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Far too many Christmas tales have been told about a certain man-in-red’s loyal reindeer, and none at all about the little penguins living on the porch across Langa’s street. It was a family of three; the little penguin huddled contently between its parents for warmth, and in return, they hummed its favorite songs.
They were a family like no other—and the fact that they were Christmas decorations didn’t make it any less real for little Langa.
After every visit to a holiday market, they were there to greet him home when Langa returned; no matter how many flakes of snow blinded the streets, Langa could see their little bodies glow; even if it got so cold that he could not feel his fingers, the penguins always seemed comfortable and warm.
And though it is Christmas once again, be that as it may, Langa’s neighbors in Okinawa do not have any penguin decorations.
In fact, they do not have any outdoor decorations at all. None of Langa’s neighbors do. Sometimes, if the blinds happen to be open, he catches a quick glimpse of his neighbor’s tiny Christmas tree, but it is nothing compared to the massive ones he sees in Canada. Even the tree in their own apartment leaves things to be desired compared to his childhood one.
He almost doesn’t want to look at it.
“Dude, you were so little!”
But at least someone does.
Reki is practically jumping up and down by the Christmas tree, vigorously tapping on a flat, star-shaped ornament. Inside the silver star, a small, slightly-faded picture of young Langa holding his first snowboard is displayed; and really, Langa is lucky that Reki hasn’t ran into the one of him covered in paint yet.
“And this one!”
When Langa looks over next, Reki is pointing at a picture of his Dad balancing him on his shoulders. Then, he turns to face Langa, trying to measure his height with his palm.
“You’re so big now, dude, it’s unfair.”
Langa tilts his head. “Unfair?”
Without warning, Reki’s arms are wrapped around his hips, followed by a poor attempt at picking him up.
“Wh—Reki!”
“Un…fair…” he grunts, clumsily letting him drop on the floor again. “Should have stayed little.”
Langa wants to protest, but before he is able to even hint at a complaint, another voice chimes in, “I know right!”
Oh no.
Langa groans. “Mom.”
But his protest is to no avail.
“You haven’t even seen the best ones,” his Mom says, hushing Langa. “There’s a whole album of that same day somewhere. Like… oh, Langa pouring hot chocolate all over the new carpet!”
“No way!” Reki laughs.
“And trying to hide it! When you boys are back from your gift exchange, we can go through them together—”
“Mom!”
This time, Reki gives him a gentle slap on the shoulder. “Dude, you let my Mom show you my childhood pictures all the time, and I never complain!
Now that’s a lie if Langa has heard one.
He slaps Reki’s hand back. “But you always complain.”
“Do not.”
Langa considers asking him if he thinks that being dramatic about it is going to make Reki convince himself that he is some timid little kid like his younger sisters, but, as is often the case with Reki, he has already moved on to something else to talk about.
Before long, it is time for them to leave.
It isn’t that Langa isn’t excited to spend time with their friends. If anything, today’s special occasion—their first ever Secret Santa—is something that he has been looking forward to all week.
But he and Reki are skating in the middle of winter holidays, a time when the roads should be slippery and covered in ice; at least, they would be in Canada. Here, the road is fully dry, the sky is clear of any clouds, and on top of that, it is way too hot for Langa’s liking. Last time he checked, he should not be wearing a t-shirt over the holidays.
None of it seems to bother Reki.
(And how could it, when it is all that he has ever been used to?)
It does not take long for Dope Sketch to come into sight.
Despite the sign on the door clearly reading ‘Closed,’ Reki pushes it open with ease. Langa prepares to walk into chaos, as is often the case with their friends, but it is surprisingly quiet inside. The first thing that catches his attention is that the shop’s main display table has been moved out of the way. In its place, there are a bunch of pillows.
Miya has made himself comfortable on one of them, and—not-so-successfully—playing with Sketchy, who keeps running around the shop.
