He stares at it. The year he got here, the year he met Ren and everything went to shit, he got chocolate from every girl in his class but one, and a good number of those in his year and even beyond it. He had it all distributed to the orphanages of Tokyo, who probably sold it rather than let it get anywhere near a kid. But he had tried.

And he looks at Trickster's little box, now, as if it might bite him. Then the mask takes over, what remains of it, and he reaches out a hand to take it. "Thanks. I suppose you'll want something on White Day?"