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It is Fuyuhiko’s birthday. He is turning six years old, and his parents throw him a very elaborate birthday party. They invited many of the Kuzuryu extended family and important clan members, and so that means the gathering is mostly made up of boring grownups. But Fuyuhiko doesn’t mind it too much – he spends the day opening present after present, much to his boyish delight.
It’s around seven o’clock when he manages to sneak away. The alcohol had come out, and his uncles are becoming rather rambunctious, which serve as a good distraction for him to make his escape.
He wanders down the familiar path to Peko’s room. He’s carefully holding onto a plate with a large slice of birthday cake.
His parents had prohibited Peko from attending his birthday party. He had thrown quite the tantrum, to which he received quite the scolding. Ultimately, it was his parents’ will that had won out in the end, as it usually did. But it was still unfair and wrong, Fuyuhiko had decided firmly.
“Peko!” he calls out once he reaches her door.
A moment later, his best friend appears in the doorway.
“Fuyuhiko,” she gives him a happy smile. “Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks!” he says, walking in.
“Here, snuck you piece,” he declares, presenting the plate in his hands.
Peko’s eyes light up. “Thank you,” she replies.
“It’s chocolate,” he states, handing her a fork.
Peko digs into the generous piece and takes a bite. Her nose scrunches up slightly.
“What’s wrong?” Fuyuhiko asks.
She swallows before answering. “Nothing…it’s just…very sweet.”
“You don’t like it?” he questions.
She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t really like sweets.”
He stands there, dumbfounded. He had thought Peko didn’t eat sweets because her kendo instructor had her on some dumb diet, not because she actually didn’t like them. Everybody liked sweets! It just seemed…wrong.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“Well if you don’t like, then don’t eat it,” he says, shrugging. She looks relieved.
He sits down across from her, and Peko listens attentively as he tells her about all the presents he received at his party. With every animated description of the lavish presents he had been gifted, Peko struggles against a rising sense of apprehension.
Suddenly he stops and looks at her closely. “What’s a matter?” he demands.
“N-nothing,” she lies.
“It ain’t nothing! Tell me,” he commands, crossing his arms.
Peko avoids his stare, grappling with indecision. Eventually she concedes, as she always does with his requests. As she is supposed to, she reminds herself.
“I made something for your birthday,” she finally says.
Curiosity sparks in his golden eyes. “I wanna see it!”
Peko hesitates.
“Please,” he adds hastily.
Relenting, she walks over to her small desk where she pulls out the drawing that she had been keeping safely concealed the past few weeks. She holds it out to him nervously. “Happy Birthday.”
He takes it and examines it carefully. It’s a picture of the movie poster from his favorite yakuza film series, Battles Without Honor and Humanity.
“You drew this?” he turns to her in awe.
She nods shyly.
He stares back at it again. “This is the coolest!” he says seriously. “Thanks Peko!”
He then proceeds to go on about how good and cool her drawing is, and how it’s his favorite movie (as if she wasn’t already aware), and does she remember that part in the movie where the yakuza boss takes down the rival gang (as if she hadn’t re-watched all the films with him countless times)?
The boyish grin on his face as he talks sends a wave of pure joy through her.
The next year when Fuyuhiko turns seven, he shows up at Peko’s door with another slice of cake in hand.
“This one is tiramisu!” he exclaims, placing the plate into her hands.
As Peko has her first mouthful, Fuyuhiko watches her intently.
“No good?” he asks, shoulders slumping dejectedly at her furrowed brow.
“I’m sorry,” Peko apologizes, placing her fork down.
Fuyuhiko huffs loudly.
It doesn’t stop him from trying the next year though. Or the following. Each year, he asks for a new flavor for his birthday cake, secretly believing that it would be the year when he finds one that Peko likes. He tries vanilla on his eighth birthday, but to no avail.
On his ninth birthday, he brings her a black sesame cake. Yet Peko remains stubborn.
