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Twelve Days of Christmas

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The door opened with a resounding bang. Shinsou looked up from his spot on the couch where he’d collapsed earlier that day just in time to see Kirishima lug in a very wobbly, very plastered Kaminari.

“Ah, thanks for your hard work,” said Shinsou, climbing off the couch and relieving Kirishima of his giggling burden. Kami patted his arm happily, slurring something that Shinsou hoped had been “I’m home” or “sorry for the smell” and not something inappropriate.

“No problem,” said Kirishima, raising one hand.

“Need a ride or anything?” Shinsou asked, depositing his wasted boyfriend at the kitchen counter.

“Nah, I’m good. Mina’s outside with her car, I’ll be fine.”

“Cool, cool. Take care,” he called out. Kirishima just hummed in response, and closed the door behind himself. Shinsou went to lock it, and by the time he got back, Kami was already dangerously slipping down the counter’s side.

Shinsou mussed up his boyfriend’s hair, smiling softly. “God, your tolerance is shit. Your face is redder than Kiri’s hair even, y’know that?”

Kami just giggled and nuzzled into Shinsou’s palm. “Babe, Chrizz,” he mumbled.


“Chrizz-, Chrizmuz… soon,” he elaborated.

“What about Christmas?”

“I, gotta idea,” Kami grinned in what he probably thought was an intelligent way, but really came across as an uncoordinated twitch of his lips.

Shinsou lifted his near-incoherent boyfriend into a bridal carry to their bedroom. “What idea?”

“Ojiro,” he managed. “Chrizz- Chrizz,” he mumbled, then started snoring.


“Like I was saying last night,” Kami hollered the next morning as he bounded into the bathroom.

Shinsou grunted in confusion and continued to brush his teeth groggily.

“I want to give Ojiro Christmas presents!”

“Sounds good,” Shinsou mumbled through his toothpaste foam. “Multiple?”

“Remember that one song about giving your true love presents for Christmas?”

“The Twelve Days of Christmas?”

“Yeah, we should do that! For Ojiro! Let him know how we feel!”

Kami grinned at him, bright and beautiful, and Shinsou knew he was a goner. “Sure,” he said. “Let's do that.”


“You two are fuckin’ idiots.”

Bakugou glared at the two of them with enough sheer willpower that Shinsou could've sworn he felt real chills running up and down his spine.

Kaminari, meanwhile, was unfazed. “Yeah,” he said brightly, “but I know you love us anyway.”

Shinsou stared at his boyfriend in awe. He still couldn't tell if Kami was absurdly brave or just amazingly stupid, and at this point, he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.

Bakugou, on the other hand, just grumbled something about clingy idiots. “I’m not helping out with your stupid-ass plan, Dunce-face,” he sneered. “I gotta go.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” whined Kaminari. “Bye Bakubro!”

Bakugou’s icon blipped out from their group video call. Assembling everyone they'd needed to get this plan into action had been rather difficult. About half of them were calling in over video chat—they weren't laid-back schoolchildren anymore, and their schedules all conflicted and made a face-to-face impossible.

Momo, for one, looked very excited about the whole thing, and that was the majority of the reason any of them were keeping with the plan at all—once she set her eyes on a mission, nobody was going to stop her, least of all Shinsou.

Hearing the plan repeated over and over for everybody to hear had highlighted just how stupid the entire thing was, but Shinsou just couldn't bring himself to get Kami and the rest of them to stop.


So maybe he was lying, just a little bit. Maybe Shinsou also just wanted to see how much they could annoy Ojiro, and also if they could court him in the stupidest way possible.

Momo was reading through the details again, and their Ojiro-confidantes, Kouda and Shouji, were both looking very nervous. Hagakure had given them her blessing, though Shinsou was also pretty sure she just wanted to see the chaos that would ensue.

“For the record,” interrupted Sero. “I also think this is a horrible, horrible idea.”



Ojiro should have known, really, from the moment he opened the door.

