Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry Souma, they’re keeping me here for the holiday rush and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get back. Hopefully I can come home in time for New Year’s. For now, I’m sure our relatives would be happy to have you during your winter break. I’ll make it up to you, Souma, I mean it. Just don’t spend Christmas alone, you promise me that.”

Lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling, Souma plays last night’s phone conversation over again in his head. His suitcase still lies open and unpacked on the floor and if he were feeling particularly dramatic he would kick it dejectedly. Instead, he mostly feels disappointment so heavy in his limbs it keeps him buried deep beneath his covers, wondering if he can just spend all of winter break hibernating and wake up again when the new semester starts. Outside his door, he can hear the creak and slam of doors opening and closing as Polar Star’s residents leave one by one for their respective homes.

Here he is: unready, unpacked, and unhappily contemplating the long train ride south to see his relatives.

He doesn’t especially enjoy visiting them, mostly because he knows they don’t approve of his culinary pursuits. It’s nothing overt, but he can sense it in the way they suggest certain hobbies to him, how they always bring up a distant cousin who’s excelling in medicine or law or business, and the way they always express concern whenever the diner comes up in conversation. The only way Souma stays sane is having his father there, and without him Souma thinks he’d prefer to spend the holidays handling the diner by himself.

He sighs, turns his head to glance at the clock on his nightstand and gets an unwanted eyeful of sunlight shining through the thin curtains. His stomach grumbles. Food first before he thinks more.

Souma makes his slow way to the kitchen, not even bothering to change out of his sleep clothes. It’s strange for Polar Star to be so quiet. Everyone must have left by now to be home as early as possible and maximize their winter break. He figures Isshiki might still be here, council duties no doubt keeping him busy until the last minute, and Fumio to take care of the building while they’re gone.

When he wanders into the kitchen, he finds neither of them.

Megumi is fully dressed, looking frazzled as she quickly packs rice into a bento. Her suitcase sits on the floor near the kitchen island, packed and ready for departure. Soup simmers on the stove, the aroma wafting towards Souma, and he can smell the familiar warmth and flavor of Megumi’s cooking.

“Tadokoro?”

She jumps, nearly knocking over a bottle of soy sauce.

“Souma-kun!” she gasps, quickly steadying the bottle with a hand. “Please don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“I swear I wasn’t trying to.” Souma holds his hands up innocently. “The dorm’s never been this quiet, if anything you should have heard me coming a mile away.”

Megumi shuffles to the stove to give the soup a stir, nods to herself in satisfaction when she sees it. She reaches for a thermos from one of the overhead cabinets as she says, “Sorry, I’m just really focused on finishing this quickly so I can get going.”

He slides into one of the barstools at the kitchen island, plucking an extra cherry tomato from Megumi’s cutting board and munching on it. “I thought you’d be gone by now. Don’t you have a long ride back to Tohoku?”

“Yes,” Megumi admits, looking embarrassed. “But I overslept.”

Souma has to snicker a little at that. “Tadokoro, that’s pretty unlike you.”

“It’s not my fault we were up so late!” she protests. “The party went on later than I thought it would.”

There might have been a little more rice juice being passed around last night than usual. It was the end of finals and everyone wanted a chance to celebrate before going their separate ways for the holidays. It’s a wonder anyone was able to get up this morning.

“When are you heading home, Souma-kun?” Megumi asks, and Souma freezes. “What are your plans for break?”

He chews on the words for a moment, then sighs.

“I’m not sure yet. My dad’s, uh, stuck in Los Angeles for the week, so I’m either going to see relatives in the south or back to Yukihira Diner. Honestly, I’m leaning towards the diner. My relatives kind of suck.”

He tries to laugh it off, rubbing the back of his neck.

Megumi furrows her brows. “You’re… going to be alone?”

Souma waves a hand. “I’ll be fine, I’ve opened the diner by myself loads of times.”

“No, I mean… You’re going to be alone for the holidays?”

“I…” He falters. “Well, there’s still all the customers that come to the diner every day. And all the people in the shops next to us, they visit a lot and I’ll probably get to see them. But I guess… I guess they’ll probably want to spend Christmas with their own families, but I’ll be fine, y’know. I’ve got stuff to do, recipes to practice.” Souma shrugs, jerky and awkward. “It’s no big deal. Really.”

Megumi studies him, looking very thoughtful. He fidgets under her gaze. Early in their friendship, he realized she is far more discerning than most people assume at first glance. Tadokoro Megumi is not to be underestimated.

Finally, she opens her mouth and says, “Why don’t you come with me, Souma-kun?”

He blinks. “Huh?”

Megumi abruptly turns red. She stammers quickly, “I-I mean! Come with me to see my family. In Tohoku. If you want to.”

He stares, confused. “Why?”

“Because nobody should spend the holidays alone.”

She looks determined, her hands clenching on the lid of her open bento. When she realizes what she’s doing, she quickly relaxes her grip and carefully places the lid on the box. She clears her throat and begins wrapping it in a patterned cloth.

She explains, “There’s plenty of room for you at my house, or if you’d prefer the inn I’m sure my mom can give you a really good discount. But on Christmas Eve you can have dinner with my family and we can eat Christmas cake and I can show you the ice skating rink we have in town. And it’ll probably snow! I’m sure you don’t get much of that in the city.”

Megumi slides the finished bento across the counter to Souma.

He says, “I… I would be imposing, I shouldn’t—”

“Souma-kun, I really insist.”

She turns her gaze downwards, fidgeting with the corner of a dish towel as she speaks.

“I don’t want you to just be by yourself this week. You work so hard here, it’s not fair for you to spend Christmas alone and working. It just—well, it makes me sad.”

She looks up, meeting Souma’s eyes.

“You’re my friend. So, if you really don’t think you’ll feel lonely, then I believe you. But if you want, you can stay at my house for break. You’ll be welcome there, I promise.”

Souma is quiet. He’s never been that far north before, but he’s heard her stories. A port town known for its fresh vegetables and seafood, much colder and quainter than the city Souma is used to, but filled with hardworking and passionate people. He can see the proof himself—Megumi’s eyes are determined and as incredibly kind as they’ve always been. He really doesn’t know what he did to deserve a friend like her.

“You’re… sure it’s okay?” he says.

Megumi exhales, her whole body suddenly releasing the tension that held her as she waited for his answer. “Yes! It’s definitely okay.”

“I still have to pack, will we be late?”

“Not if you hurry and go right now.” Megumi shoos at him. “Quick, Souma-kun! I’ll make breakfast for you.”

“Ah, okay, okay!”

Souma rushes out of the kitchen. He makes it two steps up the stairs before he realizes something and rushes back.

“Tadokoro!” he says at the kitchen doorway.

Megumi turns back around from the stove.

He says, “Thanks,” and grins at her.

Megumi smiles shyly, says, “Hurry up, silly, or we’ll end up spending Christmas at Tootsuki.”

Souma books it up the stairs two at a time.

In the breathless hurry to the train station—which involves many quick sprints up and down stairs, nearly dropping his spare yen down a sewage grate in his hurry to buy a ticket, and jumping over a dog in a mad dash to the open train doors before departure—Souma doesn’t get the chance to text his dad about the change of plans. He’s so relieved they made it on time that he immediately collapses into his seat while Megumi scolds him about putting their luggage in the overhead rack first.

With a few train changes along the way, it’s over a four hour ride to their destination, and he and Megumi pass a portion of the ride with card games and phone apps. But for most of the time, as the grey blur of passing buildings gives way to green countryside, they talk.

