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I’ve had conversations with friends a few times in the past few years about when we stopped believing in Santa Claus.

Most of them said they stopped believing in him by the early years of elementary school, but I never believed in him at all.

After all, Santa, who was supposed to visit good children, had never once come to my house.

Back then, I thought of myself as a good kid. I didn’t cry even when my parents weren’t home, and I worked hard in my studies. While I did crave attention and praise, I didn’t demand anything else.

So if Santa didn’t come despite all that, it must mean he didn’t exist in the first place.

That’s what my young self thought.

But in reality, I wonder how it really was.

If Santa really existed, would he have come to visit the me of that time?

The definition of a “good child” was vague. My idea of a good child was probably different from my parents’ idea of one, so whose standards determined what made a good child?

“…I didn’t need Santa. Just having the two of them would have been enough.”

The two of them still hadn’t come home.

It was 7 p.m. on the 25th. They said they’d be back by 6, but there’s been no follow-up message from them.

My parents ran a company. I didn’t know the details, but work seemed to be their passion, and they always seemed busy. When I was little, we had a housekeeper.

I remember how much I hated that, and how I told them I’d take care of myself.

As a result, I became good at household chores.

Even today, despite not knowing if my parents would come home, I ended up making enough food for three.

Cocktail salad, some finger foods… I knew my parents didn’t really care about food, so I made it easy to eat and made sure it looked nice, just hoping they’d eat even a little…

“It’s all pointless anyway.”

The dining table was set with plates and serving dishes for three, yet no one was seated.

Because it was Christmas, I had bought half a chicken on a whim and was endlessly roasting it in the oven.

The orange glow of the oven almost hurt my eyes.

I was tired of waiting, so I sat down on the sofa and glanced at my phone.

Somehow, several messages had come in.

“We won’t be able to come home today. We’ll return sometime in January.”

The message was from my mother.

I didn’t feel like replying, so I closed the app.

The sound of the oven echoed through the quiet house. I had spent the entire day cleaning, but it might have been pointless.

It made me realize that this house never changed.

Of course, with no one here, it’s not like it would change. But compared to my room at Inazuki’s house, it felt like time had completely stopped here, with no sign of change.

“…What should I do with the food?”

There was no one to share it with, and it was too much for one person to eat.

Could I even finish it all by the 30th?

…Maybe I was just incapable of learning. Every time, I expected my parents to come home, only to be let down again and again.

What was I even hoping for from my parents?

I gave up on the idea of spending time together like a normal family ages ago, but there was still a part of me that wanted to hold on.

“Sigh. This is such a hassle.”

I was really hopeless.

I let out a sigh and tapped on the app icon. Not wanting to think about it any further, I opened the chat at the top of the list without looking too closely at the screen and typed, “Got it,” before sending it.

When I closed my eyes, the dry air felt like it was piercing my skin.

I realized I had fallen asleep when I was awakened by the vibration of my phone. With a groggy head, I looked at the screen. Someone was calling.

Mom or Dad, I wondered.

It was unusual, so I answered the call.

“Hello…?”

I stifled a yawn as I spoke, and I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end.

“Iroha?”

It was Inazuki’s voice.

Leaning my head against a cushion, I let out the yawn I couldn’t completely suppress.

“Yeah, it’s me. Is that you, Inazuki?”
“Yep, it’s your beloved Misora-chan.”
“I see. So…”
“What do you mean ‘so’! What was that misdirected message?”
“Misdirected…?”

Did I send it to the wrong person?

I must have. I hadn’t checked the recipient before sending that last message.

Which meant the last person to message me was Inazuki.

I wonder if she needed something.

“I was just wondering how Christmas at home was going for you, so I sent a message. All I got was ‘Got it.’ …I thought something might be wrong.”

She called just because of that.

Inazuki tended to worry too much.

“Nothing in particular happened. I must have accidentally sent the message I meant for my mom to you.”
“…So you were sending a message… Which means, they still aren’t home?”
“Yeah. They said they can’t come home today. But they’ll be back sometime in January.”
“…Iroha.”

I tried to sound cheerful, not wanting her to feel concerned. But, as expected, Inazuki’s voice was full of worry when she called my name.

I didn’t want her to worry. Worrying won’t solve anything.

“If your parents aren’t coming home, how about we finally keep that promise we made?”
“Promise? …Oh, you mean the one where you’d come over?”
“Yeah. I don’t have any plans, so is it okay if I come?”

It was rare for Inazuki to say she had no plans, especially on Christmas. She had way more friends than I did, so I was surprised. Yesterday, she mentioned she had somewhere to go, so maybe she celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve.

“Sure. The address is—”
“Wait! Let me get something to write with!”

