Side Story: One Day in February

"Alright, time to leave. Take care of yourself, okay?" Kido put his cap on as he turned to Helena. She simply nodded before handing him a meticulously wrapped lunch box.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'll be fine," Helena answered. Her reply was firm and her smile reassuring, Kido noted; they betrayed how delicate she looked. But of course, he knew looks could be deceiving, and she had proven it for him many times before, even without realizing it.

"Of course. Goodbye," Kido walked toward the door and gave a small wave before closing it down, giving Helena just a little bit of a chance to wave back.

Heaving a contented sigh, she went towards the kitchen; cleanup was in order.

***

Kido let out a big yawn as he unwrapped his lunch. While he certainly did not miss the conflict years ago at all, he thought the postwar era was too uneventful, and his work became far duller as a result. But as he opened the bento box—which curiously contained Western-style dishes—he knew he couldn't complain because of the person who made it. Even just that simple act of making him lunch assured him this time she would never leave anymore.

Unlike the usual, however, there was another smaller box this time. But what caught Kido's attention the most was the small letter that came with it. There's no guessing who it was from, but still, he can't help but wonder as he tore it open.

Today is the 14th of February, the letter began. Did you know? In America, this is a special day.

Kido frowned as he read the opening. He knew a bit about the "special day" she talked about, but most Japanese did not, so he paid the date no heed. After all, Helena, too, did not seem to show any particular concern for it before.

Today is Valentine's Day. A day for people to show affection for the ones they care about. That's why I made chocolates for you. I know I have said this before, but thank you for everything you have done for me.

Ah yes, Valentine's Day, Kido recalled. A celebration of love, though only Westerners seem to see this oft-dreary late winter day as such. On the other hand, the people of the Empire would find it baffling. They would probably question why a particular day should be dedicated to "love."

Despite that, saying they do not understand love would be a mistake. At the very least, he knew now that was what moved him to reach out to her years ago.

Even when the letter itself did not mention that fabled word, and she never said it either, he could see that she, too, felt the same.

People of the Empire are adept at reading feelings hidden under one's actions.

She returned for him.

She stayed.

To him, that was worth more than any admission of love.

With a laugh that elicited curious, strange looks from passing subordinates and colleagues, Kido decided to forgo his food for now and went straight for the small box, which was indeed filled with chocolates.

He found out that they definitely taste better handmade as he bit into one.

***

"I'm home," Kido called as he stepped into the house.

"Welcome home. You are a little late, Kido-san," Helena offered.

"Oh, just something I need to do. Should have done that earlier, but…" Kido paused and reached for his coat to look for something just as Helena was about to take it off him.

"Yes?"

"Here," he found what he sought and presented it to her. "This will do for now."

Helena gazed at the gift—a pair of jeweled hairpins in the shape of birds, their blue color suggesting the stones were sapphire.

"…I… It's beautiful, but…can I really accept these?"

"Of course. Those pins remind me of you. A bluebird."

Helena held the trinkets close to her chest and smiled, her cheeks adorned with a deep blush.

"Do I make you happy, then?"

"Always."