“Did you have a good party?” she asks him when he takes a seat on the floor of her room, the piece of barely eaten cake set off to the side.
“S’alright,” he shrugs at her.
“What kind of presents did you get?”
Fuyuhiko lists them off, but Peko notices that it’s with less than the usual amount of excitement at his birthday gifts.
Peko is about to comment on how much fun he’s going to have playing with all his new toys, but he becomes uncharacteristically quiet.
She bites her lip, worrying that she has upset him in some way.
“I hate that you can’t come to my birthday,” he finally says, scowling at the ground.
“Sorry,” she says quietly.
“What’re you sorry for?” he frowns. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be sorry.”
This year he had gotten into a big fight with his parents over inviting Peko to his birthday party. He had asked really, really politely this time. And they still said no. That was when he got mad. He got mad about it every year, but this time he had thought really hard and practiced asking in such a nice way that he was sure they were going to agree. So when they still refused, he lost it. Then his parents threatened to cast Peko out if he felt he was “becoming overly attached.” That had shut him up.
“It’s alright,” Peko tells him. “I don’t really like big parties anyways.”
She gives him a small smile, but the hint of sadness on her face is obvious to him. It makes him even angrier.
“When I take over, I’m gonna make sure you get to come to every single one of my parties,” he declares firmly.
“I…kind of like the way things are,” Peko says softly, averting her gaze when he looks at her curiously. “With just the two of us,” she finishes.
“Oh.” He seems taken aback.
Embarrassment rushes through her, along with a sense of wrongness at her suggestion that they are anything more than master and servant.
“Yeah. I like that too,” he says after careful thought. “Alright then. When I take over, I’m gonna have a birthday party, and it’d be just us. And…I’ll order five hundred cakes, and we won’t stop until you find one you like!” he says assertively.
Peko lets out a small giggle.
The next year he is ten, and the cake he brings her is lemon flavored.
“I like it,” she tells him.
Fuyuhiko frowns at her.
“You’re lyin’!” he yells, crossing his arms and scowling.
Peko flushes immediately, and looks down at the floor. “N-No!”
“Are too!” He steps up close to her. “You always tug at your hair when you lie, and then you never look me in the eye!” he proclaims.
Peko instantly looks up at him with a horrified expression of guilt.
He gives her a smug look of satisfaction before it’s quickly replaced by a frown.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“Why’d you lie about liking it?” he asks.
“I…I don’t know…” she replies nervously.
He blinks at her in confusion.
“I…didn’t want you to be mad,” she says softly. “Sorry.”
“Oh.” He falls silent, his forehead creased in thought.
“You thought I’d get mad?” he asks.
Her eyes are wide. “I…don’t know…You get mad sometimes about other things.”
He looks at her, his stomach suddenly churning like he’s eaten something rotten. “I ain’t gonna be mad if you don’t like it,” he says slowly.
“O-Okay…” She sounds uncertain.
“Are…you scared of me?” he asks nervously.
“No!” she shakes her head vehemently. “It’s just that…sometimes when you’re mad, you’re really…loud.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying stuff like this!” she bends at the waist, eyes at the floor.
“Hey, don’t do that!” he cries out, arms shooting out to straighten her back. “You can say whatever you want!”
Peko looks like she would prefer to never speak again.
He struggles with what he wants to say. “I don’t mean to yell at you when I get mad…” Suddenly, he’s the one having trouble looking her in the eye.
“I know,” she says. “It’s okay. I don’t mind that you yell. I just don’t want to make you mad at me.” Peko bites at her lip, hoping she’s explaining herself alright, but feeling like she isn’t.
“I ain’t gonna be mad about the cake!” Fuyuhiko insists. “But…I’m gonna be mad if you lie about it!” he adds sternly.
“I won’t lie again,” she promises solemnly.
“Okay, good,” he says, satisfied.
They stand in an awkward silence for a bit.
“Can I give you your present?” she asks timidly.
