-_- I wrote this story a month ago, before IS2 included the bit between Laura and the bunny wagashi. Goddammit grumble Merry Christmas grumble Happy Holidays grumble grumble.
Snow Bunnies
Despite the early hour, despite the fact that it was not even her own house, and despite not being technically invited, it was a no-brainer for Taiga Fujimura to already make her presence known at the Emiya household. It was, after all, Christmas. A white one, at that.
It did not surprise Taiga to find Kiritsugu already awake when she arrived early in the morning—though the man was often slow to rise, he had a whimsical streak that would never have let him sleep in on a day like Christmas. Days out of the ordinary, especially festive days seemed to especially excite his tastes—he had even decorated around the house with holly wreathes and even small statues of wise men at the front door.
“Merry Christmas!” Taiga said, bounding in through the doorway the moment it was open.
“Merry Christmas,” Kiritsugu said, ruefully rubbing at his chin. As always, he posed his words in English. “Raiga knows where you are, right?”
“Yes,” Taiga said, quickly discarding her shoes and handing Kiritsugu the bundle she kept in one hand. “Where’s Shirou? I brought presents and a cake.” She regressed to Japanese, her energy bubbling over her ability to deliberately think about what she was saying. “Not that we have to eat the cake right away, unless you’re okay with ruining your breakfast like that, which I don’t have a problem with at all. It’s strawberry.”
Kiritsugu chuckled. “I think we will eat something else first, but we can have it later.” His voice followed after Taiga, who was already heading down the hall to put said cake into the refrigerator. “Shirou is in the dojo.”
Taiga skipped along the hall, grinning as she peeked into the living room to find the holly decorations continuing into every space, a small tree set on the shelf against the wall. The television was also on, set to some black-and-white film she did not immediately recognize. It was still more than her home—festive was not something that fit her father or his friends, although he did not discourage her from seeking it out.
The back yard had not been touched since blanketed in white which also brought wonderful thoughts of snowmen to the girl’s mind. She was surprised Kiritsugu had not already started up on that, even if the white had only appeared the previous evening and it was still early in the day yet. The previous years when Taiga had come over for the holiday, he had already built at least one such creation and even managed to find a hat and scarf one year to make the quintessential snowman. They would have to be sure and rectify this year’s lack, especially as the snow was thicker and a few centimeters more than the previous year.
The dojo had been mostly left alone. Taiga spotted a bag of lights just outside the entrance. She recalled that before, Kiritsugu had also lit up their house—a fairly strange thing for the neighborhood—but he had not made it in time this year. If it did not start snowing again, Taiga thought about offering to help him finish that task as well.
A voice interrupted her thoughts as she crossed the threshold of the dojo’s entryway. “I have you!” The sound of a loud crack echoed immediately after.
Shirou stumbled and fell back onto his rear, dropping the bamboo weapon in his hands in favor of clutching his head.
Taiga gave the boy a superior smile and hefted the shinai she had brought with her. “Don’t underestimate me just because it’s Christmas.” He regularly tried this when she came over—probably because she picked on him in return. The first time she had attacked him out of the blue and pointed out that boys had to become strong or nobody would take them seriously. Now he wanted to return the favor and catch her off-guard, so he often tried ambushes. “Work harder, sword fodder,” she said in English. “Hey, that rhymes!”
“How come you’re such a fast freak?” he complained, glaring up at her.
By the time Kiritsugu followed her into the dojo, she had the redhead in a swastika wrestling hold in an attempt to make him cry for mercy. When she saw that the reluctant adult of the house would break it up despite the faint grin he wore, Taiga kicked her discarded shinai up into her top hand, then shoved it down Shirou’s shirt at the wrist. It pulled his clothes taut and kept his arms extended in the same outstretched position as it threaded through both sleeves. She stepped away as the boy righted himself but was left stuck in a scarecrow’s pose.
“Mind your manners, or girls will never like you,” Taiga said. She was certain he muttered something under his breath, but she ignored it in favor of looking to Kiritsugu and warding anything he might say to scold her. “Even though he attacked me first,” she said with emphasis, “I still wanna get back so he can open his present.”
“Giving us presents because you don’t have a boyfriend to give one to,” Shirou muttered, swinging his shoulders in an attempt to dislodge the weapon from his clothing.
“Oh, you stop, I won’t ever forget about you even when I’m married with five kids and you’re getting over being dumped for the twenty-sixth time.”
“Alright, alright,” Kiritsugu said, putting a hand between them lest more fighting break out. “A fun day, remember? I’m going to get breakfast finished up first, and then we can exchange gifts.” He looked to Taiga and said, once more in English, “After breakfast and gifts, then we will have your cake. Now, please, help him get out?”
Taiga eyed the boy. “Only if he asks nicely.”
