Episode Eighty-Five: This Year, I’ll Leave It to Santa
Once mid-December passed, the nighttime temperatures dropped sharply, and winter’s arrival became something you could feel directly on your skin.
Friday night.
Wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, I watched Yui-san out of the corner of my eye as she filled the humidifier with water. Once the heating season kicks in, the air always gets so dry. This time of year makes it easy to catch a cold, so Yui-san, in her position of responsibility, always kept careful watch over her own health.
Spending this much time with her, I’d started paying several times more attention to that too, compared to my college days.
With the seasons changing, Yui-san’s loungewear had, at some point, shifted from a simple T-shirt to a hoodie.
This morning’s news had a weather forecaster saying this winter was expected to be colder than average.
However much the heater’s running, wrapped in nothing but shorts and a single blanket, I don’t think I can survive this year’s cold winter.
“Hey, Yui-san. Can I turn the heater up a bit?”
Once she’d finished filling the humidifier, I called out to her — she’d been in the kitchen, making hot milk for me.
“Ah, you’re cold? Of course, go ahead. Sorry for not noticing.”
Her brows drooped, apologetic, saying that. No, I shook my head, side to side, and nudged the heater’s setting up one degree.
Yui-san’s so kind that she always says “sorry” first, at moments like this — but there’s no need to apologize. It’s just my own fault for dressing too lightly.
With a small beep, warm air gusted from the AC vent, filling the room.
Taking the mug she handed me, saying “thank you,” Yui-san slipped in behind me and wrapped her arms tight around my body, warming me.
Feeling that warmth against my back, I brought the mug to my lips. Faintly sweet — the taste of honey.
“Guess we need to get you winter loungewear too. My sweats are a bit big on you.”
I’d figured the heater alone would keep things warm enough, even in winter, so I hadn’t felt the need to replace my loungewear — but it really had gotten a little cold.
Since Yui-san and I have such different leg lengths, I could probably borrow a top, but bottoms are definitely out. I’d end up stepping on the hem.
I should get new loungewear soon too. Wouldn’t want to catch a cold and cause trouble for everyone.
“With the winter bonus coming too, maybe I’ll buy some new loungewear. I’m sure you gave me a good review, Yui-san, so I’m looking forward to the twenty-fifth.”
“Fufu, that’s right. You can look forward to the winter bonus too.”
I’d meant it half as a joke, but hearing that she’d genuinely given me a good review after all left me a little surprised, privately.
Even the summer bonus had made me gasp looking at the statement — and with performance this strong, this winter’s looking like it’ll fatten my wallet nicely too.
“Come to think of it, is your bonus in winter too, Yui-san?”
“No, mine’s spring. Performance-linked, paid once a year. So next year should be something to look forward to. Let’s go on a trip and really splurge, since we’re at it. Still a ways off, but look forward to it.”
Saying that, Yui-san laughed.
In that case, I’ll gratefully take her up on spring — but Christmas, with my own bonus in hand, is my turn to step up.
Yui-san’s monthly income is probably, without question, far higher than my bonus — but that’s beside the point.
For her birthday, I’d talked her into letting me pay, but normally she hates it when I pull out my wallet — so any event like this becomes my chance to really try.
And Yui-san genuinely treasures whatever gift I give her, keeps using it for ages, which makes picking something out worthwhile, from the giving side too.
Back in college, “Santa” — meaning me — had given her a blue plaid scarf, and Yui-san still wears it, even now. Noticing that, once the weather turned chilly, something in my chest went warm, ticklish.
So this year, too, I need to be Yui-san’s Santa again.
If I could ask for one thing, I wish at least Christmas Eve could fall on a day off.
From Christmas through New Year’s, both the restaurant business and the hotel business — pillars of the company’s revenue — hit their peak season, so Yui-san gets pulled into meeting after meeting, busy enough to want to borrow a cat’s paws for help.
Appointment requests keep flying in, one after another, relentless, and even I struggled, piecing together her schedule like a game of Tetris.
I could feel, vividly, the restless, bustling atmosphere sweeping through the whole office.
Under circumstances like that, there’s no way she could take time off work, and honestly, just managing a date after work would already feel like a huge win. I can’t afford to be selfish with someone carrying this much responsibility.
