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Ushio’s birthday begins the same boring way it usually does. It’s a school day, which is the absolute worst. Even worse, he’s overslept—his phone alarm stopped beeping ages ago, which means that he’s definitely going to be late for class.
“Muu-chan, wake up!” If he’s overslept, Muneuji definitely has. His roommate is hard to wake up on the best of days, and especially now that he’s been in bed for even longer, he absolutely won’t want to leave its warm embrace.
As he runs to tug on his uniform and sweep his hair into something presentable, he yanks off Muneuji’s covers—and is shocked to find him completely absent.
“Muu-chan?” The only times Muneuji wakes up early are when he absolutely has no other choice. Ushio tries to remember if he has an archery competition today or something similar, but he draws a complete blank. Glancing at the time shows a scant fifteen minutes until he has to be at school, and that’s being generous with how much time he takes to find his books. “Ahh, whatever!”
He dashes through the house, various other residents calling after him with amusement clear in their voices. He barely has enough time to respond with a muttered thanks for his birthday wishes before he runs out to the main road. That’s when he sees Muneuji, perched on his bicycle, beaming his characteristic beatific smile directly at him.
“Good morning,” he says, voice calm despite their increasingly narrowing window of time. “Happy birthday, Uu-chan.”
“Thanks,” he says. It feels a little inadequate. “Sorry I’m late.”
“I had thought to let you sleep in as much as you wished, considering that it is your birthday,” Muneuji smiles again. It’s a heart-stoppingly beautiful smile, as usual, but Ushio squints and looks a little closer. Upon further examination, Muneuji is dressed a little nicer than usual. Even with their uniform as a constraint, he’s adjusted the details. A tie that isn’t quite the right color, a jacket with a slight darker tint than usual, even a cute ribbon badge—from head to toe, he’s closely mimicked the uniform from PatiBato.
“Your uniform…” He’s not sure if he’s seeing things. Muneuji definitely knows enough about his likes and hobbies to at least have passing knowledge of PatiBato, but this level of effort isn’t something that anyone but a diehard fan would know. “Muu-chan, is that…?”
“I’ve tried to emulate it as closely as possible, with the generous contributions of the knowledge of our fellow unitmates to assist,” Muneuji says. “Now, would you like me to escort you on this special day?” He tips his head, smiling, and offers one graceful hand.
Faced with the full onslaught of Muneuji’s charm, Ushio flushes wildly. “What’s all this…” he mutters, perching on the back of his bicycle. It’s just like a scene from one of his favorite doujins, the one where Reito had nearly been late to an important contest.
“I am simply ensuring that your morning, as rushed as it may be, is full of your favorite things,” Muneuji says, smoothly kicking the stand up. “Now, Uu-chan, hold on tight. I will absolutely make sure you reach school on time.” With that, he’s off, pedaling at speeds so fast Ushio can’t help but clutch at his coat like some kind of shoujo manga heroine. When he buries his face into Muneuji’s sun-warmed clothes, his heart beats hard and fast in his reddened cheeks.
—
School, luckily, is uneventful. Time crawls by with agonizing slowness, until he’s finally able to escape to the home ec room—where he runs into another one of his unitmates, fidgeting with his sleeves and looking generally like he doesn’t belong.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Ushio tosses out, slipping his jacket off and onto a nearby chair. Kiroku fumbles after him with characteristic clumsiness, smoothing down and folding Ushio’s jacket too. “What’s the golem doing in the home ec room?”
“I…thought…I’d help…” His voice, surprisingly deep as always, makes Ushio feel like his nerves are shivering. “Decorate…”
“Don’t you dare touch my chocolates until you’ve at least studied chapters two hundred to two hundred fifty,” Ushio grumbles, pushing aside whatever mess of tools the class before him had left on the table. “I’m going to try to do them like in the second stage of the competition and post a b-day shoot. Ugh, why am I even telling you this?”