About cooking, of course—even though the boundaries of Tootsuki’s campus are far behind them by now, it’s a part of themselves they can’t truly shake. With Megumi it’s easy for the words to flow, to talk about recipe ideas and foods they want to try and new techniques they’ve heard about. But they talk about other things too, like TV shows (Megumi likes to watch sports and the occasional crime drama), music (In the kitchen Souma listens strictly to instrumentals, otherwise he gets caught up in the lyrics and doesn’t pay attention to what he’s doing), and gift ideas for friends (they both agree that Isshiki could use a new apron, preferably one that covers the front and back).

Before he knows it, four hours have passed and the train begins to slow as the PA system announces the next stop. Megumi informs him, “We’re here.”

When they grind to a halt and the train doors slide open, Souma takes his first step into Megumi’s hometown.

The cold hits him like a brick wall.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hunching his shoulders under his jacket.

Megumi laughs, tugging him along with a hand on his arm. “We’re not in Tokyo anymore, city boy.”

Not far from the platform, a woman is waiting. Megumi is steering them straight towards her. She’s familiar in a way Souma can’t place—her dark hair, the way she stands and holds herself. It’s only when they get closer and a warm smile breaks onto the woman’s face that he realizes.

“Mom,” Megumi breathes, hurrying forward the last few steps between her and her mother.

“Megumi-chan, welcome home,” her mother says.

Megumi is beaming, her cheeks flushed red, her breaths puffing out in opaque clouds. She looks in her element; it’s the most at home Souma’s ever seen her. Her mother looks equally happy to see her, and he suddenly feels very much like he’s intruding on something important.

Just as he thinks it, Megumi’s mother turns her gaze to him, looking curious but not unfriendly.

“And this must be Yukihira Souma.”

“Ah, yes, hi.” Souma drops into a quick bow, feeling a little awkward. He was apprehensive about imposing on Megumi’s family from the beginning, and now that he’s actually here he can’t help feeling like he has to make an especially good impression. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Megumi-chan’s said a lot about you.”

Red burns onto Megumi’s face so quickly it’s almost worrisome. “Mother—!”

“Thank you,” her mother continues, unfazed, “for all the kind things you’ve done to help her at Tootsuki.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much,” Souma says, grinning. “Tadokoro’s helped me, too, more times than I can count.”

“S-So where did you park, mom?” Megumi cuts in. “Souma-kun’s freezing.”

“Oh my, yes you’re probably not used to the weather here, are you?”

Megumi’s mother leads the way through the train station, out through the front doors where a small number of cars are parked. She approaches one of them and unlocks the trunk for Souma and Megumi to place their bags inside.

“Did you get the day off today, mom?” Megumi asks.

“No actually, I’m due back at the inn as soon as I drop you off at home.” She climbs into the driver’s seat.

“That’s where you used to work, right Tadokoro?” Souma says, sliding into the backseat.

Megumi follows. “Yes, it’s really busy this time of year.”

With a rumble, the engine starts and the car roars to life. Air blasts through the vents, cold at first before gradually turning warm, and it takes all of Souma’s willpower not to press his face against it and leech all the heat he can get.

Instead he looks out the window, absorbing the new landscape of Megumi’s hometown. The sky is overcast, a grey curtain hanging over the stout buildings, but there is color and life in the people they drive past: women chatting animatedly in front of a convenience store, children running around a small playground, vendors calling out to customers at a bustling fish market.

And beyond all of it: the ocean.

Souma can see it, its churning blue waters and waves lapping against the docks that jut out of the shore, and his nose nudges against the cold glass of the window as he presses forward in his excitement to see it.

“I hope you can find interesting things to do here,” Megumi’s mother says, glancing at Souma through the rear view mirror. “I know we’re a modest place.”

“No, no,” Souma says distractedly, watching a boat return to the harbor, children waving on the dock to greet it. “This is awesome.” Beside him, Megumi smiles.

They drive on until they pull into a residential area, houses lining the streets. Megumi’s mother slows and stops in front of a home with the name Tadokoro inscribed on a nameplate hanging on the fence.

While Souma and Megumi retrieve their bags from the trunk, her mother turns around in the driver’s seat to tell them, “I’m sorry I was already at work when I got your text; I wasn’t able to set the futon out for Souma-kun.”

“That’s okay, I know I told you last minute,” Megumi says, unlocking the front gate and holding it open for Souma to walk through. “We can set it up ourselves. Are you tired, Souma-kun?”

“Actually, I think seeing the inn would be cool,” Souma says. “I just spent five hours sitting in a train, it’d be good to get out and do something.”

“Surely the inn would be a downgrade from the most rigorous culinary school in the country,” Megumi’s mother says, smiling amusedly.

“No way.” Souma grins. “I work at a diner, I know better than to underestimate any kitchen.”

The inn is bustling when they arrive, flocking with tourists here for the winter season. Its exterior is traditional and elegant, all polished wood and gleaming lantern light, but when they enter, the staff greet Megumi’s mother with warm greetings and smiles. This is a family place, grounded in genuine care and hospitality, and Souma can see how Megumi learned to embody that same attitude in her cooking.

She walks beside her mother to the kitchen like she knows the place just as well as she knows her own house, greeting all the staff by name and navigating the inn’s halls with no hesitation. Inside the kitchen is the most enthusiastic welcome of all.

“Oh, Megumi-chan, we’ve missed you,” an elderly chef gushes, approaching Megumi with a tearful smile.

“I’ve missed you all, too,” Megumi says, emotion clogging her voice. People gather around to greet her, those busy with something on the stove turning around to look and shout hello from their station.

“Her first day back home and you’re sending your daughter into the kitchen already?” one chef jokes to Megumi’s mother.

“They insisted!” she says.

“Now who is this young man?” asks the first elderly chef, approaching Souma with curiosity.

“I’m Yukihira Souma.” He bows respectfully. “Megumi and I live in the same dorm.”

“Is that so?”

The chef regards him for a moment, and Souma nearly starts fidgeting before she smiles in amusement.

“Think you have the chops to keep up in this kitchen?”

“They’re Tootsuki students,” Megumi’s mother laughs. “Of course they do. And Souma-kun said himself, he doesn’t underestimate any kitchen.”

“Well then,” the chef says, holding out aprons for Souma and Megumi. “If you’re going to be in the kitchen, you’re going to pull your weight.”

They take the aprons and get to work.

It’s admittedly been a while since Souma’s had to take a step back and listen to another chef’s orders, with the relative solitude and individual growth that Tootsuki demands. The last time he can think of was his stagiaire at SHINO’s Tokyo, one of the most demanding and rewarding experiences he’s ever had. As excruciating as that kitchen was to get accustomed to, this is a role he’s familiar with after so many years of helping his father at Yukihira Diner. It’d be pathetic for him to slip up now.

Here, he truly sees Megumi in her element. This is where she grew up, where she learned the skills that took her all the way to Tootsuki Academy. She slots neatly into the flow of the kitchen like clockwork, and Souma feels no hesitation in bowing to her experience and knowledge. He lets her explain the recipes, carefully follows her instructions and preps everything she asks him to. Her mother is the head chef, but Souma can see the leadership inside her, the confidence with which she moves through the kitchen.

“Good job, Souma-kun,” she says, approaching him as he thinly slices a daikon and arranges it into the shape of a flower.

Souma’s concentrating so hard his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth. He was never really the decorative type back when he worked at the diner, but Tootsuki drilled into him a modicum of finesse and presentation that spurs him to work especially hard at getting this right. He has the reputation of this inn to uphold, after all.

