Three Strangers Deck The Halls
By Kiyo-Anon
Christmas Eve - Early Morning
Though mystery dungeons had been known to defy all conventions of nature and laws of physics, there was one standard even they would not subvert- the changing of the season. Even Lush Prairie, a relatively temperate locale, had greyer grasses and scatterings of cold mud on the ground. A cool wind runs through, rustling the foliage and bringing pause to two-of-the-three dungeon delvers.
Cassie, the ever fashionable Sandshrew, bundles her scarf tighter around her neck. Bean, the small Fletchling, flew down and landed on her shoulder. She eyed him from the side, and he simply huddled against her scarf. With a knowing shiver, Cassie unraveled her scarf slightly, creating a tiny cloth nest for Bean to hop into. He still looked cold, but it was better than freezing alone.

“Kiyoooo,” She says, “You don’t need any help fighting, right? Me and Bean are freezing our butts off.”
A green, frenzied dragonfly darted out from within the trees suddenly, as though prompted. It screeched. A sharp cone of ice flies into the monster, impaling it in the head, and sending it spiraling to the cold ground. Shortly after, it faded to dust- typical of the mystery dungeon’s apparitions.
“Nope,” Kiyo, the snow white fox responsible for the Yanma’s downfall, replied, “These dungeon monsters are lame as fuck.”
He glances back at his shivering team. He tilts his head.
“You know, if you fought more, you wouldn't be as cold. Get your body moving, and all that.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Cassie groans, “You and all that nice, warm, cozy, fur…”
She waddles towards Kiyo, still holding her scarf and her bag close. Kiyo maintains a safe distance, purposefully outpacing her with swift steps.
“You always forget that I’m cold when you’re sleepy and delirious,” Kiyo says, “You’re gonna grab me and be disappointed. You’re like a guy stranded in a desert walking towards a mirage.”
“Nooooooo~!” Cassie says, reaching out to swipe- and miss- one of Kiyo’s many tails. “You aren’t this cold… This is frigid! You’re cool, at worst. I would know! We sleep in a pile every night!”
Bean leans over and whispers something into Cassie’s ear.
“Yeah!” Cassie says, “Bean says you aren’t this cold either. It’s two versus one! C’mere! Let me wear you like a scarf!”
Kiyo turns around and grimaces. “I am not letting you do that while we’re in the middle of a job.”
Cassie falls down to her knees. “PLEAAAAAAASE!!!!! PLEAAAAAAASE!!!!!!” She holds her hands up in prayer.
Bean peeks his upper body out from Cassie’s scarf and prays with his wings as well. The fox covers his embarrassed expression with a paw.
“This is not how feared, world-famous thieves are supposed to act. You guys are, like, domesticated.”
“Can’t we be feared thieves in the summertime? Or, at very least, not at the crack of dawn?” Kiyo gives her an unimpressed look, and she sighs, “To be fair, it’s not like this is an important job. It’s hardly even guild work.”
Kiyo tilts his head. “I don’t think it’s guild work at all.”
“I mean… It’s very similar.”
“It’s… Cassie, there’s a… A fuckin’... I dunno, a fuckin’ guy behind you.”
Cassie slowly turns. A Silcoon has appeared, and is hopping towards her slowly.
“Uh oh!” Cassie says, her body and face completely unmoved.
It charges up a tackle, and lunges forward, bouncing off Cassie’s thick hide with pitifully little effect besides leaving traces of a white, silky residue on her thigh.
With a disgusted grimace, Cassie tilts her neck upwards, giving Bean an unobstructed view of the vicious attacker. The bird gets the hint and peeks his head cleanly out of Cassie’s scarf, his home-base for the time being. He shoots a quick ember at the round assailant, who ignites in a short-lived plume of fire, then fades away like ash on the wind.
“Ooh, that was warm!” Cassie says. “Bean, do that some more! Or better yet, Kiyo, look for a torch. There’s got to be firewood around here somewhere…”
Before the fox can give an unenthused retort, a shrill voice interrupts. The three look towards the source of the noise.
“Oh, thank goodness!” A Mankey shouts, emerging from a nearby bush, “I thought I was done for!”
The monkey-like creature wears a sloppy bandana and carries a large cloth bag across his back. He rushes towards the three, looking worse for wear. His face is sullen, eyes are swollen, and there’s a rancid smell on his breath.
“These monsters are relentless. I happen to be quite hungover, as it seems, and was hopelessly unable to find any exit. I’m thankful to have come across anyone besides those ravenous, mindless beasts.”
Cassie raises a friendly hand and smiles.
“Howdy! We’re looking for someone named…” She looks at a small scrap of paper in her claw, “Uh… Mr. Mankey?”
“Yes, that’s me,” the Mankey says, “the one and only! You were sent after me? Well, blessed am I, that a friend noticed my absence and sent for rescue. It warms my heart, that there’s such compassion in my life. Why, it’s a Midwinter miracle, isn’t it? Yes, yes! A Midwinter miracle indeed!”
The three look between each other for a second, then approach the Mankey.
“Uh… Something like that.” Kiyo says. He steps up on two feet and places one paw on the Mankey’s forehead, and one on the Mankey’s bag. Then, with a sudden, harsh push, he shoves the Mankey to the ground. He falls down on his rear, and Kiyo takes the bag.
“O-ouch!” Mr. Mankey stutters, “W-what was that for?”
Kiyo sifts through the bag for a moment, then pulls out a large, rectangular bottle half-full of golden-brown whiskey. Kiyo glares at the Mankey. “We’re here to collect this- what you stole from the Blue Claw Inn.”
The Mankey’s face drops. “O-oh. That. I… Well, I didn’t expect you three to be police.”
“We aren’t!” Cassie says, taking the booze from Kiyo and examining it, “Just friends of the establishment. You shouldn’t steal from the Blue Claw! It’s a good, local business!”
“Y-yes, I suppose not. It was a desperate time…”
“I got a message for you too. It’s from Crabrawler,” Kiyo says, still riffling through the Mankey’s bag, “He said if you show up at his bar without money to pay off your tab, he’ll kill you.”
The Mankey startles.
Cassie gasps. “Kiyo! He didn’t say that!” She turns to the Mankey with a sympathetic bow, “He said he’d tear every inch of fur from your body and rotisserie your corpse over the fireplace.”
Bean pokes his head out and speaks a correction into Cassie’s ear. She continues,
“-and then he’d kill you.”
The Mankey, all blood vanished from his face, looks to the side awkwardly.
“Y-yes, that’s right. I’ll be sure to pay off my tab soon. I’m sorry for troubling him… It’s tough times, but that doesn’t excuse my dependance on these libations, nor my… reluctance to find employment! Especially at a time like this! I... Erm, what are you doing?”
Kiyo is jingling a small sack of coins, holding it to his ear with a focused look. He ignores the monkey and looks towards Cassie. “Sounds like around 320.”
“Excuse me!” The mankey stomps, hands on its hips, “What exactly are you doing with my coin purse?”
“We’re taking it,” Kiyo says without missing a beat. He dumps the Mankey’s bag, sans wallet, on the ground, “to pay for your rescue.”
“Ah… I suppose that’s fair enough… Let us be off, then-”
“No, no,” Kiyo says, glaring at him, “You aren’t coming with us. We’re leaving, and spending your money to pay a rescue team to come get you later.”
“W-what?!”
Kiyo shrugs. “You should still be grateful.”
Mr. Mankey looks between the three, rage broiling. “Y-you dirty little thieves! How dare you-”
“Hey, don’t call us thieves!” Cassie says, “The cash we got from you doesn’t even cover what you drank from this bottle! If anything, you should be thanking us for not snitching!”
“That doesn’t mean you should leave me to rot with these savages!” He says, wobbling to his feet and grabbing his bag, “Would it really be that much trouble to escort me out?”
“Our job is to escort this,” Cassie waggles the bottle, and nestles it in her bag, “Not lousy hungover monkeys! You can run back to your bush and wait for one of our friends at the guild to come rescue you!”
The three turn and begin to leave. The Mankey doesn’t seem to understand, and continues hobbling towards the three.
“Y-you selfish, greedy… You’re with the guild aren’t you? Clover Guild, they’re your friends, right? What’s this, extortion?”
Kiyo turns back and squints, “If it was extortion, we’d have taken you hostage and gotten ransom. Not that anyone you know’d be able to pay it. Broke motherfucker.”
“You’re all the same!” He shouts, “You and your guild. You’re all humans, I hear, and you’re all money-grubbing assholes!”
“Hey!” Kiyo shouts. He fires an ice shard towards the Mankey, missing on purpose, but with enough force to intimidate. The monkey freezes in his step, “We are NOT humans. Don’t ever call me that again.”
“You’re just like them!” He continues, knees wobbling, “Everything I’ve heard is true! Anger issues, no sympathy, no decorum… You’re freaks!”
“You’re a washed up loser who can’t fight for shit! If anyone’s a freak, you are!” Kiyo spits.
“Yeah!” Cassie continues, only turning her head slightly to look back, “And you’d better start respecting the Clover Guild. They’re the only ones nice enough to save a no-good drunkard like you!”
“All you humans are scum!” He tries to chase, but is slow and uncoordinated, “You’re missing something in your soul! To leave me here on Midwinter’s Eve, of all days!”
Cassie says nothing for a moment, then turns to Kiyo with a thoughtful expression, and whispers, “I mean… It is Midwinter’s Eve.”
Bean shakes his head, hops out of Cassie’s scarf, quickly launches himself to land on Kiyo’s cap, and says something to him. Kiyo nods.
“Bean’s right. It’ll be nice for the guild to have an easy rescue like this. Plenty of new recruits who could use the training. Plus…” Kiyo grimaces, “That guy’s breath reeks so fucking bad. I don’t know if I can stand in his radius any longer.”
“Yeah,” Cassie says, “Let’s bounce before he sobers up.”
Without another word, the three pick up their pace and leave the Mankey in the dust, disappearing into the foliage. The sullen monkey is left alone. He sulks back to his bag, grumbles, and pulls out a metallic flask. Shuffling back into his hiding spot, a relatively hollow bush, he pops the lid open and takes a drink.
“Well, I guess that’s what I deserve. Bah, humbug!”
Christmas Eve - Morning
Their highway robbery a success, Kiyo, Cassie, and Bean found the exit to the dungeon without much trouble and continued on the home-ward road towards Capim Town. As the sun rose, the frigid cold became more palatable, and though the wind remained cool, the skies became less dreary. The closer they came to Capim Town, the warmer it became.
“I think I should get something more exciting,” Cassie says, “A skirt and a hat and a cape would be good.”
“I’m fine with that,” Kiyo says, head tilted, “I just don’t get why I need more clothes too. Can’t you just shop for yourself?”
“Absolutely not!” Cassie puts her claws on her hips, “We’re too popular. Our look is recognizable in Capim now, we can’t hardly do anything fun! We need a new look, new names, and a new personality before we can start mugging people again. It’s not gonna work if you still look like Kiyo while I look like Madame Mystique!”
Kiyo sighs, “If you’re going to insist that I get a new outfit, can we at least have a cooler theme than that?”
Bean, riding atop Kiyo’s cap, watches Cassie gasp dramatically, then go into great detail explaining why a magician troupe was, in fact, a cool and unique aesthetic. Normally, the inquisitive bird would be very willing to join the discussion, but something else was occupying his mind.
That Mankey in the woods had a number of choice insults for them, and reasonably so, but it was noteworthy to Bean that the only insult Kiyo took offense to was being called a human. It was a sentiment shared by many other Pokemon, but Bean was beginning to question why. Most of the humans he’d met were odd in one way or another, but being odd isn’t a bad thing in and of itself. He’d met good and bad humans at the guild, just as one could meet good or bad Pokemon. Some humans have anger issues, but many Pokemon have anger issues too, and the same is true for almost every negative trait humans are said to possess.
Perhaps the most notable exception is the esoteric knowledge humans seem to possess of an otherworldly, absurd culture. Many humans understand and identify each other through these references. In a sense, that’s the difference between a human and a Pokemon. But if that’s the case, is an amnesiac human- one who doesn’t have knowledge of this alien culture- even a human at all?
That was the crux of Bean’s perplexion. Was he a human, or not? He’d been feeling slight unease about it for some time, but nothing major enough to bring up. It was mildly uncomfortable, persistently. A nagging doubt in the back of his little bird head.
This all began when Lliam declared Bean to be a human. It was a shock to everyone involved, and the implications never left Bean’s head. Did he have a family he’d forgotten? Is there a life he left behind? Would he even want to remember, if he did? Wouldn’t that cause problems for his new family? For Kiyo and Cassie? Bean looks to his companions, bickering lightheartedly between each other, and the notion that his mysterious, unknown past could come between them is like a dagger in his heart.
Knowledge learned cannot be unlearned. Bean knows that what he learns of his past could be painful, but there’s also a chance it’s inconsequential. It’s truly a gamble, except each moment he waits to take the gamble, he grows more and more restless.
Bean flies towards Cassie, and lands on her head.
“Oh? What is it, Bean?” Cassie says, interrupting Kiyo mid-sentence. “Oh! That’s a totally different topic. A much, much more important topic!”
Kiyo rolls his eyes. “Anything would be more important than what we’ve been discussing.”
Cassie huffs, “Shut it! Bean says he’s decided what he wants for Christmas!”
“Okay. Shoot.” Kiyo says.
Bean speaks into Cassie’s ear again. She hums.
“That’s… Interesting. Bean says he just wants to know whether he’s human or not.”
Kiyo tilts his head. “Really? Are you still stuck on that?”
Bean nods.
“Didn’t Lliam say you were human?” Cassie asks. Bean nods again, and elaborates, until she comes to agree, “I guess it’s hard to take that as a definitive answer… And the amnesia is a pain in the butt! We’ll help you figure out if you’re human, Bean!”
Cassie looks to Kiyo, who seems uncertain.
“...If you say so,” He says, “I dunno if we’ll be able to figure that out before Christmas, but we’ll do our best. Right, Cassie?”
“Of course!” She says, beaming, “Christmas is no laughing matter! If that’s what you want, we’ll figure it out for you! Or die trying!”
Bean leans in and insists she should not die over this gift, but thanks her regardless. He gives Kiyo a thumbs up, too.
“While we’re on the topic, Kiyo,” She continues, “You never told us what you want for Christmas either!”
“I don’t want anything.” He says, nonchalantly. Cassie and Bean continue staring at him. Once he realizes they’re both glaring at him, he bristles. “N-no, really! Don’t look at me like that!”
“Kiyo!” Cassie tsks, “if you don’t let us get you something, Bean will feel awful and greedy! Besides, we want to get you something! Giving the gift is the best part! You don’t get to steal that from us!”
Kiyo rolls his eyes. “Ugh… Fine.”
It takes him a moment to think. “I don’t… Really have anything I want. It’s tough.”
Cassie sighs. “Are you sure there’s nothing? Nothing at all?”
Kiyo closes his eyes. Immediately, he imagines himself sitting at a mahogany dining table, wearing a bib, with a massive, savory seafood feast before him. His mouth begins to water. Octillery takoyaki, pan-fried Basculin, Finneon sashimi, and a side of spicy cucumber salad… The smell and taste of such a divine meal nearly overtakes him, but he shakes his head to dispel the hallucination.
“Yeah, I dunno. I…” He checks his surroundings to be sure the three are alone, “I’m… Really just happy that the three of us are still all around, and in good health. I don’t need anything else. You guys are my family, and that’s what makes me the happiest. There’s a lot of people who don’t have any family… That was me for a while. So, I dunno, something to remind me of my family sounds good. It doesn’t have to be expensive… Are you-”
Having not heard a response, Kiyo turns and sees Cassie standing with massive tears welling in her eyes. Such a sudden, blatant emotional statement from Kiyo of all people was not expected. To survive the emotional whiplash, she’s clutching Bean dearly to her chest.
