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Birthdays are a fascinating thing. Everyone has them. The chance to share it with someone else should be 365.25 to 1, but it isn't, because statistics aren't always how life pans out. Besides, it doesn't really matter if the date itself is shared. What matters is who you spend it with.
Nanjo Kojiro always spent his birthday with the one person he loves most.
When he was ten years old, their friendship was new. The two boys had barely met. But still, it was obvious they were connected in some way.
The boy with the pink hair immediately caught his attention. He was smaller than others, and on more than one occasion, people were mean to him. But he didn't care. He burned brighter and fiercer than all of them, handed out more punches than he took, and smiled even when his school shirt and pants were torn from the fight.
Kaoru, Kojiro learned.
The wild boy didn't need anyone to protect him, but that never stopped Kojiro from trying.
At twenty, both were grown. Adolescent but not adults yet, not with how they behaved. They kept challenging one another, always on the run, both from the world and their feelings. It took them quite some time to figure out the tubing sensation in their bellies whenever they got close.
It wasn't anger. It was love.
They stayed out too long, went too far, skated too wild, and fell too hard. But they never crashed. Not with each other there to catch them.
Kaoru's thirtieth birthday was extra-special. Oh, how he tried to keep that number away. He wanted to forget about it, threatened by the mere existence of a numeral, but … Kojiro decided to make it worth their while to celebrate the day anyway.
On March the 27th, there was a ring hidden in a box behind Kojiro's back. At the start of July, he got an answer. That's how long Kaoru made him wait. Not that Kojiro minded. Wedding or not, he knew there would never be anyone else for either of them.
Friends came and laughed and screamed and danced and celebrated. Friends they had been skating with for years. At the end of the day, Kojiro should be right. Making friends, fights, making up… they ended up doing everything through skateboarding.
They celebrated their fortieth birthdays in their own house, close to the restaurant. Half the people from the wedding were gone but others came into their lives to take their place.
Kojiro woke the morning of his birthday when his daughter jumped onto the bed, falling face-first against his broad chest. They stayed like that for a few minutes, but Kaoru entered soon after, a highly distraught tabby cat half-hidden in his Yukata. He wasn't pleased with their daughter chasing it, but even his burning heart melted when Kojiro raised the other arm and invited his husband in for cuddles.
Their house became a stable point in their lives, now getting more and more boring as their bodies began to hurt and complain when they stood on boards for too long. Not that it stopped either of them, though.
By fifty, their daughter was leaving the house. She stepped into the world, always looking forward and rarely back—the drive she inherited always pushing her forward.
It meant Kaoru and Kojiro had more time to themselves again. So they packed their lives into suitcases and did what they’d done in their youth. They traveled. Less by board and more by ship, airplane, and car, but … their trustworthy companions were with them always, regardless.
Kojiro cooked more for them now, with the restaurant in the hands of their best friends. Langa loved food a bit too much and Reki was personified chaos, but they too mellowed out with age, so leaving the establishment with them didn't feel like a bad choice.
Luckily, they only caused a minor fire.
Their sixtieth birthday was a little less wild, mostly because Kaoru's hip hurt after a nasty fall and Kojiro's back was a mess.
Skating wasn't the same anymore and neither were their lives. But the love between them flowed easily and freely, so even if they had to admit to growing old, slowly but steadily, it didn't hurt as much as it could have.
Their daughter visited often. She spent a bit too much time with the redheaded girl she grew up with but neither of the four men dared to point it out when they all met for dinner.
Their seventieth was a little silly. Or maybe a lot . Kaoru got them wheelchairs, even though they barely needed them, just when old injuries acted up too much.
The day started with a wheelchair race—no longer on old mines and wild hills. No, this one was on flat pavement. Of course, Kaoru and Carla won. Kojiro's vehicle wasn't motorized and his muscles were mostly a memory from the past. Reki and Langa were there, laughing and actually on skateboards still, even though they, too, had gotten wobbly.
They each held a small hand, trying to steady wobbly legs before the child was dropped onto Kojiro's lap instead. His grandson didn't like his first skateboard ride.
And at eighty ...
Kojiro twists his ring. "It's strange, isn't it? Some people grow old and never find their other half."
"Yes, it is!"
"But you and me …" Kojiro wants to trace along that cheek but moving is exhausting with a body that beaten.
"I'll always be here."
"I know, Kaoru. I know. You're … nothing can stop you. Nothing was ever able to stop you."
"Promise to stay with me?"
Kojiro nods, tears sliding down weathered skin, disappearing in wrinkles formed by old age and the sun. "Always."
"Stop it, you damn gorilla. So sappy. You're embarrassing."
A laugh, then Kojiro cries harder, as if his body tries to compensate for the moment of brief happiness. It's too much. It's all too much. "Stop. Stop all of this. End it. I'm sorry, but I can't ... It hurts too much. I just ... I miss him so much. Don't you miss him, too?"
"Yes, master."
A last wet chuckle breaks from Kojiro's lips, before he leans back, sinking into the giant, slightly too soft pillow. He pulls the golden band from his finger and lies it down to rest next to the second one, waiting for him. Waiting for them.
Kojiro turns off the lights and thinks about the face he desperately wants to hold again.
"Sleep, Carla."