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    “... cupcake,” naoi says instead. “i brought you a cupcake. a dumb, stupid cupcake.”

    kurumi blinks. “you… what?”

    naoi pulls a small paper bag from her jacket in the way she pulls things out as if they might explode. inside is a single cupcake, clumsy and leaning, candles thrust into the frosting like little flags. the frosting is a pale pink, probably far too much sugar, with a sprinkle of glitter that catches the dimmed light.

    kurumi steps closer, eyes wide like a child’s and crestfallen in the most honest way. she hadn’t expected anyone to remember properly, especially not naoi. naoi’s face is unreadable. there is a moment where it could be a joke—an insult, a trap—but naoi is not laughing.

    “i don’t do birthdays,” she says, voice small as if addressing someone else. “but you’re making me do something dumb. it’s your fault for being born.”

    Language:
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    19 May 2026