“K-Kiyo,” She says, voice wavering, “T-that’s so sweet… You make me and Bean happy too! W-we’re always gonna stick with you, you know!”
Kiyo blushes and scoffs. “I know you will! You don’t have to make a big deal about it… Just make me a friendship bracelet or some shit, I dunno.”
Cassie sniffles, working to regain her composure. “Okay! We will. That’s easy! …R-remind me to give you a big hug later.”
The fox shrugs. “I’m sure you’ll remember. Before I forget, you’d better tell us what you want.”
“Hmm…” Cassie hums. She wipes the last of her heartfelt tears away and holds her palm open, finally giving Bean the opportunity to escape her loving grasp. He doesn’t take it, instead simply standing, watching, and waiting for her answer. Cassie looks back at him- suddenly she notices the dirt road in the background turn to crystal clear water. Taking stock in her surroundings, Cassie finds the three are on a low wooden bridge, just barely standing above the shallow water. She peeks over the side and looks down at her reflection.
“You know…” She tilts her head to the side and examines it with the eye of a fashionista, “I’m beginning to suspect I may be bald.”
Kiyo chokes out a laugh. “W-what makes you say that?”
She giggles, examining her reflection from another angle now. “It’s just true! Don’t get me wrong, I think my cute ears and my luscious eyelashes bring the look together, but maybe there’s something missing. I kinda think I could use a new accessory for my head, but I don’t want a hat. Those slow me down sometimes, and I’m always afraid to get ‘em damaged.”
Kiyo stops walking for a moment to take his cap off. His poofy, icy-blue hair droops out, covering both his eyes. He lifts it up with a paw.
“If you want, I could shave my head and make you a wig. ‘Could use a haircut anyways.”
Cassie laughs. “Thank you, Kiyo, but frankly, it would look so fucking ugly on me.”
Kiyo shrugs, flips his hair back up, and hides as much of it as he can underneath his cap. Despite his best efforts, a bundle of hair droops down near his eye, as usual.
“It was worth a shot.”
As they continue walking past the river, now nearing Capim proper, Cassie elaborates.
“I don’t know exactly what I want… Just something that won’t slow me down, and it should look pretty! I’m sure there’s plenty of things that could work, so I’ll let you two be my fashion experts for once!”
Kiyo grimaces. “Uh… This might be where you come in, Bean.”
Bean hops off Cassie’s hand and assures Kiyo he has a few ideas, though he admits he’s definitely nowhere near Cassie’s competence.
“That’s fine… Just let me know if you need any help.”
The bird nods.
Cassie claps her claws together, “Look at that! I wasn’t sure we’d do anything for Christmas this year. It’s already Christmas Eve! We’ve hardly got any time to get our gifts in order!”
“Are any stores even gonna be open today?” Kiyo asks, “We probably should have figured this shit out earlier.”
“Tsk! Since when did a locked door stop us?”
They chuckle.
Christmas Eve - Late Morning
If there was ever a refuge for day-drinkers on Christmas Eve, it would be the Blue Claw Inn. When Kiyo, Cassie, and Bean arrive, it’s cynical. Year-round, the Inn could see every manner of Pokemon, but today, those with families and friends are elsewhere. Most of the seats are taken by melancholy loners or bitter duos, preparing to spend the rest of the evening nursing a bottle. There’s plenty of chatter between tables of drunkards, but it’s far from warm. It’s a toxic, seething feeling in the Blue Claw Inn today.
Perhaps surprisingly, Crabrawler was not one of the downers. In fact, he almost didn’t greet the Three Strangers with a frown, when they approached him at the bar.
“Ain’t you three a sight for my weary eyes,” he says. “How’d the excursion go?”
“Not too bad…” Cassie says, retrieving the bottle of whiskey from her bag, “Your message was firmly received, but he’d already drank, like, half the bottle.”
Crabrawler takes the bottle carefully and sighs. “That damn layabout. Not an honorable bone in his measly little body. I can’t resell this, though I suppose I could mix it in with a clean batch… Ach, to hell. I’ll drink it myself later.”
The innkeeper ducks underneath the bar and produces a small cloth sack of coins. He passes it to Cassie- she smiles and bows politely.
“Please doin’ business with you, mister!” she says.
He chuckles.
“How many times do I have to tell ye, stop callin’ me ‘mister’! You’re makin’ me feel like an old crustacean!” His words are vitriolic, but his smile betrays him, and it’s clear that he’s been charmed by the three strangers. It probably helps that they pay their rent on-time, each week.
Bean notices the crab seems unusually happy today. It’s slight, but there’s less edge in his voice, a bit more motion, more energy. Bean asks Kiyo if he noticed it too. Kiyo tilts his head, subtly following Bean’s lead, and inquires.
“What’s got you in such a good mood? Is it that we scared Mr. Mankey shitless with your death threat?” Kiyo asks, as though he doesn’t really care.
He chortles. “Yes, but no. It’s Midwinter, isn’t it? And I’ve got a nice present here for myself, and the inn! Take a gander, why don't you?”
The giant crab pokemon leads them to a cozy nook between the bar and the staircase. Sitting in a freshly swept corner, angled partly away from the seating arrangements, there’s a genuine, honest-to-goodness, grand piano. It looks to be untouched, maybe not even tuned. Kiyo can’t tell what kind of wood it is (Cassie could) but it seems to be from out of town.
“Damn!” Kiyo says, genuinely impressed. He walks closer, and examines it from multiple angles, like the curious fox he is, “It looks nice… How the hell did you, of all people, get your hands on this fine-ass box?”
“This old geezer’s got connections, see,” Crabrawler says, pointing half his claw at himself like a thumb, “Turns out, an old friend of mine started craftin’ these things a bit ago. It’s a long and arduous process, I tell ye, and it sure as hell ain’t cheap! Hardly anyone could afford one, but I’ve got a deal with him. He builds the piano, ships it here, and I keep it, looking for a seller, and payin’ a small monthly fee. If it sells, I earn a tidy commission, and he takes the rest of the profit. Damn good deal, if you ask me.”
Kiyo scratches his chin. “As long as you can keep it clean, yeah, that’s a damn good deal. Some music could turn your dinky little bar into a real venue. Has anyone played it yet?”
“Nay. It only arrived while you three were out bounty hunting. It’s not easy to find a pianist around Capim Town, I’m afraid, but I should have some musicians in here later tonight.”
Cassie and Bean both gaze heavily at Kiyo, who furrows his brow.
“Kiyooooo~!” Cassie whines, “Can we hear you play piano please?”
Crabrawler raises an eyebrow. “He plays?”
“Yes!” Cassie says, before Kiyo can get a word in, “He’s really good, but there’s never any piano to play! Bean and I haven’t heard him play in, like, months! Maybe a year!”
“Is this true?” The innkeeper asks.
Kiyo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it’s true. I used to run with a professional group. I wasn’t expecting to play today, but I do know a few festive tracks for piano. They aren’t hard.”
The innkeeper steps aside, gesturing Kiyo forward. “Well, by all means!”
“Normally I’d charge a fee…”
Cassie slaps Kiyo on the back. “C’mon, Kiyo! It’s Christmas! Where’s your holiday spirit?”
“Okay, okay! Sheesh.”
Kiyo pads up to the large piano and stands atop the bench, using his tails to grip the platform. This allows him to lean over and swing his small body wherever it may need to move- a trick he learned while playing music professionally. He rubs his paws together, and looks over the beautiful instrument. It’s been some time since he last played a full, real piano.
He does a quick warmup, closing the piano’s lid and running his digits along the surface as though he was playing. It feels good- and natural, despite the time. Then, he lifts the cover and tests a few of the keys. They sound properly tuned, so he clears his throat. The chatter in the background doesn’t quiet at all, but a few of the already-silent loners peer over and notice the fox poised to play. Kiyo speaks, and still doesn’t attract attention.
“Alright,” he drawls, with the smooth, calm, soothing voice he uses when he’s playing blues, “This is a song I learned from an old friend. It was his favorite to play around this time. Listen in, if you want. I don’t really care.”
It’s an old tune, one that he learned from his old mentor.

It’s a calming, almost rejuvenating song, with a slow, simple melody played at a relaxed pace. It tip-toes between happy and melancholy- Above all else, it’s wistful, and captures the wonder of a snowy winter’s night, with the holiday season on the mind.
Kiyo plays for a few minutes, with a bit of improv here and there.
When he finishes, it’s as though there’s an entirely different atmosphere within the inn. Those who were bitter towards their circumstances are more introspective, more wistful. Cherished, recaptured memories of holidays past warm the heart, just as they bring about longing, and heartache. Instead of being angry at the world for leaving them lonely, it seems the bargoers are wondering what they did, and who they are, to be lonely in the first place.
Or, Bean could be misreading it. That’s the impression he obtains, scanning the room. Sometimes, he thinks, he’s more affected by music than most, and he projects those feelings onto others.
Out of everyone in the room, Cassie is the most pleased, but Crabrawler is next in line.
“I’m impressed!” He admits, “You can make those keys sing, fox. Has me wonderin’ if the inn needs a regular musician… Eh, maybe not. As far as I’m aware, the piano’ll be sold by tomorrow morning.”
“You’re that good of a salesman?” Kiyo says, unconvinced, “Who the hell’s gonna have the money to buy that?”
The crab taps his desk. “Ehehe… I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’ve got nine musicians staying here tonight. Big shots from one of the snowier continents.”
As Kiyo hears this, the world around him goes quiet. His eyes thin, and he freezes, like a statue.
“The leader’s a retired explorer, and she's apparently 200-something years old! Not only that, they’re rich! I’m hopin’ one of ‘em would be interested, though I’m supposin’ there’d be a matter of transport… Erm… You alright there, fox?”
“I’m fine,” Kiyo growls through his fangs, “Now, if you'd excuse us.”
Ten or so minutes later, Kiyo and Bean pace around their room, packing anything deemed irreplaceable into Cassie’s bag. Maps, journals, drawings, deeds, and a Bean-shaped plushie are all stowed away safely. Much of their money and all their ‘tools’ they leave out in the open.
Bean chirps from the desk, where he organizes various blackmail documents. Kiyo’s large ears swivel to pick up the quiet bird’s question.
“I'm certain it's them,” he responds, “there’s no other musical act in the world that'd fit the description.”
Kiyo opens a chest cradled away in the corner of the room. He digs through a pile of gadgets, explosives, and other miscellany to retrieve a small blue flute that appears to be made of crystal. He checks to make sure it hasn’t been scratched, then wraps it in parchment paper and nestles it in Cassie's bag.
Bean continues asking questions.
“No, I don’t think they give a fuck about me,” Kiyo replies, “but if they’re staying here, they’ll definitely sniff me out, and the more I think about it… Every outcome from that reunion is bad. It’s not worth sticking around.”
From outside their room, loud, heavy footsteps are heard, rising up the staircase, then stopping nearby.
“It’s… Me!” Cassie says, opening the door and entering their shared room with a smile. She’s carrying a paper bag with bright, floral decorations.
“I got ‘em as fast as I could!” She says, strolling across the room and placing down four thick wax candles, each in a different corner. “They’re all ‘Midwinter’ themed, so I hope that’s okay.”
“Should be fine.” Kiyo says, “And the cologne?”
Cassie shakes her head, and pulls a small red and white bottle. “It’s perfume, which is NOT only for girls, so don’t give me that stink eye! It just lasts longer and packs more of a punch! And yeah, it’s also midwinter themed. Peppermint!”
Kiyo sighs. “I guess I can’t complain... Just fuck me up already.”
Cassie makes a twirling motion with her claw. Kiyo takes his cap off and turns away from her, fanning out his tails in her direction. She reaches in, fluffs the tails up broadly, then begins spritzing him with the jolly, candy-scented perfume.
“Are you sure we need all this to keep… them… from catching your scent?” Cassie asks while spraying, “I don’t mind, but it seems a bit overkill, especially for you.”
“Eugh…” Kiyo says, covering his nose with a paw, “I dunno. It would work on me, that’s all I’m really going on.”
“If you say so!” Cassie says. She happily continues, straightening up Kiyo's fur in a few spots.
Bean flies between the four candles in the room and lights them. The smell quickly becomes overpowering. He flies to the desk, picks up the papers he’s deemed important with his talons, and airdrops them into Cassie bag, landing by the window, where fresh air repels the overwhelmingly festive smell of the room.
He coughs. Though palatable on their own, the combination of gingerbread, pine, eggnog, and peppermint scents is downright noxious.
Cassie sprays a bit of perfume on the side of Kiyo’s neck, and although the fox looks like he’s trying not to faint, he doesn’t resist either. “All done! Let’s lock up, then.”
Leaving Kiyo, Cassie slides a wooden beam into a latch on the door, locking it from the inside. It was her own modification to the room- technically not allowed, but if Crabrawler ever discovered it, he’d be going against his own word of ‘minding his business’ anyways.
“I told Crabrawler that we’re leaving for the holiday, and not to let anyone in our room,” Cassie says, “Is everything packed?”
“Yup,” Kiyo says, holding his breath, “Holy fuck, get me out of here.”
Bean pushes the window fully open and gestures his companions forward. Kiyo quickly and silently hops out, hardly brushing the wooden surface with his tails. Cassie sprays herself a couple times haphazardly, takes her bag, peeks out the window, then drops it out. Kiyo makes an “Oof!” sound, which she interprets as him catching it. Then, she glances over the room one last time, and drops out the window herself. Bean follows, closing the window behind him.
Christmas Eve - Noon
From the top of the bell tower, the Three Strangers have an expansive view of the town. The structure of the buildings created many alleyways, which meant blind spots from their vantage point, but the bridges and entrances to the town were clearly visible, and that was key. It was a relatively comfortable hideout- the bell rarely rang these days, and the flat roof kept the three hidden in shade.
Cassie stood near the railing scanning the town with a pair of binoculars, humming the tune that Kiyo’d played in the Blue Claw Inn.
Kiyo himself lays on his back, limbs spread as though he’d been assassinated and left to bleed out. His tails curve in every direction, creating a small bed to rest on, while he looks at the reflection of the clouds off the shiny brass bell. Bean stands near him, crumpling and un-crumpling a square piece of paper over and over.
Kiyo opens an eye and glances at Bean, having noticed the noise. Bean stares back at him, mid-fold. Kiyo shrugs, and lies back. Then, Cassie finishes humming her song, and puts the binoculars down for a second.
“Well… Nothing interesting to report, besides Smith and Furret at the ice cream parlor… Scandalous!”
“What’s scandalous about that?” Kiyo asks, “I thought you said that was a ‘status quo ship’?”
Cassie sighs. “Yeah, it is, I just wanted to say ‘scandalous’... It's just a lot of Christmas Eve festivities.” She puts the binoculars back to her face and observes once more.
“Kiyo,” She says, “What was that song you played at the inn? It’s really catchy!”
“It’s called Christmas Time is Here,” he says, “I learned it from my old mentor, it was part of a set of Christmas tracks.”
Cassie hums. “Huh. …Is that why you call it Christmas instead of Midwinter?”
“Not really… Well, I guess it’s part of it. I’d never heard of either until I met the guy. He called it Christmas, so that’s what I call it.”
“You know, for how much of an impact he seemed to have on you, you haven’t told us much about your so-called ‘mentor’,” Cassie says, “Is there any reason for that?”
“Not really… I don’t tend to talk about stuff from my past, ‘cuz usually it fucking sucks.” Kiyo sighs, “Not him, though. He was crazy, and I was mad at him for a while, for kicking me outta the band, but now I get why he did it.”
“He was crazy?” Cassie giggles, “So you got it from him?”
Kiyo rolls his eyes. “Not that kind of crazy. Honestly, you’d have liked him more than me. He was… Really goofy. And he had a very, uh… Very unique fashion taste.”
“Really? Huh.”
Cassie puts the binoculars down and looks back at Kiyo, who’s still lying supine, lazily.
