“Oh. It’s my birthday.”
I frankly deserved praise for noticing at all. For some reason, I tended to forget until way later every year. Were birthdays really that boring to me? What kind of birthday could possibly be boring?
“It should be flashier…like shiny gold origami paper…”
At this point, even I didn’t know what I meant, so I quit thinking about it. Maybe birthdays simply weren’t exciting at this age. After all, I’d already had so many.
“Hmmm…”
And so I turned twenty.
“Wait, I’m in my twenties now? Really?”
Naturally, there was no response from the empty air, nor any proof. I pinched my cheeks, jumped in place, even swung my hips, but my body felt no different from yesterday.
“Oh well.”
Scanning the calendar, I found today’s date and drew a star on it. Each of its five points turned out evenly sized. Wow. I’m an adult, all right! I admired my perfect star for a moment, then glanced around the room, wondering what to do with myself.
It was the weekend, but I’d woken up surprisingly early; it was still morning outside my window. Squinting into the bright sunlight, I reached for my cell phone. No one had tried to contact me.
“Hunh. You’d think Adachi would have everything about me memorized,” I mused quietly, making myself blush. Was I just being arrogant?
Considering that Adachi’s first name was “Sakura,” she deserved a spring birthday way more than I did. My name, on the other hand, was written with the kanji for “moon,” so its seasonal vibe was more…autumnal, maybe? Harvest moons and all that. Then again, I liked seeing the moon’s faded glow in the clear blue sky during a long summer day. Pretty cool stuff.
My thoughts carried on in a disjointed tangent until I eventually decided to have breakfast and left the room. Out in the hall, the house didn’t seem any different either.
“Oh, I forgot.”
I immediately doubled back to my room to grab my phone so I’d have it on hand at all times, just in case Adachi called. When I stepped in, however, I saw a little butt and pair of legs sticking out from under my blanket. Where’d you come from?!
“What are you doing?”
As if in response to my question, the legs wiggled; I grabbed her ankles and yanked her out. Dangling upside down, she gazed up at me calmly, her hair somehow defying the pull of gravity. “Nothing of particular significance.”
“Figured.”
Obviously, it was Yashiro—who else would it be? Well, maybe my mom would’ve done this to troll me… As I contemplated that possibility, Yashiro flipped onto her feet. Today, she wore a lion onesie; yesterday, it had been a chicken onesie that my sister bought her. Personally, I liked that one better.
“Good morning.”
“Yes, yes, good morning.”
“Hmm?” She squinted up at the calendar. “Today is marked with a star.”
“The star is for birthdays.”
“Wooow.” After that half-assed response, she toddled over to me. “Is it your birthday, Shimamura-san?”
“Yup. My twentieth, in fact.”
I held up two fingers; through the gap in my inadvertent peace sign, I could see Yashiro’s blue eyes. They moved slowly, like twin planets swimming through the galaxy.
“Twenty years old at last? You are still practically a baby.”
“Not as babyish as you, kid. When’s your birthday, anyway?” I asked offhandedly. I had to stop myself from continuing the question with “if you even have one.” Obviously, she had to have a birthday, even if she seemed beyond such things at times.
“My birthday? Let me think…” She started counting something on her stubby fingers, but she quickly gave up and dropped her hands. “Today is close enough.”
“Today?”
“That means we match!”
“Ha ha ha…” Watching her jump for joy, I decided not to protest.
“I shall now go brag to Little!” With that, she ran from the room, arms thrust in front of her.
“What’s there to brag about…?”
Having a birthday was so mundane. Now I was really starting to think she didn’t have one. Phone in hand, I headed to the kitchen.
“It’s so hot…” I’d barely walked ten feet, yet I was sweating as if it were already summer.
Then a voice from the living room flagged me down: “Hey, come here!”
Backtracking, I peered into the room to see my mother lying on her side in front of the television, cuddling a cushion, like an otter with a seashell.
When she spotted me, she bolted upright. “I hear it’s your birthday today.”
“Shouldn’t you have that kind of thing memorized, Mom?”
“Come on. I’m obviously just joking! Pfff ha ha ha ha!” When I tried to ignore her, she smacked the floor. “Come have a seat.”
“What about breakfast?”
“It can wait!”
Prompted by her obnoxious floor-smacking, I reluctantly sat down beside her.
“Now lay back.”
