Chero knocked on the door of the large house and shuffled her feet, feeling a slight chill. Lights decorated the outside, but there wasn’t a ladder in sight, and Chero wondered whether Mocha had used her hat or a tall volunteer to help her. She didn’t have long to look around, though, because the door opened almost immediately, a small brunette looking out at her.
From inside her home, Chero could detect the scents of Mocha cooking. There was rosemary, thyme, sage, and other such spices one might put on a turkey and in stuffing. There was a lot of nutmeg and allspice, ginger and cinnamon, which probably went into cookies and pie and homemade cider and eggnog. The eggnog was a given; Mocha was holding a mug in the hand that wasn’t on the doorknob.
“There you are!” she chirped, and passed Chero the mug. “Don’t worry, that’s the non-alcoholic version.” She rushed Chero inside and closed the door. She then took Chero’s coat, scarf and gloves. Chero kicked off her boots and followed Mocha into the house.
Kiki was in the living room, directing a tall, blue haired man with a box of ornaments. He obediently put the shining objects on a large tree in the corner, on the mantle, on Kiki’s head when the instructions were confusing. He turned and raised an eyebrow at the newcomer. Kiki wasn’t as reserved; she rushed forward and hugged Chero. Mocha grabbed the eggnog before it could spill.
“Hi, Kiki!” Chero said, giving her a hug back. Mocha helped the two up and passed Chero back her eggnog. Chero smiled and took it. Mocha wrapped an arm around her waist in a sort of hug and gestured towards the living room.
“Who’s this?” Chero asked, smiling up at the man with the box of decorations.
“This is Hyourinmaru,” Mocha replied.
“Captain Hitsugaya’s zanpakuto?!” Chero exclaimed, nearly choking on her eggnog.
“He volunteered,” Mocha informed her with a shrug, and then flopped on the couch and picked up a stocking with a needle and thread dangling from it.
“She tempted him with food,” Kiki whispered conspiratorially. Chero nodded her understanding as the petite blond went back to directing the ice-dragon-turned-human.
“So where’s Toshiro, then?” Chero asked, sipping her eggnog again.
“Up here,” came a voice, floating down from the curtain rod above the large windows which looked out on the back yard. Chero tried not to get distracted by the sight of snow-covered woods just past the yard, or the small swing dangling from a tall oak tree, but it still took a moment or two to tear her gaze from the picturesque winter scene and look up at the white haired captain.
“Toshiro! What happened to you?” she asked, staring with open mouthed disbelief at the boy who dangled by the collar of his shirt from the end of the curtain rod.
“Toshi was being a bit of a wet blanket,” Mocha explained, without even looking up from her sewing, “so we hung him up to dry.”
“And that’s Captain Hitsugaya to you,” he exclaimed, kicking his legs comically.
“No playing with friends until the children have finished their work, okay, Toshi?” Kiki said, pointing at an empty space on the tree. Hyourinmaru obligingly put a little wooden rocking horse on the branch.
“Fat lot of good I’m doing up here,” came the muttered reply, and then with more gusto, “I am not a little kid!” The three girls laughed.
While Hyourinmaru pulled his master down and Toshiro straightened his clothes fussily, Chero leaned over Mocha. “So what are you making, anyways?”
“Just mending an old Christmas stocking,” she replied.
“She’s making one for me and for my master, because we don’t have stockings at home,” Hyourinmaru stated bluntly.
“As if that’s the reason,” Mocha muttered, snipping the thread. She held up the stocking with a self-satisfied expression. “And done,” she said, and hung the stocking over the mantle. This one was white with silver accents, and the one beside it was light blue with white.
“Don’t kid yourself, Mocha,” Kiki huffed, pointing at the other three stockings over the mantle. Mocha muttered something unintelligible went into the kitchen to check the turkey.
“So, don’t take this the wrong way, Chero,” Kiki said, sitting down beside the other girl on the couch, “but why are you here today?”
Chero bit her lip. “I want to get something for Dino for Christmas, and I know what to get, but... I don’t have enough money.”