As I started to tell her the address, Inazuki suddenly began scrambling around. I heard a clattering sound, probably from her getting up from her chair.

“Okay, got it. I’ll head over to your place right now, so just wait for me.”
“Alright. But be careful and don’t rush.”
“I’m not a kid, I’ll be fine. See you soon.”

The call ended, leaving me in silence. I placed my phone on the sofa and waited for Inazuki.

I wondered if she’d really come. It wouldn’t surprise me if I got a message later saying, “Actually, I’m not coming after all.” People’s words were often that fickle, easily changing, and hard to understand.

It was hard to love or trust people because of that unpredictability.

But I was used to being let down, so maybe it didn’t matter.

Most things in life didn’t really matter.

Whether they happened or not, whether they existed or not. Life was like that.

Time seemed to flow slowly. The time that passed without Inazuki felt unbearably slow.

I had forgotten that feeling until now.

I’ve spent so much more time with Inazuki than I thought, and because of that, I’ve almost forgotten about the way time used to flow for me, and the way I used to be.

Now that I think about it.

I should’ve prepared a gift if Inazuki was coming over. We never had a tradition of exchanging gifts on Christmas, so I didn’t buy anything.

The only gift I got was a ten-yen chocolate that Chise jokingly gave me on the last day of school.

I wondered how much time had passed since I last talked to Inazuki. Before I knew it, it was already 9 p.m., and I found myself dozing off again.

Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, the doorbell rang.

Startled, I quickly stood up and headed for the door.

When I opened it, my eyes widened in surprise.

“Why are you in a Santa outfit?”
“Why are you in your school uniform?”

Our voices overlapped.

Inazuki looked puzzled, but her outfit was definitely the stranger one.

Why was she wearing a mini-skirt in late December? The outfit, with its excessive red and white and unnecessary exposure, could only be described as a Santa costume.

“Well, I thought Misora Santa should bring a present to good little Iroha-chan.”
“…Um, for now, just come inside. You’ll catch a cold like that.”
“Okay!”

She wheeled her suitcase into the entrance.

…wasn’t that a bit much luggage?

I wondered what she brought.

Seeing her pull off something like this made me realize, once again, that this was just how Inazuki was. This was the Inazuki I knew.

“So, what’s with your outfit?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you…”
“If we’re comparing which is weirder: wearing a Santa outfit on Christmas or wearing a school uniform during winter break, I’d say the uniform is stranger.”

She had a point, I suppose.

Though if I had to pick which one was weird, I’d say both.

“I mostly wear this when I’m home alone.”
“Is it comfortable?”
“Something like that.”

Wearing my school uniform made me feel like I wasn’t alone.

But saying that out loud would probably earn me a strange look, so I kept it to myself.

It’s not even a funny story, the way I use this as a way to satisfy my need to feel like I belong somewhere.

It was no laughing matter that I used measures like this to deal with my desire to belong somewhere.

“So what’s the real reason?”
“It is real.”
“…You generally never hide your feelings, but you do for things like this.”

Santa didn’t seem very happy, which was ironic for someone claiming to be here to bring presents to a “good child.”

Seeing her like that…

“…It’s a childish reason.”

I fiddled with the hem of my skirt as I spoke.

“The uniform belongs to the school, so when I wear it, I feel like I’m part of something bigger, like I belong to a group that a lot of people are part of. It makes me feel like I’m not alone.”

I laughed.

“So, it’s not exactly a pleasant reason, right?”
“Maybe not, but…”

Inazuki took my hand.

Her hand was colder than usual, probably because of her impractical outfit for the season.

“I want to know everything about you, Iroha… not just the good things, but the bad things too.”
“Even the bad things?”
“Yeah. If it’s something that makes you who you are, I want to know all of it.”
“Inazuki, you’re… different.”

It was unusual how Inazuki seemed to want to know about the lonelier parts of me.

You’d think it would be more productive to talk about hobbies or things we liked instead.

“I know. But it’s how I really feel.”

Her true feelings.

If I kept stacking up words that come from her true feelings, would I eventually reach the deepest part of her heart? I wanted to know what lay at the very bottom of that heart, so skillfully hidden beneath her surface.

Not that I knew what I’d do once I finally understood her fully.

“I see… Well, it’s kind of awkward just standing here. Let’s go to the living room.”
“…Yeah.”

I led Inazuki by the hand toward the living room.

Holding her hand, time seemed to pass a little quicker, maybe because of the rapid pace of the heartbeat I could feel through it.

Come to think of it, she was always a little on edge.

That quickened pulse was something I had come to cherish, and every time I felt it, I found myself wanting to know Inazuki even more.

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