But here he was, sitting in his kitchen, still dressed in his running gear—he’d had plans for the day, before this… this…

What even was this?

The birdcage sat menacingly on his kitchen counter. It had a cloth cover—to keep out the December chill, he supposed—but also a bunch of heat-packs haphazardly taped to the cloth cover. He held his hands over them. It was really hot. Was there even a bird inside of here?

Cheep .

Oh shit , there was. How was it still alive with all this heat? And lack of circulation, for that matter?

Ojiro pulled off the cover—and stared.

There was a brown bird sitting inside the birdcage, though Ojiro had no clue what kind, but also a single pear, with a piece of paper taped to it.

Ojiro opened the cage quickly, grabbed the pear, and shut the cage again. He turned the pear around and nearly burst out laughing. On the paper was a primitive drawing of maybe a tree, but it really looked more like a green cloud with a cane.

God , it was almost as bad as Denki’s drawings.

The bird chirped, and Ojiro looked back at it with trepidation, then back at the pear, then at the tree drawing taped to its waxy skin.

“A partridge and a pear-tree…?” he muttered under his breath. Oh god. An entire fucking partridge.

It cheeped again.

Ojiro whipped out his phone, about to text Kouda “how in the HELL do i take care of a partridge,” when he noticed the date.

Friday, December 13th.

He really, really didn’t like the sound of that.


soff boi

07:29 ???

floof boi

07:29 oh thank god please wtf do i do w an entire partridge

soff boi

07:29 (・・。)ゞ?

floof boi

07:30 sent a file: HELP.jpg


After having to suffer through almost a half-hour of Kouda’s laughing emojis, Ojiro had finally gotten a clear enough idea of how to take care of the bird he’d spontaneously received.

Ojiro wasn’t sure he had enough space in his tiny apartment to take care of one bird, but judging by the clues: 12 days to Christmas, a literal partridge in a significantly-less-literal pear tree… he had a lot more birds to be looking forward to.

He didn’t even want to think about how his mysterious gifter was going to get him 10 leaping lords.



Ojiro hadn’t been certain, but staring at the—much bigger—birdcage on his doorstep, now he was completely sure.

Whoever his anonymous gifter was, they were fucking insane .

Committed, sure, but insane . He could hear the chirps and coos from where he stood, leaning against his door frame in defeat.

And he still had ten days to go.


floof boi

05:52 i rly didn’t want to ask u but …… turtledoves ??


soff boi

07:13 (* ´>艸<)゛

floof boi

07:14 kouda don’t u fuckin g start w me


Ojiro stared at the list Kouda had sent him.

To be honest, he was just baffled. The list had more types of seeds and grains than he’d even thought possible. Kouda had deemed the partridges too old for insects, but Ojiro was getting the sneaking suspicion that Kouda just hadn’t wanted to think about bugs. Ojiro’d seen the size of those partridges, and they had not as large as the website had said an adult would be.

Ojiro didn’t even want to think about the dent this would put in his paycheck; he was still only working as a sidekick, and this purchase—multiple pounds of each type of food, jesus christ , was going to hurt .

He groaned, tail swinging in frustration. What kind of idiot asshole was doing this to him, ‘true love’ his ass

“Woah there, dude!” he heard from behind him, and Ojiro turned, an apology at the tip of his tongue.

“Oh, Sero,” Ojiro said. “How are you?”

“Fine, dude, but what’s with all the grains?” Sero leaned over Ojiro’s cart, poking around judiciously. “Jesus, you going on a diet or something?”

Ojiro slumped over his cart handlebars dramatically, and waved his grocery list in Sero’s general direction. “I got some… pets,” he managed. “I don’t even know what half of these are, Sero.”

Sero hummed, glancing over the list. “Ooh,” he said, grabbing the front of Ojiro’s cart. “I know where these are!”

“Bless your soul, Sero,” Ojiro said as he let himself be dragged away on his cart.

“Dude, not to be rude but like, get up, you’re fucking heavy.”

