RayBelle

On very special years, like his grandparents' kanreki or shichi-go-san, a birthday became a somewhat rowdier affair: Hotels or ryokan were booked, special dinners were arranged.

There was a photo of Issei's fifth birthday at B*kkuri D*nkey in his room, when he got so over-excited, he ate so much hamburger steak and left no room for his own cake.

But for the most part, Issei remembered muted celebrations and soft singing so as to not interrupt any urgent calls that might be taken at the time. Death waits for no one, and certainly not for chocolate cake with a handful of candles.

Today would be the same as before, Issei thought as he washed up after practice, folded his sweaty gym clothes into a ziploc, and prepared to leave with a perfunctory "osaki ni".

He should've realised something was amiss as he stepped outside to put on his shoes only for his sock-clad feet to crinkle plastic tarp on cool concrete.

It hit him all at once. Literally. The cake in his face, a spray of confetti and a series of loud cracks as party-poppers went off at totally different timings alongside and assorted (and somewhat confused-sounding) shouts of "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATSUKAWA-SAN!".

As Hanamaki helped him wipe fresh cream out of his eyes, he blearily made out the scowling figure of Iwaizumi slapping Oikawa on the head, giving him scolding for not doing 'what we discussed'.

Various first years scrambled to salvage the ruined cake in their hands, Watari in particular, panicking as he looked from the smashed chiffon sponge to the mess of cream now tinged pink with strawberry juice.

"Matsukawa-senpai! Um... um... sorry! We didn't know he was going to do that!"

"I did." said Iwaizumi, although plainly having hoped against hope that his childhood friend would behave himself.

"So did I." Hanamaki added wryly, gently guiding another wet wipe along the contours of Issei's face to remove the last bits of cream.

There was nothing to be done about his uniform though, no amount of wet wipes would cleanly remove the speckles with crumbs and dairy. And his socks were ruined when he stumbled onto a blob of cream in his surprise.

Issei's lip twitched.

Gods, what even was this?

He sat down on the tarp, heedless of the mess and lifted his sticky foot. A broken square of white chocolate was stuck to it with a blurry "Happy birthday Mattsun!" piped in dark chocolate.

"I said we'll serve him the cake later, not serve the cake at him!" Iwaizumi continued his harangue in the background as Issei threw back his head and laughed louder than he ever had in years.

"I should've seen it coming." he chortled and then ducked as first year Yahaba, having finished with helping to clean up the gym, came out and received the next cake in the face.

For that one day in a year, eccentric (if they're kind) and weird (if they're not) Tendou Satori becomes the most popular boy on campus. He's surrounded by adoring girls hanging on his every word... if only because they're following his instructions to the letter.

Brownies, and cookies and rich ganache tarts, he teaches them his kitchen secrets and samples all their work.

Delicious, of course, as expected of his students. Each piece filled with love... for someone else.

They thank him, help to tidy up the home econs room they borrowed, and go on their way, giggling about how XX-kun is going to love it.

Tendou packs up the leftovers and goes back to the dorm where, in the much smaller kitchen, rest of the team is loitering.

"Tadaima."

"Ohhh you're back!"

They perk up at his greeting, rushing over to usher him to a seat at the kitchen counter.

"Ushijima's mother sent some kinda fancy tea again. What was it called? Lulu?"

"Lupicia." Ushijima supplies helpfully, holding up the packet and its distinct logo.

They sit while the water boils and Ushijima steeps a pot with to-the-second precision. Nobody knows how he does it without a timer.

And then, with mugs in hand the team looks at Tendou with pure anticipation.

Tendou brings out the goods with a resigned sigh, "You know you'll be eating these tomorrow, right?"

As the stars of the school, Volleyball boys were popular after all.

Semi-semi crams a tart into his mouth, crumbs everywhere. "Yeah but... they don't taste the same."

Eh?

"Yeah." mumbles Hayato, "It's different. Somehow..."

"It's cause Tendou-senpai really loves what he makes." Shirabu muses, "More than 'please notice me', he's fully devoted to the feeling of 'please be delicious'."

The others nod along as Taichi, with a ring of chocolate around his mouth, weeps, "Senpai, even if I get a confession tomorrow, please know that yours is still the tastiest!"

Tendou can't help but tremble at the cascade of praise from his team.

Their appreciation for his work fills him with pride, but at the same time, he still feels loneliness and envy at what they will receive tomorrow.

Reon claps a hand on his back, it's a reassuring thump to punctuate a promise, "What we're saying is... look forward to White Day."

Tendou watches with watery eyes as his mug fills up again with fresh tea. Ushijima sets the pot down and meets his gaze in that serious and unwavering expression.

"Tendou, your feelings, we've received them."

"...Thanks."

~

The next month, the boy's volleyball club get assigned mandatory cleaning duties for nearly destroying the home economics room. They say that even today you squint up, you can find the remnants of Semi Eita's exploding chocolate cake clinging to the ceiling.