It was snowing outside when Mion stirred, half-asleep and lightheaded. Beneath the only comfortable blanket they had, Mion and Naomi shared the same bed, their bodies pressed close, arms draped on each other's waists, hands close to hips, legs entwined, leaving no space for the cold air to seep in. While from the kitchen, Futaba called out repeatedly. It was 12:12 pm, and they were still groggy and hungry. Futaba yelled, "You both have been glued to your phones all night playing games, haven't you?! Where are you, Naomi? Mion?!"
Naomi was so exhausted that she didn't care responding. Mion was no unique; they both poked each other in the waist, irritating each other to respond, but neither of them felt like speaking. Futaba's patience had reached its limit, and he was unbearably angry. He yelled again and louder, "You've been awake all night, and now you're sleeping until noon?! Seriously, I'm annoyed with you two. Mion! Get out of bed right now, or I'm seizing both of your phones!"
Mion couldn't bear Futaba's interrupting noise; she wanted to sleep in peace. Suddenly, Naomi pinched her waist, and Mion yelped, clutching her side in pain. Naomi, who had pinched her and hidden her head under the blanket, received a playful slap on the head through the covers. Mion shouted at Futaba, "Dad, stop yelling at me! What's wrong with you? I was studying homework last night, and your stupid daughter was playing games!"
Naomi crawled out from the blanket and tugged Mion's ponytail. In retaliation, Mion pulled Naomi's ears and pinched her cheeks until red. Naomi yelled, saying the school hadn't given them any homework. Mion grabbed her pillow and pressed it onto Naomi's face, snapping, "You're a noisy bitch! Can't you just stay quiet?!"
Suddenly, the wired telephone on the hallway's wooden wall began ringing loudly. brrring-brrring-brrring—an incoming call from an unknown person. Futaba, washing last night's dishes with wet hands, gestured for them to at least pick it up.
Mion, her dizziness fading after the playful scuffle, groggily got up and answered the phone. She dragged the receiver, tethered by its long, coiled cord, back to her room. She flopped onto her bed chest-down, yawns, and mumbled, "Who is it?"
It was Manabu on the other end, calling from Taiju's home telephone, wondering if they'd join them for a hangout. Naomi perked up, excited since they'd been bored at home all day. Mion pass the knowledge to Naomi and both agreed to Manabu immediately, but before she could finish, Futaba, who was all-ears, intervened immediately, saying, "No! You don't get to say yes to him; it's yes when I say yes! We're going shopping. I hope you didn't forget, Ms. Yes-ma'am."
Mion's eyes snapped open as she glanced at the calendar, marked with red-marker for December 20th—today—realizing they had planned to go Christmas shopping. Mion and Naomi had been insisting for days, pleading with Futaba to take them Christmas shopping, which wasn't possible for Futaba until December due to his demanding job. Having finally managed to carve out time for his daughters, he decided to take them out today.
Futaba came to their room, took the phone from Mion's hand, and said, "Sorry, Manabu, we're going out today. They've been saying for days that they want to watch movies, and since Christmas is near, we have to finish our winter shopping. Sorry, kid! They won't be able to make it today."
How unfortunate, still Manabu understandingly apologized for bothering them and didn't force it any further, kindly wished him good day, 'Sir' Respectfully.
Futaba, in a calm tone, insisted he call him 'Uncle' when not on campus; Futaba always thought of students as his friends. Manabu promised, taking the request as an order, and respectfully ended the call. What a good kid, Futaba thought and smiled. Turning around, he noticed Mion and Naomi still rolling on their bed. "That's enough!" Futaba grabbed their blanket, tugged it, tossed them both off the bed, and opened the windows wide, letting the cold snowy breeze to freeze them both. They shivered like frightened puppies, squealing and rushing out of the room. In her haste, Naomi slipped and fell, prompting Futaba to laugh.