He nods eagerly. “Yeah!”
The tension between them dissolves instantly as Peko goes to her desk drawer.
He cranes his head to sneak a glance, but whatever it is remains hidden until Peko opens her closed hand.
“It’s so awesome!” He looks in wonder at the meticulously folded origami dragon she’s placed in the palm of his hand. It’s delicate and perfectly constructed. “I wanna learn how to make one too! Teach me?”
Peko smiles back at him, glowing from his praise.
Happily, she goes to grab two sheets of colored paper for them from her desk. She takes a seat next to him where he listens and follows attentively to her patient instructions on how to fold the paper into a dragon.
On his eleventh birthday, Fuyuhiko asks for taro. He flies through his presents so quickly in order to get to the cake presentation that it earns him a stern lecture from his parents about showing his appreciation for everybody’s generosity.
He finally makes it to Peko’s room, plate in hand, and watches with eager eyes as she takes a bite.
He doesn’t even wait for her to speak before groaning out loud. “You don’t like it, huh?”
She shakes her head apologetically.
“Man, I thought I got it this time!” he complains.
“What’s the matter?” He asks, frowning.
Peko’s eyes are directed at the floor, and she looks as if she is on the verge of tears.
“I ain’t mad, I promise!” Fuyuhiko swears, wondering if she thought he was angry with her again. He had been really careful not to be loud this time.
“It’s not that…” she says quietly.
“Then what’s wrong?” he asks in confusion.
“I-I don’t have a birthday gift for you!” she chokes out, voice wavering. “I-I…wasn’t allowed.” She fidgets anxiously with the bottom of her shirt.
He’s puzzled for a moment, but then the realization dawns on him.
Earlier that year, his parents had found the hidden box where he had carefully kept all of Peko’s gifts to him. He had vehemently insisted that it wasn’t from her, but they could see right through his lies. He had never cried or pleaded as hard as when his father told him he was to throw out the box.
Luckily his mother had intervened and told him that he would be permitted to keep the gifts so long as he swore never to accept anything from Peko again.
“She is your tool,” his mother had reminded him. “Say it.” The stipulation had been clear.
Before that, Fuyuhiko would throw a massive temper tantrum whenever his parents referred to Peko as a tool. It often earned him a painful whack to his bottom. But this time he had swallowed hard, and clutching the precious gifts to his chest, he had nodded obediently and forced out the lie.
“S-She’s a tool…” When they left, he had cried himself raw.
A surge of anger courses through him at the memory, followed by the realization that Peko must have been given orders not to give him any more presents.
It was all his fault. It was because he had not hidden her gifts carefully enough that Peko was now standing in front of him so upset.
“S’alright!” He insists.
But the misery on Peko’s face remains. It feels like someone kicked him in the stomach.
“Stay here,” he tells her, standing up.
“Where are you going?” she asks, bewildered.
“I’ll be back!” he calls to her before darting out of her room and down the hall.
Ten minutes pass before Fuyuhiko appears back in her doorway.
Peko is confused when he reaches for the barely eaten cake slice that had been left forgotten on her table. He produces a candle and a lighter from his pants pocket. Peko watches curiously as he sticks the candle into the piece of cake and lights it.
He looks at her before stating loudly, “I wish that no stupid grownups are gonna tell us what to do anymore!” Then he blows out the candle.
“There!” Fuyuhiko declares. “Now, we can do whatever we want!”
Peko feels a blend of melancholy and appreciation for what he is trying to do. She could play along with the impossible fantasy for one night.
“What should we do?” Peko asks him.
“I’m gonna eat as much as Karinto as I want! And you can have as much Arare as you want!” he says, referring to her favorite snack. “And you won’t hafta train all day anymore. We can climb trees and…and go to the zoo!”
“C-Can we get a bunny?” Peko asks eagerly.
“We can get three,” he replies.
Peko claps her hands in delight.