“I’ve read…it…” When had Kiroku already put on an apron? Ushio’s still fumbling with the strings on his, reaching for them behind his back to try to tie a knot. “Let me…help.”
He’s taken aback when Kiroku takes the strings out of his hands, knotting them and tying a bow to finish it off. It’s a surprisingly cute touch. Ushio supposes it’s befitting of his big-brother role. “Could’ve done that myself,” he says, but his words come out a little choked, still flustered by Kiroku tying his apron. It’s easy to forget that his unitmate is one of the tallest ward mayors with his shy demeanor, but just a moment ago—he’d taken the strings from Ushio carefully, deliberately avoiding touching his fingertips, and Ushio had unabashedly stared at the difference in size between their hands.
Kiroku’s hands aren’t as slim as Muneuji’s, or as gnarled as his; they’re the fingers of an artist, calloused and strong. He’d felt the distant chill of Kiroku’s hands hovering above his back as he’d tied the apron. Wildly, he wonders what it would feel like if Kiroku would press that large, cool hand into the small of his back, flattening and smoothing the ruffles of the apron into place.
“How should…I…help?” Kiroku rolls up his sleeves, shuffling some of the used bowls into the sink. “Just…tell me.”
“...Fine. Heat up this water, I’m trying to temper the chocolate. Surely you can manage that,” Ushio gives in. For the next thirty minutes, they work in a companionable silence. It’s surprisingly not too bad. Kiroku has steady hands and follows direction well, and even though it annoys him when he keeps bumping into someone else in the kitchen, the extra help with timing and juggling different colors is worth it.
Once he has the different colored piping bags prepared and sitting in warm water, he wipes his hands on his apron and stands back to judge their work. “Good,” he mutters, then sets the chocolates onto his rotating tray. Raising his voice, he calls out to Kiroku. “Oi. You ready?”
“I…think so,” Kiroku says softly. “Is this…reference…okay?”
He turns his palm up, presenting an image collage on his phone for Ushio’s approval. It’s laid out nice and clean, even cleaner than Ushio himself had compiled for his original plans. He tsks and jerks a nod of reluctant approval.
“You’ll be doing these three, over there. Those are Ouji’s,” he says, nudging three towards him. “Make sure they look exactly like the references.” He takes three for himself, making sure he doesn’t melt the chocolate with his body heat. “These are mine. We’ve only got twenty minutes until our lunch ends, so be fast. ‘Kay?”
“O…kay…” Kiroku’s a little unfamiliar with the piping bag, he can tell. Even so, he quickly grasps the details, swirling and dragging on a spare sheet of parchment paper like a seasoned pro.
Ushio’s quickly absorbed in the decorating, walking on a tightrope of concentration as he tries his best to emulate what he sees on the screen. It’s rough, especially without canon colors; there hadn’t been any coloring done for this page yet, not until the special volume release, so all he has to go off of is his best guess.
Five minutes before their time is up, Ushio leans back and admires his work. They’re close to perfect, as he had hoped; the colors and swirls pop exactly like they’d done on the pages, and he’d even left a slip of wax paper underneath them to move them easier. “Hey. How’re yours turning out—”
When he cranes his neck to spy on Kiroku’s, he’s left starry-eyed. For a second, all annoyance at having to share his kitchen space vanishes, replaced by the pure kind of love only an otaku seeing his favorite panel come to life could have.
“Y—You…no way…” Kiroku had somehow found the edible glitter dust that he’d stashed away and painted it onto the delicate details of the sides, adding a layer of depth and dimension that gave them the appearance of a sparkling otherworldly creation. When Ushio looks closer, he sees delicate flowers of piped chocolate blooming underneath the chocolates, encasing them in a web of vines that exactly mimicked the flower screentones that had been part of the double-page spread.
“Is it…okay?” Kiroku fidgets nervously again. “It’s just…at the bottom…so you…can take the chocolates off…if you want.”
