[hider= Fuyumonogatari: Teàrlag Gift]
The afternoon of December the 21st.

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3FRcBM1wcw]“Chilly.”[/url]

The cloud that accompanied the word out of my mouth would suggest it was a bit past that, honestly, but my perspective has always been a little skewed. Sure, it was cold, in fact it was cold enough for me to admit it and bundle up like everyone else did at this time of year, but even so, this wasn’t earth-shatteringly frigid weather by any means.

Growing up near the mountains may have given me a little bit of a natural buffer against the elements, I suppose. Even so, I’d traded out my usual hoodies for one of the heavier winter jackets that Bianca had picked out for my sake, and even thrown a scarf on to go with it. You know, it was a pretty good excuse to dress a little comfier than normal. I certainly appreciated that my faunus teammate’s efforts to stylize me hadn’t at all forgotten functionality.

And they didn’t stand out like a sore thumb, either, but I think that part was a bit more of a boon in my eyes than it was hers. She always did like dressing to impress, whether it was herself or others, but I’m a bit more subdued than that. 

Either way, I could always be safe in the knowledge that she would never turn me into a fashion science experiment, at the very least. When Bianca went all out on you, hers was cutting edge material. Not bleeding edge.

...I shouldn’t be so mean to Vega. She tries her best.

Anyways, to continue my tradition of overly long prologues, it was indeed a chilly afternoon, even down at something resembling sea level. With the Academy being as high up as it was, even my mountain-tested defenses against cold were pushed to the brink, to the point where I had actually considered coming down to the city proper as refuge.

Considered, but I had at least come up with a better reason for it before doing so. This would be my last chance to take a trip down this way for a while, before it was off to my home town for the Holidays and New Year. I’d gotten used to my relative independence, but these breaks were one of those things you went back home for.

Even when I sought solitude the most, I would always find myself making an exception for Christmas. 

And speaking of solitude...

It being the afternoon of December the 21st was a bit of an important point on that very topic.

Ironically, as you may be aware, Winter Break had actually begun way earlier. December 21st was the first Wednesday of the break. 

It had actually begun four days earlier. On December 17th, the Saturday after the last Friday of our fall semester.

What a whimsy-filled day, and what an intense quartet of them that followed.

As things happened, between then and now?

It’s a story for another time, but I was occupied, and in a big way.

So after I had seemingly decided to waste away and not be all that present for the typical, normal “moving out” period of four days, worrying my poor team and family sick with my unresponsiveness, I’d woken up this morning in my bed, within my still very much not-packed section of otherwise dorm, and an absolutely clogged scroll. To complicate matters further within this weird picture, there was also a weird, cloudy sense of melancholy hanging over my head.

Hmph.

Just in time for the Holidays, of course. I guess missing out on Hot Pot bugged me more than I thought…

Some Hot Pot would actually be really good right now. Something nice and savory, with plenty of broth to warm you up.

But eating it alone would be pretty sad. And with all my teammates gone off at home for the break, I was all but out of luck if I wanted to consume it in anything besides solitude.

Oh well. 

What was really more unfortunate was that aforementioned funk, since it had left me feeling wayward enough to venture down here. While I tend to overthink things, it wasn’t like I’d marched off to the city with much resembling a plan at all. 

It came down, I guess, to feeling more than anything else.

Even after being aware that I was four days behind on it, it didn’t feel right being in my room and starting to pack just yet. Nor did it feel right just cooping myself up in there and waiting around to get my head straight.

So there I was, out for a stroll in the chilly city streets.

Roaming Vale’s labyrinthine sidewalks and shopping districts on little more than a whim.
Bundled up and feeling the season in full swing.

Both in regards to weather, and to the date. Holiday spirit was in the air so much that if there were any more of it, I’d have breathed in a mistletoe.


Hollies on doors and walls. Jingles drifting through the air. Lights strung across frames of doors and windows. 

Charity drives and Santa hats galore. I'd nearly picked one up myself, but my hair was long enough to work in a pinch and I didn't feel keen on buying another.

Foolishly, I had left that in the dorm as well.

All around me, people were in the streets, bundled up to an even greater degree and enjoying the permeating holiday spirit.

A lot of them, I noted, were couples. Happy couples of all ages, huddled close together for warmth.

Or, perhaps it would be better to say, for comfort.

I'm not the man I was two years ago. I'm not the man I was one year ago. Though I hope he wasn't those aforementioned men either, I wasn't the man I was four days ago either.

...It was nice. I'm not the type of person to harbor ill will towards anyone's enjoyment of eachother’s presence during the holidays, no matter how dull and hopeless a guy I might be.

After all, I'd had a taste of loneliness. No, of worse than loneliness or even solitude, which I'd actually made a point of and a rule to live by once.

What I had recently learned, so much worse than all that, was Isolation. Pure, distilled isolation, that can cut straight through the bone and into the heart even in a sea of people.

It was a scary, scary thing.

I had nothing against the want for companionship, especially during the cold and understatedly stressful days leading into Christmas.

In fact.

I'd not wish that pure, distilled lonesomeness upon even my worst enemies.

So it was funnily poignant, then, that I happened to run into that person during my solitary meandering. 

As if fate had decided to take that conclusion to heart. 

Like whatever deity that I wasn't really sure if I believed in, like so many of my generation, had heard those words and wanted proof.