They both took warm baths together and changed their clothes. Mion wore a white sweater over a collared blue-shirt with a white muffler, tied around her neck. She shampooed washed and dried her pink-hair, and donned a black knit beanie to warm her head and ears. Her teeth were still chattering and hands were freezing due to extreme cold; Minus-19 degree. Naomi wore a long, thick jacket-style dress with heavy jeans and cloths underneath and a muffler around her neck, along with red-woolish earmuffs for ear protection. They spent hours primping in front of the mirror, much to Futaba's annoyance—they had wasted over an hour just getting ready. It was nearly 2 p.m., and after another 20 minutes, they finally claimed to be ready. Futaba, relieved, vowed this would be his last outing with them. They cleaned up together and locked all the doors before leaving. They lived on the seventh-floor of the building, where two scheduled guards were always present outside the apartment. Security had been tight ever since an incident; involving Futaba, happened a few years ago. Futaba met the guard at the entrance of the building and requested he keep an eye on things. The guard had a good relationship with them, and sometimes the guard even joined them for dinner. He was a kind hearted man, and Futaba was well-liked by everyone. Futaba then went to the building's parking lot and drove out his car. Mion and Naomi sat in the back seat. They drove to the Central Mall. Their Initial plan was to catch the first showing of 'Before Winter Moments', which they missed. The next show was two hours later, so they decided to complete their clothing and other shopping to kill time. They parked their car in the mall's basement parking area. Mion and Naomi stepped out to explore the vast crowdly mall, with Futaba catching up later. They browsed shops, reaching the third floor to the women's section and splits, selecting clothes and items. Naomi always gravitated toward bold, sexy things, while Mion was more reserved, simple and selective. Mion admired a sleek black leather purse with eight pockets and intricate gold detailing, pure black and undeniably elegant, though quite expensive. Meanwhile, Naomi was choosing a medium-size bra for herself. Suddenly, out of blue, a woman on the ground floor screamed loudly, and the crowd panicked. A thief had snatched the woman's purse, slicing its strap with a knife, and caused a serious injury to her elbow and arm. He bolted through the crowd as the woman's fiancé gave chase. Futaba, nearby, tried to block his path, while Mion and Naomi rushed to the ground floor, noticing Futaba. Just as panic spread, a sharp, tall man—over six feet, with slightly white hair from age, around 40—swiftly intervened. He trapped the thief, grabbing him by the throat, twisting his arm painfully, and slammed him to the tiled floor with practiced ease. The purse and knife slipped from the thief's grasp and was creased in seconds, returned to its owner. Everyone around was stunned but quickly helped the man restrain the thief, pinning him down. Some even struck him until the police arrived and apprehended the thief, dragging him away. The grateful woman bowed deeply to the tall old-man, thanking him profusely, as her fiancé hugged him in gratitude. Curious about their lifesaver, since the purse contained more than thousands Das, she asked his name. With a deep voice and commanding presence, he introduced himself, "I am Daima Leonhard." The woman's fiancé rewarded him with 1,000 Das; which is a lot—just as thanks, which Daima reluctantly accepted after their insistence. Mion, clearly impressed, stepped forward and asking, "Uncle, how tall are you?"
He wasn't surprised at all, since it was the most common question for Daima. "I'm 6'2 exactly," he replied. (Mion was the sixth person that day to ask about his height, he noted.) This didn't surprise Mion either, as he stood out not just for his height but his appearance. He didn't even look old; his genetics seemed to defy his age, resembling a man in his mid-20s or 30s with white-dyed hair. His eyes were sharp and haunting, yet he seemed genuinely kind, not intimidating. Mion remarked she'd never seen anyone taller in person. Taiju, at 5'11, was the tallest she knew, but 6'2 was rare in Feropia.
Daima laughed and politely asked for her introduction. "What's your name, mature lady?" Mion blushed and introduced herself, but Naomi interrupted the conversation, "It's time for the movie, Mion. Let's go!" That was unfortunate; Mion apologized, and Daima nodded, unbothered. Futaba also thanked him and wished him a great day. "Alright, mature lady and Mr. Futaba, see you pretty soon," Daima said and walked his own way. But something felt strange to Futaba…
After the movie, the trio left the theater in high spirits, chatting and laughing. It was a great film; almost everyone, including Futaba, cried. He missed his wife's absence (Mrs. Futaba, Naomi's mother, had died years ago when Naomi and Mion were young). They wandered the snowy streets, enjoying the chill of the winter night under a visible moon. Futaba, weighed down with the girls' shopping bags, trudged behind like a pack mule. Mion and Naomi walked far ahead, discussing plans for the upcoming winter days. Naomi, curious, asked Mion, "So, Mion, do you have any special plans for this winter?"
