To put it bluntly, Mizuki disliked Christmas.

Having grown up in Japan, he had no real connection to the holidays. He didn’t have any fond memories of frolicking with his siblings or cousins on Christmas morning beneath the glimmering lights of a splendid tree; wading in a sea of colorful wrapping paper while competing over who could open the most presents the fastest, or the exhilaration of getting precisely what you wanted – or the disappointment of opening yet another pair of knitted socks from Grandma.

To a certain extent, he was glad of it.

Glad that he didn’t have to deal with the seven circles of Hell that was pre-Christmas shopping in an overcrowded, bustling shopping center, filled with screaming children and speakers belting out the same 80s Christmas hits. He was relieved to call himself immune to this seasonal pandemic. Mizuki was thankful to say he hadn’t been brought up to such consumerism and high-maintenance lifestyles. His family was a modest and composed one, spending only what was necessary, and little to nothing on excess luxuries.

For that precise reason, his parents’ home was still without an internet connection, and they were still watching the same bulky TV they’d had in the 90s. Mizuki was used to shopping for bargains, searching for the most reasonable alternative.

It wasn’t that they were greedy. They weren’t. His family was just opposed to senseless spending and the trend of needing this and that at all times.

Mizuki was grateful for his parents’ frugality, even if he hadn’t agreed with it as a disgruntled child. How else would he have gotten the opportunity to study abroad?

He now found himself in Europe, where he studied history. His university town was, of course, more than ready for Christmas, even though it was weeks away.

He probably should have been used to it by now, seeing as his hometown in Japan had long since adopted the tradition of putting up decorations and playing Jingle Bells before Halloween even – another adopted holiday he didn’t care for.

He was a historian. Maybe not on paper just yet, but in spirit, and there were far more important things in life as far as he was concerned than consumer holidays that had long since lost their purpose. Especially in countries where they had no roots to begin with.

This disposition had earned him the nickname Scrooge by his university friends, a reference he had only halfway understood until he caught tidbits of (yet another) Christmas film on TV one night.

                                                                 ❋❋❋❋

Mizuki hurried through the slush, anxious to get out of the cold and back to his modest student accommodation. To shave half a minute off of his strenuous journey in the unpleasant weather, he veered across the mall parking lot – dodging boisterous children and shopping carts brimming with bundles and bags – only to almost slam straight into a shape standing in the middle of his path.

“Ah! Excuse me!” Mizuki stuttered with a heave as he avoided the crash. He looked up, and realized he was staring at a rather short, plump, elderly-looking man with a bushy white beard and a red suit. The man’s eyes seemed to kindly smile at him from behind a pair of round spectacles.

He’d crashed into Santa Claus. Or another person pretending to be him anyway. A mall Santa for the kids.

Sighing, Mizuki pulled himself together and bowed apologetically, wishing to get on with his life. His boots were starting to soak through with slush, cold creeping up into the rest of his body.

“ Don’t worry about it, young man,” the man gave a hearty chuckle which had his big belly jumping up and down inside his costume. “It’s easy to get ahead of oneself in the holiday season, isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Are you saying you’re not feeling the holiday spirit?” the man almost looked sad at the thought.

Mizuki shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I’d just like to—“

“Wait a moment,” the man in the Santa costume waddled over to a table where there stood a big cauldron for some kind of donation, and a big jar full of candy canes. The sugary scent wafted towards Mizuki. He considered running off before being presented with the sticky sweets, but found no time before ‘Santa’ was back. In his hands he held a package wrapped in cellophane, with a big red, glittery bow tied around the top.

“Poinsettia,” he said. “Or the Christmas Star, if you will.”

“Huh?”

“Christmas spirit in a pot! Merry Christmas, Mizuki! May it bring you joy!” the old man chuckled again, in that cringy Ho-Ho-Ho that all Santa figures were bound to.

Mizuki looked down at the package in his hands – it seemed to be containing a plant of sorts, and felt heavier than expected.

“Hey, I don’t nee—“ he started to protest, but when he looked up, the man was nowhere to be seen.