Shirou did not ask nicely, so he spent most of the remaining time before eating struggling to free himself. Taiga tried to pretend to ignore him and watch the television, but as the film was some old timer’s movie she had little interest. It was not long before she finally had mercy on him and pulled the shinai free as Kiritsugu set the table. Before she could make a comment to the boy about challenging her again, she caught sight of their food. “Hey!”
The onigiri Kiritsugu set out were in a general oval shape but had little beaded eyes and nori cut in long triangular shapes propped atop the head. Some had faint pink coloring to where their cheeks would be, another had a tiny triangular nori nose, and one looked like it was falling asleep with its eyes half-covered.
Taiga peered up over the lip of the table like a kid reaching for a high counter, trying to look at the little creations at eye level. Even Shirou did the same. “They’re adorable! How are we supposed to eat something that cute?”
Kiritsugu made a half-amused, half-comically dour face. “The same as if you would eat a real rabbit. Because you’re hungry.”
Making a face caught halfway between reluctance and locked-into-cute-mode, the girl picked one of the rice bunnies up and looked it over carefully. Kiritsugu was not much of a cook—he seemed like a common bachelor in that way—so to see something so well-made was an oddity.
Shirou was more suspicious, eyeing it like a poisonous insect. “You try it first,” he said.
Taiga stared into the foodstuff’s face as if it were speaking, protesting its imminent doom. Sighing, she shoved it head-first into her mouth and took a mean bite. When the slightly bitter taste of dried plums welcomed her taste buds, she smiled and took another bite, which invited Shirou to take his own and try it out now that he knew nothing was actually poisoned.
“You both are terrible for my morale,” Kiritsugu said. Despite saying this, he looked on with a strangely understanding expression. “Shirou, you’re making the Christmas meals next year.”
The boy scowled around his food, picked himself up from the table, and marched into the kitchen, again with the suspicious look in his eyes. Taiga thought he might be checking to see what devil pact his father had made to create pretty-looking, good-tasting traditional food, even if it was a fairly simple kind of meal. He started with the icebox, shoving the contents around to find what might be out of place.
Not that Taiga was immune to the curiosity either. Before she could ask, however, Kiritsugu brought it up himself. “It’s for really specific things, but I’m a fairly decent teacher.” He grinned—speaking at her in English was one way to demonstrate that. “I’ll show you how to make them later, if you want. I have a tradition of my own, this time of year.”
Taiga was always curious about the life Kiritsugu led before coming to Fuyuki, as it was mysterious enough to inspire any number of fantastic ideas. He never said for certain, but there were hints that she picked up like bread crumbs where she could. This was one such occasion. “From your family?”
“Something like that.” Kiritsugu rubbed at his chin. “Around this time of year I always used to give a present and try to teach a new skill or hobby to members of my family. You’ve been around enough that I suppose that should include you now.”
Unable to keep the pleasure she felt from that revelation from showing on her face, Taiga asked, “What was the last thing you taught?”
Kiritsugu thought about it. “Driving.”
The teenager almost hopped in place—a difficult thing to do in seiza.
“No.” He gave Taiga a rueful grin as the hundreds of scenarios and images of what would happen played through his mind so clearly one could almost read them right out of his eyes. “If I taught you that now, I don’t think Raiga would ever forgive me. Maybe it’ll be a present for after you graduate.”
“I graduate in a few months!”
“College.”
She pouted.
“Making food is good to learn,” he said, as if the hypocrisy of a man that had few cooking skills to his name wasn’t the one saying so. “I saw how you looked at them. Make yourself feel better by making more. Maybe you’ll spare one.”
Her pout only intensified. “Now you’re making me feel guilty.”
“Well, you did just bite it head-first without so much as a prayer or apology.” He smiled, but there was something there that seemed sad, like he could sympathize with the very things he had just made to be eaten by a ravenous athletic teenage girl and a growing boy. Leaning forward, he cupped a hand around his cheek as if to pass along a secret. “Besides, you should learn some cooking tricks or boys won’t like you either,” he said, throwing her advice at Shirou back at her.
She shoved the last of the rice treat into her mouth and chewed hard in response. She could not keep the embers of her anger up, however, the moment she reached for seconds and another cute bunny face looked up at her helplessly. She swallowed and started an apology.
“Now you’re open!” With Taiga preoccupied by the cute food, Shirou charged back into the room, this time with a shinai in each hand.
Taiga rolled onto her back, caught the first strike with crossed feet at the ankles, then twisted that sword to interfere with the second. Shirou managed to smack his own wrist with the second strike and he fell back, cradling his wounded arm.
“Never get between a woman and her food,” Taiga said, absently munching the rice ball with a free hand. “This concludes the lesson for the day.”
Despite the early hour, despite the fact that it was not even her own house, and despite not being technically invited, it was a no-brainer for Taiga Fujimura to barge in on her second home. It was, after all, Christmas. A white one, at that.
