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If there was one thing Kageyama couldn’t forget about Oikawa [but really, there were a lot of things he couldn’t forget about Oikawa], it was his birthday. It was close to the end of the semester, but that wasn’t the only reason—not like Kageyama could identify what the reason really was, anyway. He thought perhaps it was the way they’d celebrated it that one year in Junior High. Oikawa was the captain, after all, an important person, respected by every member of the team not just because they were required to but because he really was a good captain and an excellent setter, the best any spiker could ever ask for.
There’d been a legitimate party, he remembered, right after practice that one afternoon. It had been hard to plan it under Oikawa’s nose and it was probably the most united the team had been regarding matters outside of volleyball, messages discreetly being passed from one member to another in the most inconspicuous ways possible, being whispered along with the handing of a ball or as they passed each other on the way to their positions. These sorts of exchanges had gone on for days, the entire week before the twentieth of July, in fact, but among all of the messages that Kageyama had been passed, there was really only one that stuck to him:
“Kageyama, Iwaizumi-san says that you should be the one to pick up the cake on the afternoon of the twentieth during practice.”
It had surprised him, to say the least, and throughout practice that afternoon, he found himself constantly stealing glances at Iwaizumi, looking for an opportunity to get him alone [or at least, without Oikawa], to ask why a responsibility as big as picking up the cake—the star of the show, other than Oikawa himself—had been given to him and not anyone else. He knew Oikawa wasn’t particularly fond of him and definitely wouldn’t rejoice in particular at the sight of him entering the gym with a box of cake in his hands, and Iwaizumi probably knew that, probably knew better than anyone that Kageyama was the absolute worst person who could be in charge of that cake.
When he’d finally managed to ask Iwaizumi about it while Oikawa had gone to use the restroom later on, he didn’t miss Iwaizumi’s awkward shift as he finished his inquiry.
“Well—no offense,” he’d said, but just with that, Kageyama felt that he definitely should be taking offense at whatever it was Iwaizumi planned to say, “but you’re the only one I know that Oikawa wouldn’t complain about if he doesn’t see you at practice.”
Kageyama couldn’t find it in himself to express the offense he did take at that [it was minimal, anyway], telling himself that it was practicality Iwaizumi was concerned with more than anything, and that, if the situation was examined using his angle, Kageyama could also be considered the best choice for the job instead of the worst, and that was probably enough.
His main concern after that was whether or not Oikawa would actually eat the cake the moment he arrived with it, but everyone around him seemed to collectively agree that it was unreasonable of him to even consider it.
“Why would he not eat it? It’s cake,” Kindaichi had told him. They weren’t friends, not really, but they were both first years, both new to the team, and he liked to talk anyway so Kageyama thought it was alright to talk to him at times as well.
“I think he hates me,” said Kageyama, watching as the regular members of the team played a practice match.
“What makes you say that?”
What did make Kageyama say that? He briefly considered it. “He’s always making faces at me. And he doesn’t want to teach me to serve.”
“Well, what kind of idiot just openly asks someone to teach them to serve like that nearly everyday, anyway?” Suddenly Kindaichi was a lot less pleasant of a companion and Kageyama was consciously making a decision to talk to him even less than he already did.
On the afternoon of July 20th, Kageyama had made the resolve to suck in all of his qualms about the whole cake arrangement, choosing instead to dutifully fulfill the responsibilities given to him no matter what the consequences. Kindaichi, though now dead to Kageyama, had been right anyway; cake was cake. Whoever was presented with it and chose not to eat it had to have something wrong with them and the blame couldn’t be passed onto anyone else. And so he picked it up at the address Iwaizumi had given to him and ran back to school once his wristwatch told him practice had to be wrapping up.
His entrance hadn’t been a grand one. He’d decided to enter only after he heard the confetti poppers going off, sure that Oikawa had to be surrounded by excited teammates at that point, quietly slipping himself through the doors and desperately trying to catch Iwaizumi’s eye so he could take the cake and be the one to present it. He was fortunate that his upperclassman was very observant and he hadn’t been granted any time in the limelight at all, which was completely fine by him. That day was Oikawa’s anyway, and he probably didn’t have much of a place in it.
