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Chiaki finds him exactly where he thought he would.
The sun is coming down hard, and the humidity sticks to his skin like hot wax. He doesn’t have to strain his ears to hear the cicadas hidden in the grass. There’s not a lot of students who would dare to go outside without a reason, not in this weather and especially when Yumenosaki is graced with air conditioning.
The steady flow of the fountain trickles down through the noise, and though it had never sounded appealing, Chiaki almost considers jumping in as he approaches it. Instead, he reaches a hand in and splashes his face.
“Kanata!” He chirps, wiping his cheeks, sliding himself to sit on the edge of the fountain. The stone is scalding under his thighs, and he feels the heat seep straight through his clothes, but he doesn’t move until it fizzes away. He’s got something to give to Kanata, after all.
The fountain bubbles, and Kanata emerges from under the umbrella of water, ever the entity that’s been summoned. It drips off his hair and back into the fountain, like he’s just a living extension of it– marble that's come to life, or maybe water that has shaped itself into the mirage of a person, stuck between the heatwaves of the midday sun. It’s definitely possible in this weather.
Kanata smiles at him as he always does, if anything slightly disturbed from his puka pukaing, as he likes to call it. “Chiaki,” He answers, his eyes creasing. “Good afternoon.”
“It’s hot today, huh? Wouldn’t it be better to come inside where there’s an aircon?”
Again, as expected, Kanata shakes his head. Some of the cool droplets splash pleasantly against Chiaki. “No. More air would dry me out, and the water is cold here.”
“Well, then how about the beach?” He asks, “That gives you a lot more space to puka, right?”
“The beach is very busy today.” Kanata answers.
“But aren’t you bored just laying here?”
“Chiaki likes to ask a lot of questions, doesn’t he?” That’s what he gets back in his drifting voice, but somehow Chiaki catches a hint of snappiness in it. Maybe the heat is getting to him too, for all Kanata claims how patient he is.
It’s something Chiaki’s started to forget, the more he’s spent time with Kanata. How strange he finds it that anyone could see him as anything but a human , with all his flaws and imperfections. It’s hard not to argue that Kanata is strange, yes, but then again, everyone is strange. Chiaki is strange, and he isn’t a God. Still, he flinches at the unexpected hostility that comes with Kanata’s words.
“Right, I guess a lot of people would want to go swimming today…” Chiaki comments back carefully, not wanting to get Kanata into a hostile mood, unsure if it was just the heat that’d set him off. He lets it hold for a moment under Kanata’s unmoving glare, until the look softens back into his resting airiness.
“A-anyway! I got you something!” He cheers, and reaches for the bag he’d left sitting on the floor. Carefully, he pulls a leg up to rest atop the fountain so he can look at Kanata properly, and holds out a ball of paper with both of his hands. “Happy birthday, Kanata!”
“What is this..?” He tilts his head, curious.
Chiaki blanches, his eyes widening and frozen on a spot just behind Kanata.
“It..it is your birthday, right?” Chiaki says, horrified.
“Birth...day?” Kanata says the words aloud, testing them on his tongue. They sound vaguely familiar, but he can’t quite place where he’s heard it before. He squints so hard, trying to recall but, frustratingly, it never comes. He sighs, the shame building in the back of his throat at having to admit his lack of knowledge. “I don’t know what that is, Chiaki.”
That seems to get Chiaki to pause. Instinctively, Kanata holds himself higher and stiffens his shoulders, but he can’t keep himself to continue looking Chiaki in the eye. Instead, he focuses on what’s in his hand. It’s a thick ball of decorative paper, oblong and unevenly shaped with bits poking out of it. There’s a big blue tag attached to it with KANATA written in bold, scribbly black pen.
“Ah, right. Your birthday. Um–” He watches Chiaki scold himself, the ball of paper waving back and forth as he figures out what to say. “It’s like the day you were born. So whenever that day comes, it’s your birthday.”
Birthday . It must be something important, so Kanata remembers the definition the best he can, and tucks it away neatly into his memory.
Chiaki continues, fumbling. “A-and we’re friends, and friends get each other gifts when it’s their birthday. So I got you one. A gift, I mean.”
A gift. That’s not something uncommon to Kanata. The household says that’s what he has– it’s why he’s confined to his bedroom for most of the day when he isn’t at school. A gift.