“Absolutely not. Carry me, Cellophane-sempai~”

“Reference that one girl one more time and I will never carry anyone ever again.”


Ojiro had been right. His wallet was mourning the loss of approximately a whole fucking lot , his tail was mourning the one-day break he was getting all week, and he was mourning all the morning exercise he was going to lose over the next ten days.

Sero, to his credit, did help him carry some of his bags—bugs included—back to his apartment. Ojiro did not , however, stop referencing the girl Sero’d saved earlier that week and who’d tried to kiss him, tongue and all.

Ojiro set his stuff down in his kitchen, startling the four birds who’d taken up residence in various sections of his apartment.

Sero stared at the birds, nodding in admiration. “Dedication,” he said appreciatively, picking up the second “pear tree” Ojiro’d received, nothing more than a stick with a paper pear stapled on.

“More like aggravation,” Ojiro grumbled, as he rubbed his sore back.

Sero just laughed and helped him reorganize the caging Ojiro’d bought the day before for all his birds.



Brrrring. Brrrring. Brrrring.

Shouji woke up to the incessant ringing of his phone.

He clambered off his bed to pick it up, noting with disgust that his alarm clock only read 5:27. His alarm wasn’t set till 6:30; he might seriously have to murder whoever was calling him at this ungodly hour.

“Whoozit?” Shouji slurred grumpily into the phone. Formalities weren’t legal before 7 am, that was just the law.

“If I get pooped on one more fucking time, ” came Ojiro’s voice, trembling with rage. The chirping in the background was near-deafening; Shouji could almost hear it through the soundproofed wall separating their apartments.

Ah. An emergency. Shouji fumbled for his laptop, Googling frantically as he listened to his normally-level-headed friend slowly lose his mind. “Hang in there, Ojiro,” he said into the receiver, “the nearest shelter opens at 8.”



Shouji thanked his lucky stars that Ojiro had kept all the birdcages the birds had originally come in. By then, they’d managed to enlist Kouda to aid in the transportation procedure as well, and were just about wrangling the last of the birds into their cages.

“Thank you so much,” Ojiro signed, leaning onto his significantly-violated kitchen counter.

Kouda just waved him off, and cooed the very last hen back into its container.

Shouji glanced at the clock, and winced. Half hour to eight, if Ojiro’s digital clock was accurate. From the murderous aura emanating from his friend, Shouji guessed he’d read it too.

“I even ran out of the fucking bird food,” Ojiro signed aggressively. “Why the hell are they sending me real fucking birds? I’ve gotten 30 fucking birds so far!! THIRTY!!!” His hands were more aggressive blurs than actual signs at this point, and Shouji went over to envelop Ojiro in a blanket-hug until he calmed down enough to be functional again. Over his shoulder, Shouji gave Kouda a nervous look.

“Twenty-eight more minutes till they open,” signed Kouda. “Shall we start moving them now?”


Between Ojiro’s tail and Shouji’s four extra arms, they just barely managed to get all the cages to the nearest animal shelter in one trip.

The lady at the counter had been understandably shocked when Ojiro had slammed the door open at 8 am sharp, bearing large, squawking cages in each hand and upon his tail. Luckily, however, the shelter had somehow had enough space to accommodate all the birds Ojiro was bringing in.

Once the birds were out of sight (and largely out of earshot), Ojiro finally relaxed. He collapsed into one of the chairs in the waiting area. “Ma’am?”

The woman poked her head out of the holding room into the main hallway, where her three eyes considered Ojiro suspiciously.

“I'm very sorry, but I think I'll be coming back more this next week.”



09:02 (・・;)

class baby

09:02 yea, i agree w/ kouda

09:02 im not too sure about this anymore




09:07 ,,,,,,,,,, is he holding up alright???

class baby

09:07 @dumbass1 @dumbass2 when he snaps and murders me by accident in his sleep i’m leaving you two NOTHING in my will

09:07 NOTHING you hear me



10:38 :( </3


Shinsou looked up from his phone just as Kami hit send. “You sure you wanna keep going with this?” he asked. “I’m not sure I’m willing to sacrifice Shouji over this.”