Not far from him, Joe is humming along to the music coming out of the speakers; Langa recognizes it as a Western pop song that he often heard in Canada during Christmas, but he can’t quite put his finger on the name. Most Christmas music sounds the same to him anyway.
“Reki, Langa, welcome!” Manager Oka greets them.
He seems to be in the middle of putting up some last decorations, which Langa recognizes as calligraphy pieces by Cherry. He makes a mental note to ask Reki what some of the kanji mean later.
Speaking of Reki, he is running up to their manager before the door has even had time to close. “Manager Oka! Need a hand?”
“All good here, just enjoy yourself!”
“Let me help!”
“Reki, leave it!”
“Come on, let me help!”
“Reki!”
Langa shakes his head, placing the two gifts from him and Reki under the tiny tree in the corner of the shop. According to Reki, he and Oka decorate it together every winter, and though it’s hardly even a two-person job, they let Langa help this year.
It feels… nice to be part of new traditions.
A curious Sketchy comes to investigate the presents seconds later, and Langa somehow manages to give him a good pat before he runs away again.
“Hello to you too,” he mumbles, watching him go after Miya’s attention again.
“Is Okinawan winter too hot for our Snow?”
If it were anyone else, Langa would have jumped at the intrusion. However, Cherry’s entrance is as elegant as ever, quietly filling the emptiness by Langa’s side.
“Ah… uh, not…”
Langa trails, and it doesn’t take long for him to give up on trying to come up with an excuse.
“Yeah, a little.”
He sighs.
A few weeks ago, he was going over some of his family Christmas traditions with Reki and Miya. When Miya took it upon himself to grudgingly suggest having a Secret Santa in the group chat because, ‘You slimes are always overthinking asking for things you want!’, he momentarily felt the same warmth he felt in Canada.
He hates the little voice in the back of his head reminding him that it will never be the same.
“If it’s any consolation, this is not exactly how I would spend the holidays either.”
He is grateful to Cherry’s very-much-real-and-tangible voice for snapping him out of his thoughts. That said, he is not exactly sure how he is meant to comfort someone like Cherry.
“It is a first for me and… Kojiro too, I imagine.”
“Sorry.”
“You misheard me,” Cherry says. “I did not say it was unwelcome. Only that it is new. Perhaps that is a good thing?”
New is good, Langa wants to say, or, at least, it should be. After all, if he didn’t like new, he wouldn’t have skating, or his friends, or Reki.
But it’s hard to appreciate it when the past creeps up on him like a rope around his neck. Langa thinks that it might even be tighter than when he moved to Okinawa a year ago.
Ding, ding.
The shop’s bell saves him from admitting this to Cherry.
“Sorry for being late, everyone!”
He is not surprised to see Shadow come in through the door—he was the only one missing, after all. What he is surprised about is that there is not a speck of paint on his face.
“Oh, Hiromi-san! You made it!”
Instantly, Manager Oka passes the last kanji to Reki and runs up to the door.
He didn’t come up to the door like this for us, Langa thinks.
It seems that Reki has the same idea, because Langa hears him grumble something about how, ‘Oh, now he wants help…’ but neither the manager nor Shadow react. On the contrary, Langa notices that Miya and Joe are struggling to contain their giggles.
Huh.
“Well, since we’re all here, don’t you think it’s time for the main event?”
“Oh, don’t be ungrateful, you insufferable gorilla.”
“No, no, he’s right!” Miya chimes in.
Somehow, everyone ends up in a circle on the floor, with the gifts they each bought in front of them. They are all smiling. Is Langa smiling? He has to be. After all, he has been actively shoving the tugging in his chest as far back as possible—he wants to enjoy tonight.
“Langa should go first!” Reki says. “Since it was his idea!”
Miya snorts. “But remind me, who was the one that suggested it?”
“Fine, then you go first,” Reki responds, and Miya immediately protests.
“Not what I said—”
“Uh, I can go first.”
