The morning air was sharp, every breath carried out in pale mist. Akuma stood at the crest of a snowy hill, scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, his eyes dull with the weariness of the endless night before. His posture was slouched, arms crossed, as though every bone in his body still carried the echoes of music, laughter, and far too many polite greetings.
The crunch of snow behind him broke the silence.
"Here," McQueen's soft voice carried as she extended a steaming cup toward him. Her breath clouded in the frosty air, and her hands, wrapped in delicate white gloves, trembled faintly from the chill.
Akuma blinked, then took the cup with a small grunt of thanks. The warmth seeped into his fingers instantly, and he allowed himself a rare sigh of relief as he took a sip. Bitter, dark, perfect.
They stood side by side, the snow crunching beneath their boots, watching the vast Mejiro estate stretch out before them.
"…Ever get lost around here?" Akuma muttered, his tone flat but his eyes flicking lazily over the seemingly endless sprawl of white.
McQueen tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "Lost? Why would I?"
He gave her a look so deadpan it almost cracked through her innocence. "…Because this place huge. Look at it. That's not a backyard, McQueen—it's a whole prefecture."
Her ears flicked, tail swishing as if she was trying to process what he meant. "…But this is just home."
Akuma took another sip, debating whether he had enough energy to explain how most people's "backyards" did not include rolling hills, a small forest, and what looked like—he squinted—"Is that a pool turned into a skating rink?"
McQueen brightened with a small smile. "Yes. Ryan had the idea last winter. It's quite popular now with the younger ones."
"…Of course it is," he sighed, his words exhaling as a cloud into the cold. "Just a crazy thought, never mind."
They stood together in silence, warmth from their cups and the sharp bite of the air mingling in a quiet balance. For a fleeting moment, it felt… peaceful.
Until chaos unfolded in the fields below.
To the left, Daiwa Scarlet's shrill voice echoed across the snow. "Take this! And that!" She hurled snowballs like a woman possessed, her chestnut hair bouncing as she ducked behind a hastily built fort.
Mayano Top Gun, equally loud and infinitely less strategic, sprinted around in the open, shouting dramatic battle cries as snowballs pelted her. "You'll never defeat me! Justice always prevails!"
From behind the same fort, Mejiro Ryan's calm, encouraging voice rang out, "Scarlet, aim higher, her reflexes are faster than that!"
"I don't need coaching!" Scarlet snapped back, before squealing as Top Gun nailed her directly in the forehead with a snowball the size of her fist. Ryan clapped politely. Top Gun fist-pumped like she'd won the Derby before giving Vodka a high five.
"…That's one way to spend a morning," Akuma muttered into his cup.
McQueen giggled softly beside him, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. "Ryan always gets caught up in those games. She can never say no when Top Gun insists on a 'heroic showdown.'"
But it was the other side of the field that made Akuma's brow twitch.
Because there, towering in the snow like some grotesque effigy, stood the beginnings of a snowman. No—"snow demon."
Gold Ship cackled, shoving an oversized snowball into place. "Behold! The Demon King of Ishigawa! Witness his terrifying, all-consuming power!"
Beside her, Mischa sat cross-legged in the snow, dutifully carving out horns and a jagged grin with surprising precision. His face was completely expressionless, as though building this abomination was simply another Tuesday for him.
The snowman had sharp fangs, curved horns made of branches, and eyes crafted from chunks of coal that glared menacingly across the estate.
Akuma stared. Slowly. Deliberately. He sipped his coffee. "…Of course. Of course that's what they're doing."
Gold Ship threw her arms up, laughing maniacally as she shoved another branch into its body. "When the world remembers Akuma, they shall remember this visage of doom! Tremble, peasants!"
Mischa, without looking up, muttered, "His nose is crooked." He adjusted it with a stick, then brushed snow from his gloved hands with all the serenity of a monk.
McQueen placed a hand delicately over her mouth to stifle her laughter, her shoulders trembling as her tail wagged faintly. "I… I think it's quite well-made, actually."
Akuma turned his head slowly to her, expression unreadable. "…Et tu, McQueen?"
Her lips curved into a guilty smile, her cheeks puffing faintly as she tried not to giggle harder. "…Perhaps the horns are a bit much."
He groaned into his cup.
The sounds of Scarlet's indignant shrieks, Top Gun's triumphant cackles, Gold Ship's theatrical proclamations, and Mischa's calm snow-sculpting filled the vast, snow-covered estate.
