Princess Ibara and the Holy Night. Part 2

“At my family home, we always had hotpot for Christmas, you know.”

“Oh really?”

That seems a bit unusual. What did we have again?
I don’t really have many memories of Christmas or events like that. Well, you can probably guess why.

“We’d pack it full of seafood, and it was surprisingly luxurious and delicious. I’ve been craving it lately. Runa was always a Christmas turkey person, though, ah!”

Shigure-san made a face like “Oh dear.”
Yeah.
You don’t mind, do you? Really?

“Er, well. Anyway, with the bonus coming in, I thought we could buy a hotplate and have hotpot. What do you say?”

“Hotpot, huh…”

　Not that I dislike it at all. It’s healthy and tasty.
But hotpot means home cooking.
Personally, I was thinking more like… seeing the illuminations near the station, then going for a hotel dinner buffet, staying the night… I mean, even I realise that’s a bit lacking in imagination, right? But I’ve never done it before.
But it’s fine to be cliché. I want to do cliché things with Shigure-san and be all lovey-dovey.

　So, hotpot, huh… is what I end up thinking.

It’s just the image, you know? It’s fine. But it feels a bit like a middle-aged couple. Too much, maybe.
It’d be weird if I put on a lot of make-up, right? We’d be eating hotpot practically bare-faced, then have rice porridge to finish, and that’d be it.

And then… would it be the kind of atmosphere where we’d kiss?

If we had cake after the rice porridge, could it work? But my lipstick would definitely be smudged. Last time, there wasn’t even time for that.
Hotpot at home is cosy and fits Shigure-san’s image perfectly, but it’s too warm – there’s no excuse to get close.

I want to be able to say something like, “It’s cold, I want to snuggle up.” Even if I act like a little devil, there’s a limit to how close I can get without any pretence.
But.

“I’ll buy one that can make takoyaki too, so let’s have a takoyaki party on our day off.”

　When you say something like that, I’m bound to say “yeah”. You’re so sneaky, Shigure-san.

†

I did prepare a present, at least. I don’t know if Shigure-san got one ready, but this is my way of showing gratitude. It’s fine if it’s one-sided.
I really wanted to talk to Hime and everyone at ‘Charles’ about it, but they’re probably busy, so I didn’t.
This guilty feeling still hasn’t faded. Will it ever go away? Is this the right thing to do?
　Even that is shrouded in fog right now.

I considered talking to classmates at school, but I don’t have any friends I could explain my situation to yet.
I’ve been attending lessons bit by bit lately, but between my idol work meaning I was often absent and spending so long in the infirmary, I don’t really have any proper friends.
It’s fine, really, but it is a bit lonely.
I hope I can make at least one friend before graduation.

　So, in the end, I consulted Aki-chan.
Aki-chan knows how much I adore Shigure-san and genuinely supports me. She hasn’t said a word about our semi-cohabitation and seems to be keeping it quiet from my parents too. “At seventeen, you’re already ninety percent grown up. You should decide for yourself. It’s not like you’re pregnant,” she said. Well, she’s right about that.

　The day arrives.
After school, I head straight for Shigure-san’s place. Using the spare key (lovely ring to it!), I open the door and a gentle, savoury aroma wafts out.

“Excuse me,”
I say, slipping off my loafers. Shigure-san’s place is a studio flat, with the kitchen right by the entrance.

“Welcome home,”
There she was, wearing an apron.

Oh dear.
That was close. My mind went blank for a moment.
Blimey. Hair pinned up with a scrunchie, a sheer A-line dress. A striped apron.
And she’s rolled up her sleeves. The very embodiment of grown-up cuteness? I’d marry her. I want to hug her from behind. Bite her nape. Smell her.
　Christmas hotpot at home? Absolutely brilliant! I’ll approach, hands spinning round and round. No hugging though. Dangerous with a knife in hand.

“Is that Chinese cabbage?”

“Yep, Chinese cabbage.”

“I thought so.”

Pointless chatter is brilliant fun.
　Even I can tell the vegetable Shigure-san is cutting isn’t spinach or komatsuna. I just wanted to say something, anything, to get her attention.
While Shigure-san cooks, I slip into the room and pull some loungewear from the corner of the wardrobe, which has become entirely my territory. This room’s storage space is a real lifesaver.
My loungewear comes in plain and cute styles, so I go for the cute one.

　A hotplate-style pot was already set up in the centre of the room, filled with a lightly coloured broth.
Soon, Shigure-san brought over a large platter laden with fish and vegetables and turned the hotplate dial.
The ingredients began to simmer away.
Whole prawns, cod, scallops, oysters, spring onions, shiitake mushrooms, Chinese cabbage. And tofu.
Looking at it now, it was surprisingly Christmassy.
The red of the prawns, the green of the vegetables, the white of the scallops and tofu.
Then, grated daikon radish was sprinkled over everything.
A seafood hotpot with grated daikon.
The fluffy grated daikon resembled snow, and depending on how you looked at it, you could almost call it a White Christmas.
As I pondered this, Shigure-san suddenly remarked.

“It feels like a white Christmas when you do it like this, doesn’t it? It’s rather nice.”

Ah, really.
My heart tightened painfully. Over something so trivial.
We were looking at the same thing, thinking the same thing. Just that alone made me so happy.
Almost enough to make me cry if I wasn’t careful.

“It’s cooked through now, shall we eat?”

“Mm.”

I sniffed softly and picked up my chopsticks.

†

The hotpot was absolutely delicious. We thoroughly enjoyed it right down to the rice porridge at the end.
Shigure-san had even prepared cake, but we decided we’d eaten enough for one day and would save it for tomorrow.
When I returned, having soaked the dishes and hotplate in water, a basket of satsumas was waiting on the table.
　I took one and ate it. Sweet and sour, delicious.
Oh dear. Really, I just keep receiving things from this person. I wish I could give something back, even just one thing.
It’s not something tangible like a present or anything like that, I can’t quite put it into words yet.

After finishing the meal and tidying up, I took a wrapped parcel out of my school bag.
A Christmas present. I’d consulted Aki-chan about it, but ultimately decided on it myself.

“Shigure-san, this is for Christmas.”

“Eh, for me?”

“Yeah. Open it.”

“Wow, I’m so happy!”

Shigure-san carefully unwrapped the gift.

“Ah, this is the one I wanted!”

Inside was a L’Occitane hand cream.
　The one she’d picked up and tried when we went out together before.
She’d probably been planning to buy it. Seems she couldn’t because I was clinging to her.

“Is it alright for me to use this?”

“Of course. Do give it a try if you like.”

“Right then, I’ll try it straight away. Ibara, thank you so much, ah!”

Shigure squeezed the tube. But perhaps she misjudged the pressure, for far more cream than needed came out.

“Ah, sorry, Ibara, could you use some?”

Before I could even say ‘Eh?’, Shigure’s hand grabbed mine.

“Ibara, your hands are lovely too, aren’t they?”

Saying that, she started squeezing my hand with her own palm, now coated in hand cream.
Between our perfectly overlapping palms, the cream, scented with osmanthus, slipped and melted.
Eh? Eh? Eh?
Um, Shigure-san. This…
This feels a bit… No, quite a bit…

Eh, this feels rather… naughty!