Kami laughed, waving his hand in Shinsou’s general direction. “We can’t just stop now!” he protested. “We’ll be fine, you know Ojiro could never kill anyone—” He interrupted himself, suddenly looking nervous.


Kami let out a mildly-hysterical giggle, but didn’t continue speaking.

“Denki, has Ojiro killed someone before???”






Shouji opened his eyes blearily to the sound of his phone, ringing, again. He rolled over and picked up.

He was greeted on the other end by semi-maniacal laughter. Oh shit .

“S-sixty-nine,” Ojiro wheezed, then dissolved into another fit of near-crazed laughter.

“What?” said Shouji, already pulling on his pants.

“I’ve received sixty-nine birds so far,” Ojiro giggled. Underneath the sound of his uncontrollable laughter, Shouji could hear the squawks and chirps of the aviary that Ojiro’s apartment had now become.

“I’m on my way,” Shouji said, and hung up.


class baby

05:38 i don’t want to die,,,,,


“Morning, Seiwa-san,” called Shouji as they opened the door. Today, they had only had 5 cages to bring in, and Ojiro had finally stopped sounding like he was ready to pluck and cook the geese on the spot.

“Morning!” she hollered from the back of the shelter. “Just bring them in, you know the drill!”

Shouji and Ojiro headed to the back room, already well familiar with the shelter’s layout.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Seiwa said as they entered with their avian cargo. “Where are you guys getting all these birds? Don’t you have hero work to be doing?”

Shouji heard the crunch of the plastic handlebar behind him. Oh Jesus Christ, he thought.

Ojiro managed to maintain a relatively calm tone, despite his clenched, shaking fists. “Some friends of mine,” he said with forced calm. “I think they’ve been trying to replicate that Twelve Days Christmas carol or something, only they’re much more determined than I’d ever imagined.”

“Ah,” said Seiwa, laughing as she freed the warped cage from Ojiro’s grasp. “You have some really dedicated friends. Wasn’t the song about ‘true lovers’ or something though?”

“Mmm,” said Ojiro, immediately turning and leaving the room.

“Sorry about that,” Shouji said sheepishly. “He’s just, y’know. A little stressed. Thank you so much for all your help.”

“Just five more days, huh?” said Seiwa, grinning. “I’m gonna miss seeing you boys around.”

Shouji laughed nervously. “Hopefully we survive the next five days,” he said weakly. “I’ve got to go find Ojiro now, but thank you again.”

Seiwa waved him off. “Of course! See you again!”



Ojiro was so, so afraid.

But at the same time, he really wanted to know if his mysterious sender had actually gotten eight women to milk cows in front of him for the sake of this stupid fucking Christmas carol.

Ojiro stood for a few moments longer at his front door, hand on the doorknob, hesitating. He couldn’t hear any footsteps or giggles or anything that would indicate there being more people on the other side of the door. Then again, he really couldn’t hear all that much besides the incessant chirps of one partridge, two turtle doves, three french hens, four calling birds, six geese and seven swans.

He was so going to murder whoever had decided this was a good fucking idea.

Ojiro took a breath, and swung open the door. 


He—he really didn’t know what he’d expected, only now he was sitting on his front doorstep, giggling helplessly at the sight before him.

Eight black-and-white cats were sprawled out in front of his door, all dressed in maid outfits, with varying levels of success for each cat. Lined next to his wall were eight milk bottles, blessedly undisturbed by any of the animals nearby. He put those first into his refrigerator, then came back out to collect the animals. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel (that) angry about the birds.

He grinned once he’d gotten all the cats inside and relatively contained in a large cardboard box he’d unearthed from the depths of his closet. He’d gotten a Sharpie, while he was at it, and labelled the box “FORT BABY” in thick black letters.

He whipped out his phone to snap a picture, and sent it to Shinsou.


