The next day, Jishou woke up with a crick in the neck from sleeping on the floor, and found that the reason behind his icicle feet was that the blanket had been thrown off him, exposing his feet to the wintry blasts that nipped and stung his skin. Neon had been right about the walls. And, speaking of Neon… He sat up and, rubbing his bleary eyes, looked around for her so he could scream at her for hogging the blanket.
A particularly wicked wind smashed headlong into his face as he swiveled his head to and fro to look for his missing companion. His eyes traveled over the collapsing furniture, his gaze sliding off the walls that so resembled a sieve. And – was that a flash of red out of the corner of his eye? No – it was just the very old and very mouldy tablecloth that looked like it would have been perfectly at home sitting on a fungi collector’s tabletop. There were things growing on it that Jishou was sure had not been discovered before – not that anybody would want to discover them, anyway. (Except perhaps the afore-mentioned fungi collector, IF there was such a thing as a fungi collector.)
Tearing his eyes away from the enormous green-brown mass of what was practically a forest in its own right (Was it just him, or did it just move?), he resumed his inspection of the shack… er, cabin.
Neon was nowhere in sight.
Needless to say, Jishou was in a foul mood.
After grumpily throwing off the blanket and trying to rub some life back into his numb feet, he limped over to the window and peered out. It was still snowing, something that did NOT help to improve his mood in the least as the pins-and-needles in his slowly reviving feet hit him in full force. Cursing, he gave his feet a final knead, expelling the last of the pain, then fumbled the window-latch open and pushed the window open.
Sticking his head out of the window (Which was buffeted with yet ANOTHER blast of chilly wind – he was starting to feel as though tiny goblins were banging at the sides of his head with sledge hammers), he spotted a blob of red against the stark white of the frost-encrusted scenery. Had he not been in such a bad mood, he probably would have taken a moment to admire his surroundings. All around him, it looked as if someone had taken a pristine-white blanket and then thrown it onto the trees and ground – a very large blanket, at that. Tree branches laden with gleaming crystals of snow glinted and winked at him. Sunlight struck the powdered diamonds on the ground, the light reflecting off the tiny facets and casting a gentle glow about the whole place. It almost seemed as if he had woken up and walked into a stunningly gorgeous picture. It was the perfect white Christmas that so many people longed for – for indeed, Jishou had suddenly remembered that today was the 25th of December.
Too bad he wasn’t in the mood to enjoy any it.
It was not like he had ever celebrated Christmas after joining the Uruha, anyway.
Almost immediately, pictures popped up in his head unbidden as he suddenly imagined what Christmas with the rest of the Jyushinshuu would be like… and promptly winced at the prospect of Kurenai being made to stand at the top of a pine tree in place of an angel and burning the house (excuse me, mansion) down. Pushing the last remainders of his insane daydream (nightmare?) out of his mind, Jishou opened his mouth wide, getting ready to shout out his displeasure at the cause behind it…
And promptly shut it as he heard the tinkling of child-like laughter. Bewildered, he stared harder at the auburn blob. Had he just heard Neon laugh? Yes, he had heard Neon laugh in that mirthless, mocking way of hers before, had seen her giggle prettily whenever she had to act the part of a brainless bimbo to lure her male victims into a trap, but never had he heard this expression of sheer, untainted joy. It simply wasn’t done in the Uruha. Displaying any sign of emotion would be to expose your inner weaknesses. It was unheard of for an Uruha - especially one of the elite Uruha Jyushinshuu - to do such a thing.
And yet here she was, doing something that was practically sacrilegious. What could have caused this sudden change? Could it be because she thought he was still sleeping, and that no one else was around? Perhaps her brain had frozen from the cold? Whatever the reason, he was curious now. And when one is curious, one will always want to find out the reason behind the thing that was making him curious. Pulling his head back in, he quietly closed the window, then strode over to the door. Being careful not to make too much noise, he opened it, cringing as the hinges squealed indignantly, and stepped into the fairytale landscape.
It was still snowing. For a brief moment, the Jyushinshuu forgot what he had come out to do, and simply stood still, letting the snowflakes drift gently down towards him. Holding his hands outstretched, he cupped them and watched as the frozen glass-like shards landed on them, only to melt as they came into contact with the warm surface of his skin. A particularly large one got caught in his eyelash, and before he could brush it off, it had melted and some of the resulting water had trickled into his eye. Rubbing it painfully, his vision finally cleared, and he noticed that Neon was standing in front, her back to him.
He watched silently as she looked up towards the sky, spreading her arms wide as if to embrace the flurry of feathers descending. Then, he heard it again – her soft laughter as she twirled round and round, as if dancing for an unseen audience. The snowflakes that landed on her hair seemed to form a delicately fragile veil, whilst those that fell past her shoulders seemed to spread out to form a cloak of shimmering, ever moving, ever changing crystal. As she whirled, Jishou caught a glimpse of her face, and was surprised to see that, unlike the usual sneer or glare she usually had, the expression on her face was relaxed, one of simple, innocently pure delight.