“Are you kidding me?” He half-shouts in excitement. “No way I’m doing that. Help me arrange these for a photo.”
They arrange them together, Kiroku primarily handling the chocolate with his colder hands. Even though Ushio’s fully confident in claiming the kitchen as his domain, Kiroku’s artistic touch enhances the composition to the point that even he’s happy to brag about the photo.
“Should I…take the picture…now?” Kiroku’s holding up the phone for him as Ushio rearranges some of his goods in a last-minute rush. “Just…tell me when.” The chime to return to class had already rang, but they’d both ignored it in a silent mutual agreement. Ushio nods once they’re arranged to his liking, and as the flash of the photo goes off, he can’t help but smile at Kiroku’s furrowed brow—just a little bit, of course.
—
Three makes a pattern, as Ushio finds out after school. Nanaki ensnares him when he’s coming through the door, which is exactly the kind of sneakily evil move Ushio expects from him. Less expected is how he pushes a cassette player at him, colorful markings on the tape reading “Sweet&Sweet”.
“What’s this?” Ushio’s on guard, eyeing the tape. It looks cute. Nanaki’s put stickers on it, little cupcakes and tarts and swirls floating around the colorful edges.
“It’s for you, stupid,” Nanaki mutters. His cheeks are slowly turning red from embarrassment. “You better like it.”
“What the hell?” Nanaki never gives him anything, at least not without significant complaining. It’s the same for Ushio, which is why he squints at Nanaki’s reddening face suspiciously. “I don’t even own a cassette player. How am I supposed to play this?”
“You can still play it,” he says. “Just click on the top bar.” When Ushio does so, a chip pops out, and his phone buzzes to alert him that a nearby tag can be scanned. “It’s just…decorative, I guess.”
“You’re really into cassette tapes lately, huh? Wonder why that could be,” Ushio teases, but taps to accept it on his phone regardless. Even if it is Nanaki’s creation…it’s undeniable that he’s a stunningly talented musician. “Fine, I’ll spare you the embarrassment and give it a listen.”
“Wait!” Before he can manage to click play, Nanaki reaches out to stop him. Stopping just short of grabbing at his wrist, Nanaki somehow turns even more red, a feat Ushio didn’t think was possible before this. “J—Just so you have the right context. Read your favorite chapters while you listen.”
Now it’s Ushio’s turn to flush red. Since when has Nanaki known his favorite chapters? Sure, he wasn’t exactly hiding it from the rest of Day2 at least, but he hadn’t explicitly said anything. “Fine,” he says quickly. “Okay.” He’s long since had a digital version saved, so he pulls it up to read while listening. The headphones go on, he starts reading, and he quickly loses himself in the experience.
As expected of the unfairly talented Nanaki, the music matches perfectly. When the chapter begins, it’s a light and airy instrumental, all breathy wind instruments layered on top of each other with a slight western theme to match the atmosphere. As the characters ride to school, the music dances along—it’s a lovely melody, layered with the instruments that had been chosen to match each character in a popularity poll a few years ago. Ushio wonders again at the level of effort. How much work did Nanaki put into this, when he didn’t even know anything about PatiBato?
When the emotional conflict of the chapter starts seeping in, the music changes color again. The melody from before limps along, but it’s mangled and warped, discordant screeches and strange brass instruments adding a sharp-toned edge to the backing track. When they start shouting, it’s a cacophony of sound crashing in his ears; the music wails in despair along with them, and Ushio’s heart squeezes tighter when it does. He has to try his best not to get emotional, especially not with Nanaki still next to him, but it’s an impossible task. Nothing gets him to feel quite like PatiBato does.
The resolution is a soaring thing, all sweeping strings and crashes of jubilant cymbals. Nanaki’s leaned heavily on western instruments with this composition, matching the atmosphere and tone perfectly. As he turns the final pages, he can’t help but imagine Nanaki’s artist’s touch over the whole experience—on the page, he sees Nanaki’s mirror image speaking words of passion, and next to him, Nanaki awkwardly flexes his fingers, awaiting his critique.