“How about you tell me a story about this guy, while I keep an eye out for you know who?”
Kiyo ponders it for a moment. Then, he shrugs. His eyes closed, he does what he can to remember the Pokemon who made him a master of the musical arts.
“Well…”
Long Ago
Back then, Kiyo had only three tails. He was smaller, had no scar, and wore no clothes, save for a tattered, dull-grey bandanna. His diet of stolen food, scrounged scraps, and gracious donations gave him a barely-not-malnourished look. He looked more pitiable than he was, which was often helpful.
For a few weeks, he’d been tearing up the streets of Post Town. It was the biggest town he’d ever seen- more like a city, really. For a destitute loner like himself, it was actually quite comfortable.
The small fox had taken up residence in the unchecked attic of the local library. It was light work to loosen a few roof tiles, allowing him access day or night. He’d been caught before, but the librarians didn’t have the heart to kick him out.
“Are you here to read?” A female Tentacruel had asked once.
“No,” Kiyo said, innocently. “I’m here to sleep.”
“Why don’t you go home? Are your parents… strict about napping?”
“I don’t have parents, or a home.”
Kiyo couldn’t describe the look of horror the aquatic Pokemon had then, but whatever it was, he’d become used to seeing it. That same librarian carried Kiyo, who didn’t bother resisting, to the orphanage, but after Kiyo escaped the third time, she gave up trying to corral him into a better life. She, and the others, simply accepted him as their young, homeless mascot.
Every once and a while, they’d try to bring him food, but he didn’t accept it. He was annoyed by them more than anything- Kiyo didn’t trust them, and he knew in the back of his soul that they’d try to keep him from leaving someday. He wasn’t okay with that.
Even more annoyingly, they’d try to educate him.
“Why don’t you try reading?” The Tentacruel would ask, with a large, flat, children’s book.
Kiyo tilted his head. When the woman opened the book, he scoffed.
“I can’t read it,” he’d say.
“None of it?” Again, she was appalled. “You can’t read anything?”
Kiyo spoke simply. “I can read some things.”
“What can you read, little one?”
On his little paws, Kiyo confidently strolled across the library and pawed at a shelf, until scattered musical sheets fell out and covered the floor. He glanced at them, read them, and then looked back at the woman, who was now more perplexed than appalled.
Any further attempt to educate, train, or domesticate Kiyo was met with the fox turning and fleeing.
One night, just after the sun set in Post Town, Kiyo wandered further away from his hideout than usual. He was only peckish, and more than anything, interested in stealing coins to add to his collection. He pattered up dark alleys and busy roads as though he had somewhere to be. He knew how to avoid what little danger Post Town posed- he could hear and smell the signs of a mugging before they struck, and even if someone wanted to, it’s not like he had anything worth stealing. He was already homeless, and a child.
His exploits took him through the grimier parts of town, past the winding-down merchant district, and into a nicer, more wealthy neighborhood. Homes were scattered around businesses- only a few of which still operated. By chance or by fate, Kiyo found himself sitting outside a club, of all things, listening to the subtle vibrations of a guitar.
The club itself was hidden beneath a general store. All that could be seen from outside was a staircase leading underground, and a large painted billboard hoping to call attention to the existence of an establishment down below.
Then, the vibrations came to a stop. Kiyo peeked down the staircase- the front door was cracked open, but the sign said “closed”.
Well, he thought to himself, if they’re really closed, they should have shut the door!
The fox hopped down the stairs and slinked into the club.
It was warm on the inside, both in terms of lighting and temperature. A tired looking employee- a Croagunk- stacked chairs onto the tables, to clear the floor for mopping. More importantly, Kiyo’s attention was grabbed by a pokemon he’d never seen before. From the back, he looked like a snake with stubby legs and a giant black coat covering most of his body. His head was like a tapered tube, with seemingly no mouth. He was wearing a shiny yellow chain- was that gold?- and his coat looked heavy, with painted-on flames. He was carrying a large case, presumably for his guitar.

Kiyo thought he looked incredibly cool. He walked up to the Pokemon, his silent steps unheard.
“Hey,” he squeaked. He planned on saying more, but he forgot what to say.
The Heatmor turned, and squinted down at him.
“Konnichiwassup, newgen. What you want?”
“You were playing the guitar?” Kiyo asks. “Can I play it?”
The Heatmor stares through the fox for a moment. “Probably not, given the fact that you barely reach my hip.”
“You sounded bad,” Kiyo says, as innocently as anything else, “I can play better.”
The Heatmor laughs. “Yo! Watch your tongue, you little baka. You can’t play better than me. I’m the best. I’m pretty popular around here. Dunno if you knew that.” He scoffs.
“Yeah, that’s how I know you’re not from around here. Listen up kiddo. I’m kind of a big deal. I bring huge turnouts. I’m like the MJ of the Pokemon world. Or, more accurately, that one guy from Yesterday. Cringe-ass fucking movie, by the way. What a dogshit follow-up to Slumdog Millionaire. Or… Wait, did he have more movies? Danny Boyle, I mean, the director.”
“I don’t know what any of that means,” Kiyo says, “Can I play your guitar or not?”
He thinks about it.
“You’re too short.”
“Just lay it on the ground. I can play.”
He sighs. “Fine. Just real quick.”
The Heatmor does as he promises. The guitar is deep brown and well worn, covered in scribbled words Kiyo couldn’t hope to understand. He plucks one of the strings, finds it to be tuned well enough, and positions himself by the middle of the instrument. Seated, he can reach both the hole to strum and the neck to change the notes he’s playing.
He warms up quickly, then plays a jaunty salsa tune. Then, a jazz lick, just for fun.
“Damn son. Where’d you find this?” The Heatmor says, impressed.
“I… You gave it to me.” Kiyo says.
“No, no, it’s just an expression. Sorry, I forget you natives don’t understand the memes from my home world. Or, uh, continent.”
He picks the guitar back up. “You’re not bad, kiddo, but you’re still not as good as me. Take a listen.”
He sits himself down on a nearby stool and shakes his clawed hand loose. Kiyo sits at attention.
The Heatmor plays a flamenco in F# minor, and right off the rip, Kiyo realizes he’s outmatched. The song has a fast, strong rhythm behind it, which he accentuates by emulating a drum with tough bumps against the body of his guitar, in 4/4 time. He plays this as well as a tremendously catchy melody simultaneously. It’s as though this one Pokemon can play like an entire band.
It’s masterful. Kiyo’s pupils expand as he watches the magic happen.
It ends without much flourish. He simply relaxes, and plays more quietly, fading out the song. Then he looks at Kiyo with a smug grin.
“Can you beat that, pussy?”
“Nope.” Kiyo says. “What was that song?”
“It’s called Gerudo Valley. It’s a VGM standard back in my world.”
Kiyo tilts his head. “What does VGM stand for?”
“Very Good Music.”
“Oh. That makes sense,” Kiyo nods. “I guess you’re pretty good.”
“Oh, that was nothing! You ain’t seen nothing!” He says, clearly chuffed to have a young fan, “That’s not even my main instrument. I'm the best at piano.”
“I can play piano too.” Kiyo says.
“...You can?”
“Yeah. And drums too. And everything.”
“...Really?” The Heatmor looks back at the small piano pressed against the wall of the club, “How about you show me?”
Kiyo is about to, but the Croagunk who’d been mopping coughs. He’s wearing an ugly, entirely dissatisfied expression. He gestures towards the door.
The Heatmor sighs. “That’s so gay. Nevermind, we gotta pack it up for tonight. Run along kiddo.”
“That’s gay!” Kiyo says, copying the Heatmor and pounding his paws on the floor.
“Come back tomorrow, if you want. You can watch me actually play. Trust me. When you sit down and listen? Your little fuckin’ nuts are gonna start quakin’, buddy. Your little nuts are gonna be quakin’.”
“YEAAAAAH! YEAAAAAAAAAAH!” He shouts suddenly, startling the other employee.
“Shut the FUCK up!” The Croagunk finally shouts, with red in his eyes. “Fucking psycho!”
Kiyo left after that.
He didn’t return the next night- he’d forgotten about it while hunting for a bite to eat. The night after, he returned, slinking into the club silently to sit by the window and listen, unnoticed. He learned more about the Heatmor- he had a name. It was Spike Spiegel, but everyone just called him Spike. He was good at piano, but the songs he played were often slow, and emotional. The people in the club seemed to appreciate the bluesy vibe. It was perfect for brooding.
Kiyo saw the other clubbers sitting at their table, smoking pipes or sipping drinks while looking despondent, or wistful. He sat like them, and liked to imagine he appeared as mysterious as the rest.
Kiyo learned that the club closed early on weekdays, so it could be open all night on weekends. Thankfully, it was still a weekday- the earlier closing gave the two musicians time to riff. Once the staff started nudging people out, Kiyo approached Spike once again.
“Well well well… Our paths cross once more.” He said.
“I want to learn some of those songs,” Kiyo said, “Can I see the sheet music?”
“Woah, woah! Let’s not get hasty. My songs are, like, really valuable, dude. It’s not easy rebuilding these iconic tracks from memory.”
Kiyo tilts his head. “You want money?”
“No, not money. Maybe service, but that’ll depend on how well you can play those other instruments you mentioned.”
He gestures to the piano.
“Show me what you’ve got, little dude.”
Kiyo did as he was told, playing an older tune meant to accompany a full orchestra. It felt somewhat empty on its lonesome, but still displayed technical skill. It was enough to satisfy the Heatmor, who offered Kiyo his claw. Kiyo tilted his head, then slapped it with his paw. It seemed to be the correct gesture.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Kiyo.”
“Nice to meet you, Kiyo-chan. You can call me Spike-san.”
“Spikeson?”
“No, no. Spike. San. Like two words. It means I’m your mentor, and you’re my student.”
Kiyo didn’t like his weird way of speaking, but he didn’t really care. He wanted to learn more songs. The deal was straight-forward. Spike would teach Kiyo the songs he wanted to learn, so that they could both play together at the club. As it turns out, Spike had transcribed a huge number of songs he’d have loved to play, but many were too complex for one musician to play alone.
The knowledge and versatility Kiyo had, knowing the fundamentals of so many instruments was shocking to Spike. Still, there were very few instruments he was a master of. That’s where Spike’s ‘mentorship’ came in.
“That was the most dogshit Megalovania I’ve ever heard,” Spike said, hovering over Kiyo on the piano, “Sounded like corpo-slop. You need to put more SOUL into it.”
“What do you mean?” Kiyo asked.
“It’s like… You know… SOUL! The stuff that makes the music sound like someone actually gives a fuck about it.”
“How do I do that?”
“You just do, alright? It’s fuckin, I dunno. It’s SOUL.”
The mentorship was annoying sometimes.
Luckily, Kiyo did well enough for himself just learning through trial and error. Eventually, he gained an ear for how these ‘VGM’ tracks should sound. Just one week into Kiyo’s mentorship, Spike was impressed with the fox’s improvement. In the backroom, where they’d often practice, after offering Kiyo some complimentary noodles from the bar, he mused about his ambitions.
“I need you to get good, and then, we need to find, like, two other musicians,” He said, “So I can sing Rainbow Road by Mark Kump. That would be fucking hilarious.”
“Marshtomp?”
“No, it’s… Don’t worry about it. Ooh, shit, we could do Katamari on the Rocks if we got a full jazz band. You think this world is cultured enough to enjoy a song like that? That would be so peam. So fucking peam.”
Kiyo just glared at him while slurping up noodles, growing more and more tired of his confusing language.
After the second week, Kiyo was performing alongside Spike. Usually it was easier jobs, like using a brush on the drums to play ghost notes for Spike’s blues piano. It was simple work, but it gave much more depth to the music. The patrons at the clubs seemed to appreciate it as well. The two earned solid tips, and attracted larger and larger crowds. The owner of the bar, a friend of Spike’s, was very pleased.
When Spike offered Kiyo a cut of the tips, Kiyo declined, saying he didn’t have anywhere to keep the money. Spike must have felt bad. He started buying Kiyo lunch from the bar more regularly.
“For the record, you should never play for free,” He said, “But since you’re basically an intern, I guess it’s okay to pay you in food scraps.”
Over time, throughout practice, the Kiyo learned more about the musician through scraps of banter. Much of what Kiyo heard from Spike, he assumed, was complete and utter nonsense.
“VGM is real music. Rap, hip hop… It’s all crap. Anime soundtracks and VGM would have been considered high art in the 1600’s.”
“What is ‘anime’?” Kiyo dared to ask.
“It’s an art form. It’s the closest man ever got to spreading God’s true will through art. The raw emotion, the human form… It was pure kino. Say, do you have any idea what ‘pantsu’ means?”
Kiyo rolled his eyes. “Take a guess.”
“Good,” Spike said, “You wouldn’t get it anyways. As far as anime goes, just remember that there are only two ways to judge anime. The first, and most valid, is by the soundtrack. You’ve got many classics here. Bokurano. Cowboy Bebop. Attack on Titan. Re:Zero. Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, just to name a few. These are animes even you should know, even if most of the tracks are far too complex for us two to play.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Kiyo muttered, though it seemed he wasn’t heard.
“The second way to judge anime is by the girls it features. This is how most people honestly and truly judge their anime. There are many popular girls to choose from… Rem, Megumin, Mai, Zero Two… If you only remember one of these names, it should be Mio Akiyama… She’s shy but sweet, and extremely cute. She is what you might call my ‘waifu’, which is what an otaku would call their ‘wife’. Does this all make sense?”
“Dude…” Kiyo rubbed his face, “Just… Shut the fuck up. Please.”
Kiyo was both happy to be learning and playing music, and annoyed by the Pokemon’s absurdity. Still, it was overall a mutually beneficial agreement. Kiyo learned fast, and they took on more difficult songs.
“There’s a song we could play, but you’ll need to be on drums, and it’ll be really hard,” Spike said, “Are you up for trying? It’s gonna be miserable trying to get it right, and the people at the club will probably fucking hate it anyways.”
“Sure,” Kiyo said, more interested in the challenge than anything, “I can handle it.”
“Your funeral,” Spike said, producing a musical sheet that looked like it’d been recovered from a fire. “The song is called Anybody Can Find Love Except You.”
It was harder than Kiyo thought. Much harder, and much more frustrating than he’d ever imagined, but the song itself was aggressive, so he could take his anger out on the drums. It fueled him.
It took him a month to get it right. Then, they played it once, in the club, and chased out so many patrons, the owner told them never to play it again.
Other than that one incident, they had a strong relationship with the club’s owner, who was an old Blastoise. He was a shrewd businessman second, and an enjoyer of fine music first. Three or four months after Kiyo’d started his ‘mentorship’ with Spike, they were both given good news. Perhaps thanks to their music, or perhaps thanks to Blastoise’s fine drinks and meals, they’d found enough profit to expand into a larger venue, to fit more drinkers and attract larger crowds.
It was an above-ground saloon, transformed into a restaurant and club. It was further from Kiyo’s hideout, but he didn’t mind the walk. Spike was nostalgic for his cozy basement bar, but Kiyo was happy to move. It was less stuffy, and less hot. Soon, another musician was attracted to the group- an infernape, who could only play Bass or Guitar. She was oddly cold, but talented, and she didn’t ask anyone’s business. Kiyo liked her for that.
Kiyo learned many songs his family couldn’t have known, oftentimes with very strange names. Dire Dire Docks, for example. Meta Knight’s Revenge. Sea Shanty 2. And others.
There were special songs for the holiday season, too. Kiyo remembered running through an entire set of “Charlie Brown” songs, each a delightful jazz track. With the larger band, they had a chance to actually do the songs justice.
“Christmas songs are important, Kiyo.” Spike had said after running through the set. “For a lot of people, Christmas is the happiest time of the year.”
“Christmas?” Kiyo said.
“Yeah. You don’t know about Christmas? Or, what, Midwinter?”