Akin to a request from the world to see if I could put my resolve to action.

It was something like that--

And it was also, really, just a funny coincidence that she came my way, and I came hers.

That our paths crossed, that girl’s and mine.

Or rather I should say, that woman's and mine. 

No matter how girlish she could be, there was no two ways about it-- she was definitely a woman.

She was the type of woman who despised her girlishness.

Common wisdom dictates that most women are fond of the ability to keep their youth, are glad to be mistaken for younger than their true age, and enjoy being able to hold on to the looks of their days past.

Not her. She rejects it outright.

If you bring up her build or visage, she isn't glad that she's cute, she gets mopey. If you tell her how surprisingly young she looks, she'll get depressive. If you repeat that line of mine from before, about “common wisdom”, she'll spew acid back, laced with what I would call “uncommon experience”.

She's a woman that every trashy girl's magazine would say is blessed-- and she looks upon it as a curse.

And really, I think she might not be too wrong in thinking that way. Wouldn't a blessing that came too soon basically be the same, after all?

A twenty-seven year old woman that looks seventeen. The lady in a position of inarguable authority that nobody could take seriously. The lonesome and cynical soul who overcompensates by half for not looking her age, by acting it, too dour. 

Or maybe just too sour. This was also the favorite patron of every karaoke bar who always got carded, after all. A massive sore point.

She was bitter, lonesome, and surprisingly delicate about it all. At the same time, she was compassionate, caring, and absolutely determined to toughen you up and straighten you out.

She was wearing her fuzzy, rabbit-eared hoodie that day, so of course I didn't recognize her as she fell, almost swinging one of her two loaded bags straight into my face.

I myself, like many a time before, fell victim to her appearance and thought of it as just another random person falling victim to black ice on the sidewalk. As a hunter, and a naturally intrusive person by nature, I almost reflexively caught that random girl in my arms to save her from a tumble that ended with a skull cracking upon the sidewalk. 

“Better watch out,” I had passingly mentioned, in a tone as unfamiliar as my appraisal.

Her response, however was indistinguishably hers and hers alone. The first word out of her mouth was all it took to clue me in as to whom I shared this chancest of encounters with.

“Brat,” came the distinct burr of the Valic Highlands, as two purple eyes framed by lilac bangs and pigtails stared up at me almost accusatively. “What do you think you're doing? Shouldn't you have run off home to your family ages ago?”

She wasn't any random girl. Not even any random woman-- she was actually someone I was quite familiar with.

My Dust Application teacher, and one of our class’s guidance counselors. 

The woman who’s been tutoring me so much in the quasi-martial art of Dust Usage  that I feel the need to call her “Sensei”.

The last person you’d expect to find wearing a santa hat.

Teàrlag Cirsium.


***


My teacher was a grumpy person. The type of woman to go on a diatribe about some small meaningless thing about society as if it had been running through her head all day, and take it as a personal slight.

“--So I'm a wee bit surprised, knowing all that. I'd have figured a Nice Guy like yourself would fall prey to holiday commercialism faster than anyone else.”

This time it was the holiday consumerist agenda, an argument against the holiday spirit that surrounded us as being anything more than a superficial ploy to buy stuff.

“Uh huh…”

I responded about as flatly and tonelessly as my voice would go, pointedly looking down at the bags in my hands.

It wasn't like I minded helping her out with carrying them, it even gave me something to do besides wander around, but who WAS falling for said scheme here?

And stop with the capitalization of “Nice Guy” already.

Another quirk of hers, being big on social dynamics, was her insistence on pattern recognition applied to personality.

Archetyping, essentially. In her eyes, I was just a Nice Guy who did Nice Things because They're Nice Things to Do. As a general overview, that was the category I fell under as a person.

She seemed to not ever care for my reassurances that I'm actually a petty and selfish dude. Nothing nice about me, I’m helpfully pushy at best and an overly enthusiastic bystander at worst.

But no matter how many times we went over this, she refused to budge. Being my oh-so-pleasant self, I refused to budge as well.

So we would bicker over it, but it was through this constant bickering that I, a student so troubled as to need additional after-hours coaching to understand anything she taught, learned a few things about her.

“So, speaking of consumerist conspiracies,” I said, letting this latest use of capital N-G “Nice Guy” slide in the spirit of giving, “I take it these are presents?”

“Hm? Yeah, for my sisters.”

For example, I’d learned that Teàrlag Cirsium was the middle child of a quintet of all daughters, with ages ranging well across the board. At least, “well across” when you considered they were all from one generation, that is. What a strange household it must have been to grow up in.

“I guessed so. One of these feels familiar to a calligraphy set, so I’m guessing this bag is Eibhlin’s.”

The second-eldest, at thirty-two. Fascinated by a certain culture that just so happened to spawn manga, anime, and sushi. Funnily enough, it also just so happens to be my heritage.

Knowing a woman hailing from the region known as the Highlands was interested in my family’s culture to that degree certainly tickled my funny bone.

Though, I’m not in touch enough with it to go and artistically write out kanji, like her interests apparently lied in. Maybe give my youngest sister a try if you’re looking for a display of calligraphic skill. I’m not at all gifted enough, and not to mention my handwriting is fairly grotesque unless I really concentrate.

“...”