“So? What do you think?” Nanaki asks him as soon as the screen goes dark again.
“Gimme a second, jesus,” Ushio shoots back, trying to surreptitiously wipe away the mist in his eyes. “It’s good. There.”
“Ugh, I know that! Just—you don’t have any thoughts on it, or specific critiques, or anything?” Nanaki’s got the temperament of an artist, too, always trying to get feedback and nitpick. It makes Ushio mad that Nanaki knows he’s good, but it’s not like he can refute it (or that he even really wants to, for that matter).
“Fine. I like it a lot.” Ushio’s weirdly embarrassed to say anything. With Nanaki’s face…it’s a little too much like the real thing is here in front of him. “It felt like you put their feelings into music. Or whatever.” It’s a fraction of what he actually feels, but he can’t bring himself to say any more.
“Good,” Nanaki says. It’s supremely awkward. They’re both blushing. “I read those chapters a billion times for this. So you better listen a billion times too.”
“As if, dumbass,” Ushio shoots back. The last delicate chord rings in his ears long after the music stops, bringing the same emotions that rushed through him when he first read the chapters back to life. Mentally, he’s already sworn to listen to the track as many times as he possibly can before his ears fall off, but he’d never tell Nanaki that. “By the way. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“Notice what?” Nanaki’s confusion before the split second before Ushio calls him out is glorious.
“Notice that you labeled the cassette tape all nice and proper, but the file on my phone’s still called ‘ushio_bday_finalFINALv6FINALTHISTIME_last,” he laughs. “Couldn’t decide on a name?”
“You—I—ugh! I’m taking it back from you!” Nanaki shouts, very obviously embarrassed.
“No way, it’s my birthday gift. It’s all mine now,” Ushio grins, running back up to his room. He cradles the cassette in his hands like a precious gem as he does, careful not to damage the decorated casing. “No take-backs.”
—
The final blow comes in the evening, when Ushio’s scrolling on his phone in the living room. He’s on another blocking spree, keyword searching like his life depends on it, when Akuta approaches the sofa.
“Yo!” Akuta’s as bright and chirpy as always, which means Ushio feels an immediate headache coming on. “Guess who’s got the best surprise for the best birthday boy!”
“Better not be me,” he says. He’s busy scrolling, can’t Akuta see? “I don’t need any kind of celebration.”
“No, no,” Akuta laughs, undeterred. His eyes are sparkling in a way that spells either complete disaster or something beyond Ushio’s wildest dreams. “It’s nothing like that! You’ll like it, so just watch this video already!”
He thrusts a pair of earbuds into Ushio’s hands, along with his phone. It’s got a big crack in the middle, which Ushio grimaces at, but Akuta just taps until he’s staring down at his warped reflection in the black screen. The play button blinks at him, taunting him.
“Another one of your self-directed videos?” Ushio says, plugging one earbud into his ear. “Well, I’ll see how it goes.” As much as he wants to make a snarky comment, they had been getting pretty good lately. He dares to hope that it might even be an edited video of their last doujin sale market, or a mock promotion for the newest arc of PatiBato. Akuta had told him once that it might be fun for them to collaborate on a new video format, after all.
When the video opens, it’s just a black screen, which is weird. Even weirder, it sounds like Akuta’s the one behind the camera. If it’s his video, shouldn’t he at least feature himself in it at the beginning? “Alright, guys,” Akuta’s voice rings in his ears, “Take your places!”
A chorus of agreement follows, and the camera pans up to reveal a sweets cafe that Ushio had been meaning to go to. It’s a small side room in the cafe, meant for photos and small gatherings, but it’s still beautifully decorated with plenty of ribbons and classically elegant touches. “Ready? Action!”