The words escape Langa without him realising, but there seem to be no objections. In a way, Langa is grateful. Ever since he was a kid, he’s always found waiting for someone’s reactions to his gifts uncomfortable. That way, it will be over soon.
He almost forgets to say anything when he hands his gift to Cherry. There are a few claps around the room as he wishes him a happy holiday.
“Um, I hope you like it.”
Carefully, Cherry removes the wrapping from the gift, and for some reason, Langa feels nervous, as if the gift he picked would have suddenly disappeared. Despite his fears, the calligraphy set that his Mom helped him wrap the night before is still very much present, and he feels a small sense of pride when he sees Cherry awe at it.
“He likes it so much he can’t even say anythi—wow!” Joe’s remark is interrupted halfway through by Cherry’s fan smacking his head.
“Thank you, Langa. This was very nice of you,” Cherry says, and carefully places the set in front of him.
Langa feels a heavy weight off his shoulders; the gift was a success.
Cherry clears his throat. “I suppose I will go next.” It is no surprise that his is the most neatly wrapped gift of all, which he hands to his giftee in equal elegancy. “Happy holidays, Chinen.”
If Miya biting his cheeks is an attempt to hide his excitement, it does not work, Langa thinks. He shows a very poor attempt at unwrapping the gift—clearly considerate of the effort Cherry put in wrapping it—but it all disappears as soon as he realises what he is holding.
“The new Skaters’ Quest volume…?!” Miya squeals. “And a slime hero keychain…?”
“Awwww, Miya!” Reki says, poking his friend on the side. “You love it sooo much!”
“Shut up!” Miya practically hisses at Reki, but still proudly wears his smile. Then, he turns to Cherry. “Um… thank you.” The older man nods, seeming quite pleased with the response his gift has elicited.
“Alright, who’s next?” Joe asks.
Without missing a beat, Miya kicks the bag in front of him in Joe’s direction.
“You’re welcome.”
Joe rolls his eyes. “So kind as always.”
Despite the sarcasm in his voice, the apron he pulls out of the bag certainly catches his attention. It’s black, with sewn patches of color all around it, and his ‘S’ logo stealing the show in the middle. Joe whistles.
Next to Langa, Reki blinks several times in a row.
“Hey, those are Koyomi’s beads!”
Upon a second glance, Langa also recognizes the fruit-shaped beads hanging from the apron’s sleeve-strap as part of Reki’s little sister’s set. In fact, Koyomi had made Langa a bracelet using them before, which proudly hangs on Langa’s bookcase.
Miya crosses his arms. “So?” he asks, but Langa can see the slight blush on his cheeks.
And as he watches Reki struggling to keep himself on his seat and not jump at Miya, it suddenly clicks for Langa; the new—but welcome, he should remind Reki later—visits from Miya at the Kyan household, the closed door in Koyomi’s room… they must have been customizing the apron for Joe together.
“So?!” responds Reki.
If he were to be honest, Langa can’t find a reason why his friend is so upset about this turn of events. It’s true that Reki’s brain sometimes works in ways that Langa doesn’t fully understand, but why would he be mad at his sister and their close friend hanging out?
“I like it,” Langa stands his ground. “It’s a thoughtful gift, since Miya spent many days getting help for it.”
And then, a snort escapes Reki.
“Ohhhh, yeah. My bad… Langa is right.”
Langa doesn’t understand why Reki’s voice is dripping with mischief, but he is far too distracted by his arm being wrapped around Langa’s shoulders to care.
“Miya has been coming over for weeeeeeeks to learn how to make the peeeeerfect gift for his frieeeeend—”
It is then that Miya loses his cool, glaring at both Reki and Langa. “You—!”
“Miya is a softie!”
“Kyan, I am going to—”
“Awe, there’s no need to be ashamed, now!” Joe suddenly says, patting a hand on Miya’s head. The gesture seems to somehow ground him, because he doesn’t even react to Reki sticking his tongue out at him. “Thank you for the gift, Miya. Really.”