The small celebration ran smoothly. As Iwaizumi opened the box of cake, Oikawa’s eyes had glowed, and he grinned down at it like it was a newborn baby before locking Iwaizumi in an embrace that nearly had the both of them falling down, and Kageyama took the chance to join the circle, unnoticed. They’d sung Oikawa a birthday song and he blew some candles that the coach had lit for him, after the brief silence in which he’d apparently made a wish. And then the cake was distributed and Oikawa actually ate it, grinning all the while, and it was a good night because Kageyama had slipped out to buy himself a carton of milk to drink as he chewed on cake and it was honestly a combination made in heaven.
As he ate alone, he remembered watching Oikawa from afar. Oikawa, surrounded by his closer friends from the team, all third years, he presumed, laughing and talking and ignoring the light stain of cream he had on his lower lip. He remembered wondering what it would be like to join in that circle and be noticed, for once, and to be on the receiving end of one of those ‘genuine smiles’ that Iwaizumi said Oikawa barely had on. And then he remembered Oikawa’s eyes locking with his, what was left of a smile growing smaller and smaller without actually disappearing.
And then Oikawa was flashing him a peace sign and he honestly couldn’t be any more confused, July 20th marking itself as an important day in Kageyama’s head without him even knowing it.
And it was on July 20th, three years later, when he was hit by the realization that he had a box of cake in his grasp.
The box was small enough to fit on his palm if he stretched his hand out well enough, and through the transparent film right in the middle of the lid, he could see a spongy, yellow-looking cake, topped with a generous helping of whipped cream and a single strawberry, cut up into three pieces and made to stand right in the center of it all. And on the front side of the box was the familiar logo of a bakeshop, along with a label, expertly embossed in gold: “Three-milk Cake”.
He stared at it…and his eyes grew wide.
Why the hell did he have a box of milk cake in his hand?
Alarmed, he looked around, studying his surroundings for any friends he could have been holding the box for or any strangers that might have pushed it into his hands while we was lost in his thoughts. And when he realized that both the thought of his “friends” buying a milk cake or a stranger handing him one before running off was ridiculous, he looked frantically up instead, wondering if he was in the middle of one of those televised practical jokes or if he’d been abducted by aliens and was actually holding the cake in another universe.
But what he saw when he looked up and about was neither a camera nor a UFO—it was a bakeshop, the very bakeshop in which he’d bought Oikawa a cake in his first year of junior high. He was standing right outside the door of the bakeshop where he’d picked up a cake for Oikawa’s birthday three years ago, and he was holding a box of Three-milk cake.
What the fuck.
For a while he continued to stand there, tense and frozen, looking up at the bakeshop’s sign as if to check if he was reading it wrong, believing that if he stared at it long and hard enough, the letters would change and he would stop feeling like such an air-head, such an idiot. Because there was no way, no way that his brain had remembered that it was the twentieth day of July and just automatically told his feet to head on over to this old bakeshop, and there was no way that his mouth had spoken on its own to ask for a milk cake and no way that his hands had reached for his wallet in his pocket and actually paid for the milk cake, right? Right?
If that was the case, however, then he wouldn’t have been holding the cake and he wouldn’t have felt sick to the stomach at the thought of subconsciously buying a cake that Oikawa enjoyed on the day that just so happened to be his birthday which, honestly, Kageyama should have already forgotten at this point, shoved back as a memory of the past because who was Oikawa but a rival now? Rivals didn’t celebrate rivals birthdays, rivals didn’t buy their rivals cake—whether consciously or unconsc—did he really just unconsciously buy Oikawa cake?
Kageyama had done a number of stupid things in his life, but this one really took the cake—literally. It was almost physically painful to think about, and he couldn’t help the grimace on his face, not even when a child a few feet away had started crying. In fact, for all it was worth, Kageyama would have joined him.
