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The comforting scent of freshly baked strawberry shortcake lingered in the air, sweet and warm, curling from the kitchen and drifting through every corner of the Tachibana household. It mingled with the faint, papery whisper of wrapping paper being carefully folded and taped shut in the living room, where ribbons lay scattered across the coffee table like a pastel explosion. The sunlight filtering through the curtains cast a golden glow on the scene—half-finished decorations, colourful balloons tied to chair backs, and the soft hum of quiet excitement building between the people moving hurriedly through the space. It was a mess, but it was a happy one.
"She’s going to be home in fifteen minutes!" Naoto announced, pushing up his sleeves as he swept away the last traces of confetti that had stubbornly stuck to the floor.
Takemichi fumbled with the decorations, nearly toppling the streamers he’d been hanging for the past half hour. “Fifteen?! I thought we had more time!” he yelped, almost stepping on the gift box Emma had spent an hour wrapping with precision.
"Don’t step on it!" Emma scolded, swatting his leg with a rolled-up magazine. "This is for Hinata, not some random stray cat you brought home."
Takemichi laughed nervously. “S-sorry! I just… I want everything to be perfect.”
Naoto looked up from where he was lighting candles. “She’ll love it. She always says you’re trying your best. Just being here with her is what matters to Hina.”
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The door creaked open.
"Guys…?" Hinata’s voice called from the entryway.
Everyone froze, then—
“ SURPRISE!! ” they all shouted in unison.
Hinata blinked in surprise as gold and pink streamers burst into the air, spiralling down like soft confetti rain, catching the warm glow of the ceiling lights as they fluttered. A gentle pop echoed from a balloon that had gotten too close to the hanging lightbulb, making her jump before laughter bubbled up from the others. Dozens of pastel balloons floated lazily along the ceiling, some tethered by ribbons, others gently drifting from the draft of the open door. Her eyes were drawn to the table in the centre of the room, where a round, slightly lopsided cake sat proudly on a bed of hand-cut paper doilies. In uneven, thick strokes of strawberry-pink frosting, the words Happy Birthday, Hina were scrawled across the top—each letter charmingly crooked, clearly the result of Takemichi’s trembling hands and heartfelt effort. Her breath caught in her throat, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as the joy and love behind every imperfect detail sank in all at once.
She gasped. “You guys…”
Takemichi stepped forward, holding out a small wrapped box. “I know it’s not much, but… happy birthday, Hina.”
She smiled, tears forming in her eyes as she took the box and looked around the room. “You didn’t have to do all this…”
Emma walked over and gave her a side-hug. “We wanted to. You’re always looking out for everyone else. Just this once, let us take care of you.”
Hinata looked at each of them—Naoto with his subtle smirk, Emma practically bouncing with excitement, Hakkai holding up a peace sign from the kitchen where he was refilling juice, and Takemichi, nervously twisting his hands behind his back.
And she felt it. That warm, irreplaceable love that surrounded her.
“Okay,” she said softly. “Then I’ll let you.”
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Later that night, after the laughter had faded and the last of the balloons had started to droop, the house settled into a peaceful stillness. The leftover cake sat half-eaten on the table, the scent of strawberries and whipped cream lingering in the air like a memory. Hinata stepped out onto the small wooden porch, her bare feet brushing the cool planks as she wrapped her arms around herself. The sky above was clear and deep, scattered with stars that blinked gently against the darkness. Crickets chirped faintly in the distance, the world softened by quiet.
Takemichi joined her a few moments later, slipping out silently and taking a seat beside her. He didn’t speak at first—just sat there, shoulder brushing hers, as if afraid that even a whisper might shatter the fragile, perfect calm of the moment.
Hinata exhaled slowly, her breath turning into mist in the night air. “I didn’t realize how much I needed today,” she murmured.
Takemichi turned to her, the moonlight catching in his eyes. “I just wanted you to feel… cherished. Even just for a day.”
She looked at him then, really looked— at the boy who had stumbled through time and heartache, bruised and uncertain, but still always came back to her. “You always make me feel that way, Takemichi.”
"Thank you," she whispered.
“For the party?”
“For remembering. For trying. For loving me.”
Takemichi reached out, intertwining their fingers. “I’ll always try for you, Hina. No matter how many times I fall.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder and looked up at the stars.
“Then I guess I’ll always be waiting to catch you.”