Last year, and the year before, and the year before that. Compared to those Christmases I spent alone, just getting to spend it together at all already feels like more than enough happiness.
*
Setting my mug down on the coffee table, I picked up the remote and leaned my weight back against her.
Then a mischievous hand slipped into the blanket and gently stroked the exposed, chilled skin of my inner thigh.
Startled, I smacked that hand away reflexively and turned to look at her.
“Yui-san, seriously! Don’t touch weird places like that.”
“Sorry, sorry. Just thought your legs might be cold.”
For Yui-san, it’s probably just casual skinship, but when she touches somewhere that risky without warning, it does something strange to me, and I’m never quite at ease.
Her scolded hand slowly withdrew from the blanket, and instead wrapped tight around my body again.
Refocusing, I picked out today’s movie. Repeating weekends like this over and over, it’s already become something like our everyday routine.
Ticklish from the repeated kisses at my cheek, my neck, laughing, trading idle chatter while watching a movie — the living room, on a weekend like this, was packed full of quiet happiness.
“Let’s leave right on time Christmas Eve and go on a date.”
So Yui-san had been thinking the same thing after all. I nodded, “yeah,” and gripped tight the hand she’d wrapped around my stomach.
“I want to go see the illuminations.”
“Sure, let’s go. What do you want for a present?”
“Hmm, what would be good…”
“Anything’s fine. Accessories, a bag, whatever.”
I’ve already gotten accessories, and what I have for bags is plenty. Yui-san has this spoiling habit, so from experience, I know I need to be careful what I say at moments like this, or things spiral out of control fast.
“Ah, then… loungewear, maybe.”
“Loungewear?”
Asked that back, I nodded, “yeah.” Then, from behind, I heard a displeased “ehh.”
“I’d buy you that regardless of Christmas. Isn’t there something else? Something you actually want?”
Loungewear’s not exactly cheap either. Yui-san buys whatever she likes without hesitation, regardless of price, but she’s not the wasteful type.
I think she’s actually good with money — it’s just that, when it comes to me, she seems to lose all sense of restraint. Being showered with gifts like this so easily leaves me feeling guilty.
“Hmm… what, though…”
Neither of us is especially materialistic. If anything, we’re both the type who values the feeling behind a gift more than the object itself — and with Yui-san, I think that tendency’s especially pronounced.
Those paper gift bags Kitagami-san’s kept giving her since college are still stacked, unopened, in her closet, even now.
Every accessory from that brand Kitagami-san always gives her is genuinely lovely, whichever piece you pick.
And yet Yui-san stubbornly refuses to wear any of it — which tells me, clearly, that what she values isn’t the object itself.
I understand that feeling completely. Because anything Yui-san gives me, whatever it is, makes me genuinely, wholeheartedly happy.
“Then… this year, I’ll leave it to Santa.”
Lacing my fingers through her long ones, I turned back, and Yui-san smiled, gentle.
“Yeah? Got it. I’ll pass that along to Santa, then. Tell him to prepare something perfect for Kanata, who’s been such a good girl all year.”
“Fufu, please do.”
Wanting a kiss, I leaned my face in. Yui-san answered, kissing me gently, and, happy, I nestled against her neck.
My body, which should have been cold, had, without my noticing, warmed completely.
*
Once Christmas passes, year’s end comes in the blink of an eye. Since I’m going home to London this year, I’ll get a slightly longer break, starting right after the year-end work wraps up.
Which means, from Yui-san too, I’ll be apart for about a week. Lonely, but I have to go. There’s something I need to tell my family.
I still hadn’t told Yui-san — that I’m planning to tell my parents I want to spend my life with a woman.
But I’d decided to tell her before I left.
She’d surely say I don’t necessarily have to tell my parents, that I shouldn’t push myself.
But, strangely, I felt no anxiety at all about telling them.
Until Japan’s laws change someday, we can’t marry. I can’t give her children of her own.
Even so, I want to tell my family, in my own words, properly, that I’m happy.
I fell for a woman. Does that mean I’m actually gay? Probably not, exactly.
Then am I bisexual? That doesn’t quite feel right either.
Even now, I still don’t really understand how I’d be categorized.