I frowned, which was a natural reaction to being stared at as if I’d just grown three more faces that wouldn’t shut up. 

“What?”

I, forgetting myself for a moment, rather casually and uncouthly demanded an explanation of my teacher. Thankfully, she seemed to have enough of that hidden generosity of hers to let it go without reproach, and instead obliged me.

“You know what a calligraphy set feels like in a shopping bag, brat?” she asked, eyebrow raising in mild skepticism.

Ah.

Now that she mentions it, that is kind of weird to just say.

“Erm.”

What made things even weirder was that I had to actually try and dredge up why that was. Was my rowdy and energetic pre-high-school life really so off-kilter as to make me remember that, though?

No, that wasn’t it.

It was actually the opposite, a revelation that came to me right around when I’d thought of “high school”. Ergo, last year. I’m telling you, it’s little wonder why I needed to take on tutoring as well as my baseline class schedule with this kind of memory.

“High School— My senior year, when I was training for the Entrance Exam. I had to hike up the mountain my town’s right next to and learned to replace a seal at the shrine on top.”

It was a long hike, but at least there were stairs. And that was a rather turbulent point in my life, so taking a second to pull it out of the mess of everything else was understandable.

And now I remembered perfectly. 

“You went up and defaced a shrine as training?”

“Replaced, not defaced! If I'd defaced it, I wouldn't be alive talking to you right now!”

She was unconvinced.

“So why'd you carry the kit up with you? You could have just drawn it up beforehand, right?”

“Well, yeah…”

Nothing was conceptually stopping me.

“But the taskmaster from this one was one of those sleazy expositionist uncle types--”

“Exhibitionist?! What the hell sort of family are you from, brat?!”

“[i]Expositionist! Exposition! Explanation![/i]” I hastily, hurriedly, and very pointedly corrected. Respecting my elders be damned, not when dangerous words were flying around in public!

“A-Anyways, he's one of those people that likes to talk and make a point whenever he explains things, and to do them once. So once I was up there, I basically got a hands-on lesson about the concepts behind wards and seals.”

“Traditional methods of repulsing Grimm.” She surmised with a sagacious nod of the head, that was totally thrown off the intended mood by her flopping bunny ears.

Really, take those things off if you want to look more mature...

“Apparently, it's a little more like appeasing them, but yeah, I learned how to place and draw the seal for our shrine. The hike up and down got me very familiar with the weight and balance of a calligraphy kit.”

“Brat, I swear I've read whatever novel you're stealing this from…”

Look at me like I'm just trying to save face and not say I looked at it or whatever all you want, sensei, you'll never force the confession that doesn't exist out of me.

…

Okay, please stop, whatever changing it to pity means, I'm really depressed now.

I was forced to regroup, shaking the bag in my other hand to draw attention it's way, and off my pitiful face.

“These cosmetics-- who for?”

I wasn't quite as clear for those as I was for the calligraphy set, considering they could be for any number of her sisters, or even--

“Marsail liked that set a while back, so I got the updated edition.”

So not for herself.

Marsail was the eldest of the five sisters, from what I remembered. At 33, she was more responsible than Eibhlin, which was apparently a point of contention between them that occurred to this day, if Sensei was to be believed. Still fighting well into their thirties, as full-fledged huntresses…

I grimaced, but managed to hide it. 

I certainly hope April, Dawn, and I don't all end up like that, I thought, shifting the weight of the bag.

Glancing back down inside, I raised another question.

“Anything for yourself in here?”

“Nope. It's the season of giving, not taking, brat.”

A bit too flippant on the response, Sensei, you aren't the uncle I talked about earlier. Granted, I'd have fallen for it normally, but…

The Karaoke CD in there says otherwise.

I had long ago learned too that my teacher was eminently human, and certainly capable of lies.

It just always amused me when they got as petty as the ones I would tell. For all my grandstanding as a pitiful person, lying was one of the things I was actually proud of having pitiful content regarding.

But she wasn't wrong about the season of giving.

So I’d give her that one and not even toss out my favorite straight man quippery. 

“Here we are, brat. Be careful with the doors and those bags. Mess something up and I fail you for the semester.”

“After I’ve done all this work helping you?”

“It’s not as if I wanted help.”

“The tsundere act doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Also, you were slipping and falling on the sidewalk’s answer to road ice, there’s no way anyone could not want help.

This bit right here was fair game, though. She wanted to get off the subject before she thought I’d decide to check, so she was going to give me something to worry about before that happened. Playing along would be harmless.

...I think. She did cherish her sisters.

I gingerly entered the game and hobby shop under the safe man’s assumption that my grades were indeed in my hands right now.

For a pass/fail student like me, holding my shot at making this year and years after it happen over my head was a very easy way to wrap me around your finger.

Perhaps because the threat was indeed empty or perhaps because I did indeed make extra sure that none of the cargo I was lugging around bumped or banged into anything, I found myself neither reprimanded nor even really acknowledged until I spoke up.

“What now?”

“Up that way for me.” she replied with an order, pointing in the direction of a particular aisle she had been scanning. Gunpla? Then this had to be...

“Fionna’s got a couple things I can grab off of the wishlist in this store. I’m gonna go grab her a copy of Jungian Psychology RPG, I need you to look for the Crossbone X-1, Full Cloth.”