Sometimes, or well, at least before he was gone, Madara would tell Kanata about another kind of gift, the ones that all his followers would bring him. How his household would throw them away before he had the chance to even hear about them.
It’s strange receiving such a thing from Chiaki, of all people. For every wish Kanata had asked him to make, he’d received a firm no in response from him. But a gift , that’s something his followers give him, the most devout, an offering to Kanata. But Chiaki wasn’t a follower, so why..?
“Okay.” His mouth curves up, lifted by strain. “But I thought you did not believe in God.”
The question seems to confuse Chiaki as much as it does Kanata, he can tell by how Chiaki’s face scrunches up. He’d made that face before, when he was unhappy, like when Kanata had once tried to pull him into the fountain a few weeks ago. He’d gotten an earful about how he could’ve broken Chiaki’s phone, whatever that is.
“I don’t..?” He begins slowly.
“But you got me this.”
Frowning at Kanata, his eyes flicked between the weight in his hands and Kanata’s eyes. “I know…? Sorry. I’m not sure I’m following, Kanata.”
The thought passes his mind, asking himself what exactly Chiaki thinks he means by giving this to Kanata? He’d explained it was for a birthday, his birthday– but how can he give without it being like the rest of his followers? It doesn’t make sense, not in the slightest bit.
It feels like Chiaki’s perforated one of the bubbles that float around in Kanata’s brain, a needle to the soft membrane that resides there, but he doesn’t know what for. It irks him, that he can’t find the perfect words to voice it.
“You said that friends give gifts,” He starts softly, wiggling his fingers in the water to feel the pull against them, “Then does that make my followers my friends?”
The paper scrunches when Chiaki adjusts the hold of the gift in his hands, the bridge of his glasses falling ever so slightly on his nose.
“I don’t think so. You said it exactly as it is. They’re your followers, and I’m your friend.” Chiaki replies finally, “So are you going to take the gift?”
His hands break the surface of the water as he reaches out for the paper, slow and careful like he thinks Chiaki will take it away from him at the last moment. When Kanata’s hand gets close enough for his fingers to curl around the paper, Chiaki lets go, passing it fully off. It’s pliant in his hands, and when he presses the pads of his fingers down into the paper, he realises it’s soft and squishy.
“Well, I was going to say to open it later, but it looks like it’s already opening itself!” Chiaki laughs, much more spirited this time. And when Kanata looks down, he realises that the soft brown colour of the paper has darkened and begun to split where his hands are.
Chiaki’s gift to him– Sullied, ruined, breaking apart all because of him–
He’s just about to pass it back when he’s interrupted. “The wrapping is meant to be torn, you know? Your hands are just wet, so it’s dissolving.”
Kanata’s eyes flit suspiciously back up to Chiaki, the thought of doing worse than this, sinking his nails into something his friend, his only friend , had given him, and ripping it to shreds like he’s some kind of hungry predator just doesn’t feel right.
“I don’t want to.” Kanata says quietly over the patter of the fountain.
“You need to if you want to see what I bought you!” Chiaki laughs again, and in an act of what he can only call childish defiance, Kanata brings his hands down in one motion and dunks the paper into the water below.
The paper makes a soft splash, but before Chiaki can make any kind of noise of disapproval, Kanata dunks it again, and again and again–
And slowly, the paper begins to peel away, drifting off in specks and chunks into the abyss of the fountain where the tape has stuck diligently to the corner folds Chiaki had left extruding. Somewhere, the tag drifts off in one piece, Chiaki’s handwriting completely smudged into gibberish.
Then, with the finality of someone brandishing a hard earned trophy, Kanata lifts the now much heavier and wetter object in his hands, brushing away the leftover soggy pieces of paper.
It stares back at him, its beady black eyes polished but its body sunken and discoloured, and every time Kanata sinks his thumb into its grape coloured torso more water leaks out of it like a wrung out sponge.
Chiaki stares at him, an open mouthed smile that’s somewhat disconcerted. “I saw it when I was out shopping for my baby cousin, and I thought it suited you! Sea creatures and stuff, you know?”
“It’s a sea urchin.” Kanata says, counting its dozens of little tentacles that dangle from where he holds it from.