Maybe I never will, going forward either. But I think that’s fine. No need to attach a label at all.
It’s not something anyone else gets to decide. It’s mine to decide.
Because the one single truth I hold, the only answer I have, is simply this — that I love Yui-san, from the bottom of my heart.
＊＊＊
Monday. Feeling the crisp, cold winter air against my cheeks, I walked the road lined with bare, leafless street trees.
Along the way, I ran into Mitsuya-san by chance. Collar of her black coat pulled close, rubbing her hands together, breathing out white breath, clearly cold.
“Good morning, Mitsuya-san.”
“Morning, Aozawa-chan. Cold today too, huh.”
Mitsuya-san grinned, her nose tip faintly red from the cold. Come to think of it, had there been any progress with Mitsuya-san’s love, since then?
Let me ask her. Thinking that, as I drew close enough for our shoulders to nearly touch, a floral scent reached me — one I’d caught somewhere before. Women’s perfume, unmistakably.
I’d always thought Mitsuya-san was, like me, the non-perfume type — had something changed in her, then?
“Oh, Mitsuya-san. Are you wearing perfume today, by any chance?”
“Eh!?”
Startled, Mitsuya-san jerked back, her eyes darting, and, puzzled, I tilted my head.
“Ah, um, sorry, does it smell that strong?”
“Why are you apologizing? It smells really nice. Where’s it from?”
I’d only meant it as casual conversation, but Mitsuya-san deflected with a laugh — “who knows… what was it, again?”
I’d heard, sometime near the end of autumn, that my replacement had finally been assigned to the budget management team.
I’d wanted to ask about that too, but the moment we reached the office, Mitsuya-san waved and fled, hurrying off in a rush.
I never got to ask how her love was progressing, either… well, there’ll be another chance, I suppose.
Maybe she was just busy. Giving up, I headed for the president’s office too.
Yui-san had a full day of executive management training scheduled, heading straight to the Holdings company’s headquarters building and straight home from there — so the president’s office was empty.
Might as well get some simple tasks done while she’s out. Yesterday, Yui-san had asked me to have the minutes from the recent board meeting bound properly.
Yui-san had already reviewed the minutes she’d received from the board secretariat, so all that was left was binding them and getting seals of approval from each director, Yukiya-san included — but since she had a visit planned to Yukiya-san’s company tomorrow anyway, she’d asked me to prepare it ahead of time so she could bring it along.
Booting up my computer, several emails had come in. Let’s start with those first. Just as I let my eyes drift over the inbox — my heart lurched, seized, sudden.
“…Why…”
My lips trembled, the words slipping out before I could stop them. In the hushed, silent president’s office, only the sound of my own breathing echoed.
At the very top of the inbox sat an email from a sender I’d never once received a message from before. Sent this morning.
Sender’s name: Kitagami, Shinji.
We’d never even exchanged business cards — why would he — but the answer was simple.
Using the group’s shared intranet employee search function, finding an email address is trivially easy.
Hands trembling, I clicked open the received email.
—Thanks for your hard work. There’s something I’d like to discuss, so I’ll be waiting tonight at 7 PM, at this hotel’s bar lounge. It’s about work, so please, absolutely come. Keep this from Yui. Thank you.
An unfamiliar hotel’s URL was attached to the email. Not our own hotel — meaning, despite calling it “work,” this is something he doesn’t want anyone else overhearing.
This is, unmistakably, a personal matter. It didn’t look like a business email at all, not in the slightest.
What do I do. Should I tell Yui-san, or not. I hesitated. Letting out a sigh, I pressed a hand to my forehead, unable to stop myself.
Just as I’d suspected. That day, I’d vaguely sensed it — and now, near certainty. Kitagami-san has, almost surely, figured out our relationship.
I gripped the necklace at my chest, tight. It’s fine. No need to be afraid. I mustn’t run. I need to steady myself.
I’d already braced myself for a day like this coming, right from the very start.
I simply couldn’t wait out those few remaining months until spring.
Knowing, even then, that this relationship still wasn’t something the world would forgive — even so, I’d wanted her love, right then, immediately.
*
Back then, I’d already decided — I’d accept it all. Every sin, every punishment, whatever came.
There’s no room, at this point, to suddenly lose my nerve.