05:26 sent a file: babyes.jpg



08:49 owo…


Ojiro really didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it earlier. But once he finished placing the last of the tape, he stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Clearly his secret admirer knew where he lived, which in retrospect was mildly terrifying, but also meant that it was probably, most definitely, one of his friends. But they visited his house every day to deliver him gifts, which meant that they had to come in person, or at least get someone to come to his house to deliver his gifts. So, he would send them a message. He’d taped a piece of paper to his front door, reading “Don’t send any more birds. Or cats. Thanks, Ojiro.”

He’d also installed a camera, to catch whoever it was in the act. He’d hidden it in the curtains of the window next to his door, and he just hoped he’d placed it in an obscure enough location for his nightly visitor to not notice it.

Then he knocked on Shouji’s door, laptop, pajamas, and toothbrush in hand, and waited.


Shouji opened his door to see Ojiro, smiling and fully prepared for a sleepover.

“Do you mind if I spend the night?” Ojiro asked brightly, and somehow his optimism made Shouji so much more afraid than his anger.

“Oh, uh,” said Shouji, but Ojiro was already walking in.

“Shouji, you’ll never believe it, I’ve been so dumb !” He sat down at Shouji’s kotatsu, tail wagging merrily. “I just realized, I could’ve just installed a camera to find out who’s been leaving all these,” he paused, “ presents, on my doorstep this past week!”

“Oh, nice,” said Shouji weakly. Ojiro was too absorbed in setting up his computer to notice Shouji pulling out his phone and escaping to his kitchen. “I’ll make us some tea,” he called out, just in case.


class baby

21:29 UM,



Everyone knew that Shouji had a wonderful, amazing, strict sleeping schedule that he adhered to nigh religiously. And Shouji prayed silently that it would stay this way on this particular night.

His prayers went answered when, just short of two hours later, Ojiro was fast asleep, his head pillowed on his arms. His laptop was still showing the live feed from the security camera he’d installed earlier that day. Shouji breathed a soft sigh of relief, and carefully bundled up his sleeping friend, depositing him on the guest futon he’d pulled out an hour or so earlier. Once Ojiro was completely tucked in, Shouji whipped out his phone.

class baby

23:39 HE’S OUT


23:39 \o/



23:39 moving in

class baby

23:40 good luck!!

wlw queen

23:40 Good luck you two!


23:40 do u doubt us ??????


23:40 yes


23:40 RUDE

class baby

23:40 be careful tho, he’s got a camera installed


23:41 oh shit

23:41 can u disable it or smth???

class baby

23:41 i can try, hold up


23:41 hurry, these cages are heavy :((((((((((

class baby

23:41 I Know

23:41 Suffer, Thots


23:42 <///////////3


23:42 should we head up?

class baby

23:42 ugh fuck ths interface

23:42 so it only lets me schedule the end of the feed

23:42 not end it immediately

23:42 i’m ending it at 45, okay?


23:42 got it, thanks


Shinsou slipped his phone back into his pocket, and sighed. His mask was stuffy as hell, and he wanted to finish and head home so badly.

Kaminari turned to him, and the horse-mask he was wearing flopped comically as he turned.

Shinsou tried so hard to stifle his laughter, but goddamit . Why had he agreed to wearing these fucking masks for their “reverse heist?”

“These are heavy,” whispered Kaminari, swinging his cages slowly back and forth.

“Then put them down, dumbass,” Shinsou whispered back. There was a soft clunk as Kaminari gently set down his two cages. “Is it time yet?”

Kaminari looked down at his watch, the horse-mask sagging miserably with his motion, and shook his head. The horse’s snout waggled.

Shinsou stifled another laugh. He wasn’t sure he was going to make the night without laughing at some point.

They waited for a little while longer, until Kaminari nudged his shoulder. Shinsou had given up looking in Kaminari’s direction in the hopes of not bursting out laughing. “Okay, let’s start heading up,” Kaminari whispered.