“Yeah!” Chiaki tilts his head, musing. “When I saw it, I thought it was an octopus because it had so many legs. But now you say that… I guess that does look a little more than eight, doesn’t it?”
A little . That gets a small huff of laughter out of Kanata.
He doesn’t bring it home– he can’t, because he knows that it will somehow, ever so conveniently go missing if he does. So, after some deliberation, Kanata opts to let it dry out on the windowsill of the Marine Biology’s clubroom, where he knows his household won’t touch it. It sits there for years to come, and Kanata likes to think it protects the clubroom, a piece of Chiaki watching over it long after they’ve graduated.
It’s four years later that Kanata starts making an effort on his birthday, but if he were being more precise, it would probably be only two years since he’d actually started celebrating it with the rest of Ryuseitai– once his dirty laundry had been aired enough that he could still feel like he was worth a celebration.
He still doesn’t know if he feels completely at ease, but he’s learnt that there’s a lot more that comes with birthdays; The pat on the back from Rinne and the hefty wad of cash stuffed into a card handed to him by Hiyori. The turning of a blind eye when he notices Shinobu carrying streamers under his shirt and Midori trying to sneak a suspiciously cake-shaped box past him with ES’s daily groceries– the seafood dinner he has sitting around a table with the rest of The Eccentrics, the sweet taste of fresh cream and fruit on the tip of his tongue and the hotel Madara has booked ready for the two of them.
There was one thing Chiaki hadn’t given him all those years ago. It’s not like Kanata could’ve corrected or scolded him for it back then either, not that he would have. But after the first time he’d received a card from Kaoru accompanied with his gift the following year, he’d quickly learned the importance of opening them in private unless he wanted to grace whoever was unlucky enough to be in the room with a teary eyed Kanata.
It’s why he sits up in the hotel bed, complimentary robe dipping just below his shoulder blades, lap covered by a duvet that he carefully pulls the small stack of envelopes out of the small overnight bag he’d brought with him. Madara stays tucked to his side asleep, an arm under the cotton, warm hand against his bare waist where it rests.
They all look relatively the same on the outside, white but brandished with his name in a myriad of neat and messy handwriting. But Kanata didn’t care about the outside– he cared about the design of the card even less. It was what was inside that mattered the most to him.
There’s something about birthdays that just make people more vulnerable. Ever since the first time he’d celebrated it with Ryuseitai, he’s felt that predisposition for being emotional – people tend to bare their hearts a little more on days like this. It’s where Kanata really gets to hear what people want to say to him.
Kaoru’s name happened to be at the top of the pile. He’d been one of the first people to give him a gift this morning, as nonchalant as he tried to be about it. Kanata had spared him the teasing, just for today.
The paper crackled as Kanata carefully stuck his finger under an opening in the letter, carefully to unstick the glue without ripping too much of the paper and making too much noise. He knew how much of a light sleeper Madara was.
Kanata,
I know whenever this time comes around every year you must feel mixed emotions. I know I do. Not to make everything about me, but August was around the time my mom died. You know what it’s like to lose a mom, don’t you? Even though yours is alive, I think your loss is still the same as mine because you never saw her. It got me thinking about how every year I was sitting around and moping in my bed thinking about her, I could've been out there having fun with you. I think that’s what my mom would’ve wanted and I think maybe that’s what yours would want too. I know you’ll be busy on your special day, but let’s clear some time to hang out. Maybe we could get some drinks or hang out at the beach, I don’t mind. Sorry if this card was depressing but make sure to take it easy and have a great day. Happy Birthday!
Kaoru
Kanata reads the words slowly, his vision pricking as he lets the words sink in. A small smile tugs at the edge of his lips, and quietly, he laughs. He thinks about the card, all they could’ve been doing in first and second and third year if they weren’t bundled up in their own messes. Kanata wonders if things would’ve been different, if everything had been pushed back a few years, would he still be the Kanata he is now, tucked into bed and loved.
He blinks back the dew in his eyes and puts the card on the nightstand, and reaches for the next envelope. This is the one Ryuseitai had given him jointly. It’s bursting with colour, all sprinkled across the paper in pretty colours, stars and symbols dotted down where there’s white space. Kanata thinks he could guess who is who solely based on the handwriting.
