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It started out as just a regular day for Kurōbā. They had woken up, went to the bathroom, and cleaned up before heading to the dining room.
“Mornin’, Mom, Martlet,” they yawned, scratching their torso underneath their tank top.
“Oh, good morning, Kurōbā,” Martlet said, cheerfully.
“Good morning,” Ceroba said. “There’s some food in the fridge.”
“Thanks,” Kurōbā said, still a little bit tired. They went to the fridge to grab some breakfast. Some more Corn Chowder, the fridge never seems to run out of the stuff. At least these are more fresh than before.
“Oh, there’s something I want to ask you,” Ceroba called from the kotatsu.
“Hm?” Kurōbā called back.
“Well,” Ceroba said, “it’s been a year now, and I’ve been wondering: When is your birthday?”
“Huh?” Kurōbā said as they walked back in, face stuffed with food. “Oh… um… Hm…” They swallowed their food. “Yeah, I don’t know.”
“You… don’t know your own birthday?” Martlet asked, rather concerned.
“Yeah,” Kurōbā responded, “stopped keeping track of it when I was, like, 6. My parents never celebrated it, so I never paid attention.” (It’s actually because you’re not sure when it is now and need time to figure it out.) “I can… uh… see if I can figure out when it was.”
“I see,” Ceroba said. “Well, let us know when you remember.”
“I will.”
After eating breakfast, Kurōbā went back up to their room to think and figure out their birthday. (You showed up today, June 20th, a year ago. Your original birthday was March 17th, and you had died on December 9th, so that’s… 267 days. That means that there were 98 days between your death day and your birthday. So in that case, you just need to find out what day is 98 days away from today, which should be… September 26th. Although… this year’s a leap year, so it would’ve been 99 days… Eh, you’re already coming up with a new birthday, this won’t exactly matter. Plus the importance of the passage of time in relation to life is relatively inconsequential, anyways. A day or so off isn’t gonna be super important. So yeah, September 26th sounds like it’s your new birthday. Now you just need to bring that up to Mom and Martlet. Oh, wait. This means you were 13 when Clover came around. You suppose that makes sense, but it feels weird knowing that you were a different age from yourself when you died.)
It took until dinner for Kurōbā to have the time to tell Martlet and Ceorba at the same time, since they thought it would be easiest to do that way.
“Oh yeah,” they brought up, “remembered when my birthday is.”
“Oh, when is it?” Martlet inquired.
“September 26th,” Kurōbā replied. “But you don’t need to do anything for it. It’s just a day to me.” (It was always just “a day” to you.)
“Alright,” Ceroba said in response.
After dinner, Kurōbā thought that that was it, and that they’d all forget about their birthday. They knew that they would. It just didn’t seem worth celebrating to them anymore, especially since they were already 13.
They were very, very wrong.
“I’m home,” they called as they entered their home. (Why’re the lights off?)
They walked into the main hall of the manor when suddenly…
“Surprise!”
“AGH!” Kurōbā yelped. It was the four who had attended their own funeral with them: Ceroba, Martlet, Dalv, and Starlo. “WHA— G-GUYS! Ugh, don’t DO that! I nearly summoned a gun on reflex! Woulda been real bad if I shot onea ya.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Martlet apologized.
“What’s this about, anyways?” Kurōbā asked.
“Well,” Starlo said, “Ceroba told us that today’s your birthday, so we—”
“TODAY’S MY WHAT?!” Kurōbā interrupted. They had completely forgotten.
“You… you didn’t know?” Dalv asked.
“NO,” Kurōbā replied, “I NEVER REMEMBERED WHEN IT WAS; I STOPPED KEEPING TRACK!” At least they remembered their lie on why they didn’t know.
“Well, we thought that we might surprise you with a party,” Ceroba said.
“You… REALLY shouldn’t have,” Kurōbā said with some classic teen inflection.
“It was Starlo’s idea,” Ceroba tattled.
“Hey,” Starlo said, slightly hurt.
“That tracks,” Kurōbā replied.
“HEY!” Starlo said, very hurt this time.
“Um,” Dalv said, nervous to interrupt, “should we… give them their present?”
“Oh, yes!” Martlet said enthusiastically. “Come on, Kurōbā, take it!”
She handed them a small present wrapped in yellow wrapping paper with a pink ribbon.
“Oh… uh… th-thanks…” Kurōbā said as they took the gift. They slowly started unwrapping. Underneath the wrapping was a small, white box. And inside the box was…
“It’s… a ribbon?” It was a small pink ribbon with a bell on it, much like Ceroba’s.
“Yup!” Martlet said with even more enthusiasm this time. “Just like Ceroba’s! That way you can use it for your ponytail!”
“Oh…” was all that Kurōbā was able to say.
“Do you… not like it?” Dalv asked, slightly worried.
“N-No, no it’s not that,” Kurōbā reassured everyone. “It’s just… I, I don’t know how to feel. Never gotten a present before…” (Well, there was the one, but…)
“Well, why don’t you put it on?” Martlet suggested.
“Oh, right,” Kurōbā said. “Um, Mom? Could you help me out with it? I’m more used to elastic hair ties.”
“Oh, of course,” Ceroba replied. She helped out her child, teaching them how to do it themself.
“S-So… How does it look?” Kurōbā asked, rather bashfully.
“It looks good,” Ceroba replied.
“Th-Thanks, Mom,” Kurōbā said, even more bashfully. They could feel their face getting redder.
“Well that settles it,” Martlet suddenly said. “We’re going to throw you a party every year!”
“Wait, wha—” Kurōbā started saying before being interrupted by Starlo.
“That’s right, we’ll make sure to give you something each time.”
“N-No, you really don—” Kurōbā tried saying again.
“I’ll make sure to make it extra special,” Dalv said.
“M-Mom, a little help?” Kurōbā tried asking, pathetically.
“Sorry,” Ceroba replied, “but there’s not really anything I can do.”
“Oh…” Kurōbā sounded defeated. “Please just make it a private matter… It’s going to be really embarrassing, otherwise…” The teenage embarrassment slipped through their voice very easily. There would be nothing worse for a teenager than having something embarrassing like a birthday party being super public. And if anyone were to make it public, it would be…
“Well of course it’d be private. Who do you think we are?” Starlo said, not being very self-aware. Everyone else just turned to look at him, hoping to pass along the message that they did, very much, know who he was.
It was not passed along.
“Why are you all looking at me like that?”
“Cuz we know the type of person you are, Uncle Star,” Kurōbā said bluntly. “You’re a showman; you’d make a grand event out of it. You can do it for your own birthday, but don’t do it for mine.”
They all had a good laugh at Starlo’s expense. Afterwards they gathered to have some cake (Kurōbā sprinkled some gunpowder on their slices) before Starlo and Dalv left. Kurōbā could barely sleep that night, as while they were rather embarrassed at first, they still had a great time, finally being able to celebrate their birthday for the first time. They could only hope that future years could be as exciting, despite keeping it low-key.