McQueen glanced at him, her smile soft as the snowflakes drifting around them. "…It's not so bad, is it?"
He let out a long, tired sigh, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "…Guess not."
From their snowy perch, Akuma and McQueen let their eyes wander away from the chaos of snowball wars and monstrous effigies. The soft sound of skates cutting into ice drifted up from the rink below, carrying with it a grace that was impossible to ignore.
Lucien and Rudolf glided across the frozen pool like they had been born with skates strapped to their feet. Lucien's tall frame was effortlessly poised, his hand steady at Rudolf's back as she twirled with a fluid motion that made her coat shimmer like silver in the winter sun. The two of them mirrored each other perfectly — sharp lines of movement that melted seamlessly into arcs and spins, the air around them seeming to hush in reverence.
Akuma exhaled slowly, nodding once, as if granting his silent acknowledgment. "...Not bad."
Beside him, McQueen tilted her head slightly, her eyes softening as she watched. "They're… elegant," she whispered, her tone filled with something between admiration and wistful envy.
Akuma said nothing, but his lips quirked in the faintest of smirks. He could respect Lucien's ability, even if history still clung to the edges of their relationship like frost to a windowpane.
Their gaze drifted then, drawn to a far less graceful performance on the opposite side of the rink.
Adalbert stood firm, his boots gliding slowly, guiding a very flustered Rice Shower by both hands. She stumbled again and again, her feet slipping awkwardly, but he never let her fall. His voice carried across the ice, steady and encouraging, though tinged with his usual theatrical flourish.
"Steady now, Fräulein! One step at a time, let the ice carry you, not the other way around!"
Rice Shower's cheeks were a furious red, both from the cold and the effort. "I-I'm trying! It's slippery—!"
Adalbert only laughed, his tone full of warmth, his golden scarf fluttering behind him.
Circling them like a comet was T.M. Opera, her skates slicing arcs with dazzling precision. Every lap she made, she raised her arms dramatically, as though announcing the opening act of a grand performance.
"Bravooo! Bravo, little Rice Shower! A true star is being born before our very eyes!"
"Stop making it sound like a stage!" Rice wailed, nearly toppling forward only for Adal to pull her upright again.
From the hill, McQueen covered her mouth with her hand, hiding her giggles. Akuma, however, pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're going to break something. Probably Rice's dignity first."
Before McQueen could reply, the sound of hurried footsteps in the snow broke their peace.
"Trainer!!"
Special Week came bounding up the hill like an excitable puppy, cheeks flushed from the cold. She skidded to a stop, nearly tumbling into McQueen before she caught herself. "Ah—good morning, McQueen-san!" she said brightly, bowing quickly before turning her full attention back to Akuma.
"Can we go out later? Just the two of us? Please?" Her voice carried the raw eagerness of a child, her eyes wide with hope as she half-bounced on her hooves.
Akuma blinked at her, then let out a small chuckle. He raised a hand and gently ruffled her hair, making her squeak in delighted surprise. "Alright. Later."
Special Week's entire face lit up, her laughter ringing clear as she hopped backward and spun in a little circle of joy. "Yay! Thank you, trainer!" With a final wave, she dashed off down the slope, no doubt to "prepare" in her own chaotic way.
Akuma shook his head, faint amusement glimmering in his tired eyes.
McQueen, however, smiled warmly, watching her friend's retreating form before glancing back at him. She nudged his shoulder lightly with her own, her tail swaying behind her. "My, you've got quite the busy schedule, don't you?"
He let out a dry laugh, sipping what little remained of his coffee. "Busy? Nah. It's not really busy or anything when I'm having fun with all of you."
The words slipped out without hesitation, his tone honest.
McQueen blinked, her heart tugging at the simple sincerity in his voice. Her expression softened, her lips curving upward as she reached out, almost without thinking, and gently took his free hand.
"...Well then," she said, her cheeks faintly pink as her smile grew brighter, "let's go and have fun right now."
Before he could protest, she tugged him forward with surprising strength, her laughter ringing out as she practically dragged him down the snowy slope.
Akuma stumbled once, nearly spilling the last of his coffee before he gave up and let himself be led. "McQueen—wait, are you serious—?!"
But her answer was already clear in the sparkle of her eyes and the warmth of her grip.
For the first time that day, Akuma couldn't help but laugh — tired, exasperated, but entirely content.