Finally, Neon came to a stop, and curtseyed to her unseen audience, her radiantly rapturous smile fading away as she suddenly found herself face to face with Jishou. She blushed a brilliant vermilion, and her smile was immediately replaced with her usual scowl.
“How long have you been spying on me?” she snarled, her anger barely masking the embarrassed edge in her voice.
“Whoa, calm down,” Jishou exclaimed, holding his hands up in a “surrender” position. Not only was he still in shock over the scene he had previously witnessed, he also didn’t want to end up fighting with her – it was too cold for that. Besides, it was Christmas… she didn’t deserve to have it spoiled by spending the entire time quarreling with him or devising ways to blast him to pieces.
Now where did that last thought come from? He usually couldn’t care less about a silly thing like ruining someone’s Christmas. Heck, what he usually would do would be to go out of his way to ruin it in the first place just to tick her off.
“How long?” She repeated, a dangerous glint in her eye.
He sighed. Didn’t she ever give up?
“Not very long,” he replied vaguely, shrugging. Before she could glare at him again, he walked a few paces away from her and sat on the snow.
“Look, I don’t want to fight. I’m already freezing as it is. I just came out here to admire the scenery, all right? It’s not like I wanted to see you doing whatever you were doing.” As he spoke over his shoulder to her, he gathered clumps of snow and patted them, trying to make them stick together. He resisted the urge to remark that the reason why he was freezing was because a certain someone had hogged the blanket – as much as he wanted to, he knew it would be suicide to provoke a riled-up Neon even more.
What on earth has come over me? Since when have I ever quailed over the prospect of facing the wrath of such a weak woman, especially Neon? It must be the cold… I’m sure it’s the cold…
Behind him, there was a slight pause, then he heard her give a snort of disbelief and felt her move away from him, sitting down on a nearby log. It seemed that she wasn’t in the mood to quarrel either.
Ignoring her, (It was so unusual to have Neon remain silent for once, instead of screaming at him like she usually did) he continued to mold the lump of snow in front of him, adding a few sticks and stones - he had found them on the ground beside him - whenever he deemed it necessary. Soon, he was finished. Dusting off his hands, he pulled them away to reveal a miniature snowman. Sitting back, he scrutinized his creation critically. It was tilting slightly to the right, but other than that, it was perfect. Well, ‘perfect’ wasn’t really the right word for two balls of balls of snow mashed together then randomly peppered with odds and ends to create the semblance of a face, but it was perfect to him, at least. And wasn’t that all that mattered?
“Your sculpture’s lopsided,” he heard someone behind him remark dryly. The man turned around and scowled irately at Neon, whose mouth was twisted in amusement. So absorbed had he been in his quest of creating ‘art’ that he hadn’t even heard her come up behind him.
“I know that. You didn’t have to tell me. And I don’t need the opinions of a pathetic woman.” He stressed the last word.
“My, my, touchy, aren’t we? And I thought you were the one who was always complaining that I get irritated at the drop of a hat.” Neon replied, idly picking up a handful of snow. She rolled it around her palms, staring down thoughtfully at the rapidly forming ball.
He was surprised she hadn’t snapped at him. She usually hated it whenever he degraded women, she being one herself, of course.
Nah, I wouldn’t really call her a woman. He thought. She’s too ferocious to be one. Good women are supposed to be gentle, kind and good housekeepers, and always listen to whatever their husbands tell them. Neon’s more of the female demon sort. He smirked at the last thought. She certainly behaved like one, what with her constant screaming and screeching.
“Jishou?” he heard her voice behind him.
Still preoccupied with his thoughts about Demonic Neon, and fighting down an urge to snicker, he unthinkingly turned around.
“Yes?” he asked.
“WHAP!” was the answer he received in return. He blinked through snow-encrusted eyebrows. Was that a snowball smushed against his frozen and rapidly getting colder face? It appeared so.
Blink, blink.
“That, my dear Jishou, is what you get for looking down on a woman,” Neon said sweetly, dusting off her hands and getting off the log. She looked up at the sky.
“The roads are still not fit to travel yet. I think another day should do it… most of the snow’ll probably be melted by then. Besides, it’s getting dark. We’ll probably be able to leave for the mansion tomorrow.”
She turned around to re-enter the cabin and gave him one last look over her shoulder. Jishou, his numb brain still struggling to function, could only gape at her foolishly. She had a genuine, honest-to-goodness smile on her face once again, but this time, instead of being only for a non-existent audience, it was directed at him.
“Thanks for making the effort to try not to ruin Christmas this year for me. Yes, I’m not as stupid as I seem. I know what you were trying to do. And I appreciate it. Too bad it kind of failed toward the end.” She made a face.
“Merry Christmas to you too.”
She opened the door and walked through the doorway, her words floating back towards him.
“Oh yes. And you’d better clean the snow off your face before you get inside. We wouldn’t want you dripping water on the floor now, would we?”