December 12th, Morning, 11:23 AM—Winter vacation had closed the school for a few weeks, giving Manabu ample time to sleep in.
That morning, he woke up late, trudging out of bed to grab the newspaper from the doorstep. As he brushed his teeth, he set the coffee to brew, preparing a simple breakfast of half-boiled eggs and bread.
While eating, he flipped open the newspaper and immediately froze at the headline:
"The Christmas Killer, Mr. Santa Claus."
Sometime between 1-2 AM last night, three individuals were brutally murdered in a neighboring district. Intrigued, Manabu read further, noting an eerie detail that made his pulse quicken—the three victims were all criminals.
His heart raced as he shoved the plate aside and rushed to the bathroom. He remembered them from his past research. From the hidden ceiling compartment, he pulled down his secret notebook and flipped through its pages, a toothbrush still in his mouth.
"Gotcha!" Among the names in his file, one now leaped off the page:
Hatu Nauchi. Arrested for a DR (Drug & Rape) case in 1895. Released in the same year for lack of evidence, though a rearrest warrant was issued in 1896. Hatu was also suspected of fraud, money laundering, and drug-related crimes. He had started his life of crime at 21, sinking deeper into illegal activities like substance abuse and trafficking.
His most sinister crimes involved allegations of rape—drugging his victims until they overdosed, suffering excruciating deaths.
"Fucking bastard..." Manabu cursed, his disdain evident. "Well deserved! Monsters like them should die this way."
He continued reading the document and other details before pulling out his mobile, researching online about the case.
Last night, Hatu hadn't been alone. His two younger accomplices, aged 19-20, were also killed. But they weren't listed in Manabu's notebook. Returning to the table, he grabbed a pair of scissors and carefully cut out the article about the Christmas murders from the newspaper. Taping it into his file, he wrote at the top:
"Mr. Santa Claus—Merry Christmas."
Manabu shut the diary and put it back in its place.
Afternoon— at Taiju's Apartment—Manabu lounged in Taiju's room, sprawled upside down on the bed, his legs dangling over the edge. His head hung off the side, staring at the world through an inverted lens. Everything felt off—his body ached, and his mind felt heavy from the lack of sleep.
The night had been restless, plagued by a monotony that weighed heavily on his soul. His boredom was palpable, gnawing at him like an itch he couldn't scratch.
Taiju had gone out to fetch snacks, leaving Manabu alone in the silence of the house.
Mion, Naomi, and Mai were all busy elsewhere. Mion and Naomi had gone shopping with Uncle Futaba to prepare for the upcoming Christmas and New Year celebrations. Mai had decided to treat herself to a haircut at the beauty salon.
The sound of the door unlocking snapped Manabu out of his daze. Taiju entered with a bag of snacks, a mischievous grin on his face.
Without a word, he tossed a packet of chips at Manabu's upside-down face.
Manabu caught it effortlessly, his reflexes sharp despite his visible ennui.
"Feeling bored?" Taiju asked, raising an eyebrow as he plopped down onto a chair.
Manabu didn't respond. He sat up slowly, his face a mask of indifference, yet his eyes betrayed the void within.
He looked like someone who had lost all meaning in life—a man carrying an invisible burden.
Taiju smirked. "Did you catch today's news? There's a serial killer in Doshiqi. Goes by the name Mr. Santa. He's quite popular right now."
Manabu's gaze flickered with a hint of interest. "Yup, I've heard about him," he replied flatly.
Taiju leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly. "This guy's no joke. He's killed about twelve people in just over two weeks. And all were criminals!"
"Twelve?" Manabu's brows furrowed slightly as curiosity sparked in his mind.
Taiju grabbed a stack of newspapers from the desk, flipping through them until he found the pages he wanted. He handed them to Manabu.
"Check these out—November 27th and December 5th."
Manabu hadn't read these news articles before. He glanced at the dates and realized— 'Those days, I couldn't find the newspapers. Either the delivery guy skipped, or someone stole them,' Manabu thought to himself.
He scanned the articles before asking, "When did this Santa start appearing?"
Taiju leaned back, rubbing his chin. "Early winter. Around November, when the first chills began. And in just two months, he's taken down eight criminals. Not ordinary people, mind you—serious offenders. This guy's a calculated killer. A mastermind."
Manabu sat up straighter, his mind beginning to turn. "So, Mr. Santa only targets criminals and bad people?"
Taiju nodded. "Exactly. But whether he's some kind of vigilante or just a psycho, I can't say. Do all bad people deserve to die? In his case, the answer is yes."
Manabu tilted his head slightly. "If he only kills criminals, does that make him a hero?"
Taiju shrugged. "Depends on how you look at it. In my perspective, he is justice because all the victims were extremely dangerous and evil. One of Santa's victims—I can't recall his name—killed and violated many women and children. And Santa murdered him. So in my opinion, that guy deserved it. Didn't he?"
Manabu flipped through the newspapers. "Quite an ambitious killer… He kills in different ways. It's as if the punishment fits the crime. There's a saying: 'The finer you do, the finer you get.' Maybe this Santa guy wants to bring peace to society… or maybe he just enjoys the thrill of killing. Criminals are probably challenging prey for him."
Taiju began recounting some of Santa's victims.
"November 27th—remember? Mai and I were trying to hack the guy. That night, two people were found dead. Karu Jouiki and Sora Jouiki, 'The Twin Assholes.' Senior members of the Joo-hai gang.
They were wanted for cyber fraud, blackmail, and gang murders. They hacked victims' private information, blackmailed them, and drove many to suicide. Their bodies were found in an apartment where they were hiding from rival gangs.