She knew all that off the top of her head? What a sterling example of elder siblinghood for me to follow. This was some high level list recollection play here… 

“Don’t stand there gawkin’, get a move on!”

She was getting pushy. What, are you on a time limit? I was pretty sure both products, which she had both perfectly recalled and I had never heard of, were niche enough to not be flying off the shelves…

Hrmm.

Fionnaghal Cirsium, the youngest of the sisters, was just a year, or even a scant few months older than me, clocking in at nineteen. Despite her sharing the family’s Valic heritage and her sister's teaching position here at Beacon, she was part of Shade’s current class of second-years. So no bonus points for happening to be helpful to a certain senpai.

Not that I'd plot so underhandedly, or that Sensei would ever accept such an underhanded bargain.

Fionnaghal was, apparently, into some similar stuff as yours truly. Video games                        and anime were chief amongst them, but honestly, Gundam models were a step beyond even me, who stayed up all night to wait for rips of movies.

Hunh.

I had the Crossbone here… I think. It certainly didn't look wrong, what with the pirate-y motif and everything. 

“Crossbone X-1…”

The name was there on the box, so it had to be right, right?

“Is that Full Cloth, though?”

As if from thin air, my teacher appeared at my side in the aisle once more, the game case clutched in one hand all but forgotten as she scrutinized the box I held in my hands.

It wasn't the Full Cloth.

She sighed, before looking sidelong at me in a distinctly lecturing manner and deftly swiping the box from my hands.

“You've gotta pay attention to detail, brat. It's the same as your essays.”

Gulp.

Hey, come on, you know as well as anyone that I'm not too good with language arts…

“It ain't about that, it's about taking in all the information you're given.”

[i]Bop.[/i] 

She had to reach up, but being taller than someone never saved them if they'd earned a rap on the head, apparently.
 
“Whether it's your sisters’ Christmas lists or a mission briefing, you can't let any detail slip, got that?”

“Yes ma’am…”

She never missed an opportunity to teach me.

“And besides, this wasn't in the right scale anyway…”

But she totally missed the opportunity to tell me the details in the first place!

“Well no wonder I got it wrong, you didn't even talk about the scale!”

“That's because the right one only comes in one scale, brat. Crossbone X-1, Full Cloth.”

“Yeah, well…”

I tried in earnest to sling a retort at my teacher.

I didn't have any ammunition, being clearly wrong.

I fruitlessly searched for a method of backtalk.

For the best, I was forced to abandon it and join her in scrutinize the aisle once again, with the full name in mind.

“Ah, here it is.”

It was a good thing I had tagged along, though. Though I'm not a tall guy myself, I could still reach where the genuine article had been placed upon the shelf with a lot less stretching and circumstance involved than Sensei would have required.

“You sure?”

She was smirking. 

My guidance counselor had that little faith in me?!

I had to remind her who she was dealing with, here.

“Even I'm not so hopeless as to screw up right after you told me twice in a row.”

I showed her as much, presenting the Full-Clothed Crossbone for her benefit.

“I’d be the hopeless one if you did, brat.”

No flustered backtracking or continued smarm. She just met me with a small smile and subdued voice, accepting the model from me with a nod.

Taking responsibility for me being dumb… times like these were when she reminded you of how adult she really was.


***


The airship rides to and from Beacon Academy run pretty regularly.

Even during breaks, their schedule never changes. Every hour, on the hour, we as students or faculty had the opportunity to catch a ride with just a brief little once over of a security check. 

For an airship, it was honestly more like a bus than anything else.

Only the fees were part of tuition or employee perks. So really, they’re even more convenient.

After our confirmation that we did indeed have the correct versions, editions, and other qualifications necessary of Fionnaghal’s gifts, the subsequent checking out process was largely uneventful. As was leaving the store, and as was our trek back through the city to the airship dock.

So uneventful, in fact, that beneath our light chatter about the end of the semester, missions, and seasonal anime, that even my faulty wiring noticed one very big oversight in the itinerary.

If not an oversight, which was fairly unlikely given her insistence on taking everything into account, a deliberate skip. One that came as a surprise, with the subject of this romp I had joined.

Marsail, Eibhlin, Fionnaghal. 

These three sisters had all gotten gifts on this trip. 

If you decided to count Teàrlag’s gifting of herself, four of them did.

That left one odd member out of the bunch-- Anna.

Anna Cirsium, at 23 years of age, was the older of Sensei's two little sisters. An employee of some Grimm research facility way down south, she apparently was the meekest of the bunch by far.

A young woman who was very passionate about her work, all the way to the point of sometimes even spacing out about things that weren't related to it.

As far as I had heard, Anna hadn't done anything out of the ordinary recently. Certainly nothing to slight Sensei, else I would definitely have been made aware. She often talked about her family with me, for one reason or another, so if Anna messed up, I was sure to know.

Why, then? The ship was taking off now, so there wasn't a way to turn back. I didn't believe Sensei had managed to forget, either.

“Simple. I'm knocking out two birds with one stone.”

“I can't say I follow.”

“We need to go back for the gift, and we’ll need somewhere to put everything down before we get ahold of it. That's all.”

“Hunh.”

I couldn't find anything wrong with that line of reasoning, but it certainly made me wonder just what in the world was on Anna’s wishlist…

“Don't worry, brat.”