“I’ve heard of Midwinter, but I don’t really know what it is,” Kiyo said. “What’s Christmas?”
“Midwinter and Christmas are two words for the same thing. It’s… Basically a time where, when the snow starts falling, families get together and get lovey-dovey. Someone gets stuck making some fuck-ass ham dinner, and family members will give each other thoughtful gifts. For me, I’d usually get a new body pillow or a figurine each year.”
Spike squints, looking back at Kiyo, who sits at a drum kit.
“You… never had any celebration like that?”
“Nope,” Kiyo says, “I don’t get gifts.”
“Huh.” Spike said. “Well, whatever. There’s one more song you need to learn. This one’s called Grinch’s Ultimatum.”
Later that month, Kiyo arrived at the club, only to find it closed for the holiday. Spike was waiting outside- he handed Kiyo a box held shut by a ribbon and sent the fox home. When Kiyo climbed up into the attic of the library, he curled into a blanket he’d stolen and opened the box. Inside was a letter that simply said “Merry Christmas”.
Beneath the letter, there was a harmonica, made of steel and wood, held together by bent, blunted spikes and tree sap.
For months, they gained popularity. Their venue was more and more busy. A new drummer joined the band, a Darmanitan, so Kiyo moved on to mastering wind and brass instruments, which ended up having more use than expected. The Darmanitan was more friendly, and asked Kiyo lots of questions. That was annoying to him. Kiyo never answered any questions, he would change the subject or play dumb. Any remaining questions would get passed on to Spike, who became his assumed guardian. For what it’s worth, Spike never cared enough to interrogate Kiyo, which was appreciated, until he became drunk.
“Where’d you come from anyways?” Spike asked one night, tipsy from drinking after hours. Kiyo had a drink too, though he didn’t really like it.
“Up north. What about you?” Kiyo said, deflecting.
“Well, as you know, I’m from an entirely different world.”
“Right.” Kiyo rolled his eyes.
“Back then, in the other world, I was a hopeless NEET, you know.” He said, between sips of his bronze liquor, “I could only play piano. I cared so much about music, but it felt like I couldn’t get my life anywhere. I was just a retard who dropped out and lived in my parents’ basement. Literally! Too fucking lazy to hold down a job, or motivate to compose, or even go back to school… It was such a shitty, dead-end life. Except, you know… I could have fixed it all if I just had the willpower to get up and make a change. But no. I just watched anime and complained about video games all day.”
Spike notices his glass is empty, so he takes a big swig from the bottle instead. Then, he sighs with relief.
“So, when I got to this world, I knew I couldn’t stay the same. I dedicated myself to transcribing the music I loved, and became a performer. I put so, so much effort into it. Being brought here… it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Kiyo tilted his head, not sure how to deal with the drunk. “Couldn’t you have done that before you moved?”
“Kind of,” Spike said, his head buried in his arms, “But routine is like a cage. I just needed something to break me out. To make me feel alive again, and breathe, and remember that I can think and make decisions. Without that… It was much, much, much easier to stay the same. It was… the fucking routine.”
Kiyo didn’t understand at all, and it felt like Spike needed someone to counsel him emotionally. Keeping this in mind, Kiyo hopped down from his barstool and left the establishment.
The two had a mentorship for more than a year. Blastoise’s club had become quite popular, with Spike and Kiyo as key features. Perhaps it lasted so long because everyone had the good sense to avoid asking Kiyo about his life. The mentorship ended when that good sense ran out.
“Finally! How fucking far do you live?” Spike asked Kiyo, one night when he arrived late for warmup.
“Pretty far.”
“How far? Where do you live?’
“I sleep at the library.” He said, hastily preparing himself for the set.
“...What?”
“I said I sleep at the library,” Kiyo repeated, “Why?”
“Like… You’re homeless?”
“I guess. But it’s okay.”
“Kiyo… Don’t you have a family?” Spike finally asked.
“No,” He says with no emotion, “My family hated me, especially my mom, and I hate her, so I left.”
Spike doesn’t respond for a while. It was at that point when he realized how little he knew about the fox he’d been mentoring. He would talk and talk about himself, and video games, and anime, and anime girls, but the fox wasn’t interested. His student, Kiyo, only cared about the music.
“Wait… You say your mom hated you. Why did your mom hate you?”
Kiyo sighs, and asks himself if he wants Spike to know anything about himself. At this point, he feels indifferent.
“It’s cuz I wasn’t good enough at music. And because I’m a boy instead of her ninth girl.”
“That’s crazy… How could you- Wait, you’re a boy?” Spike exclaimed.
“Of course I am!” Kiyo shouted, “Wait, did you seriously think I was a girl this whole time?”
“Jesus fucking Christ! Kiyo, how old are you?”
“I dunno! Like, ten? Maybe eleven?”
Spike turned white as a ghost.
“ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN!!!”
Kiyo sighed. “After that, he told me he wasn’t a groomer and kicked me out of the band.”
Cassie gasped. “Just like that? After all you’d been through?”
“I mean… It wasn’t that harsh. I guess he thought I was old enough to be in a bar, since nobody ever had a problem with it. I think everyone else assumed he was the one who confirmed I was allowed to be in there… Kind of a diffusion-of-responsibility situation. The Blastoise thought I was old enough to drink, I know that for sure, but he’d have to kick me out anyways if he knew I was that young.”
Bean leaves the square of paper he’d folded and unfolded a hundred times over the course of the story and hops beside Kiyo. He squeaks up a message, which the fox receives.
Kiyo nods. “Yeah, thinking about it now, he was probably a human. Huh. I wonder how he’s doing.”
“I guess that means humans had pretty good music!” Cassie adds, “And they loved girls! What a weird society. I’m glad it’s not like that here!”
Kiyo leans up, having had enough of staring into the bell above him. He squints, adjusting to the brightness of the open sky.
“Did you see anything Cassie? Were you still watching?”
She nods. “Yeah, I was, but no, I didn’t see anybody. You know…”
She walks around the bell a bit, and looks over the woods, towards the clearing in which the Clover Guild lies.
“Maybe you should head to the guild! You wouldn’t have to worry about you-know-who, and you could ask around about Bean’s present. There’s a ton of humans there, and some of them are weirdly knowledgeable, so that’s probably our best bet to figure out if Bean is human or not. It’s kind of an abstract present this year.”
Bean shrugs. It’s true.
“That’s… A good idea. I hate to split up, but I guess that's the nature of Christmas shopping.” He looks towards Bean, who’s returned to his paper. “Do you have Cassie’s present covered? I’m fucking useless when it comes to fashion.”
Bean nods, and gives a feathery thumbs up.
“Alright then,” Kiyo says, “We’ll meet around dinner, alright?”
Cassie and Bean both salute. “Sure thing! Good luck with that present, Kiyo! I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”
“Yeah, yeah. You too.” Kiyo says. He lifts a hatch on the floor and descends the belltower’s staircase.
Cassie scoots closer to Bean, and waits a few moments for Kiyo to depart, and a few moments extra, since his ears are the size of mountains.
“Bean…” She whispers, “Do you… Have any idea what Kiyo meant by ‘something to remember his family by’?”
Bean looks at her sideways.
“I know!” She says, “He said to get him a friendship bracelet, but we both know that’s not what he really wants.”
Bean huffs out an exaggerated sigh, and looks to the side.
“Yeah. I don’t know…”
They sit in silence for a bit, pondering the situation.
“It’s like… I know he said he loved us, and I get that! But… It’s also sad hearing that he never had a Christmas with his real, or, you know, his original family. Do you think he might… Wish he had that? At some point?”
Bean flies up towards Cassie, and she knows to hold out her claw. He lands, and speaks his mind with eloquence.
“Yeah… I guess you wouldn’t know either. Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just, you know… I had Midwinter with my family, and those memories are important to me. Even though my family doesn’t always get along, we try to get along for Midwinter. Is there really no hope for Kiyo and his old family?”
Bean looks at her, unamused.
Cassie sighs. “Yeah… I guess if there was hope, we wouldn’t be watching for ‘em from this belltower…”
She leans against the railing of the tower, Bean still perched on her claw, almost like a cigarette.
“I just don’t know. I’ll have to find something… Or make something. I wish we had more time! Ugh! Next year, we’ll figure out what we want further in advance.”
Bean nods, and looks towards the sun. It’s past noon now.
“Guess I’ll have to figure it out while I’m shopping. Okay! Time to go. You don’t need any help with your shopping, right Bean?”
Bean shakes his head and hops off Cassie’s claw, landing on the railing. He salutes- one of his favorite emotes.
Cassie giggles, heading for the same trapdoor Kiyo used to exit. “Okay! I’ll see you at the guild for dinner then! Byeeeee!”
She flips it open and absconds down a spiraling wooden staircase. Like many of the buildings here in Capim, this one feels like a giant hollowed-out culm of bamboo retrofitted to act as a building. The steps are speared into the sides of the building, and there’s no guardrail here, so Cassie is careful not to fall.
As subtly as she can, she slips out the back door, finds that nobody’s watching, and leaves, now strolling the streets legally.
Christmas Eve - Early Afternoon
Normally, Cassie with a bag of Poke surrounded by shops and left unsupervised is one happy shrew, but today, despite the wonderful, spirited holiday decor and the general happy mood of the Pokemon around her, Cassie is stressed. It’s the dark side of Christmas shopping- the anxiousness over finding the perfect gift for a dear friend.
She wanders through a boutique. She tries on some hats, and they don’t quite fit her. It’s fun to strike a sassy pose in the mirror, but it’s also stealing away time from her actual objective. So she sighs and leaves without buying anything.
Eventually Cassie stops checking inside fashion stores. She puts her forehead right up to the glass and looks inside, but doesn’t linger. There’s a weapons shop they’ve been to before, but it’s niche, not Kiyo’s style, and doesn’t really represent his family at all. There isn’t a full-on music store in Capim, as far as Cassie’s aware, and although the bookstore has a few musical sheets, Kiyo already knows all the songs anyways. The bookstore has a few quaint little knick-knacks, but nothing Kiyo would actually like. He’s not one for reading, to no-one’s surprise.
She passes by a cylindrical wooden dumpster, full of musty old rags, rotting paper containers, and burnt food. It's got a plank of wood sticking out, and a half eaten apple by the base. It’s garbage, obviously, but Cassie has a funny thought, that checking the trash would be as useful as checking any other store.
She even checks the underground black market. She appreciates that even these guys decorated for the holidays, but there’s nothing there Kiyo would want.
Cassie walks past the fountain in the square, and looks at the rushing water for a bit. The real problem is that she doesn’t know what she’s looking for. It would be great if there was something on the shelves that would be exactly what Kiyo wanted, but Cassie’s still trying to figure out exactly what the damn fox wants!
She keeps walking, pondering the situation. She doesn’t think much about where she's wandering, until the wood beneath her claws creaks and she finds herself at the Capim Town docks.
The view of the ocean would be more calming to her, if not for a perilous situation she’d barely survived in the past. She was slowly getting over it, but for now, rippling waves and the far-off horizon only brought her unease.
Cassie is about to turn and leave, when a splashing sound alerts her. She turns and gasps.
“Fatty!” She squeals, and crouches by the dock’s edge, “Oh my GOSH! How are you!!!”
Down below, her head sticking out from the water, is a large Sharpedo with a womanly soprano voice.
“Cassie, my dear! I’m quite well, thank you!” Fatty says, “Having a merry Midwinter, I hope?”
Cassie exhales loudly, and puts a hand on her head. “WHEW. I dunno about that. I’m stuck gift shopping for Kiyo… He’s left me in a pickle. What about you? Why aren’t you home with your family for the holidays?”
“The family is here with me! Well, they’re nearby. Tomorrow evening a magnificent concert will take place, right here! A land-dwelling orchestra will be playing music for us aquatic types. It’s going to be marvelous, my dear, you simply must join us!”
Cassie sighs. “I think we have plans Fatty… Sorry about that.”
Fatty shakes her head- which is also her entire body. “I assumed as much, but it shan’t hurt to ask. Enough of that, however. You’re having trouble deciding on a gift for Kiyo?”
Cassie lays down on her belly, feet kicking as she gossips with her shark friend.
“Yeah. He said he wants something to remember his family by, which is me and Bean, I’m sure… But I’m also thinking about Kiyo’s original biological family that he never had a good relationship with. Do you think there might be some way to patch that up? Do you think, just maybe, he wants something from them?”
Fatty hums. “What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know… Maybe I’m just projecting, cuz I miss my family a lot, but even when we were ultra-pissed at each other, we didn’t go as far as Kiyo went with his family. He ran away when he was really really young. From what he told me, he had good reason to leave, but I can’t kick the nagging feeling that there was a misunderstanding, or maybe, more of a mistake from his folks than he realized. What if they’re not as bad as he remembers? What if he could still have a normal family waiting for him? He missed out on a lot… No Midwinter, no birthdays either… Could there really be no love left?”
Cassie groans. “Do you think… There’s a part of Kiyo that still wants Christmas with his real family?”
Fatty hums, as theatrically as an opera singer like herself might.
“Fine questions indeed. It feels odd to turn your back on family completely. It’s true, neither of us can speak on Kiyo’s early life, yet, I share your feelings. It’s hard to imagine a family so utterly dysfunctional that turning to a life of crime as a child is, in fact, the better ending.”
“Ugh… It’s so hard! And even if I forget about them, I still don’t know what to get Kiyo for Christmas!”
“Kiyo’s hard to read, though I feel he’d be truthful with you. Perhaps he doesn’t know what he wants either.”
Cassie sighs loudly, slumping her head further off the dock. “You don’t know how true that is, Fatty… Not just for Christmas, for everything!”
Fatty laughs. “O, as prophetic as I am, your answer yet eludes me. Alas, it would be another story if it was possible to meet the family for yourself.”
“That’s the thing…” Cassie says, darkly, “As it happens, his family MIGHT be in town.”
Fatty gives a shocked expression. “Really? That certainly changes things.”
“It’s not for sure… Just a heavy suspicion.”
“Well… If I were you, I’d swim with the expectation that you’re not going to find anyone. Not on Christmas Eve. If you happen across them, meet them, talk to them, try to understand them. If not, well, perhaps a painting or a song would be fun. If nothing else, it’ll be certain the gift came from a place of love.”
“You’re right, Fatty…” Cassie lifts herself up and stands. “I’d better head to the art store, then.”
“Well timed.” Fatty says, “I’m due for carolling along the shoreline with my family. It was wonderful seeing you again, my darling! Wish yourself and the others a very merry Midwinter for me, won’t you?”
Cassie blows her a kiss, which she receives by swimming in a quick circle. “You too, Fatty! Have a merry Christmas! Say hi to your nephews for me!”
Fatty laughs. “Will do. Ciao~!”
With a splash, the Sharpedo vanishes into the murky water below.
Christmas Eve - Early Afternoon
Making good time, Kiyo arrives at the Clover Guild building. The entire building was, frankly, decked out in Christmas decor. Ropes of baubles line sides of the building, with fake icicles hanging down. A wooden cutout of a round snowman stood by the entrance- a fine substitute in an area with exceedingly rare snowfall.
Percival stood outside, watching the roof. He was wearing a giant fake beard and a floppy red hat with a cotton ball at the end.
“Seasons greetings, Kiyo.” The giant bird said. “I have relocated my post to the ground, for the time being, to allow Santa Claus more room to land his sleigh.”
“Debby’s dad? Is he visiting tonight?” Kiyo asks.
Percival seems unconvinced, for any number of reasons. “We will see.”
Kiyo shrugs, “Alright, well, have fun.”
Percival simply nods, and continues watching the skies, dutifully.
Kiyo continues into the guild. Dozens upon dozens of paper-cutout snowflakes are hung on strings, hanging from the ceiling of the lobby. He spots a large Christmas tree in the center of the guildhall, changing the feel of the room entirely. It was sparsely decorated, but Toge, Sneasel, and Booker seemed to be working hard to rectify that. Toge hovered around the tree, wrapping a popcorn garland around, while Sneasel and Booker seemed to be carefully placing glass ornaments.
