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Sitting cross-legged on Ren’s bed, mouth and eyes wide open with shock, Futaba is dumbfounded. Astonished. Flabbergasted, even.
She can barely believe what she’s just heard.
“When were you going to tell me this!? This is crucial information!”
For whatever reason, Ren doesn’t seem to realize the gravity of this situation. For someone so sharp-witted, he could be incredibly dense, sometimes.
“Er… I didn’t really think it was that big of a deal.” He has just barely enough decency to sheepishly rub the back of his neck, sitting across from her, playing cards now forgotten between them.
Futaba throws her hands up incredulously. “Your birthday is on April Fools and you thought it wasn’t ‘that big of a deal!?’ And not to mention, it’s in three days!”
She thinks about all the preparations she’s gonna have to make, which includes procuring a present for him in time, among other things…
“… Gah, you should’ve told me sooner!”
“Sorry,” he shrugs apologetically. “It… never crossed my mind.”
Pshh. Never crossed his mind. The infamous Leader of the Phantom Thieves, able to cheat even death, didn’t think about how his birthday is—
How his birthday is…
Suddenly, she realizes something hilarious, and fails to suppress a snort.
“Wait a sec— Snrk— Y-You were born on… April F-Fools?”
The thought is too much, and she bursts into fits of laughter, unable to contain herself. “A-and— And you’re—You—!”
He watches her blankly, perplexed at her apparent overreaction, as she struggles to form a coherent sentence.
“Uhh… Are you okay?”
Desperately trying to explain her hysteria, she wheezes out what she can between her giggles.
“Y-you— Your name—Hahahaha! Y-You were born on April Fools, and we— W-We call you— Joker!”
Seeing his expression instantaneously morph from mildly concerned to exceptionally unamused only causes her to double over and laugh harder, curling into herself involuntarily.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you Queen of Comedy…” Despite himself, seeing her cackling so maniacally spurs him into light laughs of his own.
“That’s—it’s just—it’s too perfect!”
He gives her some time to calm down, watching her amusedly. A while later, she finally starts descending from her high, struggling to catch her breath.
“Oh man… Admit it, I’m just too funny.”
“Oh, absolutely. You’re the definitive, living embodiment of humour,” the good-natured sarcasm in his words is thick enough to cut with his dagger. “Clowns all around the world sit at their Futaba-shrines every April, praying for bountiful harvest and bad puns.”
She snickers at the weird mental image, before recalling the situation at hand.
Right. His birthday party.
Taking a deep breath, she thinks to herself, hand on her chin. This turn of events really does complicate things quite a bit…
In just three days, she’ll not only have to think of and acquire a decent present for him, but also inform the others of their leader’s dire state of affairs and see if they can help straighten things out. It might be hard to get together on such short notice, now that they’ve mostly gone their separate ways…
Ann’s out of the question, seeing how she’s already out of the country, but besides her, Futaba thinks everyone else might be able to pull it off.
Normally, the first of April would have been their first day of school. Luckily for them, that falls on a Saturday this year, so they’ve been given the day off. If all goes well, no one’s made any critical plans for that day, yet.
As for Futaba, she’s just glad she gets a bit more time to relax before heading into that new, unfamiliar chapter of her life.
Going to school, again… It’s such a foreign thought. But she’s gonna do it, no matter what.
And thankfully, she’ll still have her Key Item by her side.
… Speaking of which, she’s also glad that she gets a bit more time to prepare for this dork’s birthday.
Seriously, if she hadn’t offhandedly reminded him that they were hanging out that day, he never would have even told her!
(They were originally planning to head into the thick of Shibuya, equipped with their weirdest clothes and two pairs of gag glasses. Unfortunately, that idea will have to be postponed… for now.)
Suddenly, she recalls something important. (Not that the gag glasses aren't important – this is just more important.)
“Hey! You’re turning eighteen, right? I call dibs on your birthday beats!” She rubs her hands together excitedly. “Oh, this is gonna be so much fun…”
He blinks, and there’s a confused, cautious expression on his face.
“… Birthday beats?”
Wait, he doesn’t know?! There’s no way… He’s gotta be playing dumb.
… But, no, he genuinely seems to be waiting for an answer. Though, it looks like he doesn’t know if he should be eager to find out or not.
“… You really don’t know? Dude, have you been living under a rock? What do you even learn from all those books you’re always reading!”
Exasperatedly, she explains the concept to him, and he seems to be contemplating her words very carefully.
“So… you’re going to punch my upper arm, eighteen times?”
“Yup! I heard about it online. But…”
Now that she thinks about it, her punches would probably be really weak. It might be fun to take a few swings (if he allows her to, that is – she won’t do it if he’s really against the idea) but Ren would barely feel anything the next day. And where’s the fun in that!
“Hmm, it would be kind of boring throwing all of the punches by myself, though. Ooh, wait, do you think I could get Makoto to throw some of them?! Wait, no—she probably wouldn’t even let me do it if I told her about it… Ryuji it is, then. Or maybe Haru…?”
She looks up to find him considering her thoughtfully, hand on his chin and a dangerous look in his eyes. It reminds her of his expression from the Metaverse – more cunning, deadly Joker than goofy, loveable Ren.
He seems to have ignored everything she just said… or had simply found it inconsequential, compared to whatever he’s thinking about right now.
“Um, h-hey, what’s wrong?”
He pauses for a moment before speaking.
“… You just turned sixteen last month, didn’t you? You know, we had that party, I got you those new Featherman R figures, all that jazz?”