But the only sight that was weirder than the sight of a boy standing outside a bakeshop and scowling at a box of cake was the sight of a boy standing outside a bakeshop and crying while scowling at a box of cake, and this wasn’t a good time to be weird. Not when there were two people about to enter said bakeshop while he was right in front of it and one of them just happened to be celebrating his birthday today.
“Kageyama?”
He didn’t move. He didn’t even turn to look at them. He told himself he didn’t need to. He already knew who they were, anyway, and so he stayed, frozen in place, hoping that maybe if he played his cards right, Oikawa and Iwaizumi would think he was a statue and just ignore him, calmly push him out of the way before entering the bakeshop and doing whatever it was they set out to do in there.
But then Iwaizumi was entering his field of vision, looking at him with his head cocked. “Kageyama?” he called again, waving a hand right before Kageyama’s eyes, and Kageyama knew that this was a lost cause—that he was a lost cause.
Well, if he was going to be forced to talk to them, he had to at least do it with some dignity, and so he took a breath before finally allowing himself to blink. “I—Iwaizumi-san,” he replied as some nervous form of acknowledgement, and then his neck was craning ever slowly to the side, step by step, stopping only when the birthday boy was already visible [however still rather blurry] in Kageyama’s peripheral vision. “Oikawa-san.”
He didn’t want to look at Oikawa’s puzzled face, but as he stepped forward and peered inside the box that Kageyama was holding, it was inevitable. “Why are you blocking the door and holding a cake?” he asked.
Why, indeed. Honestly, Oikawa was the last person Kageyama wanted to explain this whole predicament to, and he wondered whether he should just make a break for it and run until he got home. But that would’ve been rude, not to mention weird as hell, and he probably already looked weird enough to anyone who happened to pass by and see him. So he swallowed and tried to stammer out his explanation as coherently as he could, if that was even possible.
“I—um, I—accidentally…bought…a cake.”
There was a silence, and Kageyama didn’t know if he liked it but he definitely didn’t like the snorting laugh that Oikawa let out and the unknown kind of laugh that Iwaizumi was so obviously biting back. Obviously, he preferred the silence over their making fun of him but, also obviously, he couldn’t always get what he preferred.
“You accidentally bought a cake?” Oikawa repeated, hysterically, and it must have sounded ridiculous without any awkward stuttering because Iwaizumi had laughed right then, and Oikawa’s own grin was wide. “Who accidentally buys a cake?”
An idiot like me, apparently, Kageyama bitterly thought, but on the outside, he could do nothing more than grit his teeth behind his pursed lips and try to fight the heat that was spreading on his cheeks, the same kind he felt whenever Tanaka loudly made fun of him during practice or actual matches.
At least he apparently put his upperclassmen in a good mood; he didn’t think he’d seen Oikawa or Iwaizumi laugh this much since—well, ever. “Oh my god, Tobio-chan, you’re such an idiot.” Oikawa only said what Kageyama had already discovered ten minutes ago in between light giggles, and Kageyama’s frown grew deeper. “What even happened?”
“Can I borrow this?” said Iwaizumi before Kageyama could tell his story—one he didn’t really want to tell anyway, as it hardly made sense—and he was taking the box from Kageyama’s hands and examining the contents and the packaging.
As he turned to read the text on the front, however, Kageyama’s entire body twitched, two sides of whatever part of his brain was in charge of decisions debating whether or not to steal the box back, to conceal the flavor [at least the flavor] of the cake he’d accidentally purchased, but both of them were too late, and Iwaizumi’s grin was transforming from amused to sly, realization pulling at the corners of his mouth.
He glanced wryly at his best friend. “Hey, Oikawa,” he said, “this is the cake that you were going to buy for yourself.”
Oikawa’s grin had vanished just as quickly, and then he was making a grab for the box, which Iwaizumi passed onto him without struggle. “Wait, what?” he said, and upon examining the golden lettering on its front side, his eyebrows furrowed and he was glaring at Kageyama like he was a man impersonating an alien using a terrible costume, and taking a single, wary step back. “You accidentally bought a three-milk cake? Today, of all days?”