At first, the police thought it was a gang murder and closed the case within two months…"
On the other hand, there was Ashara Shoko—a single mother. Her husband left her because he believed she was a narcissist. They divorced, but their child remained with her due to a court ruling. A few months later, an arrest warrant was issued after her younger son called his father for help. He said, "His brother died, and Mom left the house." The father wasted no time and immediately called the police.
(Shoko had been abusing them ever since their father left. Her elder son died from extreme abuse—she slammed his head against the wall, killing him on the spot—while the younger one ended up hospitalized.)
She escaped, but the father pressed charges against her. Shoko disappeared in September and remained unfound for a long time. However, on November 30th, she was found dead in an apartment. The police initially suspected her clients, but no leads emerged.
Manabu raised his eyebrows as he read the newspaper. "And what about December 3rd to 5th?"
Taiju grimaced. "That's when things escalated. December 3rd to 5th was a mass murder—six people died in one district."
Later, in February 1896, the police issued an arrest warrant for those six—Roshi Oto, Matsunaga, and Ogato among them. They were monsters. They tortured and killed seven to eight people, including a seven-year-old girl whom they raped and murdered while high on heavy drugs.
Taiju's fists clenched, his voice filled with venom. "Bastards… That's the motherfucker I mentioned earlier. I saw the news back then and wished these motherfuckers dead. They deserved it."
Manabu's eyes narrowed. "How did the police connect these killings to Santa?"
Taiju grinned. "The Gift."
Manabu tilted his head. "What kind of gift?"
Taiju explained, "Santa always leaves a signature gift at every crime scene, along with a letter. Last night, they found a Santa toy cart near the window. When you wind it up, it plays Jingle Bells.
The investigation team went back to previous cases and discovered similar gifts at those scenes. They hadn't thought much of it before, but now it's a crucial part of the case."
Manabu was surprised by Taiju's knowledge of the case. He had indeed researched a lot. "I thought you had no interest in such things."
"Don't be silly! Everyone likes reading or researching these things."
"What if we're Santa's next victims?" Manabu's smile darkened as he made a dramatic, creepy face.
"Don't say such scary things! But I'm sure he won't hurt us since we're innocent."
Manabu laughed. "I was kidding. Anyway, how's your martial arts class?"
Hearing this, something seemed to click in Taiju's mind.
"Oh, wait!" he exclaimed, running off. He returned moments later with his belt—a red master belt, traditionally handmade, featuring a dragon painted in gold and black. Holding it up proudly, he explained, "My master gave me this. He made it by hand—it's above even a black belt. He said I'm the finest student he's ever had. He specially made this for me, with his own hands."
Manabu examined the belt, his fingers tracing the intricate design. The traditional dragon, etched in black on the deep red surface, caught his attention. "It's super cool," he remarked, genuinely impressed.
Taiju, however, returned to the topic. "Anyway, Santa is incredibly smart. I'm nothing compared to him. People are even starting to support Santa because he only kills criminals. And just like the actual Santa Claus, he strikes when everyone's asleep and leaves a gift behind."
Manabu nodded thoughtfully, piecing things together as they spoke. Suddenly, Mai entered the room, her hair freshly styled.
"What's going on, Manabu?! You're here too?" she asked, her voice light and cheerful.
Turning to Taiju, she spun around slightly, her hair glinting under the light. "How does my new haircut look, Taiju?"
Taiju turned around, his face immediately flushing. Adjusting his glasses nervously, he stammered, "It looks really beautiful."
Manabu's lips curved into a sly smile as he glanced at Taiju, fully aware of the situation. He knew Taiju liked Mai, and what's more, he could tell Mai felt the same about Taiju.
The problem was, neither of them could muster the courage to confess. Watching them struggle was both amusing and frustrating. Leaning close to Taiju, Manabu whispered mischievously, "You liked it, didn't you~?"
Taiju's face turned even redder as he tried to push Manabu away. Manabu simply laughed, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
Mai tilted her head curiously. "What's going on?" she asked, her eyes shifting between the two boys.
"Nothing," Manabu replied, still grinning. "It's a brotherhood thing."
Taiju, meanwhile, felt like he was melting from embarrassment. His mind raced as he stole glances at Mai, thinking, She looks pretty…
Manabu let out a soft, weary sigh and said calmly, "It's already the 12th. Just a few days until Christmas. Let's just celebrate Christmas together."
Everyone was waiting for the New Year. His voice carried a quiet hope. They were hoping the New Year would bring something good, hoping it would bring new light. He glanced at Taiju and Mai.
For all of them, the New Year symbolized more than just a fresh start. It was their final year at DSH. Then came the separation—the threshold of their futures.
Despite everything, they all carried small flickers of hope that this year would be better than the last, that they could leave behind the chaos and carve out something brighter. Manabu's words lingered in the air, a simple invitation wrapped in unspoken wishes.
At that same moment, right where Mion stood, she gazed up at the sky, her eyes reflecting a quiet hope for tomorrow. Naomi, standing nearby, looked up as well and softly remarked, "It's snowing."
The flakes drifted gently, painting the night in delicate white. The cold breeze carried with it a sense of serenity, making this winter the most beautiful one in recent years.
Mion closed her eyes, pressing her hands together in a silent prayer. "I hope… I hope we all stay happy together forever," she whispered, her breath forming a faint mist in the frigid air.
Her words were a quiet plea, echoing the unspoken wishes of those around her.
All around, people smiled and shared in the season's joy, their hearts united in the same silent wish.
"I hope we all get to live a life of love. I hope…"
But far away, under the same sky, a figure stood still. A man draped in a long black jacket, his presence as cold and cutting as the wind. His gaze pierced through the falling snow, fixed on the same heavens Mion and Naomi admired. And then he whispered:
"Sometimes, wishing for something doesn't bring anything."