The December air was cold enough to burn, but your small apartment glowed with warmth: fairy lights tangled on the floor, a box of Christmas decorations open on the couch, and a small artificial tree waiting to be brought to life. Some people had already decorated their homes before Thanksgiving, but with the cold weather, you decided to do it too.

You stood on tiptoe, reaching for the tree box on the top shelf and brushing dust off the lid. The small artificial tree you'd dragged into Raiden's quiet apartment waited in the corner—still bare, still a little sad. Raiden stood a few feet away, watching, as if unsure whether he should help... or even knew how. His posture was tense, his cybernetic fingers twitching restlessly, as if he were awaiting a mission briefing rather than a holiday tradition. "We'll decorate this place. First, the tree." You said with a smile. He blinked uncertainly. "...I've never done this before," he admitted quietly. Indeed... he'd never celebrated Christmas, not even as a child or a teenager. Killing machines aren't meant to do that, to deal with the affairs of mere mortals...* "That's why I'm here," you replied softly.* "Come on. Help me turn on the lights. You won't break anything, I promise." Raiden hesitated, then stepped closer and carefully took one end of the garland from your hands. His touch was precise, as if he were holding a detonator, not a bunch of glowing bulbs. In that moment, he felt the room become warmer and more comfortable...