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Muichiro opens up his red marker with a slight pop sound. He lifts his limb to circle out the current day on the calendar, when he sees the text next to the current date.
”Kokushibo’s birthday” Written in big bold letters. Muichiro wrote anything important— his loved one’s birthdays, holidays, and vacations, all next to the dates so he wouldn’t forget. He has memory loss, afterall. Muichiro scratches off the date, as usual, immediately pondering which type of cake he should buy. It came naturally to him to want to celebrate his ancestor’s birthday, and so he did.
By noon, Muichiro has everything set up: the large cake—which had a pungent scent of sweetness, the flashy decorations, and he was even able to pump some balloons without fainting. He was quite pleased with himself. Although, he felt slightly unjust for coaxing himself into Kokushibo’s abode unannounced, especially given how strict and brooding Kokushibo was. However, Kokushibo never specifically said he couldn’t use the spare key to throw him a suprise party…
The party of which only included himself.
Muichiro sits cross-legged at the low table in the living room, bent over the tiered cake. He gets just close enough to catch a glimpse of the crackling fire atop the candles before a stray footstep under the chair betrays him—the wood creeks, and Kokushibo comes to find the unexpected guest.
“S-Suprise!” Muichiro exclaims nervously, not expecting to be discovered so swiftly. Kokushibo is almost confused when he sees the cake, as he can barely even remember his own special day. When it finally clicks in his head, he suddenly begins to cry. He practically lunges at Muichiro, embracing him with a tight squeeze.
“Thank you, Muichiro.” He sobs into the boy, pushing the air straight from his lungs with the tight hug.
“Can’t breathe…” Muichiro murmurs, to which Kokushibo backs off.
“You remembered?” Kokushibo asks. It definitely touched his heart that the boy with memory loss actually remembered his birthday. Even as a human, Kokushibo never had his birthday celebrated, not even his own father had gifted him a cake. The most he’s ever gotten was a lousy “happy birthday.” In a sullen tone.
“How could I forget my ancestors birthday? Blow out the candles.” Muichiro gently instructed.
With one huff of his breath, Kokushibo was able to extinguish all twenty candles. Sadly, Muichiro couldn’t fit all five hundred sixty seven candles onto the big cake, but this would do.