“Hmph!” Miya huffs. “You’re very welcome!”
“Okay, my turn, then!” Joe claps his hands together. Then, he picks up the small box in front of him. “I know it’s a little small, but I hope you’ll like it, Shadow.”
Shadow points to himself. “Me?” He accepts the box, and though he tries to be gentle with it, his big hands quickly tear through the paper. “Oh! Is that eyeliner? Thank you!”
It’s almost uncanny how differently Shadow presents himself when he doesn’t wear a full face of makeup… The more Langa thinks about it, the more he realises it has been happening more and more lately—especially around Dope Sketch.
“Glad you like it!”
“You won’t tell him the details?” Cherry asks—and apparently takes the matter into his own hands, because he proceeds to elaborate, “He asked about a dozen women what make-up works best for sensitive eyes.”
Shadow smiles. “Oh, wow!”
(Reki whispers in Langa’s ear, “Okay, it’s seriously creepy how much nicer he is without the facepaint.”)
“Hold on,” Miya says, “I thought we weren’t supposed to tell each other about our giftees before the exchange? Cherry, how did you know Joe had Shadow?”
“We’re not supposed to,” Joe agrees, glaring at Cherry. “This one just can’t seem to mind his business.”
“Is that so,” says Cherry. “Because I seem to recall you used my shipping address for the gift.”
“And I told you already, I didn’t want to make two separate orders!”
For reasons unknown to Langa, Miya snickers.
“So there’s another gift?” Miya asks
Ah. Langa sees now.
“Ah! No!” Joe exclaims, then clears his throat. “I got some… shaving… cream.”
Miya shrugs. “And here I thought it had something to do with Cherry’s new perfume…”
A smile that Langa has never seen on Joe’s face spreads on his face. “Is that so.”
Hiding his face behind his fan, Cherry clears his throat. “I am revoking my gift.”
It seems that no one is in the mood to see the end of their bickering—except Reki, who is still intently staring between the three of them—because Shadow takes it as an opportunity to deliver his own gift.
“Oka-san, happy holidays.”
“Is that…” the manager mumbles as he pulls out a brand new pet-bowl from the bag, staring at it in awe. “Hiromi-san, you shouldn’t have! A-And a flower?”
“It’s a carnation!” Shadow scratches the back of his neck, staring at the pink flower in Oka’s hands. “Well, you’ve been very kind to me these past few months, so I am only returning the favor…”
Langa squints. What is that look on Manager Oka’s face? Even Sketchy seems confused by the interaction, because he paws on his lap rapidly for attention. It is only then that the manager seems to snap out of his thoughts.
“A-Anyway, I guess it’s my turn.” He pushes a rather big—and heavy, from the looks of it—box towards Reki and Langa’s direction. “Happy holidays, Reki!” Manager Oka grins.
Reki smiles back, grin equally wide, “Thank you so much!” and, when he holds onto the box, “Oh, this is heavy!”
“I can’t wait to see what you make with them.”
“Make?” Reki says, slowly ripping the wrapper off to reveal a cardboard box. “What did you do…”
When he finally opens the box, Langa thinks he puts it together faster than Reki—and when Reki pulls out a pair of skateboard wheels, he cannot help but smile alongside him.
“That’s so cool,” Langa breathes.
“Are these the new slim wheels?!” Reki yells. “And trucks?!” He keeps staring at the box in disbelief, and Langa knows that there are about a hundred new board concepts in Reki’s head. “I don’t know what to say!”
“No need,” the manager dismisses him. “Just make good use of them. As always.”
Langa would be lying if he said he isn’t curious to see what Reki comes up with. When it comes to skateboarding—or anything, really—there is no one that is as creative as his best friend.
Which is why, when Reki turns to him, Langa finds it hard not to get excited.
Reki clears his throat.