He carefully rolls the sliced daikon with his fingertips, its translucent white petals feathering out into a flower shape. He presents it to Megumi.

“For you, chef,” he says with a grin.

“Souma-kun!” Megumi giggles and bats him on the arm. “You can’t give that to me, it’s a garnish for the dish.”

“I can make another one,” Souma insists. He pushes it into her hands. “Take it as payment for letting me stay with you.”

“Souma-kun,” Megumi says again, but he’s waving her off and already starting on another one.

From the other side of the kitchen, her mother watches on with an amused smile.

When the dinner rush settles into a lull, Megumi’s mother insists he and Megumi take a break. She suggests showing Souma the inn’s garden, which brings the two of them out to the edge of the inn’s back patio where they sit with hot cups of tea and take in the lush plants and the trickle of stream water.

Souma tries to tuck his cold feet beneath his legs, feeling his toes numb from the cold even through his thick socks.

Megumi notices and says, trying not to laugh, “We can go back inside if you want.”

“No, no.” Souma suppresses a shiver. “I’m good. This is endurance training.”

“There’s no point in training if you’re going to freeze to death.” She does laugh this time, and it puffs out in front of her in a white cloud.

“I’m not going to freeze to death,” he insists. “I at least need to live long enough for you to show me the fish market. And the ice skating rink, you promised.”

“I did.” Megumi drums her fingers against the side of her cup, smiling as she takes another sip. “But I don’t know how you’ll survive that if you can’t even survive the inn.”

“I’m surviving the inn just fine.”

“You look like you’re ready to jump into the nearest fire.”

“Well I mean, that sounds pretty inviting right now, don’t you think?”

“Oh shut up.” Megumi bumps her shoulder against his, giggling.

Despite the biting cold, Souma feels relaxed—the familiar ache of working in the kitchen has settled in his back and the soles of his feet, but he feels at peace here. It’s the kind of satisfaction that comes after hard work with good company. He loves the diner and he always will, and he appreciates every customer that walks through their door and treats him like family. But he feels overwhelmingly grateful, suddenly, to be here with Megumi instead of closing up shop by himself and wondering when his father will come home.

He glances over at Megumi sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, peacefully looking out at the garden. The tip of her nose is red and her hair is slightly disarrayed after working, but she looks happy.

He says, “Thanks, Tadokoro.”

Megumi turns her head to look at him, blinking sleepy eyes. She brightens as she processes Souma’s words, a smile emerging on her face.

“Thanks for coming,” she says in return.

“There you two are.”

Her mother suddenly appears behind them, clapping a hand on their shoulders. “Come on, it’s time to head home.”

Souma and Megumi get up on their feet, and he stretches while Megumi pats dust off of her jeans.

“Thank you for all your help today,” her mother says, gently arranging a stray lock of Megumi’s hair back into place.

Megumi smiles, says, “It was good to see everyone again.”

“It was fun,” Souma adds with a grin.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, but I can see you’re about to turn into an icicle out here.” Her mother laughs. “Let’s get home and warm up the kotatsu.”

Souma nearly cries thinking about it. He can’t wait to get back into the warmth of Megumi’s home.

Home.

Souma slaps a hand to his forehead. “Oh god.”

Megumi startles, looking wide-eyed at him. “What?”

“Sorry,” Souma says, waving a hand. “Nothing serious, I just, uh—I forgot to tell my dad I’m even here.”

“Souma-kun!”

“I know, I know!” Souma pulls out his phone to rapidly type a text.

“You kids,” Megumi’s mother says with a sigh, a tired smile on her lips. “You should tell your parents about what’s going on in your life, at least once in a while. We worry, you know?”

“I know, Mom,” Megumi says, smiling apologetically. She links her arm with her mother’s. “But we’re home now.”

 Her mother relaxes. “Yes,” she says. “You’re home.”

Chapter Text

Previous Christmases with his father usually involved an inordinate amount of time shopping for gifts. He and Souma spend the majority of their lives cooking and very little of it considering what others want besides food for their hungry stomachs. Souma is more than content to just cook his friends’ favorite dishes for Christmas but his father, surprisingly, feels different. He always acts different during this time of year.

When Souma was very young, he didn’t understand why—his father cooked food like a gift, putting everything he had into creating a dish someone will enjoy. He didn’t understand why Christmas should be any different.

It was only when he grew older that he realized.

“Jouichirou-kun,” one of his aunts said during a visit for the holidays. “You’re still working at that diner?”

His father gave a placating smile and nod, explained how well business had been. But she plowed on, “Whatever happened to that restaurant you worked at in France? Didn’t you like working at a high class restaurant? Maybe you can start a restaurant like that here, Jouichirou-kun. You can move to a more high-end shopping district, too, instead of that rundown one—”

How his father responded to that, Souma doesn’t know. He left the room, unable to listen to any more.

Their visits decreased significantly after that particular Christmas, and it was a wonder his father endured going there at all. Souma liked the Christmases after that much better, when they closed the diner early to prepare dinner just for the two of them, and afterwards they watched holiday cartoons on TV and ate Christmas cake from the nearby bakery. It was quaint and fun and much better than the stiff, uncomfortable affairs of the previous years.

And when they were sitting on the couch together brainstorming disgusting ingredients for new dishes and laughing between bites of cake, Souma thought there was no other place he would rather be.

“Your mom liked Christmas,” his dad said once, while they did the dishes after Christmas dinner.

“Really?”

He nodded, holding out a plate for Souma to rinse. Conversations about his mother were rare. It wasn’t a topic Souma actively worked to avoid, but his father almost never brought her up himself.

“She tried to bake the Christmas cake herself once,” his dad continued, looking thoughtfully into the soapy water. “She burned it. And she confused the sugar with the salt. Her decorating wasn’t bad though.” He laughed. “I ate it anyway.”

“Aw gross, really?”

He nodded proudly. “Someday, you’ll find someone that you’re willing to do crazy things for.”

Souma’s mind wanders back to that conversation as he gazes at the Christmas cakes on display in a bakery window, with their snow white whipped cream and glazed strawberries. He should probably buy a cake for his dad whenever he comes back to Japan.

“Earth to Souma-kun,” Megumi says, waving a hand in front of his face.

Souma blinks, suddenly remembering where he is.

“Sorry, spaced out there.” He walks over to where Megumi holds the bakery door open.

A bell over the door chimes as they enter, and from behind the counter an elderly woman says, “Welcome! Oh Megumi-chan, is that you?”

“It’s been a while, Nakamura-san.”

Megumi smiles as she walks to the counter, a plastic bag clutched in her hands.

“How can I help you today?” Nakamura asks.

“Well, my mother asked me to place an order for a cake to pick up on Christmas, is that alright?”

“Of course, of course.”

“Oh, and I also have these gifts for you…”

Souma zones out as the two of them chat, his gaze wandering over the cakes and pastries on display. It’s been a while since he’s tried his hand at baking; it’s never been a strong interest of his. Maybe instead of buying a Christmas cake for his dad he’ll try baking one, just for practice. He thinks about what his dad said about his mother mixing up the sugar and the salt and bites against a smile tugging at his lips.

“And who is this with you, Megumi-chan?”

Souma turns his head when he hears this, ready to introduce himself.

Nakamura says, “Is this your boyfriend?”

While he raises his brows and opens his mouth to politely correct her, Megumi flushes a bright, startling red and waves her hands in front of her frantically.