When Muneuji enters the screen, Ushio’s heart nearly stops. If he’d thought Muneuji was beautiful before, he’s stunning now. His roommate, elegant and lovely even in day-to-day life, is dressed in a loose cardigan shrugged over the classic PatiBato uniform, draping over his slender form like a perfect ganache. An adorable beret perches on his head, set just slightly askew, suggesting a slightly careless personality behind the high-brow exterior—just like one of his favorite side characters. “Uu-chan,” he says, and Ushio absolutely feels like dying at the sight of Muneuji in that outfit, calling out his name with such fondness. “Uu-chan, happy birthday. I’m truly grateful you’re by my side. I shall strive to ensure that every birthday you have is better than the last, so please continue living your life just how you wish.”
Muneuji bows, just a little lean of the waist, arms tucked carefully at his side to maintain his character’s graceful demeanor. “Let me escort you to your dinner, my dear friend…if I remember where the reservation is, that is.” It’s a line perfectly befitting of his character. Ushio’s going to pass away.
Before he even has time to process, the perspective spins again, in a fancy bit of camerawork that Akuta had no doubt spent a lot of time perfecting. This time, it’s Kiroku who stares at him, all traces of his usual shyness gone. He’s in the same outfit and wig that they’d prepared together for the doujin event, downcast glare transformed into a cool and icy gaze that makes Ushio’s face flush bright red. “C’mon, just like we rehearsed!” Akuta’s whispers can still be heard if he turns the volume up enough. He’s emotionally weakened enough to feel a little touched.
Kiroku coughs nervously, then straightens up again. Ushio once again comes to the realization that his unitmate really is way too tall. “Kurama…I’m always happy…that…you like my drawings. Let’s…make another doujin…together…” He’s fidgeting, but there’s a tiny smile on his face. “Happy…birthday…probably again.”
Akuta’s in frame for another split second, whispering more instructions. “Okay, now the line!”
Another deep breath, and Kiroku holds out his hand. It’s an imperious sweep of his whole arm, white cape fluttering behind him to follow the strong lines of his figure. “It is only right that I concede this day to you. Join me if you wish for an evening meal,” he says. His voice resonates in Ushio’s ears, making him shiver; if he looks at his arms, he’s sure he’ll see goosebumps dotting his skin. “...Was that…okay…”
Even though the effect is somewhat ruined by his voice afterwards, Ushio’s blood pressure rises higher. It’s too much. Seeing a handsome Kiroku, holding out his ice-cold hand to him and speaking in that deep voice without stuttering or pausing—it’s definitely way too much.
“Perfect, perfect!” Akuta claps his hands together, peaking the mic. Ushio winces, but he’s not given much of a chance to recover before the camera spins again to reveal—
Of course it’s Nanaki. Of course. Despite himself, Ushio can feel his face flushing hot, right up to the tips of his ears.
“Am I in frame?” Nanaki asks the Akuta in the video, straightening his uniform. He’s perfect. He’s dressed exactly like how he’s drawn, just like he’d leapt off the pages and transformed into color. “Tell me when to start.”
“Your debut starts now!” Akuta’s excitement shakes the camera slightly, and Nanaki turns to face the lens with a stiff smile on his face.
“U—Ushio, happy birthday…” his voice trails off, clearly embarrassed. “Even though you’re annoying, and too picky, and start fights with me all the time…you’re still someone who can drag me out of my own head. So. Thanks for that, I guess. And happy birthday.”
Another jump-cut, and there’s no trace of the awkward Nanaki left in the video now. Reito stands in front of him, perfect in every detail, looking down on him with an arrogant gaze. “You really want to challenge me?” Ushio’s in heaven. Or hell. He’s not sure which. Nanaki looks perfect as Reito, absolutely perfect. His sharp eyes, his slight smile, the overwhelming presence that characterizes his every movement—they’re all there, right in front of him, calling Ushio’s name.