Work in progress, I guess, Kiyo thought to himself.
The fox pattered up to the job board. It was mostly empty- probably for the best, given the festivities. Kiyo reached up on his hind legs, grabbed an unused tack, and slapped his own rescue request onto the board. It read:
RESCUE REQUEST
DRUNK MANKEY “Mr. Mankey” HUNGOVER IN LUSH PRAIRIE
DIFFICULTY: REALLY EASY
WARNINGS: Rescue target is annoying asfuckas hellvery annoying
MESSAGE: Help me! I’m a drunk loser. I’m pathetic. Please rescue me!
FLOOR: IDK
REWARD: 100 P
“Oh! Merry Midwinter, Kiyo!”
Kiyo turns and spots the tooth-rottingly adorable trio of girls, Blossom, Shelby, and Heidi. He drops down from the board.
“Uh, yeah. Merry Midwinter.” Kiyo responds to Blossom, the Bulbasaur.
“Merry Midwinter,” the Houndour, Heid says, taking care to be polite. She sniffs the air, and her pupils widen. “Oh, what’s that smell? It’s very strong… Peppermint candy?”
Kiyo hides his embarrassment behind a paw. “It’s some perfume Cassie got. Not my choice…”
“Well, it’s very festive. I think it's a great choice.” Heidi says.
“Thanks…”
Meanwhile, Shelby’s eyes are glued on the mission Kiyo just added to the board. “Look at this! Somebody needs a rescue, over at Lush Prairie. It says here it’s really easy. This could be a perfect job for us!”
Kiyo imagines the three innocent girls escorting the drunk, stank Mankey, and he grimaces. It’s not like him to be protective of others, but these three are a worthy exception. “No, no, you don’t want to do this job.”
Shelby, the Skitty, is unconvinced. “You don’t think we’re up to it?”
“Don’t make assumptions,” Blossom said, “I’m sure he’s just looking out for us.”
“That’s right. Like… I’m sure you could do this mission,” Kiyo says, “But you don’t want to. The rescue target is a gross drunkard, and he’s offering barely anything for the rescue. You can do much better than him. Besides, the Guild needs help with Midwinter decorations.”
Heidi gasps. “They do need our help!”
“That’s true…” Shelby admits, “These decorations are a bit… Shabby. We better help! Come on!”
The Skitty bounces off towards the craft table, most likely to ask for what needs doing. Heidi’s tail is wagging like she so dearly wants to give chase, but stays seated, perhaps not wanting to leave the conversation prematurely.
Blossom shakes her head, as though both disapproving and unsurprised at her sister’s energetic response.
“I agree. We’ll do what we can to help around here.” Blossom says. “Hopefully you can find someone to take your rescue mission. I’d hate to leave a Pokemon stranded on Midwinter's Eve of all days… ”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it gets taken care of,” Kiyo says, waving them off. Blossom bows, and Heidi quickly and carefully follows her lead, before they both follow behind Shelby.
Kiyo debates to himself whether or not he actually cares if Mankey freezes to death in the Mystery Dungeon, but before he decides either way, he notices two familiar faces walking his way.
“Yo! Mustel!”
The Zangoose stops and turns like a deer in headlights, and his partner, Serpes the aptly named Seviper, swivels around him to avoid running him over. These two were much less innocent, and more well suited to escorting the uncouth, stinking Mankey.
“...Y-yes?”
Kiyo points his paw at the mission board. “I got a job for you two. Should be easy as fuck.”
It seems the mustelid’s curiosity had been piqued. He walks towards the board, though Serpes outpaces him easily.
The snake sputters. “Only 100 poke? Tsk tsk tsk… I know a ssscam when I see one. I’m not leaving the warm, cozy guildhall for anything less than 200.”
“It’ll be really easy. Two seasoned rescuers such as yourselves could be in and out in less than an hour.”
Mustel squints at the poster. “Why does it specify that the rescue target is ‘annoying as fuck’? Who wrote this?”
Kiyo sighs, and digs through his pocket. “Fine. 200 poke, and I’ll even pay upfront. In fact, I don’t even care if you rescue him, just take the poster down so it’s not my problem anymore.”
The two rescuers look at each other, both uncertain, but not entirely dissuaded. Serpes does the snake equivalent of a shrug.
“I mean… It issss a very quick job. We could stop by the market on our way back, and pick up some sssstockings.”
Mustel squints. “What do you need stockings for?”
“It’s cold, Mustel. Ssssso. Ssssso. Cold.” The snake shivers. “One stocking should be five-times extra-large, to warm my whole body. The other one should be big and fat, to hold all the pressssents you’re buying me.”
Mustel shakes his head. “I didn’t expect to spend my Christmas Eve saving Private Primate, but why the hell not.”
Kiyo’s ears twitch when Mustel says Christmas. To him, it’d always been the default holiday, but now that he suspects his mentor to have been human, it’s a bit of a dogwhistle.
“Mustel, you’re human right?”
The Zangoose freezes up. “Um… Yes? Can’t you keep your voice down, asking that kind of a question? W-why do you ask, anyways?”
“I’ve got another question.” Kiyo says, thinking of Bean. “Do you remember being human?”
“Eh… Hardly. There’s a few things I can recall, but it’s all very foggy.”
“Then how do you know you’re human?” Kiyo says, perhaps more intensely than he’d meant.
Mustel raises his paws defensively.
“It’s not that foggy! It’s… It’s a disconcerting situation for me. I can feel that I have Pokemon instincts, but it feels wrong to follow them. That’s the human side of me, I think. I mean, for Christ's sake, when I woke up here I nearly stabbed my eye out with these,” he flourishes his long, silvery claws, “And even after all this time, I’m not used to having this giant, waggling thing following behind me at all times!”
For a split second, Serpes looks offended, until Mustel grabs and waves his huge fluffy tail around. “I still sit on it constantly. I don’t know how you, of all people, survive.”
Kiyo looks back at his unsightly mess of flowing tails and shrugs. “You get used to it, I guess. So… You just feel different? Like, not a Zangoose?”
“Y-yes. And there are some things I can vaguely recall. Like Big Chungus, and Chinese TikTok. It’s more the specifics of my life before being spawned here that I can’t remember… The only thing I do remember is picking up this book in a human library before I was transformed into a fat fluffy monster.”
Mustel holds out the ancient-looking tome that’s apparently bound to his soul. Kiyo had witnessed the effects of that firsthand, well enough to believe the eccentric Zangoose.
“Pfft. Yeah, that sounds like the sort of shit a human would say,” Kiyo groans, “Alright, whatever, thanks. Here’s your 200 Poke. Don’t spend it all in one place.”
Kiyo drops the coins into Mustel’s paw. He’s still making a small profit off what he lifted from the Mankey, which warms the fox’s heart.
“If you don’t mind me assssking,” Serpes drawls, “What was the purpose of interrogating my dear partner? Trying to spark another mid-life crisis?”
“Hah. No.” Kiyo deadpans, “I’m just trying to help Bean figure out if he’s human or not.”
“The bird?” Mustel says, “I hadn’t suspected him of… Well, anything at all. He’s very unassuming.”
“Yeah, well, he’s got amnesia. Real amnesia, not like the ‘big chungus’ thing you’ve got going on, so he’s been wondering about it.”
Mustel crosses his arms indignantly. “I do not have a big chungus thing going on-”
Serpes cuts him off, “It’s funny, now that you mention it, I can sssssee some similarities between him and my dear Mustel.” He pats Mustel’s back with the flat side of his tail-blade. “Both hate walking, and love free ridessss. Both think too much for their own good, and ssssspend too much time reading. Maybe Bean issss a human after all!”
“Those are… pretty specific.” Kiyo admits, “But thanks for your vote of confidence, I guess.”
“Happy to help!” Serpes says, “Now lets be off, Mustel. The sooner we rescue this drunken monkey, the sooner we can get drunk ourselvessss!”
“Those are the wrong kinds of Christmas Spirits… But yes, let’s be off.”
“Merry Christmas,” Kiyo says dismissively as the two depart.
“Merry Christmas!” They respond, more jolly than him.
Kiyo waits for them to leave, then begins heading towards the staircase. It was interesting, hearing a human’s perspective like this. It makes him think Bean is human after all, but the real problem is making sure the bird himself is completely, unshakably certain in that fact as well.
He figures Lliam, the enigmatic and gay guildmaster who first told Bean he was human would be a good place to start. He makes his way to the guildmaster’s office.
Christmas Eve - Afternoon
Back in Capim Town, on a table in an art store, a red piece of paper is folded smoothly over. It’s a large paper- large enough for Bean to use as a blanket, should he get cold. The bird stands on one leg, using the other to flatten down the paper around its corner, creating a trapezoid.
“Hey,” the Dunsparce working the counter asks, “You’re gonna pay for those, right?”
Bean hops backwards and slides forward a large Poke coin.
“Great! Let me know if you need anything else.”
Bean nods, and gets back to work. To the side, he’s propped up a page torn from an origami book. It’s helpful, but knowing is only half the battle. The execution is difficult, too. To the side is a small pile of crumpled, abandoned attempts- too worn to continue being used, even for practice.
Using a sharp-ish talon, Bean cuts the paper along the folded edge, turning the trapezoid into a perfect square. Then, he quickly folds it into an even 4-by-4 grid, each section an equally large square. This part has always been easy- prepping the paper to be folded. It’s basically autopilot.
It gives Bean more time to think. He imagines that, at this time, Kiyo is running around the guild trying to find a way to the bird’s, frankly, unfair Christmas wish. He knows there’s probably nothing the fox can actually do to answer that question for him- he’d need to figure it out for himself, but if there was ever a time for miracles, it’s Christmas. That’s what he’s been told anyways.
The crux of the issue, again, is his amnesia. As he absentmindedly folds paper, he recalls his first memory.
Bean remembers waking up in a corn field.
At first, he was so dizzy he could hardly stand. The sky above seemed so inviting, but he’d forgotten how to fly. Then he was surrounded by cultists. They picked him up- he was in no position to fight back- and put him in a literal cage.
Bean remembers the cage being huge. He himself is less than a half-tile tall. The cage the odd cultists had placed him in was large enough to fit a Dragonite. In fact, Bean remembers thinking he could comfortably sit two of himself between each of the bars.
The same could not be said for the cells Kiyo and Cassie had been thrown in. Bean remembers it well- how aggressive and stubborn Kiyo was, and in contrast, how shy Cassie had been. They were all confused and frustrated, but Cassie made a good point- all three had strengths that could be leveraged for their escape.
Of course, Kiyo and Cassie weren’t there to escape. Both had, in an ironic twist of fate, stolen a request from a guild neither were a part of. The request was simple- to chase off the cultists who’d invaded and taken over a humble farmer’s cornfield. This made their plans a bit more complicated, but it wasn’t impossible. There was wit between the three.
Bean closes his eyes, wistfully. It was such good fun, and yet, not the most fun they’d have. Far from it.
It was so fun, the three couldn’t imagine leaving each other. Kiyo, of course, tried to play it off. He was gracious enough to split the reward money, but afterwards, it was Cassie who convinced the three to stick together. She and Kiyo were headed the same direction anyways, and Bean was an amnesiac with no money, no combat skill, nowhere to go, and a voice so quiet, he could hardly be heard. At the time, it felt clear that he needed them more than they needed him.
Interestingly, with the benefit of hindsight, it would seem that the reverse ended up being true.
Bean snaps himself out of reminiscing when he realizes how far along his origami rose is without any errors. He checks the reference and draws his focus back to his project. Standing on either side of the soon-to-be rose, he bites down on the middle quadrant gently, pushing it into place, and twisting as instructed, to create the appearance of petals twisting around the pistil and stamen. He lets go- it looks great, actually. All that’s left to be done is round out the petals on the outside, which Bean does with his beak while holding the flower still with a talon.
He steps away and examines his work. It’s impressive- large enough to make an impact on Cassie’s silhouette, and add a bit of feminine charm.
Only one problem- How would it stay attached to her head?
Bean ponders it for just a second, before remembering he’s in an art store. He grabs a glue stick, bundles it and Cassie’s rose up inside his remaining colored papers, and flies off, exiting the store through an open window and heading towards the guild.
Just then, the bell above the door rings loudly.
“Welcome!” The Dunsparce chimes.
“Hiya!” Cassie says, “I need a canvas! And paint!”
The shopkeeper is happy to oblige. It isn’t cheap, but she pays in full. The canvas is large enough that she can barely hold it with her arms outstretched. Her paints are a simple starter kit, with the necessary colors to paint her compatriots Kiyo and Bean.
Cassie leaves the store sideways, waddling carefully to avoid dropping the canvas. Art like this is beyond her, to be honest, but it’s like Fatty said. Even if the art sucks, it’ll exude love like a fireplace exudes warmth. She only needs to find a place to settle down and paint.
She continues her sideways strut through the streets of Capim. It’s not dissimilar from carrying huge wooden beams or glass panes towards a construction site, except that her vision is totally blocked. Still, she attempts to take in the sounds of the town.
There’s an hour or two before the sun starts setting, which will put an end to Christmas Eve. Families still mill about, following their own festive traditions which she’s not privy to. There’s pokemon laughing over the sound of rushing water from the fountain in the city’s square. With her blocked view, she catches glimpses of individual Pokemon, probably parents, rushing through the street. Are they hastily gathering last-minute Christmas gifts?
Cassie giggles. She’s not one to judge, evidently.
Suddenly, Cassie freezes, her leg stuck up, midair. Trapped in her thoughts, she nearly stepped in a massive, slushy puddle of mud. The cold, sunrise rain had left a few of these about, though this one must have been particularly large to survive this long into the day.
Phew! She thinks to herself. Instead of stepping into the puddle, she does a small hop forward, clearing the puddle.
Her foot does not reach the ground- instead, she doubles over something- or someone- who’s soft as a pillow.
“Eeek!” Cassie gasps. The canvas flies from her claws, as the Pokemon she’d unknowingly jumped stumbles as well.
There’s a horrid splattering sound, and for a split second, Cassie worries she may have crushed the poor Pokemon beneath her weight. Once she regains her bearings, she realizes that, thankfully, it is not the case.
The Pokemon she’d fallen against regains their footing and slips away. Cassie slides off, nearly tripping, but regaining her stance, arms flailing wildly.
Cassie shakes her head and regains her bearings.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” She says, before she realizes who she’s talking to.
The Pokemon before her is a stunningly beautiful snowy-white Ninetales. Despite being nearly toppled by Cassie, a quite heavy Pokemon, she stands as the spitting image of grace. She’s tall- slightly taller than Cassie, even on four legs, and has a billowing bunch of silky tails waving behind her majestically. Her appearance is decidedly feminine, with eyelashes larger than Cassie’s, and a sophisticated posture. She’s even fashionable, wearing a dark blue suit-vest over her upper-torso.
Damn! She’s got that thing on! Cassie thinks to herself.
“Are you alright?” The Ninetales asks, with a smooth, mature voice that only doubles Cassie’s jealousy.
“Y-yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!”
“No, I should apologize. I shouldn’t have stood so close before you. I didn’t realize you were a Pokemon.” The Ninetales shakes her head, “I thought you were a signpost, truth be told. I couldn’t understand why a signpost would have such a festive scent.”
Cassie tilts her head, and tries to picture how she’d look standing still, nothing visible but the backside of a canvas. Then, her worry returns.
“Oh! My canvas!” She and the Ninetales both turn their heads, and find a second muddy puddle just a few paces from the first. The canvas is sitting right atop it, painting-side down.
“Noooooo!” Cassie whines, “Oh, it’s totally ruined.”
“You are an artist?” The Ninetales inquires, every word from her mouth spoken like poetry, “That’s terrible. Please, allow me to pay for your-”
“No, no,” Cassie says, “I’m not an artist. I was just gonna paint something for my friend, for Midwinter.”