Kageyama let out a heavy sigh. It was ridiculous and suspicious, however anyone thought about it, and he couldn’t blame Oikawa for looking at him like that, nor could he pretend that he was completely oblivious about what the outright declaration of today meant. “Yeah,” he chose to admit instead, stepping away as well, and seeing as the box was already in Oikawa’s hands: “You can have it.”
“Ohh, so he does remember.” Oikawa was well-aware that Iwaizumi had been talking to him and not Kageyama, but he didn’t react, didn’t stop raising his eyebrow and scrunching his nose at the younger setter like they were on opposite sides of the net again, not even when Iwaizumi gave him a light slap to the back. “Well, this’ll be a great and unique way to celebrate your birthday, huh? I’ll leave you to it.”
“What?” Oikawa and Kageyama said at the same time, but Iwaizumi was already turning on his heels, leisurely walking toward the direction whence he and Oikawa had come, lazily raising a hand to signal his goodbye.
Oikawa wasn’t quite running after him, but he did look distressed as he yelled after him. “Iwa-chan! Don’t—hey!” His pleas were cut short as Iwaizumi broke into a run, apparently intent on leaving the two of them alone. For what reason, Kageyama didn’t think he could guess, but it was probably something to get on Oikawa’s nerves, because now he was being glared at like they had bumped into each other right outside the Lil’Tykes Volleyball Classroom again.
They may as well have, because this encounter was just as awkward as that had been, if not more. At least then, Kageyama had actually needed something from Oikawa and they had something to talk about. Now they were alone because his hands and feet had conspired against him and bought a milk cake when they probably knew perfectly well that it was Oikawa’s birthday and there was a big chance that he was going to be at that same shop to get himself a treat.
Now what were they supposed to do?
Oikawa couldn’t remember the last time he and Tobio had been alone together under semi-pleasant circumstances, and he was equally at a loss, tongue playing awkwardly around inside his own mouth, fingers twitching around the decorative box before finally deciding to do something with it—and that was to hand it back to the one who’d accidentally purchased it [seriously, who did that?].
“Take it,” he said, his hand outstretched, the box in the perfect position for Tobio to grab.
But he only stared down at it. “I said you can have it,” he replied, probably not willing to take the concrete manifestation of his stupidity back into his custody.
“I can buy one for myself.” Still, Oikawa tried to press the box into Kageyama’s hands.
“Well, now you don’t have to.” Tobio pushed it back.
“I want to, now take it!”
“I don’t want it!”
“But you bought it!”
“And I’m giving it to you!” Tobio reminded him loudly, and it was only now that Oikawa realized that their yelling had gotten louder and louder and the passers-by were already taking notice. Tobio probably realized it as well, and he pushed gently at the box, letting it near Oikawa. He seemed nervous as he audibly swallowed. “Happy birthday, Oikawa-san.”
He honestly hadn’t expected that, and Oikawa finally allowed the box to remain in his grasp, simply settling for giving it begrudging stares. He liked it when people remembered it was his birthday, and really liked it when he received presents, but to get one from Tobio was so far-fetched, so messed up, that even now that it was happening, he couldn’t bring himself to come to terms with it because Tobio was—well, Tobio. He was dumb and naïve and in all the years Oikawa had known him, he’d always stuck as someone insensitive, borderline numb to what was happening around him, immune to sensing how others were feeling.
But he’d just bought a cake on Oikawa’s birthday—a cake with a flavor that Oikawa actually enjoyed, coincidentally [was it really?]—and he was giving it to Oikawa as a present, and at the sound of his greeting, it finally hit him that Tobio actually remembered his birthday, even though they were far from teammates and even farther from friends, like it was important to him.
It probably wasn’t, he told himself, but he was shrinking into himself anyway, feeling the tips of his ears warm up. “Why do you even remember?” he asked, but it came out as more of a mumble and for a while, he wondered if Tobio even managed to hear it.
He did, but it took him a while to respond. “I don’t know,” he said—mumbled, as well—in reply. “It might be because of the party, but I don’t know.”
