If Fuuko Had a Christmas Wish
by Wind-Rider

A/N: Dis be in Fuuko’s P.O.V, except for the part at the end. And da piccy is of Rogue and Joseph from X-Men.
The weird li’l questions in the funky writing are the thoguhts that inspired me to write this story. And the char
Taka is copyright TO ME, okies? And the name is not mine!!!*

I hate Christmas. Just a bunch of hypocritic do-goody fatsos going ‘ho ho ho’ and laughing their rented white
beards off for a few measly bucks.

I hate the cold weather, the way the naïve little kids are always lied to so they stay out of trouble. I hate the way
the snow slushes under your feet, reminding you that you’ll hafta wipe your boots before you get inside the
house. I hate the way cheapskate santas ringing their dumb bell and asking for money for a charity that never
gets it.

For every good, there is an evil. For every smile, there is a frown.

Everywhere I turn, there’s always a different side of the picture. On one side, a kid’s jumping up and down
happily because he got to talk to santa, reminiscing happily the short-spent moment with his smiling mother and

On anotehr side of the road, a little girl’s standing sadly outside a toy store window, gazing longingly at the
porcelain-faced-velvet-clothed-doll sitting on the beige colored stool, waiting for someone to pick it up. And then
she leaves, because her family can’t afford it.

How do I know exactly that? Because that’s what I would go through every Christmas when I was young.

   My family used to be poor, we were literally struggling along everday. I had to stop going to school for a few
weeks, and my brother Taka would stop having to go out to all his fancy dates.

My brother would always look out for me, as he still does. I remember all those long, unbearably humid nights
when I would cry out ‘Oni chan, will we ever go back to how we were?’ and he would always tell me ‘If you wish
hard enough for Christmas, maybe Santa will give us a brand new start.’

He lied.

Dreams are the hardest habits to break.

Countless Christmases I wished, I prayed, I mailed about fifteen letters to the post office addressed to ‘Santa
Claus, His Workshop, North Pole’.

We never did get that brand new start oni chan was talking about.

We did, however, get a stroke of luck that fateful day my dad got a job overseas as a UN representative. My
mother was well-reknown for her literary masterpieces, and my brother worked at part-time jobs everywhere.

Me? I stayed at home, keeping the money, eating breakfast, lunch and dinner all by my own until today.

Taka was there sometimes, always discussing what part-time jobs he had recently gotten involved in, the perks,
the hot girls he met there, and the tips.

I would always plaster a smile on my face, and say  “oh wow, brother! That’s amazing!” .

How ironic.

Sometimes it’s better to be alone. That way, nobody can hurt you.

Why am I so pessimistic when it comes to Christmas?

This is why.

My dad was never home for Christmas, he was always abroad, doing who-knows-what in the federal business.
My mom would always be expected to produce a legendary novel for the childrens section in all the local
bookstores. As usual, my brother was off on his money-crazy job spree.

And guess who wound up completely alone on Christmas Eve.

Life seems so perfect in story books, the lover kisses the other lover, and they stand staring at each other wistfully in the gentle falling snow.

Unlike in reality, you’re stuck with the truth.

Though I’m not ‘completely’ alone on Christmas  Eve. My mom and brother sometimes come in half-asleep in thedoorway, and I would carry them to their respective bedrooms.

And there’s another reason. I never ever get what I want. NEVER.

I would always get a frilly dress, a doll or pink satin shoes for my birthday. Regardless how many times I said I wanted boxing gloves.

And what I want this year, no one can get me. And that’s a fact.

But I’ll come back to that later. What matters now is telling you how my and my family came to the end of out little ‘guessing-get-the-presents-game’.

Memories are long flashbacks.

It was last year, December 21st, about 7 p.m . Kirisawa living room, my dad had just come home for a very brief
one-day- visit. My mom was off to the emotionless publisher who had no clue or care about Christmas. And my
brother luckily wasn’t here. If he was, I’d probably have no one to talk to today in my family.