I felt a small hand place itself upon my shoulder. Looking over, I was greeted with a gently encouraging smile.

“We can handle it if it's the both of us, okay?”

“What, are we about to try and fight Beerus the Destroyer?”

“Show me the results of all that training!”

“Does this scenario end in me jobbing?!”

“Well, you are already doing a great job of helping me.”

Do you want Gratia to start hating your guts when she next shows up to class?! Is that lilac color a dye when you’re naturally blonde?

Are you from Mistral?!

“That reminds me, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“You said you were all konked out after the semester finals and basically skipped Saturday, right?”

“Ah, yeah. They were pretty rough.”

I lied shamelessly. The truth was something much less believable, even through the insanity lens of hunterdom.

Sliders were fiction.

“Although I do have to say, Sensei…” I continued, puzzled as to why she was nodding to herself. “You really saved my neck on just about anything Dust-related. I can’t thank you enough for the help.”

Fiction is best chased with a shot of fact.

The exams were a hard-won battle, especially for a student of my nebulous caliber, but my ace in the hole ended up being anything I could trace back to the application of Dust in some fashion. Without such a well-anchored knowledge base shoring up what had been a major hole in the ship, I was reasonably certain I would have capsized, even with the valiant efforts of Bianca, Gratia, and even Ben and Jack.

She really did save me.

“W-Well it’s not like I coulda just let you go in blind, brat.” she responded, suddenly very interested in something out the window as the airship began the landing process. “It’s my job to make sure you kids learn and grow, right? Don’t make a big deal outta me just doing what I’m supposed to.”

The doors opened and she turned away from me in what had to be a huff, scratching an itch that apparently appeared on her cheek as she stepped onto the platform, with me and our three bags railing close behind.

I was reminded a great deal of just how on-the-nose the name of her old team was. Officially a name evocative of a natural disaster from the seas, you really only needed to look at the acronym by itself to realize that whichever headmaster grouped them together must have had a sense of humor.

Teàrlag.
Silver.
Umeko.
Nura.

Somebody, somewhere, must have made that happen on purpose. There was no way it was some happy accident.

“Hurry it up, brat! I don’t know how much time we’ve got left!”

Not when it fit her as well as this, even when she had long since taken up the mantle of “responsible adult”.

“Moving as fast as I can!” I called back, nonetheless cranking up the pace of my half-trot to somewhere in the realm of “as fast as was safe with my luggage in mind”.

I wondered, noting that my legs and stride were longer even before my half-trot caught up easily to her brisk walk, if that easily-embarrassed demeanor was another detrimental factor alongside her size, looks, and dress when it came to her problem.

If it walks like a teenager, looks like a teenager, cynicizes like a teenager...

One thing’s for certain.

If it’s Teàrlag Cirsium, you need to ignore all that and remember that she’s an adult.


***


“R-Right! Right! I remember now, of course!”

Professor Port waved his hands in front of his face frantically, trying to exorcise whatever demon had possessed his colleague in front of him. 

We had managed to drop every other present off safely at Sensei’s office, where she had said she would handle the wrapping and shipment on her own terms, after we had this last gift taken care of and sent off.

I attempted, to no avail, to ask again just what it was as we left the room, but her defenses would remain watertight with the exception of a small factoid-- it involved catching one Peter Port, teacher of Grimm Studies, before he left campus for the holidays.

Unfortunately for him, he’d repeated the unfortunate mistake that sometimes befell even the sharper minds amongst us students— he’d glanced over the purple-haired girl that had come into his office wearing a bunny-eared hoodie, and written her off as “Student” rather than “Colleague”.

“I’m terribly sorry, Professor Cirsium! I’m afraid it took me a moment to recognize you in such…”

It turns out that a life lead by cynicism and no small amount of bitterness over a specific slight gave people an absolutely rotten stink-eye.

“...Such [i]casual[/i] clothing! Foolish mistake of me.”

Credit where it’s due, a career lead by studying and staring down Mankind’s worst enemies to mine them for information gave people an excellent backbone and ability to recover in the face of such nasty glares.

Still, though, I don’t think it’s good form to openly try and stare a hole through your fellow professor, Sensei, especially one with much more tenure than you.

Raising a fist to that mustache-obscured mouth, Professor Port cleared his throat and continued.

“So then, erm, how may I help you, Professor Cirsium? Do you or your…”

Ah. Haha, don’t worry.

I look like what I am.

“I’m a student, sir.”

“Thank goodness, I was beginning to get alarmed. Everyone is getting too young for me these days... Do you or your student here need something from me?”

“Yes, actually. Professor Port,” Sensei began, having somehow restored every ounce of professionalism in her demeanor over the course of about five seconds. “You’re aware of the International Center for the Extermination of Creatures Antagonistic to Mankind, correct?”

What a word salad name…

“Ah, yes!” Port’s face brightened visibly. “I love the ICE CreAM!”

…

Hey, hey.

Wouldn’t you normally slap your belly or something to drive home that joke, Professor?

Because you’re portly, right?

Whatever that has to do with…

“As it happens, they’ve found themselves in need of one of your specialty cages. Would you have one to spare, by any chance?”

“Of course I can spare one, they’ve done some great research down there.”

There was no way it was actually called that. It can’t be called that! These two were pranking me, right?!