"Well…" Mion thought for a moment. "Not really. I just want to spend Christmas Eve with Manabu and the others, maybe go out and have fun."
Such a hopeless, weird girl, Naomi thought and sighed. She was seriously expecting something great. Alas! "Nothing else? No surprises? No other secret-intentions?" Mion frowned, walking forward, unsure where this was going. Naomi sighed inwardly. Actually, she knew Mion had liked Manabu since childhood but was too shy to confess; maybe stupidly shy. Naomi had tried countless methods, but Mion was hopeless and foolish, making Naomi look weird instead. She couldn't understand why three simple words, "I love you," were so hard for this half-baked ass to say. "Literally, just a damn three-worded sentence, 'I love you,' and 'Manabu' as a bonus, and that's it! Yet she manages to mess up." But suddenly, in her criminal mind, a mischievous idea sparked. She decided to push Mion's complex feelings further. She stuck close to Mion, shoulder to shoulder, and played, "Actually, Mion," Naomi began, feigning shyness, "I have a really special-plan fared for Christmas." And obviously, innocent Mion's interest was piqued. "What plan?" she asked. Naomi pretended to be shy, then blurted, "I can't hold myself anymore. I am actually planning to confess to Manabu that I love him."
Mion froze mid-step immediately, her face paling. "Ehh?" was all she could manage. Naomi smirked inwardly but tried not to laugh and kept her expression pokered, yet it wasn't easy at all. She laughed in her mind and thought, 'Oh! What's wrong?~' She was playing the devil. Mion stammered, her voice a mix of shock and confusion. "You like Manabu? Why did you never tell me before?!"
Naomi shrugged, continuing to play coy. "Because I was embarrassed. But now I've finally made up my mind. This Christmas, I'm telling him and Dad about my feelings."
Mion's heart raced, her stomach twisting into knots. She didn't know what to do. She looked at Evil-Naomi walking away and thought rapidly about what to do. She didn't know it was a trap. After a few minutes, summoning all her courage, she finally admitted, "Listen, Naomi. Don't hate me, but—I like him too."
'Check!' Naomi's smirk widened in her mind but she maintained her poker-face. "Like? Who?" she asked, feigning ignorance. Mion whispered the name close to her ears hesitantly and turned embarrass-red, "Manabu."
Naomi asked again with a sarcastic tone, "Huh?! Didn't hear you. Can you please talk louder?!"
Mion repeated once more, "Manabu!"
Naomi tilted her head, acting unaware-innocent and ignorant. "Huh?! Why didn't you tell me earlier?!"
Mion turned completely red. "I didn't know you liked him." Stammering excuses, Mion's face looked tearful, but Naomi brushed it off, aiming for the next move. "You should have told me earlier. Now what?! You want me to sacrifice my love?" She took it one step further, "Do you even know I have almost decided my whole future with him?"
Mion's eyes reddened, tears welling up from embarrassment. "I don't know, Naomi, what should I do?!" She started hiccupping as she spoke. Naomi brushed it off again with an "I am annoyed" expression. "Stop crying like a baby; it's no use." Pretending to think, she proposed, "Here's an idea. Let's settle this like adults. How about both of us confess to Manabu on Christmas Day? Let's see who he likes. Deal?"
Mion, hesitant, found herself agreeing despite her fear. "Deal," she muttered. Naomi walked ahead, hopping like a happy rabbit, triumphant, her thoughts smug and victorious. It was decided they would confess together. Love is a complex emotion, and Naomi was a little frightened, hoping no sudden plot twist would ruin her plan. 'Twenty-fifth will be the best day!' Naomi screamed in her mind. While Naomi and Mion strolled along the snowy path, engrossed in their banter and Christmas plans, Futaba lagged far behind, sprawled on the road under the weight of countless shopping bags. Passersby stopped to gawk, some whispering in confusion. One concerned man approached. "Are you okay, mister?" he asked, bending down, unsure whether to take him seriously. Futaba lifted his head and groaned, "Call an ambulance~" dramatically. But the man walked away, "Nope, we're out."
