Snow fell in endless sheets over the village, each flake catching the pale moonlight like tiny shards of glass. Riku Shonju trudged through it barefoot, his tattered clothes clinging to his frost-bitten skin. Hunger gnawed at him like a persistent shadow, his stomach twisting painfully.

  He reached a small hut, smoke curling from its chimney. The rich scent of stew drifted through the cracks, promising warmth and food. Hesitant, Riku knocked softly.

  The door cracked open. A middle-aged man appeared, bundled in furs. “Get out, kid!” he barked, before slamming it shut.

  Riku flinched, swallowing the bitter taste of rejection, and moved to the next house. A woman’s kind face appeared, softened by candlelight, but she shook her head. “Go away.”

  At the third hut, an elderly man opened the door. “Sorry, kid… we don’t have any food.” His voice was gentle, almost apologetic, and yet the door closed before Riku could speak.

  Riku stood in the snow, shivering, his breath forming small clouds in the frozen air. “Okay…” His voice trembled.

  He turned toward the edge of the village, toward the shallow cave he called home. But as he passed the old man’s window, he froze: the man was eating bread, meat, and steaming soup. A jagged pang pierced Riku’s chest.

  “Almost midnight… time to go home,” he whispered, though home was a cold, narrow cave hidden beneath snowdrifts.

  A sudden voice called from behind. “Riku-kun! Wait!”

  Kuroku Airi, a girl slightly older, ran through the swirling snow. Her cheeks burned red, and her breath steamed in hurried puffs. She held two small loaves of bread.

  “Riku-kun?”

  She smiled gently, shivering. “Merry Christmas! My parents asked me to bring these to you.”

  Riku blinked. “Why… why would they do that?”

  Airi shrugged, her gaze flicking to the ground. “I don’t know… but they wanted you to have them.”

  Riku accepted the bread with trembling hands. “Thank you…”

  “You’re welcome.” Airi’s smile was fragile, but bright. “Where are you heading?”

  “My… home,” he said quietly. “It’s almost midnight.”

  “Mind if I come?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “It’s… just a cave.”

  “I won’t mind,” she said simply.

  The two walked through the silent forest, the snow crunching beneath them. Frost dripped from the branches like crystal daggers, and the air bit at their exposed skin.

  “I never knew you lived this deep in the forest,” Airi said softly.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “Wolves bother me sometimes… but they usually run when they realize I’m not easy prey,” Riku replied, flexing his scarred hands.

  Airi’s brow furrowed. “So that’s why you’re hurt so often…”

  They reached the cave, where the snow had stopped and the stars spread above them like scattered diamonds.

  Airi sat beside him, pulling her coat tighter. “Your home… isn’t too bad.”

  Riku chuckled faintly. “It’s… alright.”

  She hesitated. “You could stay at my house… my parents have room, food…”

  “I wouldn’t want to trouble them,” Riku said softly.

  “You won’t be a trouble,” she insisted, pouting.

  “Time to head back,” he said gently.

  “But I want to stay!”

  “You shouldn’t,” he said. “Your parents will worry.”

  For a moment, she looked at him with a warmth that made his chest ache—and then she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

  Riku froze. Airi ran off, shouting over her shoulder, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Riku-kun!”

  He smiled slowly, warmth blooming where there had been only cold. “I guess… good things do happen.”

  But morning came with a nightmare. Flames licked beneath him. He struggled—tied to a wooden cross as villagers chanted accusations of witchcraft.

  “Why? I didn’t do anything!” he screamed.

  A gentle voice echoed in his mind: “Why are you crying, Riku Shonju?”

  When he opened his eyes, the villagers were gone, the fire vanished. A sleigh descended from the sky, glowing reindeer leaving trails of light.

  “Are you the one who called?” a jolly voice boomed.

  “Yeah… who are you?”

  “Santa Claus,” the man said with a laugh. “Let’s get you down, boy.”

  With surprising strength, Santa freed him and offered a gift: a small, white phoenix chick, shimmering in the moonlight.

  “What is it?” Riku whispered.

  “A legendary white phoenix,” Santa said softly. “A creature of rebirth and purity. And food for it—you’ll find everything it needs in the box.”

  Riku’s eyes sparkled. “Thank you… Santa!”

  “Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!”

  Back in the village, dazed villagers stumbled out of their homes, as if awakening from a collective nightmare.

  Riku returned to his cave, laying the chick on the stone floor. It chirped softly, stretching its tiny wings.

  “I’ll call you… Hakuho,” Riku whispered. The phoenix chirped again, bright and lively.

  For the first time, the cave felt warm.