“I could lend you some,” Mocha said, returning. The boys zipped into the kitchen in search of holiday treats and Mocha settled into the armchair.
“No, I can’t do that!” Chero said, waving her hands.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s Christmas today!”
“And you’re obviously cutting it a little close,” Mocha pointed out. Chero colored slightly, and the other brunette sighed. “What do you want to get him?” she asked, jamming her stocking feet into the space between the chair cushion and the chair itself.
“Well, you know his watch,” Chero began, and shrugged. “It’s a really nice watch, but he keeps it on that leather cord. I wanted to get him an armband – you know, a nice silver one or something? – and I found the perfect one, but it’s about a hundred out of my price range.”
“So let me loan you some money,” Mocha repeated, a perplexed look on her face.
“But you already got me something for Christmas,” Chero pointed out, holding up the sparkling charm bracelet that she had on her wrist, which she’d been given that morning. The girls had exchanged gifts in the morning, as a few of them would be spending Christmas with their families or boys. Chrysta was already off spending the day with Sesshomaru; Jenny was with Alfred, Danni was with her family, as was Hime, Kira and Gin were spending the day at home, as was Luna and Ichigo. Chi was out with Sasuke, using the reservation that Mocha had given them for Christmas at some fancy restaurant. There were a great many more, but generally speaking, they weren’t spending the night-time of Christmas together. The members of the OHC had spent Christmas morning in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, much to the pleasure of Chero. (Mocha had pulled a few strings in the hat ‘verse.)
“So what?” Mocha replied. “You can owe me, if you want to. Either way, you need to get him something-”
“Which is why I’m here. Do you know of any good pawnshops nearby?”
Mocha raised her eyebrows, staring for a moment or two before opening her mouth to respond and then snapping it closed again. “What for?”
Chero pulled on a string around her neck and brought out a locket made of white gold, with intricate little vine carvings around the perimeter and a tiny blue topaz stone in the center. “I’ll just sell this,” she explained, watching it twirl. “I’ve had it forever and never put it on a proper chain. We all got these when we graduated the magic academy.” On the back was a tiny inscription, barely visible to the naked eye: Never lose sight of what’s important.
“That’s beautiful!” Kiki observed. Mocha stared wordlessly.
“You’re going to need another turkey, and some more stuffing,” Captain said when he walked back into the living room. “Hyourinmaru was really hungry.”
Momentarily forgetting about the locket, Mocha jumped up and cried, “you little troll!”
“Little being the operative word,” Kiki murmured, then dodged a bunch of ice shards shot her way.
“Anyways, Chero, I really don’t think you should sell that locket. It’s a beautiful piece. I’m sure there’s another way to get some money.”
Finishing her eggnog, Chero stood. “I’ve looked into other ways. There really isn’t anything I can do.” Mocha sighed and walked her to the door.
“There’s a pawn shop on Twenty-Second Street and One Hundred and Fifty-Sixth Avenue.”
Chero paused and turned to stare at Mocha. The other girl got her things from the hall closet.
“We’re on Forty-Eighth Street and Ninety-Fourth Avenue,” Chero stated as she got her things on. Mocha nodded and helped her with her coat.
“I’ll drive you,” Mocha replied, following her out the door. She called back in before she closed and locked the door, “don’t tear the house down!” She walked ahead of Chero to a bike parked in the driveway.
“I thought that was your-”
“My dad won’t mind,” Mocha said as she got on the bike. Pulling a couple of helmets from her hat, she tossed one to Chero. “I’m insured.” She started the engine and put on her own helmet, then gestured impatiently at the other girl. “Well, come on, then,” she ordered. Chero obligingly sat behind her and hung on for dear life. The roar of the Harley’s engine made objections impossible. By the time they reached the pawn shop, Chero was scared for her life. Mocha was a good driver, really she was – she just didn’t care that whoever was riding with her might not be comfortable on bikes. Chero was not one of those people that were comfortable on a bike.