To Shinkai- Senpai,
Thank you for all you’ve done for me this year, I'll forever be grateful for everything you’ve taught us and thank you for keeping Morisawa-Senpai in line. I hope you enjoyed the cake. Happy Birthday.
From Midori
–
To Shinkai-Dono,
Happy Birthday! Please accept all of the wishes I have to give you. The work you have done for us this year has been unbelievable, and I hope you spend today having a lot of fun! Myself and Midori-kun spent a lot of time figuring out what flavour cake you would like, so I hope you liked it.
Have an amazing day,
From Shinobu
–
To Kanata,
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!
It’s crazy to think we’ve known each other for this long now. Four years really does fly by, doesn’t it? You’re such an important part of Ryuseitai and I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if it wasn’t for you. I know I say it a lot and you’re probably super tired of it by now, but you’re the reason Ryuseitai is what it is today, so please never change who you are for anyone. You’re everyone’s Ryusei Blue and my best friend forever!!! I’m so proud of all you’ve achieved in these years, and if you ever need to speak to anyone I’ll always ALWAYS be here for you like I know you are for me and everyone else.
From Chiaki
—
To Shinkai-Senpai,
Happy Birthday! I was going to tell you how grateful I was for all you’ve done for us, but I saw some of the others already wrote that above. I guess it doesn’t hurt to say it again, so thank you! I was really impressed by the performance you led us through last month. I didn’t say it at the time, but I felt like I needed to now. Remember when a few years ago you told us you didn’t know how to lead? I bet you’d laugh at your past self because you’re a pro now! Anyway, make sure to spend today with the people you love and do what you love!
Happy Birthday again,
Tetora
He’s just about to open the next envelope when the hand at his waist twitches, and then there’s a shuffle of the duvet next to him.
“Kanata-san,” Madara says groggily, burning his face into the soft flesh of his stomach “What’re you doing awake..?”
“Important business.” Kanata says, bringing one of his hands to curl around a strand of Madara’s messy bedhead.
“Did I not tire you out enough earlier?” He teases, voice gruff as he sits up enough to rest his head on the crook of Kanata’s neck.
“You tire me out with your talking."
“Guess I better keep doing it then.” he replies in a sing-song voice, but the energy just isn’t there, lost under the sleep. “ That looks like a loooot of business to attend to. What’d they say?”
“None of your business, you rogue.” Kanata clicks his tongue, but there’s no malice to it. Finally, he puts the rest of the envelopes to the side, leaving them to rest. He spares a look back at Kaoru's card, and he feels his skin warm where Madara leaves a lingering kiss under his jaw. “... They are my birthday cards.”
Madara hums, and finds Kanata’s other hand across the blanket, intertwining them. “Everyone had good things to say, I hope?”
Kanata nods, looking down to where Madara’s thumb strokes over the bump of his knuckles. He was always so much paler than Madara. It made him feel like a sea jelly, ghosting through the sea.
“I’m glad you can celebrate your birthday now.” Madara kisses lower, right on the pulse of his throat, and pulls Kanata’s robe gently so it fits back around his shoulders properly. “I should’ve been the first one to tell you though. I’m sorry.”
“You did not even know my birthday,” Kanata says quietly, “No one did.”
“I know. I looked everywhere for it though.” He laughs ruefully, “Who knew that when Chiaki-san texted me that day asking for your birthday, and I just gave him the date my math homework was due, it’d stick this long.”
“I was born with math homework. How disappointing.”
“Maybe I should’ve given him the date of my birthday, so we could’ve celebrated it together.” His finger trails up from the neck of Kanata’s robe up to the back of his neck, playing with the baby hair that sits there. “I’m kidding. I know you’d hate that.”
It’s too late in the night for any more joking. Kanata doesn’t answer, shifting closer instead. He rests his head on Madara’s firm chest, urging them both to lie down. He only stops once they’re fully situated back against the pillows, and then Kanata makes himself comfortable in Madara’s arms, strong and warm as they are.
His eyes are already heavy, weighed by all he’s done today. It’s enough for a lifetime, and the steady pulse of Madara’s heart against his ear puts him on the brink of drifting off completely, wherever he goes when he sleeps. He barely hears Madara’s voice mumble against his crown, barely above a whisper.
“Happy Birthday, Kanata-san. I hope I can spend all of them with you.”