“No, that’s the official acronym.” 

Professor Port stated it factually, as if he was telling me that, yes, the sky is indeed blue.

I don’t think I can reconcile that in my brain.

They deal with live Grimm! You couldn’t just go and give a facility like that an innocent, tasty sounding name like ICE CreAM! That’s not how it’s supposed to work at all!

They continued unabated as I was left reeling, with Port scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I would certainly be happy to lend the ICE CreAM a cage, of course, however…”

“Is there a catch, Professor?” asked Sensei, who was more than likely expecting one.

“No, Professor, it’s just rather unorthodox of them to deliver a request through a colleague as opposed to, well…”

Something normal, right?

“Usual channels. Especially for an item as heavy-duty as one of my cages.”

“..........”

“!!”

“Wait, we’re going to haul one of those?!”
They had to weigh at least as much as the average sedan!

“Don’t yell in the offices, Lucas.”


F-Full first name?! 

She was really going all out on the teacher mode thing. Not even a “brat” like usual…

Without missing a beat, she continued as a wry smile played across her face.

“I’d be inclined to agree, but I guess this is what happens when your little sister works over there. Things show up on the Christmas list.”


“Ha! Does she really? Well, I suppose the entire Cirsium family is devoted to the cause, aren’t they?”

The silvery-haired professor let out another of his characteristic booming laughs.

“I’ll have it at the launchpad for you right away. No need to worry about breaking your backs. Save the heavy lifting for machines, those can be fixed if they break down.”

I kept my mouth very shut about being repairable.

We said our thanks and left, and got about halfway to her office before I realized something.

“So… That’s everyone, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s all my sisters accounted for, you've already gotten yours, and Mum and Dad’s present is already in the mail. Unless you feel like tossing some snacks inside for Anna before we launch the thing, you’re free to go.”

I get the present of not deadlifting a multiple-ton cage, huh? I won't complain, but you shouldn't scare me like that this late after Halloween...

…

“Snacks?”

“She’s very gung-ho about her work, brat.” Sensei said with deadly seriousness. “Sometimes she forgets to eat.”

“H-Huh.”

And wouldn’t you know it, we had drawn right up to a vending machine.

“Well… what’s she eat, then?” I asked.

“Whatever you give her, she’s never been much of a fussy one.” she said dismissively, punching out the code for a bag of lays after depositing a small amount of lien. Pocket change from the trip down into the city, probably.

“Well, that makes it easy, I guess…” I murmured as I shuffled through my own pockets for any similar coinage. No luck. I’d need to pull out of my wallet…

Inserting the bill, I pondered the choices for a moment. More chips would be samey… Nuts or trail mix were likely to be overly salty in combination with the lays…

Ah, Famous Amos was a good choice. The cookies shouldn’t have held up any worse than chips during the transportation process.

Wait.

Wait, hold on.

“What do you mean ‘launching’?”

At this, Sensei blinked and peered at me in that same manner as before, the one that made me concerned I’d inadvertently said something weird.

“The Railgun.”

“We’re Huntsmen, not Espers.”

“You know full well what I mean, brat.”

“Actually…”

I honestly didn’t. 

I knew what a railgun was, of course. Even without a crash course in electromagnetism and physics, it showed up all over the place in fiction, especially video games. Hell, I knew about it being a viable concept to accelerate large objects to Low-Earth Orbit thanks to Ace Combat 5, and as a potential superweapon due to 04…

“I wasn’t at all aware we had access to a mass driver here. Shouldn’t they tell you that?”

Now I had really weirded her out.

“It’s the same idea as the stuff they used to launch you brats into the Forest during Initiation. You know, those little catapults?”

And just like that, the shoe was on the other foot.

Now it is DEFINITELY my turn to be confused.

“They what?”

“Were you not there for that?”

“I transferred in two weeks late…”

“Ah.”

There was a small pause, and she thoughtfully brought her hand to her chin.

“You’re a right lucky bugger, aren’t you?”

“Well, I guess if I somehow got in without having to go through that…”

I'm usually not one, if you haven't guessed by now, to agree about having positive qualities when people try and attribute them to me. Often I even go as far as to belittle whatever misconstrued ideas I hear about what kind of person I am. 

Like Ms. Cirsium calling me a Nice Guy, to name a recent example.

One thing, though, that I've always agreed with is my good fortune. There's no reasonable argument against the fact-- everything about my being here can be traced back to exceptionally helpful circumstances.

Even if you want to vouch for the work I've done, as if to support molasses trying to flow uphill, you also have to acknowledge the other end of the equation-- everyone around me who has helped direct my meager, wayward energy and focus with masterful precision and the endless well of patience I must require.

People like my mother. Like my sisters. Like my teammates.

Like Sensei.

Everyone who goes the extra mile for me-- I can never thank them enough. Nor can I properly express just how fortunate I am that they spend their time on a former washout.

“What's that earnest look for, brat?”

… 

“Well, since you're just staring at me like you're waiting to be put to work…” she sighed, jerking a thumb to the right. “Mind grabbing my notepad and a pen from the office? Anna sometimes could use a reminder or two on paper.”

“Yeah, sure…”

Who the heck needs a reminder to eat on a sticky note?! Not even I get absorbed in something so fervently that I can ignore my body's desperate cries for energy without meaning to!