“It’s 45?”

“By the time we get up there, yeah.”

“Alright.” With that, he hoisted up his two cages, and followed Kaminari up the stairs to Ojiro’s apartment. Shinsou thanked whatever deity of housing-assignments existed that put Ojiro only on the second floor of his apartment building.


In their hurry to quickly and quietly move all the cages and presents, neither of them had noticed that the little red light in the window next to the door was still flickering dimly on and off.



Ojiro woke up slowly. The first thing he noticed was that he was not where he had fallen asleep. He made a confused noise, then saw his laptop, still sitting on the kotatsu where he, and presumably Shouji, had left it the previous night.

Ojiro got up out of his futon—he’d have to thank Shouji for that later—and crept quietly across the hardwood floor. His padded feet made little sound as he went, and for once, Ojiro was grateful for his specialized feet.

He woke up his computer, and saw that the live feed had ended, leaving behind a long recording of the night before. He clicked on the file, ready to sift through hours of empty footage. To his surprise, he saw that the feed had ended around midnight the previous night, leaving him only three or four hours of footage to hunt through.

Some security , he thought indignantly. The whole point is to watch through the night. I wonder why it ended so early…?

Ojiro looked again at the security footage, and found that he wouldn’t have to look as far as he’d previously thought. In the last few seconds of the file recording, there had been a difference—a significant difference—from the rest of the empty footage.

He watched as a figure, carrying two covered birdcages, walked into the frame. Whoever it was knelt down, placing the cages down gently, and—what the fuck ? The person was wearing… a horse-head mask? Another figure walked into the frame with two more birdcages, only Ojiro sees a scar on that second figure’s hand. A very familiar scar.


He’d been with Shinsou when he’d gotten that particularly nasty scar on his left hand. A slip-up, some shrapnel from an explosion, and the rush to a nearby hospital whose staff had had to reassure Ojiro that the wound merely “looked worse than it was.”

Well, if person number two was Shinsou, the only person in this world capable of getting him to unironically wear a horse-head mask was…



Shouji was a light sleeper. He’d heard rustling from Ojiro’s futon, and gotten up to investigate. Hopefully Ojiro would just be confused by the premature end of his recording, but leave it at that.

He walked into the living room just in time to see Ojiro bolt to his feet.


“I figured it out,” Ojiro said, and ran out the door.

Oh fuck .


class baby

05:42 @dumbass1 @dumbass2 RUN FOR YOUR ILVES


Shinsou woke up to the sounds of chaos.

He could hear lots of movement from near the front door, and Kami’s desperate pleading. He was out of the bed immediately, and ran towards the door to see—

Hell hath no fury like an Ojiro enraged.

Ojiro currently had Kami in a choke hold, and looked to be happily suffocating him to death.

“Oh shit, Ojiro, NO,” yelled Shinsou.

Ninety-two birds, ” he says, voice trembling with anger. “ Ninety-two fucking birds. Do you know how loud those fucking birds were? Do you know how many times I had to go to the shelter? Do you know how much birdshit I had to deal with?

“I swear, I can explain—”

They shat all over my couch, Shinsou. They ruined my favorite couch .”


After about an hour of yelling, desperate pleas for mercy, and a fervent promise to buy a new couch, Shinsou and Kami had finally gotten Ojiro from murderous to merely infuriated.

He had taken over their couch instead, while Kami and Shinsou knelt in front of him, heads hung in shame.

Kami was currently explaining the whole thing to Ojiro in the most pitiable tone he could manage. “We just wanted to be your true love, like in the song,” he finished sadly.

Ojiro scoffed loudly, and Shinsou had to admit that hearing that hurt . “True—true love?” Ojiro had a strange, almost pained look on his face. “You two are already together, what more ‘true love’ could you want? There just isn’t room for a third.”

“Says who?” snapped Shinsou.

Ojiro looked at him, startled.

“Who says that a relationship can only be two people? There are no rules about how many people can love each other romantically.”