“No! No no no no, he isn’t—we’re not—”

“I’m Yukihira Souma,” Souma says, bowing with a grin.

“What a polite young man,” Nakamura says, smiling warmly. She turns back to Megumi with an almost conspiratorial look. “And handsome too, wouldn’t you say, Megumi-chan?”

“I—That—Um—!”

Megumi turns redder with each word, and Souma finally decides to take pity on her.

“We’re classmates from school,” he explains. “I’m visiting for Christmas.”

“Is that so?” Nakamura has an interested gleam in her eye, but she too decides to let poor Megumi relax. She says, “So that’s one cake for Christmas Eve, yes?”

“Y-Yes,” Megumi squeaks.

Nakamura nods, punching numbers into the cash register. “That will be three thousand yen.”

When they finish with this errand and finally exit the bakery, they take a moment to stand and assess what just happened.

“So,” Souma says slowly. “Do you think I’m handsome?”

“I’m not talking about this!”

Megumi begins walking away very quickly.

“Hey, wait!”

Souma laughs, chasing after her.

“Come on, friends are honest with each other, Tadokoro!”

“I’m not listening!”

Megumi’s mother had only given them the errand of placing an order at the bakery, which gives them the rest of the day free to do whatever they wish. They hadn’t made any particular plans beforehand, though Megumi did suggest visiting the local farmer’s market, the fish market, and the shopping district. Souma looks forward to seeing all of them and Megumi had seemed eager as well.

She probably didn’t anticipate Souma refusing to drop the topic of whether she found him physically appealing or not.

“Okay, I’m at least better looking than Kurokiba, right?” Souma asks as they weave through the crowd at the farmer’s market.

Megumi keeps her eyes steadfastly glued to the fruits and vegetables.

“Well it’s not exactly an easy comparison to make,” she explains, examining a display of cabbages. “He has a different aesthetic going on than you do.”

“Aesthetic?”

“He has a bad boy look, you know?”

On a certain level, Souma gets it—especially during a shokugeki, Kurokiba is all wild eyes and long dark hair, a ferocity that burns in his sharp knife work and even sharper words. But he’s seen Kurokiba outside of a shokugeki too, where he’s much more mild-mannered and sleepy-eyed.

“Well what aesthetic do I have going on?” Souma asks.

Megumi stares at him for a beat before moving on without answering, continuing her way through the stalls.

“Hey, Tadokoro!”

Again, he chases after her.

Determined, he still doesn’t let the topic go even when they reach the even busier fish market.

“Okay, how about Isshiki-senpai?”

“He’s your friend!”

“I’m not saying he isn’t good looking! I’m just asking for your opinion.”

Megumi only throws her hands up in exasperation, walking off and leaving Souma alone with buckets of mackerel.

“… Isshiki-senpai has a better butt, huh?” he wonders aloud. The mackerel, predictably, say nothing.

The shopping district is so crowded on one of the final days leading up to Christmas, Souma and Megumi get absorbed in gazing through shining storefront windows and buying trinkets for friends back at Polar Star that Souma almost forgets to ask.

“What about Hayama? Am I handsomer than him?”

“No one’s more handsome at Tootsuki than Hayama-kun,” Megumi quips, her lips twitching in a smile.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Souma agrees amiably, hanging a wooden keychain carved like a cinnamon stick back on its display.

“Souma-kun, why do you keep asking?”

They’re taking a break at a café, a shared plate of brick toast between them.

Souma pokes at a square of syrup-covered bread with a fork.

“No reason,” he says innocently.

Truthfully he just wanted to tease Megumi at first, but curiosity has gotten the better of him. What kind of aesthetic does she like in other people? They’ve never really broached this subject before—dating, crushes, attraction. Souma gets very little opportunity to consider it in the midst of the demanding Tootsuki curriculum. Hanging out with Megumi outside of the confines of Tootsuki’s campus has shown him that there’s more he wants to know about her than just her recipes or cooking skills, though his respect for those things has not wavered in the slightest.

He likes learning more about her. And more specifically, learning about what she likes might clue him in on what exactly it is about Souma that she likes. He’s wondered before why Megumi chooses to stick around despite all the trouble he’s gotten her into. She’s always dropped everything to help him with whatever ridiculous challenge or goal he’s jumped head first into, and as grateful as he’s been it always ends the same—a great big why echoing around in his head. It’s too personal a thing for him to ever admit out loud, striking a tender chord within him that he doesn’t yet know how to deal with.

So he expresses it like this, with dumb questions and jokes about how he fares in attractiveness against the other students they know. It’s easier than admitting the embarrassing truth.

Megumi regards him with a tilted head, her hands curled around a cup of green tea. She sighs, dropping her gaze down to stare at the swirling contents of her teacup and the wispy shapes of steam rising from its surface.

“You’re very handsome, okay, Souma-kun,” she says.

Souma knocks over the salt shaker on the table, his jaw agape.

Megumi very firmly does not look at him and instead focuses on finding the ideal piece of the remaining brick toast on the plate.

Souma says, “You… Really?”

“Don’t make me say it again!”

Megumi looks up at him this time, and he can see she’s blushing all the way down her neck.

“I-If you’re feeling self-conscious about your looks or something, you don’t have to, okay, because I promise you look—you’re—you’re good, okay. You’re fine.”

Souma stares wordlessly at her and she fidgets under his gaze. Leave it to Megumi to still worry about his wellbeing, even when he’s spent most of the day pestering her with questions.

He grins. “Then if we’re being honest, I think you’re very pretty, Tadokoro.”

“Souma-kun!”

Megumi covers her face with her hands.

“I thought it was honest hour!” he laughs.

She drops her hands from her face to shoot a pout at him, a flush still high on her cheeks. All Souma can do is laugh, suddenly feeling so light and exuberant he can’t contain it. Megumi relaxes, her shoulders dropping from their hunch. She smiles, just a little, then laughs herself.

They’re kind of a ridiculous duo. Souma’s never felt more grateful for her.

“We should go home soon,” she says after they’ve quieted, clearing her throat. “It’s getting late.”

“Okay, okay. Hey, I’ll get this one,” Souma says when she reaches for her wallet.

“Are you sure? We can split it.”

“Nah, I got it.” Souma digs out the appropriate bills. “And to repay you for dealing with me all day.”

“It wasn’t like that at all,” Megumi insists. “Today was a lot of fun. I always like spending time with you, Souma-kun.”

He stops in his movements, looking at her in surprise. Megumi looks flustered again, like she’s embarrassed by her words, but she doesn’t take them back. It makes Souma feel inexplicably warm inside, heat radiating from within him all the way out to his fingertips. Like the time Megumi made tea and onigiri for everyone after a hard day’s work. Like every time he’s tasted her cooking.

“I like spending time with you, too,” he says, smiling.

Shyly, Megumi smiles back.

When they leave the café, the sun has already set beneath the horizon. Stars have begun appearing in the sky and the air has taken a sharper chill. Storefronts illuminate their neon signs and customers gather in crowds outside small restaurants. Souma buries his hands deeper in his jacket pockets as he’s struck with sudden nostalgia for the shopping district back home. Megumi tugs him along with one gloved hand on his sleeve.

“Before we go back,” she says, “there’s something I want to show you.”

Souma picks up the pace, interest piqued by Megumi’s excitement. “Oh?”

“There’s this spot I like to go to that has an amazing view,” she explains, talking over her shoulder to him while turning a corner.

She nearly walks right into a stranger.

“Oh, excuse me!” she gasps, stopping hard on her heels. “I’m sorry!”

