaru at his house, he thanks Yoshiki’s mom and slips out of the car without glancing back at Yoshiki.
Later that night, Yoshiki reclines in bed with his field guide, having paged through a good portion of it already in rapt fascination. Not even Hikaru’s stupid comments have ruined a good thing for Yoshiki.
He gets a text around nine o’clock from Asako.
Asako: Yoshiki!
Asako: I was your Secret Santa :)
Asako: I hope you liked your gift!
Yoshiki smiles and texts her back a heartfelt “thank you” as well as a picture of an entry he’d written already in his logbook.
Then he frowns, recalling that he needs to message Hikaru, too. He’s not looking forward to talking to him tonight—maybe he can wait to reveal himself later?
He waits an hour at least, stubbornly getting absorbed in his field guide again, before his own sense of responsibility wins out.
Sighing, he texts Hikaru:
Yoshiki: Hey
Yoshiki: I was your Secret Santa
He waits for a response for a bit, hoping to see the familiar text bubble as Hikaru types out a reply, but there’s nothing. Rolling his eyes, Yoshiki tosses his phone aside. He picks up his field guide again and buries his nose in it, eager to distract himself from his irritation and disappointment in Hikaru.
He falls asleep eventually, the book laid flat on his chest, and his phone forgotten somewhere near his pillow. Around midnight, he gets a call.
Startled out of sleep, Yoshiki lurches up in a panic and stares around groggily. He grasps his phone, frowning at the caller ID—Hikaru—and almost throws it down as he rolls over to get back to sleep, but decides at the last minute to answer it.
“It’s midnight, Hikaru,” he grumbles.
“Ya weren’t answerin’ my texts,” says Hikaru, and he doesn’t sound the slightest bit apologetic or sheepish.
Yoshiki sighs. He checks his messages, and sees that Hikaru has texted him twice, once an hour ago, and once just now. The first one had been a single question mark, and the second one had been a simple “Can I call?”
“I was sleepin’,” says Yoshiki.
“Yeah, I figured,” says Hikaru. “But I wanted t’ talk to ya.”
Yoshiki scrubs a hand over his face.
“Fine,” he says. “Go ahead.”
“Come outside,” says Hikaru.
Yoshiki frowns, even though Hikaru can’t see his face.
“Hikaru, it’s—”
“I know, Yoshiki. But I wanna talk t’ ya in person.”
“Are ya here?”
Yoshiki looks out the window, but he doesn’t see much of anything in the starless dark.
“Come downstairs,” says Hikaru.
He hangs up. Yoshiki stares at his phone screen, mystified and still half-asleep. Hikaru’s so impulsive sometimes—he does what he wants, only when he wants to. Yoshiki knuckles the remaining dregs of sleep from his eyes, rolls out of bed, and grabs his coat from the back of the door. He slips downstairs as quietly as possible, keeping an eye and ear out for any signs of life, but at this point in the evening his family is fast asleep.
He finds Hikaru outside, waiting. He’s got his bright orange jacket on, the hood pulled up.
“Hey,” he says.
“It’s late,” says Yoshiki. “It’s also freezing, ya idiot. Come inside.”
“Nah, I won’t stay long,” says Hikaru, shaking his head.
There’s a slight pause while Hikaru kicks at the snow on the ground with his boot. Yoshiki stares at him while he does it, uncertain of how to proceed. It’s not that fights between them ever linger, but he’s not sure where Hikaru’s at after their most recent one.
“Thanks for the, uh, gift,” says Hikaru, not looking at Yoshiki.
Yoshiki folds his arms across his chest.
“Yer welcome,” he says.
Another beat of silence.
Yoshiki stares at Hikaru, waiting for some kind of sign that this conversation is over, or that he has more to say. He surely must have more to say, because why else make the cold trek over here at midnight? He could’ve just called and said thank you.
“M’sorry, too, about earlier,” says Hikaru.
Yoshiki feels the tension dissipate from his shoulders and spine. He loosens his posture a bit, and unfolds his arms.
“S’fine,” says Yoshiki.
“I’d ask who got ya, but…”
“Asako.”
“Ah. Okay,” says Hikaru, and he looks a little pained by the fact.
“She ain’t got a crush on me, Hikaru.”
Hikaru sighs and turns so his face is hidden from view by his hood.
“I know,” he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced.
“Even if she did like me, it’s not like it matters,” says Yoshiki. “Not when I…”
He stops himself, surprised by his own train of thought and willingness to voice it. Hikaru looks at him, eyebrows raised.
“Not when ya what?” he says.
“Nothin’,” says Yoshiki.
