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“I'm warning you now, if at any point tomorrow I walk into a party of any kind, I'm turning around and leaving.”
“If at no point tomorrow I walk into a party of any kind, I'm never speaking to any of you again.”
“Please no party, seriously, I’m with Ichiji on this. Dinner would be good enough.”
“No way, I want a party and dinner.”
Sora rolled her eyes as finished loading the dishwasher, catching a plate before it could slip out of her pruney, dishsoap-slick hands. It was hard to believe her boys were turning 18 and not 8. The discussion surrounding their birthday had been running every day for over two months now, just like every year. It was little wonder Reiju had moved out shortly after coming of age, and why Zeff was so keen to stay later at the Baratie from January until early March. It made Sora long for the days of paper party hats, pizza, and box mix cupcakes.
As she’d done since early January, she gave them her boilerplate answer: “Well, I guess we’ll see on March 2nd.”
Immediately, the boys erupted into bickering once again. Ichiji and Sanji on the side of dinner only, and Niji and Yonji fighting valiantly on the side of a big party. Sora stole a glance over her shoulder as she took a dishwasher pod from under the sink, and chuckled to herself at the sight of them. They’d had such big personalities even as babies - she had known even then that it wasn’t something they’d outgrow.
“What the fuck Sanji -”
“LANGUAGE,” Sora cut in sternly. She knew that they all swore (with Niji naturally being the worst offender), but she could at least put her foot down that they were never to do it around her (again with Niji being the worst offender).
“Sorry mom - what the hell, Sanji, you love parties!”
“Parties with you and Yonji aren’t parties. They turn into stampedes, or barroom brawls.”
“Oh, and you and Sanji know all about that, wouldn’t you, Ichiji? Drinking mom and Zeff’s booze when they’re not home, acting like you’re so fancy?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you cherish your muscles and your single brain cell, you should shut up right now.”
Sora rolled her eyes again as she wiped down the sink, the dishwasher slowly churning to life beside her. She knew full well Yonji was telling the truth. As if she and Zeff couldn’t tell when the missing whiskey from their bottles had been replaced with water and (she suspected) food coloring. But that was going to be the subject of a separate discussion, one between her, Zeff, and Ichiji and Sanji. She wasn’t fond of their sneaky drinking in her house, but at least they had the sense to drink the cheap stuff she’d purposely left out.
“I don’t think Sanji and I are wrong for wanting a quiet dinner with just the family.”
Yonji booed Ichiji, and Niji snidely cut in. “You don’t care about a family dinner, you just don’t want a party because you think you’re going to make an ass of yourself -”
“NIJI.”
“Sorry mom. Anyway, Ichiji, you suck at parties and your ‘I’m-too-good-for-this’ act will only get you so far with the people you’re into. All they have to do is try to get you to dance and they’ll see that you’re just as awkward and lame as Sanji and Yonji.”
“Hey!”
“What the hell, I’m on your side!”
“People I’m into?” Ichiji’s voice was icy and sharp, and Sora knew she’d soon have to intervene to prevent the four of them from destroying her freshly-cleaned kitchen. The last thing she needed was another round of drywall repairs. “Like you’d know anything about that.”
“Oh really? Let me just invite Nami -”
“That’s ENOUGH.” Sora clapped her hands loudly and all four of her boys jumped. Four sets of blue eyes - identical to her own - rested on her, and she could tell that, for a moment there, they had forgotten she was standing there and listening. Ichiji’s face was flushed, and she knew it was not all anger. Sanji looked guilty for having engaged, and Yonji looked almost like a puppy - alert and attentive, smiling when she made eye contact. Niji’s eyes shifted behind his glasses, and Sora knew he was aware he had stepped in it.
“Like I have repeatedly said, we’ll see how it’s going to go when March 2nd gets here. If I remember correctly, not a single one of you has ever had a birthday to complain about. Now go to your rooms and make sure all your dirty laundry is in the hampers and everything clean is put away. And don’t think I won’t check.”
Ichiji was up first, storming away and muttering under his breath about how nobody could stand being around Niji most of the time anyway. She heard the door to his room - formerly Reiju’s room - slam before the others had even gotten up. Sanji followed, pushing in his chair, sighing to himself, and Yonji jumped up right after him. Niji rose to head to the basement room he’d claimed for himself -
“Not you, instigator.”
Niji let out an over-dramatic groan.
“You’ve been warned, repeatedly.” Sora folded her arms over her chest, trying to look authoritative despite the worn sweater and ripped jeans she wore, and the fact that her second son towered over her. “Take the trash out, from the bathrooms and the laundry room. And make sure everything gets taken to the curb.
Niji gave her a pained look, showing all his teeth in an exaggerated grimace. “It’s Sanji’s turn -”
“I didn’t hear Sanji swearing repeatedly in my kitchen and trying to goad Ichiji into a fight.” Sora made it clear in her tone that there would be no pleading or negotiating as she turned to finish wiping the counters. Her phone lit up, a new message flashing on the screen from Nami, the youngest daughter of her best friend/romantic partner and the object of her eldest son’s affection: “Hi Miss Sora! Mom and I checked everything over and we’re good for tomorrow’s plans - she said if you want to stop by later -”
Sora quickly threw a dishtowel over the phone before Niji could see, but he was already stomping around, grumbling mutinously to himself. All for the best. He’d find out about the multi-room venue when his brothers found out, with a charming dinner space and a party hall on separate ends of the building, giving the brothers all what they want. It had taken months of planning and a considerable amount of their father's money (though he spared no expense for his 'precious sons,' regardless of how his relationship with Sanji in particular had deteriorated), but it was
done
. Done, they'd all get what they want, and the world would know peace.
She waited until she heard Niji climbing the stairs for the bathrooms before grabbing her phone and quickly texting back: "Wonderful, thank you Nami! You and your mother are lifesavers, and I'll cut you a check for your assistance."
Before she could set the phone back down, the screen lit up again.
"Just wondering, any ideas on what you're gonna do for their 19th birthday?"
A horrifying thought. Sora and Zeff had gone all out on the planning for the 18th - DJs, catering, decorations, bakery-made cakes for each of them. There would be no topping it - and the boys (at least Niji and Yonji) would certainly be expecting them to top it.
Sora's answer was short and resigned. "We can start planning for that next January."
Maybe by then, paper party hats, pizza, and box mix cupcakes would be a hit again.