They said they were going out/ My dad gave me a kiss on the head, and my mom said she;s be back by
midnight. I had no reply.

Course, they didn’t give a dang. Until, of course, my mother and father asked me ‘‘Do you mind Fuuko-chan?”

Yes, I murmured.

Good, they replied, totally heedless to what I had said.

“Bye, sugar. I’ll see you in a month’s time!” My dad rang, and my mother just gave a simple goodbye.

No relationship lasts forever.

“Didn’t you people hear me? You’re darn right I mind! Every time this time of the year, you scamper off, away
from me! Away to do your stupid jobs which matter more to you than your own child! You can’t even afford to be
absent from your job for a day or four, and you can’t even afford to be late with your stupid bestseller once in a
millenium! You two have completely lost the concept of being a family, if you ever had the idea! You don’t think I
care when you leave me all alone here in the house on the one time of the year families are supposed tp be
together? The one time of the year we sit together and laugh, share problems and our hopes for the new year?
You don’t think I mind everytime when that one solitary tear runs down my cheek? Well I do! I prefer it when we
were poor! At least we were together! At least we were a family!”

I remember saying those exact same words, then storming out of the door. And after that, my mom and dad
didn’t really talk to me anymore. Were they hurt? Were they mad? I’m not sure. All I know is, I’m glad of what I

Back to the subject. The one thing I want for Christmas this year is love. And from him.

Every little thing about him is attractive, his shiny black hair, his soft warm sincere yes, and his mesmerizing
smile. And something about him just tells me that he doesn’t belong in Uruha. Still, that’s what makes this a
story. And that’s what makes him Raiha.

Sometimes, your best friend is yourself.

I can’t tell anyone about this. And besides, who would I tell? Recca would laugh it off, Yanagi would go on and on
about how I was so cute with him, Mikagami would sneer, Koganei and Ganko wouldn’t understand, Domon
would get jealous, and Kagero? Forget it. She’d be too smart for this kind of thing.

They’d never understand how every Christmas, I sit on the ledge on my bedroom window, looking at the falling
snow, counting each piece of condensed rain, desperately wishing Christmas to be over.

They’d never understand how I;m always stuck with an empty house and a hollow heart every 24th of December.

But above all, they’d never really understand how I long to be n his arms, because he offers me what I’ve always
wanted. A person to share my hopes, dreams and fear with, a smile I could look into and feel immediately

They’d never realise how I wait patiently everyday, waiting for him to come to my doorstep so we can share one
slow, sensual and everlasting dance by the fire. Where his hair is illuminated by the mellow glow of the flame,
his eyes still the familiar, sincere pools of dark brown I get myself so easily lost in. Where hisscent is
mesmerizing, of cinammon and roses, and I’d just sniff it as I melted into his arms.

They wouldn’t understand how if Fuuko Kirisawa had a Christmas wish, she would wish for love. Because that’s
something she has never had, but always wanted.

The biggest words are sometimes represented by the smallest things.

Fuuko trudged drearily down the wet and sloppy sidewalk, when a shoulder collided with her own.

“Hey, watch —“ she began, as she slowly realised something familiar lingering in the air.

Cinammon and roses.

She turned around to see the dark-haired Raiha, smiling innocently at her.

“Oh, Miss Fuuko! So nice to see you here! I was looking for you!” He replied, almost apologetically.

“What for?” She queried, almost eagerly.

“I wanted to give you this.” He replied, thrusting a small velvet  box into her gloved palm.

She was about to thank him, when his warm lips brushed against her cold cheek, which immediately turned a
deep shade of pink.

“Merry Christmas, Fuuko-sama!” He replied, as he ran off.

“Wait!” She called out, but the call never reached him unusually normal-colored ears.

Curiously, she flipped over the lid. Inside, was a sparkling gold ring, with a small crystal gem in the center.

There was a note inside.

“For all out little moments together.


She smiled.

If dreams were for sale, what would you buy?


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