It is his fourteenth birthday, and it’s harder to get away from the party than before. Now that he’s entered his teens, his parents had encouraged – forced – him to make his rounds and show his face to “demonstrate his suitability to lead the clan.”
Fuyuhiko is exhausted by the time he manages to escape.
“Happy Birthday, young master,” Peko says in greeting when he knocks at her door.
“Here,” he sets down the plate on her table.
“Thank you,” she says as she always does.
He waits expectantly as she carefully slices into the piece and brings it to her lips.
Surprise flickers in her crimson eyes, and Fuyuhiko holds his breath with anticipation.
“Well?” he demands. “Do you like it?”
She pauses thoughtfully. “I believe so.”
He lets out a loud whoop, and the corners of her lips can’t help but curl upwards at his excitement.
“It’s cheesecake,” he informs her proudly, as if he baked it himself.
“It’s good,” she says, reaching for another forkful.
He gazes at her for a brief moment, his stomach flipping at the enjoyment on her face.
Then, he sits down on the floor and begins to tell her how tedious the party had been. Something soft and warm settles in his core with each bite she takes as she listens patiently to his complaining.
“Those fuckers keep asking when I’m gonna get taller!” he says angrily.
“What did you tell them?” Peko asks with a worried expression.
“I told ‘em it’d happen when I bust their fuckin’ kneecaps,” he declares.
She nods seriously in agreement.
As Fuyuhiko continues his tirade, a sense of gratitude courses through her at the opportunity to watch him grow into the man he is becoming. He is going to be an extraordinary clan leader when it comes to be his time, she thinks fiercely.
“What’re you thinking about?” Fuyuhiko pauses mid-rant to ask, distracted by the small smile playing at Peko’s lips. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. That sweet smile and laugh that had come so easily and freely when they were younger seem like such a distant memory nowadays that Fuyuhiko wonders if he had imagined them.
She shakes her head slightly. “Forgive me. I was merely thinking how nice it is to see you on your birthday.”
“What’d you mean? You see me on my birthday every year,” he reminds her.
“I suspect you will have more important things to do with your time, young master.”
He snorts, “This has pretty much been the least annoying thing I’ve had to do today.”
Her cheeks warm at his comment.
“Well, now that you’ve discovered a cake flavor that I enjoy, perhaps you won’t have a reason to visit,” she says, only half-teasing.
Fuyuhiko seems to take it seriously though because his face hardens. “Don’t say shit like that, Peko.”
“Forgive me,” she replies automatically.
That causes his scowl to deepen. “Is that really the reason you think I come over?” he asks sharply.
“I-I…” Peko doesn’t know how to respond. She didn’t mean to upset him with this conversation. Many things she says lately seem to upset him, she thinks regretfully. But she is clueless on how to stop doing so.
“Forget it,” he sighs.
An awkward silence falls between them, and Peko wishes she had just kept quiet and enjoyed the time she had with him.
She fiddles with the empty plate in her lap.
“Peko.”
She glances up at him.
“Listen,” he takes a breath. “You’re…important to me, okay?” The tips of his ears are red, and he is looking at her with an unreadable expression.
“Okay,” she echoes back. She is held frozen by the mesmerizing shades of gold in his eyes.
A ping from his pocket causes them both to startle in their seat.
Fuyuhiko reaches into his pocket and pulls out his cellphone, frowning at the screen. “I gotta go. Natsumi said they’re looking for me,” he sighs with annoyance.
Peko stands up with him.
“I’ll, uh, catch you later,” he says, lingering by her doorway.
“Happy Birthday,” she says softly. “Thank you for the cake,” she adds.
He nods curtly, and gives her a look that makes Peko think he’s going to say more, but he doesn’t.
She watches him walk away and closes the door behind him, wondering why her heart is beating so rapidly in her chest.
From that year onwards, Fuyuhiko requests a cheesecake for his birthday each year.
And the ghost of a smile that Peko gives him when he presents her with the cake slice is undeniably always his favorite gift of all.