Hikaru takes a step forward to squint at him.
“No use clammin’ up, Yoshiki,” he says. “Finish yer thought.”
“Not ‘til ya finish yers,” deflects Yoshiki. “Yer fixation on my ‘secret admirer’—why did it bother ya so much?”
Hikaru huffs a hollow laugh.
“I dunno,” he says, and at least he’s not being obtuse or belligerent about it. “I jus’ don’t like the idea that someone likes ya, I guess.”
“Why, though?”
Hikaru tosses his hood back so he can rake a hand through his hair.
“It bothers me, that’s all,” says Hikaru, his mouth a firm line.
Yoshiki grimaces, unsure of how to pry anything else from Hikaru, who is as stubborn as he is strong. He sets his jaw and avoids answering anything until it’s absolutely necessary. He’s inscrutable like this, a thick, opaque screen shielding himself from the rest of the world.
“Well, if ya ever wanna elaborate on that, ya know where t’ find me,” says Yoshiki, turning around to head back inside.
A hand on his shoulder stops him. He pauses mid-step, glancing over to see Hikaru glaring at him.
“Yer bein’ too flippant about it,” says Hikaru, letting go of Yoshiki’s shoulder.
“I think I’m bein’ normal, actually,” says Yoshiki. “Yer the unreasonable one, Hikaru.”
“I jus’ don’t like the idea of someone knowin’ ya better than I do,” admits Hikaru, and this, more than anything he’s said or done today, makes Yoshiki stop in his tracks.
“No one does,” says Yoshiki quietly.
Hikaru shuffles in the snow, eyes downcast and face flushed.
“I would’ve gotten ya somethin’ way worse,” he says. “I’m not thoughtful like Asako. Or you.”
It’s true: Hikaru isn’t great at giving gifts. He’s not the sort of guy to deeply consider and internalize someone else’s hobbies, habits, and interests. But then again, no one had been disappointed by their present earlier today, so Hikaru couldn’t have gotten it entirely wrong.
“Don’t beat yerself up about it,” says Yoshiki.
“M’not. I’m jus’... I guess I am jealous. Stupid, right?”
Yoshiki can’t help the faint smile this elicits.
“A bit,” he says, and Hikaru kicks snow at him.
“I didn’t get ya anythin’ this year,” says Hikaru. “An’ you’ve given me somethin’ I really love. S’not fair.”
“It’s fine, Hikaru,” says Yoshiki. “I don’t need a gift from ya.”
Hikaru glances at him, eyes bright in the dark and mouth set in a pout.
“Maybe I can give ya somethin’ else,” he says, and Yoshiki can see the revelation dawning in his eyes.
Yoshiki humors him.
“Like what?” he asks.
Hikaru shuffles backwards, heels dragging in the snow, and says, “Come over tomorrow, okay? I’ll show ya then.”
He spins around and heads off into the dark, waving over his shoulder as he goes, and Yoshiki watches him, confused and a little exasperated, but unmistakably fond, too.
Yoshiki arrives at the Indous’ house the next day around noon. Hikaru’s mama greets him warmly in the kitchen and sends him to Hikaru’s room directly.
“Hikaru? I’m—”
Yoshiki is pulled into the room and into a tight embrace.
Startled, Yoshiki doesn’t hug Hikaru back, instead letting his arms hover in the air as he blinks owlishly.
“Hikaru?” he says weakly.
“Look up,” murmurs Hikaru.
Yoshiki does. There’s a little scrap of paper hanging from the ceiling. It has a plant drawn on it in Hikaru’s familiar, crude style.
“What is—”
“Mistletoe,” says Hikaru.
Yoshiki stares.
“Yer s’posed to kiss the other person,” he says dumbly.
“I know.”
Yoshiki glances at Hikaru’s face as he pulls back from their hug. His eyes are very bright. He’s staring, determined, into Yoshiki’s eyes, his mouth set in a firm line.
“Yoshiki,” says Hikaru. “I’m gonna kiss ya now.”
“Oh,” says Yoshiki.
Hikaru kisses him.
It’s a dry, chaste kiss. It's more of a peck on the lips than anything, but it still makes Yoshiki’s heart flutter. Hikaru pulls back, eyes very wide as he stares at Yoshiki.
“Was that okay?” he asks.
Yoshiki can’t speak.
Hikaru bites his lip.
“C’mon, Yoshiki,” he says. “Say somethin’.”
“...nice,” croaks Yoshiki, hating how dry and rough he sounds. “It was nice.”
Hikaru smiles.
“Okay,” he says. “Wanna try again?”