Meanwhile, the sisters continued enjoying their sweet moment. At Taiju's house, Manabu and Mai were wrapping up their Christmas plans. The group had decided to gather on the 25th, including their families, for an evening of festivities and a visit to the Christmas Eve event in Christina Town, near Manabu's place. As Taiju prepared the plans, he texted Mion:
"Sup, home yet? We're planning to hang out on the 25th. Bring Naomi too. Oh! And ask Futaba-sir if he's interested."
Futaba, taking a rare moment of rest, spotted the message on Mion's phone and responded himself. "You can call me 'Uncle' when not in school. And yup! I'll get them both."
"Oh, sir? Sorry to disturb you. By the way, is Mion or Naomi around?"
"Sir again? *Sigh emoji* No, they're having ice cream."
"Ice cream? In this freezing weather? Won't they catch a cold?"
"Girls are either a mystery or a mess. My wife was the same."
"No doubt, totally agree," Taiju laughed.
"Anyway, I'll bring them. They'll be there. Where exactly are we going?" Futaba asked.
"We'll probably stick around Christina. There's a Christmas event being held close to Manabu's home."
"Alright!" Futaba was quite excited.
"Alright! See ya around, Uncle. Bye!"
"Hey! Wait—what time?"
"Oh, I forgot!" Taiju hit his face with his palm and informed, "At 5 PM. Sounds good?"
"I might be a little late, but I'll send the kids on time."
"Alright. Good night!"
Futaba texted "Good night!" as well and ended the conversation. Manabu just left Taiju's place and went back home. He took off his shoes and socks, shed his clothes, and collapsed onto the bed with a sigh. The room felt lonely, save for the picture of his grandmother on the desk beside him. He looked at her picture, memories of better days surfacing like echoes from a distant past. He could hear:
"Manabu, dinner's ready!"
"Manabu! Can you help me for a second?"
His grandmother's loud calls had turned into whispering memories. His head sank into the pillow, his hands pressing against his face as tears welled up. He remained still, unable to let go of the memories, before finally falling asleep.
Meanwhile, Investigator Kenzo sat at his office, surrounded by paperwork and colleagues, each file adding weight to his already burdened shoulders. Moments later, his phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts. He picked up with a sharp tone, "Hello?" A voice on the other end whispered something, and Kenzo's anxiety surged, sweat beading on his forehead. "Yes, sir, I'm working on that right now; just need a bit more time. Yes, sir! I've found him. Yes, sir! I'll confirm soon."
The staff, noticing his shift In demeanor, exchanged looks. Kenzo was always composed, but now tension radiated from him. "Yes, we got the DNA; we just need to confirm the blood test. We need his hair or blood for it."
Kenzo tried to mask his stress in front of colleagues and other staffs. A heavy voice on the other end responded, "Don't worry. Take your time, but I just want my son safe and sound." Kenzo assured that they will manage everything precisely. The call abruptly ended. Kenzo exhaled deeply, his gaze drifting to the window, where the night outside had turned a pale, icy blue.
He dialed a number, and after several rings, someone answered. "Hello, Leon? Kami called just now! What's our next step in the Santa case?!" Kenzo asked with urgency. The voice on the other end, likely Leon, answered calmly, "Erm… Did he? We have to wait a little longer. We've got a problem; I'll have to handle it first. As for the plan—I'll let you know when you're ready. Bye."
Kenzo responded with a sigh, "I understand, the situation is crazy. See ya." The call ended. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face, trying to shake off the stress. Through the window, snowflakes drifted lazily to the ground. Mion was asleep, listening to music; Naomi was playing video games with friends. Futaba, exhausted, had already fallen asleep. Taiju was engaged in a conversation with his mother about his Christmas plans with friends. Mai had just bathed, combing and drying her shiny new hair.
The day had been full, and everyone was waiting for the twenty-fifth. The world outside seemed wonderful; unlike the white moon, snow doesn't get dirty:
"Unless there is blood."