That aside…

Teàrlag Cirsium’s tradition of dictating her orders through the written word to Anna Cirsium had just provided a solution to my conundrum before it formed. 

It may have been a long shot, but it would be a shot worth taking.

I entered her office and quickly located the pen and notepad she referred to—

And jotted down a quick note of my own, tearing it free and sticking it to the bag of cookies I had purchased. My writing was probably clear enough.

As for the intended content…

Sensei raised one purpley eyebrow upon my timely return, glancing down to the snack in my hand, note attached. “Got a message for my sister too?”

“‘Happy Holidays and please eat, from a student your research is helping.’.” I replied. “Too much?”

That seemed to satisfy her after a bit of consideration.

“Heh. She’ll probably listen if it’s two people, so not really.”

Perks of being a “Nice Guy”:

People assume you're always honest.


***


Hours later, having long since tossed the snacks into the cage, I was back within my dorm. 

And it was indeed MY dorm, right now. It was the epitome of empty, except for my stuff, which was vanishing into whatever closets, drawers, or bags were necessary to house it during the break.

I would have already been done, but I couldn’t go all the way in on it just yet.

A familiar buzzing filled the air, stopping my folding of clothes in it’s tracks.

I’d been waiting for something all night.

I snatched up my scroll and hit answer, noting that the unfamiliar number could very well have also been a particularly dedicated telemarketer.

“Hello?”

The quiet, almost mousey voice that responded dissuaded the notion entirely. Telemarketers always made sure to project confidence.

“Hello… This is Anna Cirsium, um…”

She actually took me up on it.

“Oh, hi there. I was hoping you’d call, but I know that was probably the most roundabout way to get ahold of you… Sorry about that.”

A soft chuckle played through the other line. “It was, but I figured a friend of Teàr’s is worth hearing out…”

“More like a student, but yeah. You know why I sent you the note, then.”

It wasn’t a question.

The reason was on the note with my number.

“You... wanted to remind me to eat?”

“The OTHER reason!”

Another laugh. “Joking, joking! You wanted to help with Christmas, right?”

Even the understated one screws with me…

I should really just expect it from anyone and everyone at this point, huh? Lucas Schwarz, local hunter, is constantly victimized by bullying. News at 11.

“Yeah, pretty much. Sensei’s gone the extra mile to help me out this semester, so I wanted to show my appreciation. I owe her that much for putting up with me for so long. Thing is…”

I guessed I could have moved some more stuff around while I talked. Time to clear out this desk…

“I’m on a bit of a time limit and I’m not too sure what to get… So I guess to start, what did you get her? I don’t want to grab a dupe.”

“Oh, I got the latest Top 100 Karaoke Hits.”

“...Ah.”

“Is that an issue?”

“No, it was just my first choice. That’s, uh, why it’s good I got a hold of you.”

I wanted to tell her, but I simply didn’t have the heart.

“Just… are you sure nobody else had the same idea?”

Like the sister in question?

“Fairly sure… hm.”

“Try running through the list?”

“Well, our older sisters picked out a new microphone for her to use, and Fionna grabbed a different Karaoke album…”

What is it with them and Karaoke?!

“Umeko will probably send her something that she’ll write off as a joke because Brennan always wraps the gift in prayer emojis…”

“Ah… What’s she send, though?”

“It varies year-to-year depending on needs, but she’s done a lot of winter coats.”

The hoodie. Trust her teammate to know what she needs, but that’s some unfortunate sabotage in the extreme…

From what I know of the infamous Vytal finalist Brennan Griese, it’s that he’s the exact type of person to get under Sensei’s skin.

“Does she have a problem with the coats themselves?”

“I think they might be a bit too ‘done up’ to her to ever really bust out. That make any sense?”

“Tons. I’m on a team with a Mistralian fashionista, I’ve gleaned enough to get a solid picture.” I explained. “Anyone else?”

“Morgan usually sends a check with investment tips…”

“I don’t have the kind of money to duplicate that.....”

Seriously, I'm friends with the plutocrat, not one myself. 

Still.

Info is info.

“Noel and Silver both like to send books! Noel’s is usually a cookbook, and Silver…”

She stopped in her tracks and I heard a faint gurgling noise fill the silence.

A faint GROWLING noise.

“Miss Anna.”

I couldn't believe it. Sensei wasn't kidding.

“Could it be that you haven't eaten in the past twelve hours?”

“Ehehe…”

“Lightning round the rest for me.”

“S-Sure…”

“And then, PLEASE eat.”
…

Two hurried minutes of explanation and confirmation later, and I let her go.

Worth noting, even after I said goodbye and thank you for the help, I didn’t hang up until I heard a bag of either chips or cookies open.

I admire the determination and focus towards one’s research, but she seriously needed to not starve herself for its sake.

I sighed, looking at my desk with, admittedly, no small degree of exhaustion. 

My almost-clean desk.

My desk that had one paper upon it that wasn't filed away while I was talking.

Not one paper…

A stack of them.

“...!”

This was-- 

This was the thing I had to turn in for her in the place of my Dust Apps tutorial session on Saturday.

I owed my teacher a report after having just spent most of the day with her.

How did I forget? 

Why didn't she bring it up?

…

“You've already gotten yours.”