“The party?” Oikawa repeated, not missing the way Tobio flinched slightly. “What party?”
“The party that the volleyball club threw for you back in junior high. Or—I guess it wasn’t much of a party. We ate cake,” he added quickly, like it was the most important thing in the world.
Oikawa remembered that party—or, yeah, it probably couldn’t be considered an actual party, seeing as they were all sweaty from practice and Oikawa just blew some candles out and they all left after having reduced a large cake to a couple of stains on a piece of cardboard, but yes, he remembered that. It was a pleasant surprise, one he hadn’t expected, and it definitely hadn’t happened again, so it really was a keeper among memories.
He hummed. “Oh yeah, you bought cake then too, huh?” he said, looking down at the cake he had in his hands. It was a lot smaller than the one from three years ago, but they looked similar enough. Kind of yellow and spongy, with cream and fruits on top. Now that he thought about it, it was probably a milk cake too. One of the first years’ ideas, Iwa-chan had told him, after they’d learned about his fascination with milk bread. They couldn’t exactly be considered the same, but it was a thoughtful gesture on their part, and it was something Oikawa really appreciated—
Wait.
Tobio had bought cake then too, on July 20th three years ago, from this very shop. And now, he’d “accidentally” bought one again, most probably of the exact same flavor, knowing very well that it was once again July 20th and that it was Oikawa’s birthday. It was a pretty good coincidence, too good a coincidence, and Oikawa was about this close to whipping his phone out to ask Iwa-chan if he had planned for this to happen all along, or if there was secretly a television crew following him around only to reveal that his entire day had been broadcasted as a practical joke to the entirety of Japan.
But Iwa-chan had been far too amused with the situation [and probably wasn’t much of an actor] and Tobio himself was looking at him right now with a very bewildered stare [and probably wasn’t much of an actor, either], and so Oikawa felt he had no choice to believe that this was real, that Tobio had accidentally bought this cake today and it wasn’t orchestrated, and wait, did Tobio accidentally buy this cake because he was thinking of Oikawa’s birthday?
That was actually pretty cute, but just the thought of it and the thought of him thinking it was cute had him flustered, face warming up faster than it did even back then when they’d surprised him in junior high, and he had to plaster his hand over his face to keep Tobio from seeing his reddened cheeks because there was no way, no way he was giving Tobio the satisfaction of seeing him blush, of seeing him clamming up like some love-struck—
Ohh no, he was not going to compare himself to a love-struck teenage girl—no, no, no.
Instead, he forced himself to focus on Tobio’s own stupid-looking expression. His eyes were wide and he probably didn’t even know that his mouth was hanging open, the absolute dork. Someone with a face like that couldn’t possibly be cute; not in a million years.
“You—“ he stammered out, bringing Oikawa back to his senses, “you knew that I was the one who got the cake?”
Well, now that he knew that his and Tobio’s concerns were completely different, he actually found it in himself to calm the fuck down and approach the situation as coolly as possible. He raised an eyebrow at the younger boy. “Yes? Iwa-chan told me,” he said, before making a face. “But I kind of figured—I mean, you were the only one who wasn’t around during practice.”
“And you still ate the cake?”
Seriously? “Of course I still ate the cake. Who would not eat cake? It’s cake!” Honestly, the things that came out of Tobio’s mouth were so stupid sometimes that Oikawa wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t made it into Shiratorizawa.
For some strange reason, Tobio seemed to think hard about this, eyes flitting to stare down at the ground while he mumbled things to himself like somebody answering an exam, but by the time Oikawa thought to roll his eyes and interrupt, he was looking up again with a painfully curious look in his eyes. “Was that why you signaled a peace sign at me?” he asked.
That was what he was thinking about so fervently? Oikawa shook his head. He remembered seeing Tobio then, as he ate with his friends, and he looked happy enough but he was eating and sipping milk all alone like some innocent child and although Oikawa couldn’t be bothered to keep him company, he did feel a little sorry for the guy, having to be alone on a day as special as his Oikawa-senpai’s birthday. He did go out to town and buy the cake. He was persistent and a major threat to Oikawa’s career, but there was no denying that Tobio had worked hard for him that day, and so he’d thought that a little acknowledgement was due, that’s all.