“Well, I guess it’s obvious who I have,” he says, and Langa smiles. In turn, Reki places a small box on Langa’s hands, but avoids looking at him. “B-But, I need to come clean about something. I hadn’t realised how, um, big the gifts were supposed to be, so—”
“Reki, I don’t care,” Langa interrupts him, taking the box. “Thank you.”
“No, you don’t understand,” Reki insists, but Langa has already started pulling the bow of the box. “I haven’t done Secret Santa since like elementary school, so I thought this was going to be a dollar store type of thing, and now I see that everyone else got really big and sappy stuff and—I mean, okay, I put thought in mine too, but it was also kinda the first thing I saw? So it’s not that big, but it’s cool, ‘cause I got you other Christmas gifts too! But like, not for the exchange, which, again, my bad for not really paying attention and all that and, um… Hey, uh, Langa?”
Reki’s words have long become background noise by the time Langa sets his eyes on the little Christmas ornament inside the box.
A penguin.
It is wearing a little Christmas hat and holding a snowboard, and Langa swears it suddenly smells like fireplace and snow.
He lets the smell carry him all the way back to his house in Alberta, staring out the living room window to look at his neighbors’ penguins. Langa knows that he is no longer there—but somehow, it does not bother him. The memories lie in the palm of his hands, and it is as if any doubt or sorrow he held about tonight carries on traveling without him.
He laughs.
“Reki, how did you know that—”
“I know it’s small!” Reki says, and the more he keeps talking, the more Langa realises that this was all probably some big coincidence. He has never told him about the penguin decorations back in Canada, after all. “But I saw it at the store a few weeks ago, like the day after we drew names, and I thought, ‘Ha ha, this is literally Langa!’ and I got it. So I get if you don’t like it ‘n stuff.”
“Reki, I love it.”
Reki blinks. “Y-You do?”
Langa nods. He looks down at the penguin in his hand and feels his own smile tug on his face. “It’s the best Christmas gift anyone has ever given me.”
“It… is?”
Langa nods again, placing a hand on Reki’s. “We should put it on the tree after and look at photo albums.”
Reki tilts his head. “Dude, are you feeling alright? You’re for real gonna show me all of a sudden?”
What a dumb question, Langa thinks. As if there could possibly be anything in the whole world that he wouldn’t want to share with Reki.
“Of course.”
Reki turns his palm around, squeezing back his hand. Suddenly, the rest of the room feels cold, the only source of warmth being Reki’s hand. When he looks up at Reki, his face is bright red, and his gaze is pointed to the floor.
“Um… Langa, I…”
“Can you get a room?!” Miya interrupts, and both of them jump.
If Reki’s face was red before, now he looks ready to erupt. He quickly pulls his hand away from Langa’s, and buries his face in his hoodie. Langa cannot imagine he looks much different; his heart is beating fast, and he cannot stop himself from bringing his now-free hand to his chest, to make sure it will not escape from its place.
“Oh, leave them be,” Joe says, and it’s a miracle that Langa can process what’s going on. “It’s the holidays!”
Miya crosses his arms. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Double Order.”
“Miya!”
As the two of them bicker, Langa takes the chance to slip away from the circle, and drag himself against the shelf a few steps back. It seems that Reki gets the message, because he soon follows after. Still, Langa thinks, it’s not close enough.
“Hey, Langa…” Reki says, while Langa scooches closer. “Are you cold or something?”
“Freezing,” he lies, but cannot manage to keep a straight face. He is far too happy to hold back his smile.
Reki smiles back. “No you’re not.”
“I love… your gift,” Langa ignores him, hugging his arm. He turns his attention to the chaos in front of him, where Joe and Miya have started throwing pillows at each other.
“I don’t get you, man,” Reki laughs, but doesn’t protest. “You’re welcome. And I meant it, I got you some other stuff too. But you gotta wait till actual Christmas.”
Langa smiles. Suddenly, Christmas away from his childhood home doesn’t sound too bad.
“Okay.”
He can’t wait.