“No, no, it’s alright—”

“Are you okay, Megumi?” Souma reaches out to steady her.

“Yes, I’m fine—”

“Tadokoro Megumi?”

Megumi turns back to look at the stranger again, her gaze fixed on his face.

“… Takeshi-kun?” she says slowly.

“Yeah! Wow, it’s been a while!”

It’s not a stranger after all. Takeshi is a boy, of a height with Souma but with short, light-colored hair. His smile is bright as he looks at Megumi like a long lost friend.

“I haven’t seen you in so long. I heard you went to Tokyo for middle school, I didn’t know if I’d see you again.”

“I’m home for winter break,” Megumi explains cheerfully. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s really good to see you.”

They’re innocent words, the same kind of platitudes many people say after reuniting with people they haven’t seen in a long time. But for some reason, Souma feels the warmth that was lingering in his stomach after their conversation in the café suddenly dissipate. Takeshi’s smile widens as the two of them talk, and he leans in close like he’s hanging on to every word Megumi says. His eyes glance over her, down then up.

Oh. Oh.

Any warmth remaining inside Souma’s stomach sours into something awful, and it’s so sudden and shocking it feels like the air’s been punched out of him. He feels ashamed for it—they’re just talking, looking happy to be reunited. He doesn’t understand why he feels like the rug’s been pulled out from under him. But Takeshi is still leaning in unnecessarily close and Megumi doesn’t seem to mind, talking enthusiastically about school memories Souma doesn’t know anything about. He looks away.

Takeshi says, “We should hang out again sometime, Megumi.”

Megumi nods, smiling. “We should! I’ll be here through New Year’s.”

“Cool, I’ll see you around?”

“Yes, I hope so.” Megumi waves goodbye.

Takeshi smiles as he walks off, Megumi and Souma continuing on in the other direction.

They walk in silence for a moment, Megumi looking happy about seeing her friend while Souma feels decidedly not so, for reasons he can’t place. Megumi is a kind, pretty, and talented person. It shouldn’t surprise him that her old friends or classmates might like her. Like her like her. Somehow it feels like the world has tilted on its axis, just slightly, and now he suddenly finds himself looking at her from a different angle.

“Souma-kun?”

They’ve arrived at the bottom of a long set of stairs leading upwards, snaking between residential buildings.

“Come on,” Megumi says, gesturing towards the steps.

They climb.

After a beat of silence, Souma clears his throat. “So. That was your friend from school or something?”

Megumi hums in affirmation. “We met in elementary school. But then I went to Tootsuki for middle school, so…”

He nods, bites his lip, wondering if he should say the words rattling around unwanted in his head.

“Were you guys ever like… Did you…”

She turns her head to look at him with a raised brow of confusion. Souma gestures vaguely, opens his mouth, closes it again.

Megumi’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open in realization.

“No,” she stresses, laughing as she waves a hand. “Oh no, we weren’t—no. Gosh, what is it today with people assuming I’m dating someone… No, we were always just friends.”

Souma feels his face burn, and he pulls his scarf further up his face in a poor attempt to hide it. At least it’s dark on these stairs, the pathway sparsely illuminated by weak lamplight.

“Oh,” he says.

“Yep.”

Megumi’s fingers fidget with the end of one of her braids.

“It’s just that,” Souma continues, against his better judgment, “he seemed like… He just seemed kind of into you.”

“What?”

“I dunno.” Souma steps widely over an uneven stair. “It just kind of looked that way to me.”

“No way.” Megumi shakes her head. “That’s so—he wouldn’t.” She pauses, thinking. She fidgets with one of her braids again, looking embarrassed as she admits, “To be honest, I used to have a crush on him. I don’t think he ever saw me that way, though.”

Again, the topic of dating. But this time the conversation makes Souma uneasy in a way the conversation in the café didn’t. He inhales shakily, feeling the cold burn in his lungs.

“Do you still do?” he asks, the words heavy on his tongue.

Megumi pauses, one foot on the next step. Ahead, Souma stops to look back at her.

She says, “No. It was a long time ago.” Smiling a little to herself, she continues the climb upwards.

He watches her pass by, staring. The unexplainable knot twisting inside him loosens. He continues up the stairs with a renewed bounce in his step.

When they reach the top, breaths coming in a little harder from exertion, Megumi says, “Here we are.”

“Whoa.” Souma approaches the railing at the end of the lookout.

She spreads her arms. “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”

He thinks he can see the entire town from here. Bright storefronts and streetlights glow like gold beneath the shadows of buildings. On the horizon is the wide edge of the sea, its waters even darker at night. And most surprising are the stars: city lights have always washed out the appearance of them back in Tokyo but they’re clearly visible here, stark silver-white against a black sky.

“Wow,” Souma breathes.

Megumi folds her arms on the railing, tilts her gaze up to the sky. “Yeah.” Her voice is soft.

He turns towards her. Megumi is watching the sky with a peaceful expression on her face. Her dark hair sways just so with the breeze, brushing against her cold-flushed cheeks. Her lips are pink and curled in a small smile.

Souma is reminded very suddenly of their conversation on the balcony at Polar Star, after the Autumn Election. When he said he liked her cooking. He remembers the way Megumi smiled, happier than he’s ever seen her at Tootsuki, and the way the moonlight made her hair shine. Back then he didn’t understand why his words made her so happy or why she reacted the way she did—or, more significantly, why the sight of it made his stomach do flips.

With a sinking feeling, Souma realizes why he reacted so badly to seeing Takeshi openly interested in Megumi. Why he puts so much weight on what Megumi thinks of him. Why, long after that conversation on the balcony, seeing Megumi so happy still makes his stomach feel full of butterflies.

“Souma-kun?”

And why the sound of his name passing through her lips makes his heart beat faster.

Souma turns to her, their eyes meeting.

“Ready to head back?” she asks.

It takes Souma a moment to find his voice. He feels like he’s standing on a precipice, his stomach lurching at the sight of the long, long fall down. He’s always been a firm believer in jump first, think later. This is the first time he’s ever found himself hesitating.

“Can we stay a little longer?” he says, clearing his throat when he hears the hoarseness of his voice.

Megumi smiles, nods. “Of course.”

She looks at the stars again.

Souma looks at her, and feels himself fall.

Chapter Text

“How has it been up north? You haven’t been causing trouble, have you?”

“I’ll have you know I’ve been shokugeki-free for three days now,” Souma says. The cold is extra biting today. He’s starting to regret his decision to sit on a bench near the docks, the morning winds stinging his cheeks.

“That’s genuinely surprising,” his father laughs, voice crackling over the phone. Souma can’t help but grin, too.

“So do you know when you’re coming back?” he asks.

“Soon,” his father says. “The thirtieth, just before New Year’s Eve. You don’t have to rush home or anything, take your time.”

Souma makes a noncommittal noise, drifting his eyes over the waves splashing against the docks. He supposes it wouldn’t be so bad, spending a few more days here after Christmas. It’s been fun.

“I’m glad you’re not spending Christmas alone,” his father says. “It’s my fault that you almost were.”

“It’s not your fault,” Souma says, stretching his legs, slouching in his seat. He tilts his head back until it touches the backrest of the bench, watching seagulls swoop and caw in the sky. “It’s okay.”

“Well, I’ll make it up to you when I’m back. You can even bring your friend with you if you’d like. Tadokoro, right?”

Souma swallows against his heart which has suddenly leaped into his throat. “Yeah, Tadokoro. Uh, I don’t know, I’d have to see if she has any plans with her family, but… Yeah, I guess, it’d be cool if she could come.”