That was what she had told me earlier. I had taken it to mean that my “present” was the day not ending with a backbreaking haul.

I had written off her asking me about finals leaving me tired and completely out of it as simple curiosity, wondering about the situation rather than gleaning an explanation.

Her present was letting me off the hook, just this once.

Dammit, Sensei.

Now I really have to pay you back. If you’re gonna do me a favor like that, then it’s only fair I do something for you too.

I picked up the scroll again, and pressed 3.

I hoped the person in question was still up. It had to be pretty late over there by now, and if I was left leaving a message, there was no telling how long it’d take to hash out.

Oh good, she picked up…

“Hello! You’ve reached Bianca Nuit!”

!!

!?!?!

“H-Have I been that bad of an influence on your sleep cycle? I’m so sorry...”

It was well into the evening over here, and she was further out east than us.

By no means should Bianca sound like I had caught her on a cheerful summer afternoon! If that was the case, then I really am more trouble than I’m worth to my teammates. Unquestionably so, if I keep people up like this.

“Oh, it’s you. Finally woke up.”


…

“That’s a weird reactio--”

I was then cut of by one of the most brazen, longest, and tiredest sounding yawns to ever pass from scroll to scroll.

“Hey, Luke. What do you need this late?”

“You are a master at pulling a 180 on people, you know that?”

“Sorry, sorry, I had appearances to keep up and all. Didn’t see it was you.”

I snorted at that.

“So you save the grouchy tired Bianca for me, your loyal teammate? Seems kind of backwards, doesn’t it?”

“Heheh, not at all, mon amie. I save the REAL Bianca for my loyal teammates. Especially when they wake me up at late-o-clock.”

“I’ll be quick, sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. What do you need?”

“I need a favor. A real big one.”

“Making a Christmas list?”

“You could say that. Could you theoretically still have something shipped here to the dorm overnight?”

“Uh… yeah, sure can.”

Just a couple more minutes, and you can go back to bed. Just hold out for me, Birdbrain.

On my laptop, I pulled up the Nuit Boutique website’s “Casual Winter Wear” section.

“I’d like to place an order.”
[hr]
[h3]* * * * * * *[/h3]
[hr]
December 22nd.

Everything’s shipped and on it’s way. Hell, even Anna gave me confirmation through text this morning that both the cage and cargo had landed safely. She even remembered to eat! There’s hope for you yet, my adorably and worryingly one-track-minded little sister...

I would say I’m glad the whole thing is over with, but there’s still the holiday itself to get through. I don’t mind my family too terribly much, I love them and everything, but it’s just the drainsome event that Christmas is that gets me.

Same questions every year around the dinner table. Same stresses every year leading up and making sure everything’s ready. Same consumerism gone wild every year in an attempt to get people to spend their hard-earned money on stuff most of them would forget about in two months.
It’s all just a big drain, honestly. But, people will be people, and people love celebration, so I’ll have to suck it up and enjoy being with my family despite my wishes.

Hah, talk about a terrible way to phrase it. I’m not so broken as to hate spending time with my family.

Just some of the stuff that comes with it.

But before all that, I’ve gotta clean up all the damn clutter I’ve got in that office of mine. I’d spent longer than I’d liked out shopping yesterday, but running into Schwarz tended to make that happen. For all of things that I worry about with that one, he was definitely talkative.

If only he and his wordiness would take a better look at themselves once in a while…

Well, even though the official answer is “a student counselor”, who am I to talk about that?

I opened the door. Hopefully I could finish in an hour or two and then relax…

“What in the--”

Or, I could take note of two very out-of place things on my desk, right where I usually reviewed papers.

…

And wouldn’t you know it. One of those items was none other than one of the aforementioned papers, in a pristine stack and written with clean text. Somebody had apparently thought they could get away by turning something in late.

Well, breaking and entering certainly wasn’t the way to do it.

As for the second item?

A box, with a neatly tied ribbon wrapped around it.

Bribery too? Who the hell thought that this kind of nonsense still worked?

Well, worked on me?

I stalked around the desk, ready to get a name for my culprit—

And I did.

I had to sigh. I was going to look past it just this one, too.

To further make strange this situation, my eyes were drawn to another liberty the intruder had taken upon my now-understandably pristine office. On my notepad, in the same pen that had told Anna to eat her snacks before she starved to death, was a similar message for me.

[i]Sensei,

Before you go and say anything: I am not a Nice Guy. 

I’m pushy enough to break into your office and force something I thought you should have onto you, whether you asked someone for it or not. After shoving my nose into your business and shopping with you, I’ve presumed to shop FOR you too. I’m actually enough of a delinquent that you need a new lock on your window.

With that out of the way,

Thank you so much for all the help you’ve given me this semester. You did more than anyone could have asked of you without asking for anything in return. Besides a lot of homework, but that’s just the part of helping me I don’t like. It’s a blessing to have you in my corner, even if you don’t want to admit it.

I can’t repay you enough for all that you’ve given me, but, hopefully, I can do something for you in turn. It’s not much, but I think it might help out with a certain pet peeve of yours. You need more than one thing to bundle up in when you’re just going out on a day off, right?

It’s chilly this winter.

Stay warm, and Merry Christmas![/i]

…

Aw, dammit, brat. You shouldn’t have.

I hope yours is merry, too.
[/hider]