“I—what?” Ojiro laughing nervously. “You can’t just—you can’t just add me to your relationship, that’s not—that’s not how this works?”

“I’d love you a thousand times over, no matter what anybody says,” Kaminari shouted, surging up to take Ojiro’s hands in his own.

“Q-quiet down—”

“I love both you and Kaminari, and if you’re willing to have us, we’d like to both become your boyfriends,” said Shinsou firmly, reaching up and placing his hands over both Kaminari’s and Ojiro’s.

“I—I,” he faltered, flushing a dark red.

“Ojiro Mashirao, will you be our boyfriend?”

“Oh—my God,” he said weakly.

Shinsou waited tensely. He could feel his palms getting clammier by the second. Ojiro looked so nervous that he was starting to brace himself for rejection—

“You both want me?” Ojiro asked softly.

Shinsou’s mind blanked, but Kami all but yelled “Yes!”

Ojiro smiled, small and nervous. “Well, if you’ll have me, I’d love to be your boyfriend.”


They got complaints from their neighbors about the yelling and cheering.

“Next time don’t hold your parties at fucking 6 in the morning ” had been the exact wording, but Shinsou could hardly care less.

Ojiro had said yes , and both he and Kaminari were losing their minds over this. Ojiro had agreed to date both their dumb asses. Even if he’d immediately dragged them both back to his place to help him scrub out all the birdshit that had accumulated in his apartment over the past week.

Shinsou scrubbed at one particularly stubborn stain, grinning like a madman—or more accurately, like a lovesick idiot. Kaminari, who was working on a spot across the room, looked to be in about the same state of giddiness.

Ojiro walked back into the room, having changed into fresh clothes for the day. “God, I can’t believe you two dumbasses,” he said, laughing. “Why the hell did you have to get me live birds for every day? Where did you even get the birds?”

“Oh you wouldn’t believe the connections Seiwa-san had to pull—”

“Seiwa-san?” Ojiro sounded absolutely shocked.

“Uh, do you know—”

“SEIWA-SAN WAS IN ON THIS? God,” Ojiro dragged a hand down his face. “I feel so betrayed , oh my God.”

“Oh, by the way, Mashi,” Kaminari said as he looked up from his spot. “We still have the rest of the presents to give you.”

No more birds ,” hissed Ojiro.

“No, not the birds! Can we give you the rest of the stuff though?”

Ojiro squinted at Kaminari, clearly weighing his options. “No more live animals, how about that.”

“Spoilsport,” whined Kaminari.

“Deal,” said Shinsou.



Shouji lay sprawled over Ojiro’s new, shit-free couch.

It was almost 10 am now, but neither of them had received any calls yet from their respective agencies, so Ojiro had decided to invite Shouji over in the meantime. Thank him for all his help over that one hellish week.

“Hey, Ojiro,” said Shouji from where he lay.


“I just really want to know, what did they send you for the rings?”

Ojiro laughed. “Oh my god, you wouldn’t even believe. I can’t even remember all of them. Uhmmm…” He paused to think. “One day it was five copies of Lord of the Rings , another day was five boxes of onion rings? For one of the days they literally just gave me five ring pops and just a tube of gold paint.”

Shouji burst out laughing at that. “But did they actually ever get you any golden rings?”

Ojiro blushed, and rubbed the back of his neck. Ojiro couldn’t see it, but he just knew Shouji was grinning under his face mask. Cheeky motherfucker.

“What’d they get?” Shouji asked again.

“Ah, just an empty ring box,” he said. He could feel his face heating up.

Shouji pressed on: “Empty?”

“There was,” said Ojiro, “a note inside.”

Shouji waited, two hands folded neatly under his chin and batting his eyelashes mock-innocently.

“Secret,” Ojiro said, sticking his tongue out at Shouji.

“Bo-ring,” said Shouji, but he didn’t press any farther.

Ojiro thought to the note hidden inside of the box, tucked away carefully into his bedside drawer.

We’re saving this one for later. <3