“I owe her and her family a big thank you. Maybe I’ll cook them something.”

“Just not pickled squid and mustard again.” Souma grimaces at the memory.

“Hey, I was onto something with that one!”

“You were not and we both know it!”

After he finishes the call and hangs up, he takes a moment to sit and listen to the crash of the waves. Fishermen are calling out to one another on the docks as people gather at the fish market, so busy it’s nearly bursting at the seams.

Slowly, he gets on his feet, stretching his arms over his head. Then he heads straight to the shopping district.

When he discussed shopping by himself this morning with Megumi, she was hesitant. And when he explained that she couldn’t come along because he was planning on buying a present for her, she turned flustered.

“You don’t have to do that, Souma-kun,” she protested, but Souma was already slipping his shoes on at the door.

“Too late, I’m going,” he said and waved as he shuffled out the door. “Bye! I’ll catch up with you later!”

Wandering past gleaming storefronts and painstakingly wading through the endless crowd of shoppers, finding the right gift for Megumi feels like an impossible task. It didn’t seem like a difficult endeavor two days ago, but last night’s revelations have changed the stakes, placing a greater weight on this than Souma ever expected. A friendly, platonic gift would be fine, sure—hair clips or kitchen knives or keychains would work, but Souma can’t help but feel dissatisfied. He’s never been very good at keeping his emotions to himself, has never seen much reason to do so in the past, but Megumi is his dearest friend. The last thing he wants to do is scare her away.

“Ugh, this is too complicated!” Souma cries, mussing his hair in frustration, earning strange looks from the people walking past.

Instinctively, his hands move to the headband wrapped around his forearm, fingers finding the knot that is always there. A gift from his dad a long time ago, just the touch of it reassures him and grounds him whenever he feels overwhelmed. Of all things, gift giving has suddenly become monumentally more daunting than any shokugeki he’s ever faced.

He looks down at the white cloth between his fingertips, considering. Maybe… Maybe something like…

Souma hurries into the nearest department store.

When he strides through the doors, a store clerk says cheerfully, “Welcome! Can I help you with anything?”

“I’m fine, thank y—” he begins, but stops. “Wait. Do you guys do gift wrapping here? I suck at it.”

The brisk evening chill spurs Souma through the inn’s front entrance. The employees greet him as he enters, and they must remember him from his first visit because no one makes a fuss as he makes his way to the kitchen, already knowing where Megumi will be.

He nearly walks into her when the kitchen door swings open.

“Oh! Souma-kun!”

Megumi’s surprise at seeing him slowly melts into joy. She’s in her uniform, an apron around her waist and her hair tied back in a bun. She has a smudge of flour on her cheek. Souma has to resist the urge to reach up and rub it away with his thumb. He swallows.

“Hey,” he says, unwinding his scarf from his neck.

“What are you doing here? You don’t have to work on your winter break.”

“Neither do you,” he quips, grinning. “I really don’t mind, I like helping out.”

Megumi smiles, then gestures for him to come through the kitchen door. “My mother’s inside, she’ll tell you what to do. I have to go out and help the guests for a bit, but I’ll be back.”

Before she walks away, he says, “Wait.”

She stops. Souma licks his lips, wondering if he should do this, but it’d be rude for him to let Megumi greet guests without letting her know. He lifts his hand, slowly brings it towards her face. His thumb touches her cheek, feather-light, and gently wipes away the flour smudged there. Her skin is soft, then very warm as a blush bursts onto her cheeks.

“Sorry,” Souma says, feeling a little breathless. “You had some flour there.”

“O-Oh,” Megumi squeaks. “Th-Thanks.”

“Sure.” Souma nods jerkily, glancing away.

“I, um. I have to go, the guests are… waiting for me…” She gestures down the hallway.

“Oh, yeah—yeah, of course! You’d better go.”

She walks very quickly down the hall.

Souma takes a deep breath and pushes through the kitchen door. He finds Megumi’s mother inside.

“Souma-kun, here to help out again?” she says. She looks tired from the rush of the kitchen, but still managing to keep a smile on her face.

Souma answers her with a grin. “Only if that’s okay.”

“You’re always welcome here.” She waves a hand for him to come in.

He unwinds the headband wrapped around his wrist and gets to work.

Working in the inn’s kitchen reminds him of the joy of cooking for others. It’s different at Tootsuki when so often his cooking is just for satisfying a teacher’s assignment for a class. Not that he doesn’t put everything he has into those dishes—his father worked hard to drill that into him, after all: that cooking is about putting everything you have onto the plate. But Souma values the time he spent at Yukihira Diner learning how to work alongside his dad to make food for others. He knows the importance of cooperation in the kitchen and the satisfaction of getting dishes out and onto the table. Being able to experience that here in the kitchen Megumi grew up in makes the experience all the more important to him.

In the middle of chopping vegetables, Megumi returns to the kitchen to speak to her mother about something. Souma can’t hear much from his station, but Megumi catches his eye on her way back out. She shoots him a smile, quick and bright, before hurrying outside. It’s only after she’s gone and Souma returns to the cabbage he was cutting that he realizes he’s smiling, too.

“Thank you for all your help.”

He nearly jumps when Megumi’s mother appears right behind him.

“I’m happy to help,” he says, finishing with the cabbage and arranging it neatly on a plate.

She regards him for a moment silently, a finger to her chin. The image of Erina judging a dish suddenly flashes in Souma’s mind, and though Megumi’s mother doesn’t have the God Tongue, he feels nervous all the same.

She seems to sense the sudden tension in him, and she drops her hand and laughs. “No need to be nervous, Souma-kun,” she says. “I’ve just been eager to meet you ever since Megumi told me about you.”

“Oh.” Souma rubs the back of his head, tugs at one of the loose ends of his headband. “Hopefully not about some of the crazier things I’ve done.”

“Like saying you’ll beat the entire school?” She smiles amusedly.

“Well…” He scratches his cheek with a finger, looking away.

 “But she’s mentioned the other things, too. Like helping her cook beef bourguignon for class. And challenging a chef who almost expelled her.”

“She didn’t deserve to leave,” Souma says, conviction strong in his voice. He believed it then and he still does now.

“I’m glad Megumi got to meet someone like you,” she says.

Souma doesn’t know how to respond to that. He must be gaping because she laughs again into her hand.

“You know,” she says, leaning in like she’s saying something secret, “I think the tone of her calls home really changed after she met you. I worried about how Tootsuki was for her, even if she insisted that things were fine. But then she started talking about this boy at her dorm who challenged practically everyone at the school, students and teachers alike. But he didn’t always do it for himself. He’d do it to help others. And he helped her, too.

“Thank you, Souma-kun.”

Embarrassed, Souma frantically waves his hands in front of him. “No, no, I—I’m lucky to have met Tadokoro, too. Without her, I don’t think I’d still be at Tootsuki either.”

She looks like she wants to say more but before she can respond, Megumi reenters the kitchen. At the same time, another chef from across the kitchen calls her over and Souma silently thanks whatever deity above decided to have pity on him. He doesn’t think he can handle any more of this particular conversation. He’s flattered and all, but he suspects if it went on any longer in the direction it was heading he might have admitted to something he isn’t quite ready to voice, least of all to Megumi’s mother.

He turns back to the ingredients he was in the middle of prepping when Megumi walks over.

“You look like you’re hiding a secret,” she says jokingly, and it strikes much too close for comfort.