“Ah!” The Ninetales gasps, “That’s even more humble. You must be a very good friend.”
Cassie chuckles nervously. “Well, I try…”
“I won’t take no for an answer. I-”
“There you are!” A new stranger says. Cassie turns, and can’t believe her eyes.
A second Ninetales, slightly larger than the first, appears, with an identical outfit and a strikingly similar appearance.
“Ah, sister,” The first Ninetales purrs, “You’ve found me in a bit of a situation.”
“There is no situation,” The larger, likely older Ninetales decrees, “You are needed at the tailor.”
“I will come, but I’ve caused an accident. I must repay this Sandshrew for damages.”
The older Ninetales looks Cassie over. She suddenly feels very, very small.
“Fine, she may return with us, and you can pay her at the tailor.”
“Oh, t-that’s okay,” Cassie says meekly, “I can get another one myself, I would hate to impose…”
“Unacceptable,” The older Ninetales states, “We will not owe. Come along.” She turns away and walks.
Cassie’s poor Sandshrew heart is racing a mile a minute, for a number of reasons.
“Don’t mind her,” The first Ninetales says calmly. Her voice is soothing. “She is strict, but means well. Follow me, yes?”
Cassie chuckles. “At this point, I’d feel bad if I didn’t.”
She has to make quick steps to keep up with the Ninetales’ stride. The larger one is walking at her full pace, it seems, but the younger one is keeping by Cassie’s side. As they walk, Cassie realizes how goofy her strut must seem compared to the unfair elegance of the Ninetales. It seems like every step is effortless, as if she’s gliding along the ground. Cassie bounces up and down, like she’s making due with the body she has.
“If you don’t mind me saying…” Cassie admits, cutting the silence, “I adore your outfit. You look gorgeous!”
“Ah, thank you,” She smiles, “You are very kind. I didn’t pick it out myself. My family has a rather stringent dress code.”
Cassie sighs. “That… Actually sounds kinda nice. I have to bug my family to wear anything… They don’t understand fashion!”
“You do fashion?”
“Not professionally, no. I just like to dress up sometimes!”
“That sounds fun. I’m happy to wear whatever I’m given, and trust that it isn’t unsightly. I haven’t an eye for it myself, you see.”
“Well, rest assured, you look fantastic.”
“You should see my stage clothes,” She says, “I’m curious if you’d enjoy them.”
“Stage clothes? Is that why we’re headed to the tailor?”
“Yes. It’s my turn to be fitted. We have a performance later tomorrow, for Midwinter. I’m a musician, you see.”
Yes, I know Cassie thinks to herself. “Wow! Have I seen your posters before?”
“It is possible. I’m told they are spread far and wide. I’d imagine an orchestra of nine Ninetales would be memorable.”
“I think I have! Gosh, I can’t believe I’m talking to a celebrity!”
That was a lie. Notoriety didn’t phase Cassie much anymore. Technically, her wanted posters- and those of her aliases- were probably more common than this musician’s advertisements. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
“It’s interesting to hear that,” The Ninetales mulls, “I don’t envision myself as a celebrity. Our symphony is famous, but not me. I’m just one thread in our tapestry. It sounds despondent to admit it, but it’s not such a bad thing. I’m quite content to vanish into the music.”
“You must really enjoy playing music…”
“I do,” She says sweetly, “I could do it forever.”
When they arrive at the tailor’s work, Cassie immediately notices two additional Ninetales guarding the entrance. They’re dressed the same as the others, sitting silently, with unreadable expressions. They’re both about the same height as the first Ninetales Cassie met.
“The Sandshrew is our guest, for the time being,” The larger one leading them notes. The two guards look at Cassie but don’t react in any tangible way. She begins to feel small once again.
The interior of the studio is cramped. Ignoring racks of cloth, tools, mirrors, and finished outfits, there are four additional Ninetales, all with giant billowing tails behind them taking up an unreasonable amount of space, for a total of eight. Cassie plants her arms firmly by her sides- she is surrounded by an insane amount of fluffy tails- more than ever before in her life, but the social and physical ramifications of touching them at this time are extreme. A bead of sweat rolls down her forehead. Her chances of survival have never been lower.
“Mother,” the larger Ninetales says, “She is here, and a guest in need of payment, it seems.”
Cassie feels a bit bad, being introduced like that.
A powerful, female voice comes from another room.
“Very well. Bring them here.”
The elder sister gestures them forward. Cassie’s friend- the smaller Ninetales she’d fallen over- gives her a reassuring look and leads her into a room in the back.
The room is clearly meant for fitting outfits. There is a large cushion in the center, and mirrors on every wall. There’s an Alakazam dressed to the nines with a toolbelt covered in implements Cassie couldn’t name.
In addition, there is a giant Ninetales. Snow white, like the rest, with a far more extravagant outfit. She wears cloth accents over her paws, a gemstone-encrusted gold necklace, a silvery ribbon which drapes over her tails effortlessly, and a glittery, aurora-blue cape which covers her hindquarters without restricting her tails. Her hair, her fur, her icy expression, her eyelashes and eyes, they’re all perfect.
To Cassie, she is beyond beauty. It almost distracts her from the cold, judgmental gaze she’s receiving.
“I apologize for the delay,” The smaller Ninetales says, sitting down onto the cushion, “I lost track of time, and foolishly bumped into this Sandshrew artist, ruining her canvas. I’d like to pay for a replacement.”
“Of course,” the mother says, staring daggers into Cassie, “We will reimburse any damages. I apologize for my daughter's actions.”
The mother does not bow her head.
“I-it’s nothing,” Cassie says, “Apology accepted!”
“Also, mother,” the younger ninetales adds, “I invited her to watch my fitting. She has an eye for fashion.”
“Interesting.” The mother says.
She stands, and her size becomes apparent. She’s as tall as one-and-a-half of her daughters, it seems, or three Kiyos, by Cassie’s estimation. She walks with grace, which is expected, but also, weight, which is unexpected. Her eyes don’t leave Cassie for a moment.
The mother stops before she bumps Cassie with her snout.
She takes a deep breath.
Cassie holds her hers.
“...What an interesting scent you have,” She says, “It’s almost… Familiar.”
“It’s p-peppermint,” Cassie says, “Perfume, I mean! A Midwinter classic. I still have some if you’d like to try for yourself.”
The mother does not respond.
“I quite liked it, Mother,” the daughter says, as the Alakazam begins taking her measurements.
There is a pause. Cassie feels herself being analyzed. Fear begins to seep in.
“Thank you for the offer,” the mother purrs, backing away to lie on her side, “I shall pass. Perhaps we’ll consider perfume in the future.”
Cassie takes a huge, internal sigh of relief.
“So,” The mother begins again, “You have an eye for fashion?”
“Well… I like to think so…” Cassie says sheepishly.
“And do you approve?” She says, a small smug grin appearing over her face. She looks over her own outfit.
Cassie can’t help but smile back. “Oh, gosh, yes. I can’t imagine how much work went into it… The drapes on your tails are genius. The paw coverings, well, I’ve never seen anything like that, but they’re so… sophisticated! The colors of everything- every tassel, every button, it all accents your natural fur perfectly!”
Cassie sighs. “You are so beautiful. I…”
I will never look like her, she thinks to herself, envy and sorrow welling up inside.
“...I’m stunned! Whoever designed your outfit is a master of the craft.”
The old Ninetales gives a resonant, motherly chuckle. “Oh, you are a gem. Thank you. We spent far too much time and money crafting this dress, so I’m pleased to hear your compliments. My daughter did not lie- you have a sense for fashion. Perhaps, if you are looking for work…”
The old Ninetales glances towards the Alakazam tailor. He looks back with a quirked eyebrow.
Cassie knows better than to tell these foxes her place of employment.
“Ah, thank you, but no, I’m happily employed already.”
“Well,” the mother drawls, “I just hope your talents are not going to waste.”
The giant fox looks at her daughter and observes the tailoring like a hawk. Cassie watches as well- the process is quite interesting- but she’s in her own thoughts more than anything. She’s wondering what she got herself into. It doesn’t seem like danger, and it doesn’t seem like the woman knows what Cassie’s hiding, but nothing could shake the feeling she has, that she’s sunken deep into the monster’s lair.
Cassie looks at the mother's tails. It’s hard to tell, as they sometimes appear as though they’re blending into each other, but unless it’s a trick of the eye, Cassie is certain that Kiyo’s mother has more than nine tails.
Christmas Eve - Afternoon
"You said Bean was a human," Kiyo says to Lliam, in his messy-as-always office, "How did you know?"
"I can just sense it. It's in your aura." Lliam chides. "I've never been wrong, you know! I have a perfect record! Bean is undoubtedly a human. His soul, if you believe it, is from the human world. It's older than it should be."
"That’s fine and all," Kiyo bemoans, "But what if your word isn’t good enough? How can I prove it to him?"
Lliam shakes his head, his smile unwavering.
"There is no way. Amnesia is a separate issue from being human. Many of the humans here remember everything, as I'm sure you know. Of course, many do not."
"So it's a medical problem," Kiyo spits, "I'd be better off asking Kina."
"Well... Yes!" Lliam admits. "She's the expert. If there's anything you could do for Bean's memory, she'd know!"
That led Kiyo to stomp into the nurse's office.
“You aren’t the first person to ask about this,” Kina says with a sigh, “Amnesia is a terrible thing. There’s nothing you can do but hope the memories return.”
Kiyo groans. “Is that really it? That’s fucked.”
“There’s a little bit more, but it’s not much. Some patients report regaining memories after doing or seeing something related- For example, an amnesiac remembering their job as a miner after holding a pickaxe. If you’re lucky, you might randomly ‘trigger’ a memory for Bean, but… Obviously if he doesn’t remember anything, there’s no telling what that might be.”
Kiyo scowls. “So, what, I’m just probing around his brain, hoping to spark something?”
“Did somebody say probing?” Cyndaquil says. He flings his curtains aside, to reveal himself, lying on his side with his paw on his hip, as seductive as a cretin like him could be. He has a massive head wound- gauze covers both of his eyes.
“Because, well, let's just say, I’m trying to spark something too!”
“Please ignore him,” Phanpy says, appearing beside his injured teammate, “He has severe brain damage.”
Kiyo and Kina look at each other with matching, curious expressions.
“You know,” Kiyo says, “I gotta admit. Cyndaquil is way less creepy with his eyes covered.”
“...Yeah.” Kina agrees. “It's nice that he can’t ogle us up and down.”
“Don’t worry!” Cyndaquil says, with a confident grin, “I’ve got both of you committed fully to memory. In fact, I’m rotating a 3D model of Kiyo in my head as we speak.”
“Phanpy,” Kina says, interrupting Cyndaquil, “You’re human, correct? Could you think of a very important memory? Something you think you’d never be able to forget?”
The elephant gives himself time to think.
“That’s a tough question. Maybe this is boring, but I think for me it’d be graduating college. It felt like the culmination of my whole life’s effort, at that point. Why?”
Kina turns to Kiyo. “That’s the kind of thing that might heal Bean’s memory. Of course, you’d need to express it in a better way than just, you know, speaking. Maybe images would work better, I’m not sure, but if you really want to help Bean, you should ask around and try to figure out what kind of memories are important to humans. Maybe you can find something that’d spark a connection?”
Kiyo nods, “That’s… A good idea. If we manage to spark a memory, then he’ll know for sure that he’s human. No room for error there.”
“And no shortage of humans to interview,” Phanpy adds, “I’m sure they’d be willing to help, if it’s for Bean.”
“I can manage talking with a couple of humans. …Well, I’ll have to manage.” Kiyo turns and makes way for the door. With an actual, tangible plan to make Bean’s Christmas wish come true, he feels much more confident.
“Much appreciated, ‘doc.”
“Good luck Kiyo! Oh, and merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas.” He parrots.
The first set of humans on Kiyo’s list are his bandmates, Tropius and Ross. The three had managed to, despite all odds, become friends through the hardships and triumphs of playing rock music for the summer festival.
It was a bit of fortune that Kiyo found both at the same time.
“I know we talked about this a while ago,” Kiyo says, watching Ross cling to Tropius’ neck with a flowery green bundle in his arms, “But I could use more detail. What’s something you remember vividly from the human world? Something you could never forget?”
“I remember ladders,” Ross says, desperately trying to hang a festive garland along the edges of Tropius’ roof, “And the Alamo.”
Tropius scoffs. “Oh, come on. Can’t you give Kiyo a real answer?”
“I’m focusing!”
“Whatever,” Tropius rolls his eyes, “Let me think.”
“Hmm... Maybe it's the holidays, but I don't think I can ever forget the feeling of waking up on Christmas morning as a kid. Waking up early, before everyone else, too excited about all the presents to go back to sleep... I'd just stay in bed, impatiently fighting my blankets, staring at the clock. When everyone else was finally up, my mom would make hot chocolate and warm cinnamon buns for us to have while we opened up gifts. I'd go back upstairs after and play with all my new toys or video games... It was such a pure and happy time for a kid.”
Tropius looks to the side, reflecting.
“As I got older, it became less about the presents and more about time with family and friends..." He looks away, bashfully. "...and the food. It was nice too, of course, but the childhood Christmas experience... That’s something I’ll always cherish.”
“That’s nice and all,” Ross says, “But can you swing your neck back towards the house?”
Tropius glowers, and does so. “Yeah, yeah… How about you Ross?”
With his living crane operating smoothly once again, Ross finished up sticking the garland onto Tropius’ roof. He allows himself to slide down the dinosaur’s neck like a firepole, then hops off.
“You know, lately I’ve really been missing fast food.” He says. “Sure, Beast is a great chef, but there’s something missing. There’s no grease! No MSG! Nothing here makes me groggy and lethargic after eating it, and that’s a shame!”
“...Really? THAT'S what you miss about fast food?”
“There’s more to it than that. Drive through service is nice. I remember stopping by the same 24/7 McDonalds all the time. Or Denny’s. Man, Denny’s was the spot! A grand-slamwich and hash browns at 3 AM always hit.”
He sighs wistfully. “If there’s a 24/7 diner open in Capim Town, I haven’t found it.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Tropius says, “Though for my money, you can do better than McDonalds. If you're getting burgers, Five Guys or In-N-Out is the play. For late nights, Wendy's is way better than McDonalds - there's little junk food better than fries dipped in a chocolate Frosty.”
“Wendy’s has objectively worse burgers,” Ross says. “And if it’s fries and milkshakes you want, go Arby’s. Or, hell, even Checkers.”
“Wait, wait!” Kiyo exclaims, frantically writing their musings down on a pad of paper. “You fat fucks are rambling too quick. Run that back. Let’s talk McDonalds.”
Next, Kiyo finds the small group of guildies still decorating the tree. The tree, alongside the main room in general, looks more complete than earlier- Team Petal-Purr is adding a lot of charm everywhere, while Booker, Sneasel, and Togetic focus on the tree.
“Kiyo!” Sneasel says, with a genuine smile. “Happy Midwinter! Are you here to help with the tree? …And why do you smell like candy?”
“No, and don’t ask,” He says bluntly. “Looks like you three have the decorations covered, anyways.”
“I w-wouldn’t say t-that…” Togetic says, weariness in his voice, “we’re m-missing a light-up orb… T-they store energy and resonate with each other, b-but without every orb in the chain, none of them will light up, and I can’t find the last one anywhere…”
“D-don’t worry Toge. We can all look for the missing orb once we’re done with these other ornaments.” Booker says.
“Do we need to put all these up? Some of these charms are… weird.” Sneasel holds up a small clay sculpture of two tall, rectangular buildings, and a large grey bird with outstretched wings flying into the buildings. It has a string and a hook attached, but it doesn’t feel festive. “Who made this? I don’t get it.”
Booker and Toge glance at each other knowingly.
“Well, tree-lights crisis aside,” Kiyo says, diverting the conversation, “I was hoping to ask the humans here a quick question.”
