"Fluff and Feathers"
by:
Virgilio F. De leon Jr.MD
Chapter 1: The Idol and the Bird-Hater
The train from Tokyo to Hokkaido rattled beneath Umi’s boots as she hugged her backpack to her chest. Inside it? Bubble-wrapped hopes. A specially sealed display case. And space—lots of it—for this year’s conquests.
She wasn't here for relaxation or promotion work. No magazine shoot. No TV guest spot.
This trip was sacred.
The annual Shima-enaga Winter Wonder Fest was more than a niche convention. It was a pilgrimage for the devoted—those who adored the fluffball native to Hokkaido with the same fervor monks gave their mantras.
Umi grinned, scrolling through her checklist.
– Limited Plush: Snow Bath Ver.
– Artist Collab Enaga Pouch
– Official Enaga Cafe Mug
– Acrylic Stand of “Commander Puff” (Only 300 made!)
– Hot cocoa with Enaga Marshmallows (x3)
She squealed quietly, drawing curious glances from fellow passengers. She didn’t care. Let them stare. She’d fought her agency tooth and nail to get this weekend off.
When the train pulled into Sapporo, Umi was the first off.
Hayato had been in Hokkaido exactly two months and seventeen days.
He knew this because every one of them had sucked.
“I’m not running some bird cult,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting the “Welcome to White Puff Dreams!” banner for the third time.
The shop—formerly a neglected souvenir nook—reeked of his late grandfather’s poor taste and obsessive bird hoarding. Plushies in all shades of white, scarves with weird-eyed birds, enamel pins that blinked when tilted—it was like being trapped in a snow globe with stuffed animals.
Hayato didn’t get it.
Why this bird? Why the Shima-enaga?
He’d looked them up out of spite. “The Long-Tailed Tit subspecies native to Hokkaido. Cute, round appearance. Often referred to as ‘snow fairies.’”
Snow fairies. Please.
Hayato rolled his eyes and returned to the counter.
Then the bell jingled.
“Whoa…”
The girl who stepped in looked like she'd wandered off a film set. White beanie with puffy ears, pink cheeks from the cold, and boots dusted with fresh snow. She took one step inside, then froze like she’d seen God.
Hayato waited. Customers usually did this.
But she didn’t start browsing like a normal person.
Instead, she dropped to her knees in front of a plush pyramid.
“T-The 2022 Enaga Fuwafuwa Cloud Ver... still sealed...?”
Hayato frowned. “You gonna worship it or buy it?”
Her head snapped up. Her eyes were huge. “You—you run this shop?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You’re sitting on a historical site.”
Hayato blinked. “I think it’s just a souvenir dump.”
The girl stood, and her tone shifted from amazed to aggressive idol-mode real fast.
“Souvenir dump?! These are collector-tier plushies! This one still has the original soft tag! That scarf was discontinued after a thread error in the factory! How dare you!”
“Lady, they’re birds.”
“They’re not just birds.” She marched up to the counter. “You have the Yuki Puff 2018 in the back?”
“I have a pile of nonsense in the back,” he deadpanned.
She gave him the most disgusted look he’d ever received from someone that attractive. “You’re the worst kind of shopkeeper.”
That should have been it.
One weird girl, one argument, and gone.
But she came back the next day.
And the next.
And the next.
By the end of the week, she’d brought cookies shaped like Enaga heads (“For shop karma”), tea from her hotel, and—somehow—five new customers she met in the hotel lobby.
Hayato watched as she cheerfully rearranged displays, handled rare plushies with reverence, and explained each variant’s backstory like they were relics in a museum.
Despite himself, he started listening.
Despite himself, he started... liking it.
No. Not the birds.
Just... her.