Souma can feel the gift he bought earlier burning a hole in his pocket, the corners of its box digging into his leg in a way he didn’t feel just a moment ago.

“I found a gift for you,” he admits, in the most casual way he can muster.

“You didn’t have to,” Megumi stresses again, but he gives her a look.

“Come on, you took me in for the last few days and kept me from spending Christmas on my own. I owe you. So let me give you something and show my appreciation for you properly, dang it.”

Megumi smiles, biting down on her lip like she’s trying to hide it. It’s—It’s unbearably charming. No amount of willpower in the world could stop Souma from grinning back at her.

“Okay, well…” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Her expression is excited. “Let me treat you tomorrow. How do you feel about ice skating?”

“I’m absolutely down for it but I’m letting you know right now I’m going to be terrible at it and it’ll embarrass you in public, so, just be prepared.”

Megumi laughs, and it’s suddenly the sweetest sound in the world and Souma doesn’t know how he ever saw her differently than right now.

“Megumi-chan.”

Her mother waves her over, likely with some new tasks for her, and Megumi shoots him one last smile before going over to her. He watches her go and ends up catching her mother’s eye, and she gives him a knowing smile.

Souma breaks eye contact so quickly he fears whiplash, and prays his face isn’t as red as the pickled ginger on his cutting board.

On Christmas day, Souma gets a text from his dad of a digital Christmas card plus every possible Christmas-related emoji available. It’s so absurd and perfect all Souma can do is laugh. Then he takes a selfie and adds a filter that makes him look like Santa, and he saves it and sends it to his dad as well as Megumi.

“Souma, you know I have to show this to everyone at Polar Star, right?” Megumi says, laughing at it on the way to the ice skating rink.

“Just don’t show it to Yuuki, it’ll spread to the whole school that way.”

The weather is even colder than the past few days, unbelievably. Snow is on the forecast for later this evening and Souma can certainly believe it with how numb his extremities feel. It’s warmer inside the building for the ice skating rink but only marginally. At least he had the sense to bring his gloves.

Megumi actually has her own personal pair of skates, and while they sit on a bench outside the rink to tie their laces, she explains, “I used to come here a lot. I didn’t get really good at it or anything, but it was fun and it seemed convenient to just get my own.”

Souma nods, standing up in his skates with wobbly legs, already anticipating the amount of falling he’s about to do. “Okay, that’s good because I’m going to need your expertise to help me survive.”

She stands up on considerably steadier legs, looking amused as she walks with him to the entrance of the rink.

“It’s easier than you think,” she says reassuringly, stepping out onto the ice first. She glides easily, smoothly.

“Uh,” Souma says, already feeling trepidation when he experimentally touches one blade to the ice. “Yeah, I’m not sure about that.”

“Come on! You can do it.”

Jump first, think later. Souma takes a deep breath and brings both feet onto the ice.

He skitters immediately and clutches the edge of the rink with a white-knuckled grip. “Okay,” he yelps, slipping. “I’ve faced shokugekis scarier than this, I can do this.”

“Go Souma-kun!” Megumi cheers from beside him, skating leisurely as he makes his shaky way along the edge of the rink.

It’s a little crowded on the ice, the rink full of couples skating while holding hands and the occasional child speeding between the legs of adults. The entirety of Souma’s concentration is divided between avoiding hitting other people and not falling on his ass.

“You’re doing really good, actually,” Megumi says encouragingly, still skating next to him.

“Thanks.” Souma grins. “This is fun. I think I’m ready to go faster.”

“Oh god, if you say so.”

She watches as he pushes off the wall and picks up speed. He nearly loses his balance as soon as he does so, waving his arms around wildly. She comes over to him and reaches out, grabbing his arm with two hands and holding on until he steadies.

“Souma-kun!” she gasps. “Please be careful!”

“I got this,” he says. The place where Megumi touches him burns like a brand even through the thick layers of cloth. It makes him feel light in the stomach, the feeling of butterflies that is becoming increasingly familiar around her.

It only worsens when Megumi loops her arm through his, tugging him slowly along.

“Come on,” she says smiling, pink-cheeked from the cold. “How about you try speeding up gradually?”

“I—Okay,” Souma agrees, letting himself be pulled along.

Together, they make a lap around the rink, Megumi’s hand clutching the sleeve of his jacket, and somehow Souma doesn’t feel unsteady or slip on his feet once. It’s easier with the reassuring feeling of her holding onto him, knowing she’ll be there if he falls. And gradually they do pick up the pace, and Megumi seems exhilarated by it, the smile on her face turning wider and brighter.

Souma’s legs begin to tire but he’s having so much fun. Even if he doesn’t quite have the hang of stopping yet and he keeps crashing into the walls, it makes Megumi laugh and that makes it worth it to him.

But he can’t stay faultless forever, and on one curve a child whizzes past them, accidentally bumping Souma in the side.

“Sorry!” the child says before zooming off.

But Souma has already lost his footing on one leg, and he reaches out, cursing, skates sliding beneath him uncontrollably.

“Souma-kun!”

Megumi reaches for his hands, clasps them tightly in her own and pulling with all her strength to help him stay upright. He straightens. He manages to regain control of his feet, finds his balance again.

Panting in awe that they actually pulled that off, Souma says, “Man, I almost ate it. Thanks.”

“You did really good at keeping your balance,” she says, breathless.

She still hasn’t let go of his hands.

Megumi realizes this and turns bright red. “Oh—” she gasps, and begins to let go.

Another child skating much faster than is necessary or safe barrels past them, bumping into Souma again. His knee buckles, and this time neither he nor Megumi are able to recover from it.

He falls, accidentally dragging her down with him by their clutched hands.

He at least has the sense mid-fall to make sure she lands on him instead of the ice. He hits the floor flat on his back. It’s hard and wet and so cold, holy shit. Megumi is sprawled over him, and if he weren’t so damn cold he’d maybe take a moment to appreciate it.

“I’m sorry!” she cries, pushing herself up with two hands. “Souma-kun, are you okay? I’m sorry I fell on you, it happened so suddenly, I—”

“It’s okay,” he gasps, lifting his head up to look at down at her. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. But you…”

“Hey, I promise I’m okay.” He gingerly sits up and grimaces at the feeling of ice melting into his pants. “Besides, I told you I’d fall.”

Megumi looks over him frantically, making sure for herself that he isn’t injured. When she accepts that he isn’t, her body relaxes. She exhales a soft, amused sound, looking at Souma fondly.

“That was a pretty dramatic fall,” she says, laughter in her voice.

“Yeah, it was.” He grins as he shakes the ice out of his hair.

“Come on.”

With an ease that speaks of many years of practice, Megumi returns to her feet and reaches her hands out to help Souma up. With an embarrassing amount of gracelessness, Souma manages to get back onto his feet with the help of Megumi pulling him up, but momentum moves him forward when he does and he nearly bumps into her.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, trying to stop himself by planting his hands on her shoulders.

“I-It’s okay.”

Megumi reaches up and places a light touch on his clothed arm. Souma feels it as clearly as if she were touching his skin. Their eyes meet. For a moment, they are still.

She looks away. Her hand drops from his arm, too, and she touches her cheek embarrassedly.

“I, um. I don’t know about you,” she says, “but I’m freezing and my coat is uncomfortably wet.”

“Yeah, me too. Man. Falling on an ice rink sucks.”

Megumi giggles, then she gestures towards the exit. “Want to go home and change? I think I’ve had enough skating for now. Who knows when another kid is going to come by and knock us down again.”