Togetic stops digging around his box and floats calmly. “O-oh, uh, sure. A-ask away.”
“What’s something you could never forget from the human world?” Kiyo asks.
“O-oh, well, t-that’s easy!” Toge says, picking up energy with each word, “There's so many different events from my Mongolian basket weaving forum I'll never forget. The Shazbowl might be the premiere example of our based-”
“Toge-” Booker interrupts, as loud as he can, “I don’t think Kiyo’s looking for that kind of example…”
“Oh…” Toge says, deflating a bit. Sneasel looks bummed, as if she was looking forward to the esoteric rant.
“I m-m-mean… I guess l-like p-p-pancakes a lot… It’s n-nice that the natives m-m-make them too, I would have m-m-missed them…”
Booker taps his hands together sheepishly, before responding.
“Um… N-not to downplay the pancakes for T-toge, but I would say, I’d never forget m-my family. I have a lot of good m-memories of spending Christmas with them… W-we would always spend a lot of time d-decorating the tree together. It was very c-comfy.”
“I remember learning a few Christmas songs on the flute. I u-used to play for my family during, well, family gatherings. I… I always got nervous playing for a crowd, but it's still a good memory…”
He sighs. “I’m very h-happy here, but I still miss them, especially around Christmas.”
“I can relate…” Sneasel mulls, “I’m sure they’re doing well, Booker.”
Booker smiles. “I hope so. S-sorry, I didn’t mean to sour the mood…”
“Don’t be sorry, I’m the one who asked.” Kiyo says, scribbling on his pad, “Nothing wrong with missing your family, I guess. You're not the first one to bring it up.”
“What’s with the questions, by the way?” Sneasel asks, arms crossed. “Just curious?”
“For Christmas I’m hoping to cure Bean’s amnesia. Or, at least, see if we can spark a memory for him, so I’m polling the humans for data.”
“T-that’s nice… I h-hope it w-works out.” Togetic says. “S-sounds like a t-tough gift…”
Kiyo shrugs, “It kinda is, but whatever.” He stuffs his notepad into his bushel of tails. “Alright, I’m off. Good luck with your lighting situation.”
“Good luck!” Sneasel says. Once Kiyo’s sufficiently distanced from the three, she turns back towards Togetic.
“So, what was that about a ‘Shazbowl’?”
“This one’s Sutera Cordata!” Rain says, as if anyone knew what that meant.
The next human Kiyo found by accident- he followed the scent of sugar cookies baking into the nearby dining hall, where a table had been commandeered to prepare Christmas cookies. There, a Corvisquire oversaw a pale, grey Eevee use a dull spike to carve dough into decidedly botanical shapes. They didn’t mind when he joined them to watch, and introduced themselves as Cory and Rain respectively. The Eevee’s current project was a flower with five petals and a round center.
Kiyo tilts his head. “It just looks like a generic flower.”
“Gotta agree, mate,” Cory says, with a satisfied smirk, “They’re all just flour to me.”
Kiyo glowers at the bird, who gulps, and removes his smirk.
“A-anyways, mate, shouldn’t you be making these into Midwinter shapes? Like, a tree? Or a Delibird?”
“I can’t get over that name,” Rain said, holding her head in her paw, “It’s Christmas. A Christmas tree. Midwinter sounds like a fairytale.”
Ah, Kiyo thinks to himself, another human. They really are a fucking everywhere.
Cory shrugs. “The point still stands. At least try making some mistletoe!”
Rain sighs. “I wanted to do a bunch of weed leaves after this, but I guess you're right.”
“Rain,” Kiyo says, “You’re a human right?”
“Umm…” She looks at him like a victim caught in a spotlight, “...Yes?”
“Great. What’s the most important thing you remember about being human?”
“That’s a serious question!” Cory squawks. “Where’s this coming from?”
“Oh. Hmm…” the Eevee strokes her chin with a paw.
“Probably my family? I dunno, I guess that's pretty obvious. I kinda miss them... I haven’t really thought about it… Maybe that’s for the best?”
Kiyo doesn’t look away, as if wanting more of an answer, so she continues.
“Uh… I also remember being able to hold things much more easily. I miss having hands. Paws are okay, but doing crafts like this is annoying. Holding this knife thing is harder than it should be.”
She holds her paws up and flexes them, to demonstrate the lack of dexterity.
“You had hands?!” Cory asks. “Like, big ol’ five fingered hands?”
“Of course! All humans had hands! Well, unless you were a pirate, then you’d have one hand and one hook.”
“Well no wonder you’re so handy with that spike! Haw haw!”
Kiyo and Rain look at each other, unamused.
“Ey, ese, no need for that kinda language!,” a Mienfoo said, “But yes, we are both fuck-ass humans. You’re got a good eye!”
“Great,” Kiyo mumbles with zero enthusiasm, “I’ve got a question, if you don’t mind.”
Kiyo found these two sipping eggnog in the second floor lounge, which housed one of the few surviving couches in the Clover Guild building. Santos, the Mienfoo with a red paisley bandanna wrapped around his forehead, was reclining, legs resting on the coffee table, with a frosty glass of eggnog. Sierra, a Gabite, was similarly reclining, with a steaming mug of hot cocoa instead. She finishes taking a sip.
“Shoot,” she says.
“What’s something you’ll never forget about being human?”
Sierra is caught off-guard. “That’s-”
“Oh, that’s easy!” Santos exclaims, “I’ll never forget the shoot-outs we had, blasting pendejos in the street like it was nothing. Oh man, did that shit feel like the end of the world! But that’s just how it was, cuz. One step onto the wrong turf, and it’s on SIGHT! BLAT BLAT BLAT!”
Santos stands to make punching motions alongside his interpretation of gunshots, before falling back and reclining once again. Kiyo jots all this down in his notebook.
“Good times. Scary times, I'll tell ya, and good times. How ‘bout you, Sierra?”
Sierra clears her throat.
“Well… It seems like cheating to include cars, or the internet, so I’ll skip those. There… Wasn’t too much excitement in my life as a human. Nothing like this dingus here says he did…" She lightly elbows the Mienfoo beside her. "I suppose I’ll never forget playing guitar in my band. The long rides on the tour bus, messing with my bandmates to pass the time… All the time I spent banging my head against the desk to write good riffs… Watching the guys in the basements we played beat the crud out of each other to our music, and being completely in-sync with the rest of the band… Those are my most cherished memories.”
She grins and glances at Santos, “I get a bit of that last feeling when Santos and I are clearing a dungeon together, but besides that, I doubt I'll ever be able to fully recapture that magic. It's quite difficult to keep playing with… These.”
The Gabite holds up her simple, sharp claws. Kiyo tilts his head, still scribbling words down on his pad.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Kiyo says, “I’ve seen less, uh, limbed Pokemon than you play music, and damn well too.”
Sierra takes another long sip of hot cocoa. “Hmm. Maybe.”
“Ooh, fuck yeah!” Santos interrupts, jumping to stand, “If we’re talkin’ music, we gotta get my rap career back on the rails. Got straight bars I been sitting on since last time. Yo, yo…!”
Santos proceeds to bust it down. Sierra buries her head in her arms. Kiyo slips away.
Kiyo found himself on the roof, where Percival would typically perch and watch for intruders. As he learned earlier, Percival was on the ground floor, so Kiyo expected the roof to be a quiet reprieve. As he often is, expecting pleasant things such as this in the Clover Guild, Kiyo was wrong.
A Vaporeon and an Espeon he’d met before, briefly, are arranging candles on the roof like a runway. Kiyo squints.
“What am I looking at?”
Both look his way. d'Alin, the Vaporeon, gives him a friendly wave.
“Merry Christmas, Kiyo the Keokeo!” He says.
“Merry Christmas, d'Alin the fish.” Kiyo retorts. d'Alin gasps.
“Fish? That doesn’t sound quite right. Aren’t I more of, say, a fish-fox-cat-thing?”
“No,” Kiyo deadpans, “You’re a fish. Just a fish.”
“Oh, you’re no fun. Merry Christmas anyways! Are you here to help with our runway?”
“Not at all.” Kiyo replies, looking it over. Arimis continues placing candles one by one. They haven’t been lit yet, which is a smart move. “You think Santa needs these to find the roof?”
“It’s not about that!” Shouts Pirth, the blind, species-confused Sawsbuck, who was hidden inside a fake bush near the edge of the roof. Kiyo startles, jumping up with his hackles raised. “This is an ambush! From what I’ve gathered, Santa, one of Arceus’ strongest soldiers, has eight or so Sawsbuck enslaved to pull his sleigh. This year, I asked for the privilege of sending those same slaves straight into Girantina’s cold embrace, as they deserve.”
He gives a genuine, purehearted grin. “Hopefully I’m on the nice list!”
Kiyo squints, and looks back to d'Alin and Arimis. The racist Sawsbuck still believed he was a ‘super leafeon’? They both shrug and nod, gesturing for Kiyo to follow along.
“Right,” Kiyo says, “And you’re going to be waiting in that bush all night?”
“It will be my honor to wait in this bush all night!”
“Sounds like a jolly good evening.” Kiyo deadpans. “d'Alin, you’re a human, right?”
“Y-yes, I am. You don’t need to speak so loudly, saying things like that...”
“Tell me,” Kiyo takes out his notepad once again, “What was it like being human?”
Arimis finishes placing her candles and pads over, perhaps curious to hear his answer as well. d'Alin takes some time to consider the question.
“Well… I’d say ‘tiring’.”
Kiyo furrows his brow and scribbles that down quickly. “Really? What’s so tiring about it? Don’t you have machines to fight for you?”
The fish’s fins twitch, as though he’s surprised to hear that coming from the snow-white fox. “Where’d you hear that from?”
Kiyo rolls his eyes. “I'm not stupid, there's humans all over the place here. I know all about guns, and how you used to be a shitty hairless monkey that never needed to fight. I'm asking...... Well, let me rephrase the question. What's something you'd never forget about being human? Something really really important?"
He takes his time to think, once again.
“Tough question… I think I’d say our accomplishments, as humans, are something I’d never forget.”
“Care to elaborate?” Kiyo asks, almost like a news reporter. For once, it seems his behavior matches his outfit.
“Sure. It’s like… It took humans years of hard work and research to do some of the things Pokemon might take for granted. Like, flight. That was a massive achievement. Or landing on the moon. Or building an internet infrastructure. It all took an incredible amount of teamwork, coordination, dedication, and grit! It’s a testament to human perseverance that we managed to accomplish some of these feats in the first place.”
d'Alin goes quiet for a moment, then he turns to the mute, telepathic Espeon beside him. “Yes, we landed a spacecraft on the moon. Isn’t that cool?”
“I’m not sure what that all that implies,” Kiyo says, “But thanks anyways. Maybe it’ll help.”
d'Alin nods. “You’re welcome, I suppose. Is that all?”
Kiyo sighs. “I think so. I’m nearing my limit for the inane bullshit humans always bring about. This investigative reporting shit ain’t easy.”
The fish nods, “I would imagine. Well, hopefully we were of some service.” Arimis, the Espeon, leans towards d’Alin's right. He lights up, and continues, “…Oh, and Arimis says ‘Happy Midwinter, Kiyo’!”
“Happy Midwinter, you three,” Kiyo returns wearily, grateful the Espeon kept true to her word, staying out of his mind. He continued heading down the stairs from which he came.
That’s enough data, Kiyo thinks to himself. He’d interviewed more than a dozen humans and gotten a copious number of references he hardly understood, but hoped Bean might recognize. Now all that’s left is to transcribe the data into something that might resonate more easily.
Kiyo heads to the library, to pick up some posterboards and a marker.
CHRISTMAS EVE - LATE AFTERNOON
Being privy to the tailoring process for a musical celebrity, as it turns out, is a Christmas present in itself for Cassie. The discomfort of being so close to a potential threat mixes with the thrill of fashion happening live. It helps that the matriarch herself seems to be hospitable, but her size and genuinely imposing aura prevent Cassie from letting her guard down completely.
In addition, being surrounded by so many snow-white Ninetales has Cassie wondering how Kiyo might look when he evolves. Based on what she’s observed, he could end up being quite a handsome gentleman, which makes her smile.
The finished stage clothes for the younger Ninetales are phenomenal- A slightly less extravagant version of the Mother’s getup, with duller blues, less frills, and less gems. It still accentuates the Ninetales wonderfully. She is the image of stoic perfection.
“That about does it,” The mother says. “You look good, dear. Well done.”
She nods to the tailor, who bows gently. The whole time, he hasn’t spoken a word. Cassie wonders if they knew this tailor before today or not.
“Thank you, Mother,” Ninetales says, standing and doing a small spin. “It’s comfortable.”
She looks herself up and down, then looks at Cassie, expectantly. Cassie gives her a few small claps.
“It’s marvelous! It’s a more subdued version of your mom’s outfit, but I think it works. The fitting is perfect, and you’ve got the body to pull it off easily.”
“I wouldn’t want to stand out, anyhow.” She says. “Thank you.”
She turns to her mother. “Is there anything else to be done here, Mother?”
The mother shakes her head. “No. Pray, gather your sisters and wait at the restaurant- not the inn- and I’ll meet you there shortly. I must pay our tailor, and our young friend.”
“As you wish,” She replies. She faces Cassie and bows politely. “Our concert is at the docks, tomorrow. It’s already been paid for in full, so I hope to see you there. And, I hope your art project ends well.”
“Thanks! It was wonderful meeting you.” Cassie does a small curtsy, to which the Ninetales smiles.
Cassie’s Ninetales friend departs. She can hear chatter outside, and movement, as the others leave as well.
“Now,” The mother says, standing up. “As for payment…”
She reaches around, curling her body to reach her muzzle into her tails. When she returns, she’s carrying a large cloth sack, jingling with coin. She drops it before the Alakazam who takes it and bows.
“It was my pleasure.” He says, voice startlingly deep. Then, he exits the room, leaving Cassie and the Mother alone.
An unusual amount of time passes. Cassie stands there awkwardly. She realizes the mother is listening intently, and waiting.
“You know, I really don’t need-”
“No, no.” The woman says.
She stands still and watches Cassie, unblinking.
Cassie stares back, with a cold sweat running down her neck.
They both hear the front door shutting, from outside the room. The building is silent, and there is no one nearby. Then, the Ninetales reaches back into her tails.
Cassie feels some relief when she turns back and drops a smaller, but similarly designed pouch of coins before her.
“Ah, well, if you insist.” Cassie says sheepishly.
Before she can grab the money, a light, delicate, square of fabric floats down on top of it, covering her claws. It’s a square-shaped scarf. At first glance, it appears extraordinarily expensive. The cloth is absurdly silky, and with silver threads running through it, forming a pattern that appears to form a wheel with nine fox-tail shaped legs.

Cassie looks up at the Ninetales, whose eyes have become slits.
“You are to bring that to him.”
Cassie’s stomach drops, and her blood runs cold.
“Uh… Who-”
“I am more than 200 years old,” the Ninetales says, her commanding voice drowning out any strength Cassie might have had.
“I have lived many lives. I have lied and been lied to. I know you are lying. I know there's more that you know. I'm not so easily fooled by garish perfume. I can smell my kin all across your body. There is no point in lying.”
“Oh.” Cassie says.
“I assume you are lovers,” she says, with sadness in her voice, “yet he hasn’t told you who he is. If he had, you would not dare be here.”
Cassie stays silent. She isn’t sure if she could speak up if she tried.
"I'll give you a little history lesson, then.” The mother continues, pacing the room yet never looking away. “He was my ninth. He was meant to complete my orchestra, but instead, he took after the father he never knew. He rejected his talent, and his beauty.”
“At the time, I was… colder than I am now. I was crueler. He was a disappointment, and I couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t be trained. Following in his father’s footsteps, he ran away, and I never bothered to chase him. I assumed he was gone. I assumed I could replace him easily. Alas, fate had other plans."