He shrugged. “Sort of,” he replied half-heartedly, physically and mentally prepared to wave the conversation off like the unimportant thing it was, but then— “Wait. Why do you remember that?”
It was the smallest of details, the most insignificant of events. Oikawa flashed peace signs at everybody—in pictures, at classmates, even by himself when he was assessing how good he looked in his own mirror. He’d even flashed several at Tobio, other than that occasion, and it honestly should have been second nature to everybody who’d talked to Oikawa for more than two seconds.
Now if the cake-buying hadn’t been suspicious, this definitely was, and Oikawa made it a point to glare hard at Tobio, to let him feel the pressure.
Tobio had tensed, arms fastening themselves to his sides, eyes panicked, but it seemed he was becoming more quick-witted the more time he spent with his loudmouth little shrimp and the rest of his team. “Wh—why do you remember it?” he challenged.
Then they were silent.
And that was honestly all Oikawa could take for one afternoon. It was his birthday, there was dinner waiting for him at home, he’d spent far too much time with Tobio than what was acceptable, and he was done getting flustered over things like accidental cake and Tobio remembering his birthday and his peace sign and whatever the hell it was his short-term memory managed to dig up. He was done. This encounter was d—o—n—e.
“You know what? Forget it!” he cried all of a sudden, flinging his arms wherever they wished to go, nearly dropping the cake but struggling to catch it, and then he was turning away from Tobio and his stupid face and stupid questions. “Forget I asked, forget everything!”
“What—“
“Forget it,” said Oikawa, in what he liked to think was the last piece of dialogue he would address to his uselessly adorable junior today—for a long time, in fact—but then he was stopping in his tracks, remembering that there was something [some things] that he had yet to say, far more important than any declaration of forget it could ever be. And so he cursed the fact that he was such a good person, turned around, and looked Tobio dead in the eye. “Thank you, though. For remembering.”
For remembering what, Oikawa wouldn’t bother to say. He was too dangerously close to turning red again and allowing Tobio to witness his vulnerable moments was the absolute opposite of what he would call a birthday gift, and so he turned away again, partially satisfied with the note on which they’d ended, and prepared to make his exit—preferably for good this time.
But then his feet seemed to stop on their own and his upper body twisted towards Tobio on its own and Oikawa was beginning to feel like he understood what exactly Tobio had meant when he said he “accidentally” bought cake. The body was the biggest traitor sometimes, and that included the mouth, because before he could think about it he was already asking: “When’s yours again?”
“What?”
“When’s yours? Your birthday,” Oikawa clarified.
“Oh—um, December. Twenty-second.”
Oikawa nodded, and they stared at each other in silence until Oikawa remembered that he had been trying to leave for a good few minutes now. He jerked his thumb in another direction, any direction, away from Tobio. “I’m going to walk away now.”
Tobio slowly nodded at him.
“For real.”
He nodded faster.
Without even allowing his brain to finish the debate it was having with itself whether or not to shoot finger guns at Tobio before leaving, Oikawa finally managed to get himself to turn and finally, actually make an exit. It was far less dignified than he would have liked, but maybe today he could make an exception. It was his birthday, after all, and it was probably okay to admit that even a blessing such as himself could become uncool when faced with uncool people. Yeah, that was it.
His physical self was a good distance away from the bakeshop now but the rest of him might as well have never left, and even as the sky got ever darker and as the people around him started disappearing on his walk home, there were a handful of things running through his mind. One of them was the cake he was going to have to explain to his family, and the rest was the setter that had accidentally bought it and decided to give it to him on the spur of the moment, the setter who’d probably been thinking of him as he purchased a boxed cake with his own allowance.
December 22nd—Oikawa would have to remember that from now on, mostly just to repay Tobio for the cake [or so he told himself], but he found he didn’t exactly mind. He wondered if pork curry cake was being made anywhere. He wondered how terrible of a joke it would be if he made one himself.