The sharp look in his eyes only intensifies, and suddenly she feels bad for all the shadows that were ever on its receiving end. And for herself, finding herself at its receiving end now.
“Strange, how you never mentioned any of this back then…”
… Uh-oh.
“U-um, well! M-my birthday’s already passed, so,” she waves her hands nervously, “Y-you’ll just have to wait for next year!”
She’s going to install ten different types of locks on her door, before the end of this week.
Or, maybe that won’t matter, because unfortunately, Ren doesn’t agree with her logic.
“I think that just means interest applies. Compound, of course – a few extra units should cover the difference.”
Oh no. Uhh… Uhm! Th-Think fast!
“Um, uhh—wait, you, uh, you wouldn’t hit a girl, right, Ren?” She gives him her best puppy-eyes look, and when she sees him completely unaffected by it, she regrets using it to get him to fetch her Dr. Salt NEO's so often.
“Weren’t you the one who shouted ‘equal rights, equal lefts,’ that one time in the middle of a movie?”
Agh! Curse her and her big dumb mouth! How has he thought of everything!?
… Maybe there really is no way out of this one…
“O-Okay, okay, fine! I-I’m no coward… I’ll do it. For the birthday beats.”
Come April, and he’ll get what’s coming to him for sure.
Until then, though…
She swallows, rolling up her sleeve and turning to sit perpendicular to him. “J-just… go easy on me?”
He laughs, the traitor, and she squeezes her eyes shut in anticipation. Best case scenario, maybe he’ll take pity on her and take some girly swings.
But that’s still sixteen punches, maybe more if he was serious about the interest thing. And he’s always going to the gym, so those would probably still hurt, too…
She hears him shuffling around a bit and tenses up, bracing for impact.
Time to get this over with…!
…
…
…
… But no impact comes…?
… Ugh, why is he taking so long?! The wait is killing her!
“C’mon, hurry it up already! Are you some kinda sadist or something?!”
She hears him shift around some more, humming thoughtfully.
“No… It’s just,” he pauses dramatically, taking his sweet, torturous time with his words.
“… Punching’s just never really been my thing.”
Oh, thank GOD!
She lets out a colossal exhale in relief, rolling her sleeve back down. “Phew… I was getting really worried for a second there. I knew you’d come around eventually—”
She opens her eyes, and in her peripheral vision, spots him lunging towards her, a mischievous look on his face.
An ambush?!
“W-wait, what are you—”
They both crash into the mattress beneath them before she can even react, and suddenly, there are deft fingers ruthlessly tickling her sides, and she immediately breaks into laughter.
“Ahhh! N-Noooooo! You m-monster!” She futilely tries to escape his grasp, giggling madly with delight, but there’s no way she can move while under his merciless assault. “M-My stomach can’t take any more laughing! S-Sojiro, h-heeelp!”
Her last-ditch pleas go unanswered, as luckily for Ren and unluckily for Futaba, the older man had decided earlier to head home for the night.
Helpless against his attacks and shrieking with laughter, Futaba has no choice but to resign to her fate.
---
After what feels like an eternity, Ren finally lets up his assault and withdraws, allowing her to breathe easy again. Panting heavily and clutching her aching abdomen, she slowly, gradually recovers.
In the meantime, he looks all too pleased with himself, gathering up the scattered playing cards (which, miraculously, managed to avoid getting frayed during their scuffle). He leans back against the far wall and leisurely counts them out in his hands, smug satisfaction pouring off of him in waves, and not a single ounce of shame or guilt in his face. What a jerk.
“Just for reference,” he starts, “That was sixteen seconds, in lieu of sixteen punches. Plus interest, of course.”
… Huh?
She glares at him over her glasses. “You liar! There’s no way that was only sixteen seconds!”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, I didn’t really bother calculating how much interest there was. Too much work. So… I might’ve been a little off. Just a bit.”
She groans in chagrin. That’s it, no more fun-and-games.
Pointing an accusatory finger his way, she announces, “Forget asking Ryuji… I’m getting you back for this, personally.”
She is aware that the weight of her words is lessened, slightly, by the sight of her still clutching her stomach. Hopefully, she’s still getting her point across.
“You’ve made a dangerous enemy today, Ren Amamiya… An eye for an eye,” she peers at him threateningly, “You’d better pray that I have mercy on you, or this birthday party will be your last.”
It takes him a second to catch up, but she can sense the moment the realization hits him, eyes taking on a fearful quality and cards coming to a halt his hands.
He’s going to get birthday tickles, not birthday punches, in retaliation.
And she’ll wait for the perfect moment to strike, too – revenge is best served cold, after all.
Sitting in the café, surrounded by the others, at the height of the party… Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
She can see the colour draining from his face as he imagines the scene with frightening clarity: him, the scrawny yet terrifying girl sitting in front of him, and Judgement Day.
“Mwehehe… You are so dead,” she interlinks her fingers, grinning deviously. “Shouldn’t have thrown stones in your glass house!”
Defeated, he tries to reason with her. “To be fair,” he says solemnly, “There’s no way I was going to punch you.”
She just grins wider. “Yeah, you’re right! So, neither am I! Hope you’re looking forward to it!”
Those eighteen punches probably would have been the better choice for him. Or, for the preservation of his dignity, anyway.
Maybe now he should make a Futaba-shrine of his own, to pray at – not that it’ll do him any good.
One way or another, Futaba’s certain… this birthday party is going to be a blast.