Nanaki steps closer to the camera, placing his hand below the frame. It’s just like he’s grabbing the viewer’s chin. “Of course, I’ll be gracious and accept your challenge tonight.” He laughs, nothing like the coughing laughter Nanaki usually has. A soft chuckle sounds in his ears. “Will you allow me the privilege of escorting you to the special grounds?” His voice lilts up, delicate but strong at the same time, traveling from his left ear to his right in a thrilling rush. Ushio’s world is spinning. He briefly thinks that he hates handsome assholes who know how to manipulate audio.
Akuta’s the last one in the lineup, camera clearly set up on a cheap tripod from the way it’s wobbling. “Heya!” Akuta in the video chirps, as Akuta sitting next to him smiles his shark-tooth smile. “Happy birthday, Ushio! You like this video, don’tcha?” Ushio’s disappointed for a split second that Akuta isn’t doing the same as his other unitmates, then smacks himself on the head mentally for thinking so. “Don’t worry, I’ve already sent you a copy times three. Triple copies? Either way, you’ve got a bunch to spare!”
Ushio tries not to show emotion. He’s fighting it back, he really is, but he’s only human. A smile cracks his face.
“I was debating whether I should put myself in here or not…but the rest of them told me it’d be stupid to leave just one person out!” Akuta in the video tugs at his sleeves, pushing them up and down his wrists. “So if you wanna see me, featured in my very own video—just keep watching! Or don’t! Your choice!”
The video cuts abruptly to what is very clearly the inside of Akuta’s shared bedroom, filmed at a time when the other two had been out. He’s not dressed as fancily as the others, nor is the lighting and camera work quite as precise, but it’s obvious he’s put some level of effort in—he’s in the PatiBato uniform, at least, and his hair is slicked back to reveal his forehead. It’s a refreshing kind of vibe, especially with his hair pushed back. Ushio’s inner otaku senses tingle at the difference between the usual Akuta and this one.
“Um, how do I start this…Happy birthday, Ushio! I’ve probably already said it, but thanks a ton for being a good friend!” Akuta’s quieter when he’s alone in a video. He smiles at the camera, flashing a peace sign. “You say you don’t care, but you always watch my videos when I put them up…so, thanks a bunch for that!” Akuta stands up from his chair, smoothing the wrinkles out of the uniform as he does. “Ah, jeeze…I get why the others were kind of embarrassed now…”
Akuta on the couch turns away, covering his eyes. He’s yammering on about something being too cringe to watch. In the video, Akuta walks up to the camera, then offers his hand. It’s a quick motion, rough and snappy, but the way it’s done is just so like him Ushio can’t help but stifle a laugh. “I don’t have a character or anything, so I’ll just say…come and grab something to eat with me, ‘kay? I’ll get something tasty for both of us!” He smiles again at the camera, another sunny flash of his teeth, and reaches over to shut off the camera, whispering one last message before he does. “Happy birthday—”
When the video screen goes black, and Ushio’s left staring at his own cracked face, he slowly comes to the realization that the rest of his unitmates had gathered around him when he had been watching the video.
“I—”
Before he can even finish his sentence, the rest of them are chiming in his ear in a way-too-loud chorus.
“Happy birthday, Ushio!”
“Happy birthday, Uu-chan.”
“Ushio. Happy birthday.”
“Happy…birthday…Kurama…”
He stares down at the phone in his lap. It’s too much to know what to do with. “T—Thanks, I guess…” It feels like way too little in the face of everything they’d done for him, everything he now realizes they’d tailored specifically to him and the things he loves. “You guys didn’t have to do all that.”
“Of course we did,” Muneuji states calmly. He’s carrying in a cake, something that they’d clearly handmade, from the kitchen. It’s messy and the frosting is running and the center is half-deflated. It’s one of the best cakes he’s ever seen. “It’s your birthday, Uu-chan. You should be celebrated.”
After he takes a bite of the cake (too bitter), after he begrudgingly puts on the stupid party hat Akuta forces on him, after he finally calms down from the shock of the video—
All he can think is, I’m happy to have been born.