She grabbed my head and shoulders and pulled me toward her. Unable to struggle against her gym-honed strength, I fell sideways. My head now in her lap, I looked up at her. “What is it?”
“Doesn’t this feel like a special birthday scene?”
How should I know?
Her fingers combed through my hair to my exposed earlobe and gave it a pinch. “Happy, happy birthday!”
“Gee, thanks.”
That pinch didn’t feel like a very kind gesture, but when I tried to sit up—“Hey!”—she held me down, forcing me into the celebration. (Never thought I’d have to write those words in that order, but here we are.) How long had it been since I’d last rested my head in her lap? I dreaded the thought of my little sister walking in on us—knowing her, she’d never let me live it down.
As I squirmed restlessly, my mother located my cowlick and began to twirl it.
“Could you stop?!”
“Oh—I found a gray hair.”
“Pull it out!”
“No way. Keep it! It’s a grown-up’s badge of honor.”
It certainly wasn’t one that I’d ever wanted—but maybe that was the point. Not everything about growing up would be sunshine and roses. Of course, I knew my mother hadn’t thought about it that deeply. The television screen in front of us displayed a news reporter standing beside a pink pig.
“You’ve really outgrown my lap, huh, kid?” As she spoke, she gave me a slap on the butt, which I didn’t appreciate. “Twenty years… God, I feel so old.” She heaved a long, heavy sigh, and for once, I couldn’t quite tell whether she was joking. “So, are you going somewhere with Adachi-chan today?”
“No plans yet.”
If I asked, Adachi would surely suggest something. But for some reason, I found myself waiting—wanting her to make the first move. And if midnight rolled around before I heard from her, I was prepared to forget about it until next year…at which point I’d probably do the exact same thing.
“What about you? Do you see her at the gym a lot?”
“Huh?”
“Mrs. Adachi, I mean.”
“Nah, not a lot. And whenever I do see her, she tells me to go to hell at least twice.”
“Wow. You guys are besties now.”
“I know, right? Gah ha ha!” she cackled gleefully, and I started feeling a tiny bit sorry for Adachi’s mom. “We might be even closer than you and her kid.”
“Uhhh…” Mildly concerning if true.
“Anyway, is there something special you’d like to eat today?”
“What do you mean, special?”
“You know, a favorite of yours or something?”
“Well, there’s tamagoyaki and okonomiyaki… I also like yakisoba…”
Being my mother, of course, she obviously knew all those. Still, even though she’d asked the question, she didn’t sound enthusiastic about my answer. “Hm.”
“Weren’t you offering to make something?” I asked, perplexed.
“Ehhh…”
What kind of reaction is that?
“I already make those all the time.”
“So?”
“I guess I could mix ’em all together.”
Addition was seemingly the only solution her brain was capable of. “What are you, five?”
Chuckling, she rubbed my back gently, her touch soft enough to reach my soul. Then, before I could fully process my confusion, she leaned forward to look at my face.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“Just thinking about when you were a baby.” Her smile was so familiar that I couldn’t help combing my memories in search of it. “Whenever I watched you sleep, I’d say to myself…”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think she needs to be rich or famous…but I want her to be a thoughtful, strong girl.”
“Is that…an Earthbound reference?”
“Gah ha ha ha!” She dodged the question. “So are you strong?”
“How does it feel to be strong?”
“Is that a Hajime no Ippo reference?” As she spoke, she closed her eyes and smiled, then looked back at me. “If you ask me, strength feels like having the courage not to shy away from things that scare you.”
My mother seldom let herself be serious, so this was a rare birthday treat. I looked up at her, chasing that elusive ray of light; she was still smiling softly at me, as if I were her baby all over again.
“I guess that’s what I’ll strive for, then.” Now that I’m all grown up.
“Good.” She gave me another slap on the butt. Was I her personal drum now?
“Eh, whatever.” Just this once, I somehow didn’t get mad at her.
“Twenty years old,” she murmured again. Then she scoffed. “Lucky brat!” Out of nowhere, she yanked my hair.
“Gah!” I felt a tiny prick of pain in my scalp. “Excuse you!”
“What? You told me to pull the hair out.”
“The gray one?”
“Maybe.”
“Hey!”
As if to spite me, she brought her hand to my face and opened her fingers. Before my eyes, a single strand of hair danced down to the floor—and, yes, it was gray.