Shirou was already awake to be sure, in his regular do-gooder nature of trying to get breakfast prepared. He had probably even woken extra early to ambush any attempts Sakura made at beating him to the chore. Still, Taiga made sure to announce herself and her companion before entering. Manners were important. “Shirou, we’re here!”
The muffled reply suggested he was busy with breakfast prep, so they let themselves in. Taiga made sure the packages she had were undamaged—her scooter sure was a menace to control in this kind of weather—and followed after her short companion who bounded into the house with the energy only a child could muster. Or, mostly only children. Taiga had energy enough to keep up with her and a class full of teenagers, after all.
“Merry Christmas, Illyyyah!” Shirou’s well-wishes were interrupted.
Taiga shrugged. He should know by now the girl’s whims and been prepared for a surprise snowball attack the moment there was white on the ground.
Actually, what was it with this bunch and ambushes?
Sakura was at the table when Taiga made her way to the living room, watching the kitchen with a helpless-but-amused expression that told the entire story. Taiga glanced in to see flakes still dusting Shirou’s hair and shoulders like an exaggerated dandruff problem.
Illyasviel bounced around like she had not just run into the room and smashed snow into her host’s face. “Shirou needs to train more if he can let someone do that to him in his own house,” she said, grinning like a cat cornering her prize.
“Merry Christmas,” Taiga said, forestalling a retort. She settled into a place opposite of Sakura and set the bag of presents down on the table. “Shirou, you really need to decorate more. This place isn’t festive enough.”
The dirty look he gave her was enough to inspire a snicker. “I was busy writing a fifteen page essay before break began.”
A valid complaint—he wasn’t even her student anymore, but she had conspired with his senior English teacher due to concerns she held about her former students. His class figured it out due to rumors through the grapevine. “Oh. My bad?”
He grumbled and returned to finishing food. Taiga let him. Mostly, she just wanted to tease—he was actually still good about decorations, having even gone as far as buying a full-sized tree, dragging it into the house, and setting it up before anyone had known he was going to. They had all pitched in to finish adorning it, making up for the lack of decorative variety around the house with an over-decorated centerpiece with red bulbs and silver tinsel and yellow lights and white angels.
As Sakura waited patiently and Illya did her best to distract Shirou from finishing his work, Taiga turned the television on and set up the movie she had brought along. Kiritsugu had watched it their last Christmas together, and for some reason it had become her habit to bring along for the holidays.
“I’m almost done, Fuji-nee, so why don’t you hand everything out?” Shirou half-shoved Illya out of the kitchen. “Everyone can open theirs, I’ll be there in a sec.”
Somehow, despite their differing ages, looks, and dispositions, both Sakura and Illya seemed to light up in the exact same way as Taiga handed them each a small box. It was the kind of moment a sorta-big-sister like Taiga thrived on. “Don’t hold back, we have to have the table cleared for food.”
Both girls smiled and tore open their respective boxes. An umbrella for Sakura that had ears and a black-and-white face to resemble a panda. White slippers for Illya that each had a black nose and eyes.
“This is adorable,” Sakura said.
“What are they?” Illya asked.
Taiga tried to keep back on the laughter as she leaned up and said, “Seals.” She blew out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sneeze in her attempt to clamp down on the joke. “They’re Illya’seals!”
Sakura decided to vacate her position from the table; Illya looked ready to pick the furniture up and use it as a weapon to bludgeon her guardian to death.
“Now, now,” Shirou said, entering with a plate in each hand. “Illya, it’s really my fault, those are actually my presents to you guys. Fuji-nee just couldn’t help but point that out after the fact.”
“Really?” Sakura asked.
“Fuji-nee’s presents are here,” he said, putting down one of the plates. “She made these for everyone yesterday.”
Both of the younger girls blinked at the bunny-shaped onigiri placed before them. Sakura then looked up to Shirou with a tilt to her head.
“Yes, they’re edible,” he said.
Taiga sniffed. “You guys act like I can’t cook at all. I can, I just, you know, choose not to.”
“They’re bunnies!” Illya said, giving up on guardicide in favor of crooning over the adorable snacks. Shirou set out tea for everyone as she picked one up to look it over. “How could Taiga make something so well?”
“I had a good teacher. Shirou’s dad taught me.” She leaned in and elbowed Illya. “Want me to teach you how to? The ears are especially tricky.”
Illya raised her hand like a good student. “Yes, instructor! These are great! For the first time, I admire your skills!”
Taiga almost started to puff out her chest but caught the expression Shirou had at Illya’s exclamation. She thought about what the little girl had said carefully, realized the implication, then swiftly brought her fist down atop the crown of white hair before her. “You take that back, pipsqueak!”
“Fine, then I don’t admire your skills, ever!”