They make their way off the rink thankfully without incident. They unlace their skates, and Souma returns his to the rental booth while Megumi tucks hers away into a bag. When they step outside, the sky has become dark and overcast, the clouds heavy with impending snow. He buries his hands deep in his pockets, exhales and watches the thick white that billows out into the air.

They begin the walk home in companionable silence. Christmas lights begin to illuminate the fronts of apartment buildings and shops lining the streets, one by one, like stars emerging in the night sky.

Souma glances over at Megumi and notices her rubbing her hands over her arms, shivering.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

She looks up at him, smiling embarrassedly. “Silly me, I didn’t think I’d need my scarf today but…”

“Here.”

Souma unwinds his scarf, drapes it around Megumi’s neck. Her narrow shoulders make it look bigger on her than it does on him, a curtain of red plaid spilling down her front, and it makes him grin.

Flustered, Megumi says, “A-Are you sure? Don’t you need it too, Souma-kun?”

“I’m alright,” he says, looping the scarf around. “Promise.”

“O-Okay.”

She hides the bottom of her face behind the line of the scarf, and as they continue their way home she walks closer to Souma than she was before, their arms brushing.

They turn onto the street for Megumi’s house, and the lights are on in all of the houses lining the streets, families home to celebrate. Just as they enter the gate in front of Megumi’s front door, she says tentatively, “S-Souma-kun?”

He stops, turns to look at her.

She clutches her hands, fidgeting.

“I…” she begins. “I—I’m glad you’re here.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“I mean,” she starts again, her blush turning even darker. “I’m glad you decided to visit, and that we’ve had so much fun here and that it hasn’t been boring and… and that I haven’t bored you, and… Um…”

She shakes her head as if trying to shirk the nervousness plaguing her. Souma feels like maybe he should say something encouraging, but his heart is beating so quickly he finds himself unable to gather his senses enough to find words.

Megumi reaches out to grasp one of his hands with hers, and she squeezes her eyes shut as she blurts out, “I really like spending time with you!”

He is quiet for one heartbeat, two, then he laughs lightly. “I like spending time with you too, Tadokoro.”

“I guess what I mean to say is…” Megumi swallows. “I like—”

She pauses when a snowflake lands on the tip of her nose.

Another drifts down after that one, landing in her hair. More and more specks of white fall slowly from the sky, dancing in lazy, unpredictable patterns. They look up, watching them fall.

“Oh,” Megumi says softly. “Snow.”

“Yeah.” Souma grins widely. This is the first time he’s ever seen it. “Awesome.”

She giggles at his wonderment, and he looks at her again. She is still holding his hand. Quite a few snowflakes have collected on her hair now, her clothes, even the tips of her eyelashes. Her hair is damp and curling against her cheeks, and she looks beautiful.

Jump first, think later.

“Hey,” he says, catching her attention.

When she turns to him, he reaches out and cups her cheek.

Megumi freezes, eyes widening.

Slowly, slow enough to give her time to pull away if she wishes to, Souma leans in. He inhales shakily, licks his lips. This close he can feel the warmth of her breath too, the way it puffs softly against his skin. Her eyes are dim, golden embers in the sparse evening light, and her eyelids flutter shut as he closes the last few inches of space between them and kisses her.

The world doesn’t suddenly stop turning and the sky doesn’t fall down from above. Souma still feels the cold numbing his toes and fingertips and snow beginning to melt down the back of his collar. But within, he feels warm—like he always does when he’s with her. Nothing’s really changed, he realizes. Maybe a part of them has always been gravitating towards this.

Megumi parts her mouth on an exhale, bottom lip dragging against Souma’s, and it makes the warmth glowing inside him burn, and their lips push more firmly together. Her fingers catch on the front of his jacket, clinging, and Souma’s other hand rises up to touch the side of her neck.

“Souma-kun,” Megumi gasps.

There is just a hair’s breadth of space between them, and they stop, their gazes meeting.

“I didn’t get to finish confessing,” she says faintly.

The laugh that bursts from Souma is more of a snort, horribly unattractive, but Megumi laughs too and holds on to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, grinning, and rubs her cheek with his thumb. “You can finish now.”

Megumi buries her face in his chest, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug.

“I really like you,” she says quietly.

“I really like you too, Megumi,” he replies, enunciating every syllable of her first name.

She flushes hotly, smacks a hand lightly against his chest. “Y-You can’t just drop that on someone so suddenly!”

“Aw, your accent came out again.”

“Souma-kun!”

He leans in for another a kiss and somehow Megumi lets him, even meets him halfway. He feels her smile into it, and he suddenly laments the months they’ve spent not doing this already.

He’s about to wrap his arms around her waist and deepen the kiss when the front door of her house begins to open.

They tear themselves apart at the first sound of the lock turning, but there’s no wiping away the red on their faces or the closeness of their bodies.

The door opens and Megumi’s mother is on the other side.

After an endless, agonizing moment of silence where neither Souma nor Megumi are able to find the right response to the situation, her mother speaks.

“What are you two doing just standing out here? It’s freezing, come inside!”

They shuffle in awkwardly, toeing their shoes off at the door and hanging their coats. Souma walks further inside the house and behind him he can hear Megumi’s mother pull her aside and whisper, loudly enough that he knows it’s deliberate, “It’s about time.”

Souma quickens his pace up the stairs, trying not to snicker at Megumi’s embarrassed stuttering.

In the guest room, he changes into a dry pair of sweatpants and new socks, tugs a hoodie over his head. Just as he’s about to leave, his eyes catch on the box he left on the desk, wrapped in glossy red paper. He can already hear Megumi opening the door to the next room over, and before he can think about it twice he grabs the box off the desk.

“Megumi,” he calls out to her before she heads down the stairs. It feels right to say her name, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to it. He walks over to her and holds out the box. “Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, thank you, Souma-kun,” she says, gently taking the box from his hands.

“You can open it now, if you want. It’s—It kind of feels like a dumb gift, but I hope you like it anyway.”

She tears the wrapping paper with her fingers, revealing the plain white box inside. When she lifts the lid, she gasps.

“Souma-kun,” she laughs. “Oh my goodness.”

She lifts the white headband out of the box, one long cloth strip of it, just like Souma’s.

“I can’t believe you!”

“I told you it was kind of dumb.”

“No, no, I love it.” Megumi covers her face with a hand, beside herself.

“See, now we can match!”

“Was this your big way of wooing me?”

“That depends.” He leans in closer. “Did it work?”

“Oh shut up.”

She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. It stuns Souma more than he’s willing to admit.

“I have a gift for you, too,” she says. She gets up on her toes so her mouth can reach his ear, and she whispers, “But I’ll give it to you later. In private.”

She’s blushing tomato red when she pulls away and walks quickly past Souma down the stairs. He stands there for a moment, dead silent as his brain short circuits.

“Souma-kun!” Megumi calls. “Come and help with dinner!”

His imagination doesn’t even know what to think. For now, he goes downstairs and tries to act completely normal as he helps Megumi and her mother in the kitchen. Whatever terrible, wonderful, mysterious gift it is, it can wait until after dinner.

(It turns out to be a new sharpening stone for his knives which, though not at all the scandalous gift Souma expected, is exactly what he’s wanted for ages and he’s so grateful when he opens it that he could kiss her. Then he realizes he actually can kiss her, that that’s a thing he’s allowed to do now, and he does so, more than once, until Megumi is flushed and laughing in his arms.

She kisses him back and it’s worth it, it’s all worth it.)