The woman sighs, deeply. Only now does she avert her gaze, out of shame.
"I tried to replace him. Many, many, many times, but I could not. Now, I've given up. I accepted that he was the last child I'd ever bear, and accordingly, I accepted that my perfect orchestra would remain incomplete forever. After all, perfection is a trait that runs in my blood only. I’d believed that he wasted it- I gave up hope that I might find him alive someday. I’m in disbelief that he lives.”
The woman looks back to Cassie.
“That cloth is the symbol of his heritage. Our meeting here cannot have been a mistake. His destiny is a seat in my orchestra. Bring him the cloth, and…”
She takes a moment to consider her next words carefully. There is a tinge of regret on her otherwise executive voice.
“If nothing else, make it known that he would be welcomed home. That our family has changed."
Cassie does not respond- internally, she is still reeling from the idea of her and Kiyo being lovers. It’s not true, obviously, but since the three of them sleep in a cuddly pile each night, it must appear that way to a fox reading scents. The idea alone brings an absurd blush to her cheeks.
“I…” Cassie tries to speak, but it’s hard to find the words given that, and the revelations dropped upon her, “I…”
She takes a breath, and feels the cloth in her claws. It’s so, so soft. Almost as soft as Kiyo’s tails.
“Okay,” She finally says, “I will.”
Christmas Eve - Sundown
When Kiyo enters the guild’s library, he finds Bean on a table, reading a book someone’d left on a table.
“Hi, Bean.” Kiyo says. “You been in here this whole time?”
Bean looks up from his book and hops over to the side of the table, towards Kiyo. He shrugs, more or less, and excitedly hops towards the origami rose he’d made.
Kiyo squints. “Is that… For Cassie?”
Bean nods, and squeaks out his reasoning. Kiyo is impressed.
“Alright, yeah, that’s a great idea. I’m sure she’ll love it. Here, I can carry those extras if you want.”
Bean nods graciously. Kiyo grabs Bean’s extra couple of papers and the glue stick he’d brought from the art store.
“Heads up, I gotta work on your Christmas present here. Can you keep your eyes locked to that book?”
Bean tilts his head, as if to question what kind of work he’d need to do here.
“It’s… Hey, you’re the one who asked for a crazy gift!” Kiyo smirks, “I’m just doing what I have to! Don’t blame me!”
Bean acquiesced.
Kiyo worked in hasty silence while Bean read. True to his honor, Bean didn’t peek. It was easy to get absorbed into the book- it detailed metallurgy, and the way by which one might bend a spike into a more useful shape. It’s something Cassie was already familiar with, so there wasn’t much practical use in him reading the book, but it was plenty entertaining.
Eventually Kiyo stands up on two legs, lifts his cap, and wipes nonexistent sweat off his brow. “God damn. Alright, I’m done. You can look, I got ‘em folded up.”
Bean does look. Kiyo’s carrying a stack of large white sheets folded longways, to prevent anything from being visible.
The bird isn’t sure how it’s meant to constitute a Christmas present, but he has faith in Kiyo.
Kiyo decides they should wait downstairs, so they don’t miss Cassie. Bean agrees. They head down, and watch the sunset lightbeams peek through the Guild’s openings, signifying the near-end of Christmas Eve.
For how late it is, there’s still plenty of energy. Various guildies mill about- many appear to be looking for something. The decorations are mostly set, but notably, the Christmas tree still isn’t lit. The whole thing looks a bit sad, and dull, without the lights they had last year. Besides that, the room is decked out- it looks great, and even smells great.
After a bit, Kiyo watches Mustel and Serpes return from their rescue, carrying a gift bag. They wave.
“You weren't lying about the resssscue target,” Serpes chides, in passing, “He really was annoying! And pennilesssss, too!”
Kiyo shrugs. “Not much to be done there.”
Soon, Kiyo and Bean begin to catch the smell of a masterful, upcoming dinner, wafting out from the kitchen. Beast, their talented chef, is hard at work preparing a festive meal for the entire guild. Last year, they weren’t around for Christmas, so they missed out on the feast. Having heard tales of how delicious it was, Bean is very much looking forward to eating four-times his weight tonight. Maybe they could even sit outside and watch the stars as they dine, now that there’s a tidy little eating area between the guild and Tropius’ house. In fact, given how many new recruits the guild has, if everyone shows up for Christmas dinner, they’ll probably be forced to sit outside anyways.
As they wait Kiyo’s ears bend towards the sudden noise of Sneasel yapping. He turns, and finds her walking alongside Rain, explaining something excitedly.
“...they were up against a group that trained nonstop, every day, for months. MONTHS! And they had to pull together a team from scraps at the very last second. They had worse equipment and they’d never fought together before, but they managed to win against impossible odds. It was completely humiliating for the other side!”
“Uhhh…” Rain says, trying desperately to follow, “Wait, so the basket weavers won the battle?”
“Yes! They-”
“Sneasel,” Kiyo cuts in, “Still looking for that last light-up orb?”
“Oh, hey Kiyo. Yeah, we’ve got, like, half the guild looking for it. You wanna join the search party?”
“Nope,” Kiyo says, “And even if I did, I can’t. We gotta wait here for Cassie.”
Sneasel shrugs. “Fair enough.”
Rain looks up at the tree and hums. “Hopefully you can find it... A Christmas tree just isn’t right without any lights.”
The two depart after that, Rain moving to the kitchen to take some cookies out of the oven, and Sneasel returning to the basement to help search for the light-up orb. Kiyo and Bean then continue waiting patiently, until a familiar and much loved voice shouts out.
“Kiyo!!! Bean!!!”
With the guild’s front door wide open for the festivities, Cassie sees her teammates well before she arrives. She picks up the pace, bouncing her way towards her best friends.
Kiyo and Bean meet her in the middle and are pulled into a big, surprising hug.
“Oh, I started missing you two!” She says, squeezing Kiyo hard, “And here you are! Waiting for me!”
“Here's that hug you promised me,” Kiyo mutters, blushing, “I knew we didn't need to remind you.”
She sniffs a few times.
“...Hehe! You still smell like peppermint candy!”
Kiyo rolls his eyes. Most of his breath was squeezed out of him already. He leans into Cassie’s hug, rubbing her with his cheek. Bean is happy to sit in her arms.
“I’ve been getting shit about the perfume all day,” Kiyo mumbles. “Did you finish Christmas shopping?”
“I did… Kind of.” Cassie says. She breaks up the hug. “How about you two?”
“It’s hard to say,” Kiyo says. “My gift is pretty abstract. If you don’t mind, Bean, it might be best to give it to you right now.”
Bean looks to Cassie for her judgement. “It’s not unusual to give some gifts on the ‘eve instead. I don’t see a problem! I’d wanna give my gift as soon as possible too!”
With that in mind, Bean takes a deep breath and readies himself.
“Okay,” Kiyo says, “There’s, like, a very, very small chance this does anything for you, but I talked to Kina, and she says there’s a chance we can get some of your memories back by triggering a flashback, or something. So, since you’re wondering if you’re human, I got a bunch of human memories, and I drew them on these boards. I’m gonna go through ‘em one by one, let me know if you remember anything, okay?”
Bean can’t help but admit, he’s excited by the idea. He nods. Cassie watches intently.
"Alright. Here we go." Kiyo says. He begins.

Kiyo flips the last poster, and gets back to the first.
“Nothing?” He says, eyeing Bean.
Bean closes his eyes and shakes his head. No.
Kiyo’s ears flop down, disappointed.
“Fuck.”
Bean hops towards Kiyo and pats his side with a wing. It was a good try.
“Yeah… I dunno, I guess we just have to keep waiting until something randomly triggers a flashback. Sorry Bean.”
Bean gives Kiyo a quick feathery hug, as if to say, it’s the thought that counts. The effort spent here is clear, and to be quite frank, it was a shot in the dark to begin with.
“It was a good try, Kiyo,” Cassie says, “It’s the thought that counts, after all!”
“Well, yeah.” Kiyo starts, “But that was still a total fucking flop. I guess you can keep the posters if you want ‘em. Otherwise I’ll just be contributing to an already catastrophic littering problem.”
He shrugs. “Whatever. Better luck next year. Who’s next? Bean?”
The bird nods, and holds out both his wings. Kiyo reaches into his tails with a paw and pulls out his origami rose and places it in-between Bean’s wings, who then transports it like a valuable crown. He kneels a bit and holds it up to Cassie.
She gasps. “Oh! It’s beautiful! It looks so life-like… Did you make this?” She picks it up and examines it closely.
Bean nods, and flies up to her head. He whispers the extent of his gift- She doesn’t need to worry about losing them, or dirtying them, since he can just make another one anytime. He promises to keep making them for her forever.
“Oh, Bean…!” Cassie says, with tears forming in her eyes. She places the flower on her head, and it begins to slide off immediately. “Oh no! It’s…”
When Cassie looks up, Kiyo is already holding out a glue stick. “This is also from Bean.”
Cassie stares at the glue stick. Then, she laughs, eyes still watery. “That’s so funny! Okay, okay. Let's glue it on.”
She passes Bean, who’s already in position, the gluestick. He pops the cap off and applies the glue- it’s thick and gooey, like tree sap. It stays on Cassie’s scalp quite well, and is nearly invisible to the naked eye. Then, with a talon, Bean guides Cassie’s flower onto the glue. It’s positioned by the side of her ear.
Cassie presses the rose down, and it stays.
“I gotta see it!” Cassie squeals, frantically looking for a reflective surface. She runs to the Christmas tree and finds a polished silver ornament. Though her head is made larger, stretched by the spherical mirror, she can see the flower by her ear. It’s larger than she realized, and it makes an adorable impression.
“G-guys…” She starts, her voice quivering. “It’s really nice…”
“It’s super cute, Cassie.” Kiyo says, with a genuine smile.
“In fact,” he continues,
“I bet you’re the prettiest girl in the whole town.”
Just like that, the despair and envy welling up in Cassie’s heart vanishes, transformed into happy tears running down her cheek.
“Y-you guys…!!!” She whimpers. She charges forward, grabbing them into a hug once again. This time, they’re ready. Kiyo jumps up on his hind legs, so he can wrap his paws around Cassie’s body and actually hug her back. Bean lands on her shoulder, wrapping his broad wings as far across her back and along her neck.
“You’re the best!!! I love you guys so much…!” She says, crying into Kiyo’s vest.
“We love you too…” Kiyo says. For a fox like him, it’s difficult to say such things so openly, but for Christmas, he makes an effort.
It’s not as hard for Bean to say it, but he says it too.
Cassie rides the hug out for a good bit, until her happy-tears run out.
“Okay… I’m all good.” She says, sniffling to regain her composure. “I’m okay! Thank you both. It’s perfect.”
Kiyo shrugs. “Bean did all the work… I was just part of the hug.”
“Oh, shut up!” Cassie laughs, wiping away the last of her tears. “Oh, I guess it’s my turn then. For you, Kiyo…”
Kiyo shrugs. “I wouldn’t be mad if you just gave me, like, a gift card or something. It doesn’t all need to be extravagant gifts.”
“No, no, I’ve got something.” Cassie reaches into the bag she carries everywhere.
“It’s not what you’re expecting I think… Hopefully it’s okay.”
Cassie continues digging into her bag. Kiyo's tails wave, betraying his exterior lack of excitement.
“Here it is. Take a look…”
She takes Kiyo’s gift and unfolds it before him.
“It’s…”


Kiyo smiles. “That’s awesome.”
Cassie peeks her head around the side of the drawing. “You like it? I figured it’d be okay to fold it into quadrants, so we can carry it around more easily.”
“I love it.” Kiyo says. “You did this? When?”
“Oh, I whipped it up real quick!” Cassie brags, “Look, I gave you a sword! ‘Cuz you looked badass when you were swordfighting, back on The Harpoon.”
“I see that,” Kiyo grins, “You nailed my masculine aura.”
She giggles and points to the drawing, “There’s me, and there’s Bean!”
Bean flies up and lands on the poster. He looks down on it, and gives it a thumbs up of approval.
“Yeah, you guys look awesome too,” Kiyo says, “You’re looking fashionable as ever… And that's Bean’s exact expression, like 99-percent of the time!”
Bean tilts his head, though that doesn’t make it less true.
Kiyo nods. “This is exactly what I wanted. Thank you, Cassie. We should hang it up when we get back to the Blue Claw.”
“YAAAAY!” She squeals. “I’m glad you liked it! I really couldn’t think of anything else to get you.”
Kiyo shrugs. “I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want anything. This is perfect. It… It means much more than something you could simply buy.”
Cassie folds it back up. “It’s true… Fatty said the same thing. Oh! She says ‘merry Midwinter’, by the way!”
Kiyo quirks an eyebrow. “You saw Fatty? That’s great. Merry Christmas, Fatty.”
There’s a beat of silence, as they decide what to do next.
“Well,” Kiyo says, “Sorry your gift didn’t work out as well as the others, Bean.”
Bean shakes his head and flies up to Kiyo’s hat. He insists that he wasn’t expecting it to work- it was a lofty Christmas wish, but much like Kiyo, he didn’t have anything material he’d particularly want. In fact…
Bean hops off Kiyo’s hat and declares, as loud as he can, that he’s done wondering if he’s a human or not. The fact that he still hasn’t remembered anything, despite all the time knowing he’s meant to be a human, could only mean he is, in fact, not a human. He decides, there and then, that he won’t be subject to wondering any longer. He’s happy how he is, with his family, his career, and his life. It doesn’t matter if he’s human or not, his life is perfect.
Kiyo and Cassie, having sat down to hear Bean’s speech, smile.
“Well said Bean,” Kiyo says. “It is a perfect life, isn’t it?”
“It is!” Cassie says. “Merry Christmas Bean!”
“Yeah. Merry Christmas, Bean.”
“WE FOOUUUUND IT!”
Suddenly Shelby jumps up the staircase into the main room. Blossom charges up just behind her holding a small orb in her vines, with Heidi close behind, all wearing massive smiles. Togetic flies out next, equally thrilled.
“THANK GOD,” he says, utterly relieved, as he floats into the main room, “W-w-we were about to l-lose our minds!”
A parade of volunteers flood out from the basement, their job completed. Kiyo, Cassie, and Bean find themselves surrounded by a crowd of jolly guildies, all standing to watch the lights on the tree finally come on. Kiyo looks around- it really was half the guild searching for this orb. The added commotion brought just about everyone else to the lobby as well- even Tropius stuck his head in through the front door to witness the excitement.
Cassie looks around. She spots Jung and Sara, the former looking like a Christmas tree himself given his huge, decadently decorated tail. There's Smith, Nida, Furret, and Pochi all sitting together and chuckling after searching for the orb. Two Indeedee Cassie hadn’t met were chatting with Pika and Maddie. Gus wandered down from upstairs recently, and joined the commotion. Linoone the mailmon had even happened into the guild, and was chatting with Elm, the ghost.
The was a complete grab-bag of personalities, and something about that made Cassie feel so warm inside.
There was a nostalgic feeling about it. It reminded Cassie of past Midwinters, when she’d still congregate with her extended family- A huge crowd of people she’d cared for gathering and enjoying the festive spirit, the feeling of giving, and each other's warm company.
She smiled. It felt like a family.
Or, rather, it was a family.
“F-feel free to d-do the honors, B-blossom.” Toge says, supervising the tree from above, “Y-you can p-put the orb anywhere, it s-should work.”
“Look at that, sis!” Shelby says, nudging her sister, “You saved Midwinter!”
“Yeah!” Cory adds, “It’s a right Christmas miracle!”
Blossom flushes, “Oh, hush… I was just doing my part. Alright, without further ado.”
With her vines, she places the orb into the branches of the tree. All at once, it lights up. The glitter, the foil, and baubles and ornaments all shine at once, as if coming to life. The tree wakes up, and the warm, nostalgic glow washes over everyone.