“Then you can forfeit your share and I’ll eat it!”
The volume on the television went up, a sign that Shirou had given up on trying to contain the bickering himself. Takashi Shimura’s mournful expression called to the boy as if in sympathy. The character’s words were drowned out, however, as Taiga once more proved to be superior in hand-to-hand combat.
Just barely.
“Never…food…lesson…day!” Taiga said, struggling to keep a kicking Illya in her grip.
Despite the early hour, despite the fact that it was not even her own house, and despite not being technically invited, it was a no-brainer for Taiga Fujimura to completely break the law and enter the castle-like mansion. It was, after all, Christmas. A white one, at that.
Actually, she was unsure as to what the laws in Germany were. She also did not know what business could come from that weird occultist crap Shirou had reluctantly told her about the one time that related to all of this. But she did know that, after he had spent some time in the cold outside, which included his really terrible English skills—what the hell was he doing when she had him in her class, anyway?—he had said it was safe to enter.
Whether it was because nobody was home or everybody was still asleep and had not heard the intruders, they went unmolested through the building’s grand halls. Shirou navigated as if he had already visited before, directing them to a large bedroom that was mostly empty save for a bed large enough Taiga thought you could probably have five people comfortably use. “Here?”
Shirou nodded, gazing off into the empty space around the room with a rather forlorn look about him.
Taiga understood, but pushed the feeling out. She set the bag she had brought with her onto the foot of the bed, pulled out packages and a food plate generously covered in shrink-wrap. “You’re sure?”
“Sella will understand. I think.” He frowned. “She may not agree, but she’ll understand.”
“Understand what?”
The old man that spoke had come up on them without a hint of a sound. Taiga jumped and felt the hairs on her body all go rigid-straight—so much so she thought her hair might shoot upwards like a manga character. She glanced to Shirou, who did not look concerned, then to the old man, someone that resembled the Winter Warlock in that old Rankin-Bass Christmas movie. “Y-you’re the one they call Acht?”
It was a rhetorical question. She had goaded what she could out of Illya before the little girl’s death, goaded what she could out of Shirou in the years since. The head of the family that had kept Kiritsugu and Illyasviel apart had a distinctive appearance by all accounts. More than that, however, was his cold demeanor and the dispassionate way he stared at the intruders, like they were a stain upon the pristine castle’s floor.
“What are you doing here?” the old man asked, ignoring Taiga completely. He watched Shirou carefully, focusing specifically on his hands.
“Can’t you tell?” Shirou motioned to his red coat. “Just playing Santa Claus for the poor children you keep here.”
“If you intend—”
Taiga interrupted him. “What we intend is for Sella to have some presents and for anybody else you might’ve raised in this haunted mansion to have a nice day. You got a problem with that, you can take it up with my fist.”
It wasn’t like she didn’t understand. The man before them was somebody she knew capable of things beyond her comprehension. Even when she had wheedled part of the story out of Shirou, she knew that there were both things she would never fully wrap her mind around and things he just flat-out did not tell her. She did know that this man was the closest figure to “family” an Einzbern had, making him the in-law of Kiritsugu and some kind of grandparent to Illya. She knew that threatening him in his own home was dangerous.
But when she thought of living in a castle like this without her father or a concept of a day to be a child and eat junk food and open a present or two and then get abandoned in a foreign country while suffering terminal illness—
“Leave this place now, or I will summon one to remove you by force,” the old man said. “And take your trifles wi—”
Well, she tried.
Only when the old man was laid out on the floor did she realize that three of those Florence Nightingale-like maids had come to attend to their master. One was the stern-faced woman that had cared for Illya in her last weeks. That stern expression she wore was not as impassive as it could have been—Taiga had spent just enough time to know there was a hint of sympathy there, whatever her thoughts were.
“I don’t know what this whole ‘Miracle of Heaven’ business is,” Taiga said, “but you had two right here with you before. Mess up on a third, I’ll bring my sword next time.”
The man was still only looking at Shirou, scowling through the bruise forming on his cheek.
Taiga met the gaze of the maid she knew and motioned back to the bed. “Merry Christmas. I brought you something, hope it livens up this awful place.”
Sella was silent, but offered the very slightest tilt of her head in acknowledgement.
“If there are plans,” Shirou said, and he was eyeing Acht the same way the old man stared back at him, “and a new girl, make sure she gets one of the snacks.”
They both circled around the old man and the maids to leave, ready to go now that they had accomplished their task. Taiga said, over her shoulder, “And if anyone wants to learn how to make them, I’d be happy to show you. My family knows how to achieve what they set out to do. This concludes my special lesson for the mentally challenged.”
End
The film they watch is called Ikiru, an Akira Kurosawa film that I’d highly suggest watching for uplifting bittersweet.
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Originally Posted by Seika
