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the tsukishima household’s birthday tradition is that tsukki’s mom will make you whatever cake you want, no matter how extravagant or outlandish. she’s made akiteru a cake in the shape of a volleyball and even made tsukki a little dinosaur egg with molten chocolate at the centre.
yamaguchi’s dumbstruck when he first hears about it. in his house, birthdays are acknowledged, not celebrated. every gift he’s gotten has been generic, more customary than anything else.
it’s jarring, because his parents barely put any thought into their presents and tsukki’s mom puts all her heart into hers. he says as much to her in passing, and she’s struck at once by how there isn’t any bitterness or malice in his tone, nothing more than an undertone of hurt.
she’s immediately insistent that he be part of the tradition now, that she refuses to take no for an answer and says that what with him being tsukki’s only friend, he’s practically family anyway. she knows his birthday’s in about a week, so she asks him what he’d like.
she tells him how no rules apply, that he can ask for anything at all and she’ll get it done. he’s hesitant, but after she wears him down he reveals that if she must, he’d like strawberry shortcake please. it’s a strikingly simple request, and she’s caught off guard for a moment.
“hold on a second” she says, eyebrows wrinkling into a frown “are you only saying that because it’s kei’s favourite?” yamaguchi fervently shakes his head, insistent that it’s what he wants, and she’s still a bit confused but she doesn’t prod, she takes it at face value.
on his birthday, she brings the cake out to the dining room where he and tsukki are sat by the table, legs swinging back and forth because they’re still a little too short for their feet to touch the ground.
she notices at once how he barely glances at the cake, how his eyes are fixed on her son instead, waiting for a reaction. tsukki’s delighted - he hasn’t had strawberry shortcake in forever and a half and he digs in with more fervour than the birthday boy does.
she’s about to interrupt, about to scold yamaguchi for only picking strawberry for tsukki’s sake and insist that he really doesn’t have to do anything of the sort, but she stops herself.
yamaguchi’s ears are tipped red as he watches tsukki, his mouth twisting into a smile that seems almost breathless. there’s a steady glow in his eyes, one that she can’t quite place but that looks jarring on a kid that young, and then it hits her.
“oh,” she mutters to herself. “that’s what this is about.” she contemplates interjecting anyway to tell yamaguchi that next year he should choose for himself, but decides not to. she shrugs, and figures that it’s his birthday after all and if it’s what makes him happy, so be it.
every single year after when she asks him what kind of cake he wants for his birthday, his answer is always the same. she can never resist the urge to tease him about it a little, comment on how sweet it is that his heart’s so set on his ‘strawberry shortcake’
he blushes bright red at that, splutters as he wracks his head for a clever response and instead resigns himself to avoiding eye contact with her for a week after. she never pushes it further than that, certain they’ll figure it out on their own time.
she knows they will. she sees the way her son looks at yamaguchi too, the way he’s looked at him for years at this point, and it’s all so glaringly obvious she can hardly stand it.
she leaves them be though, because she knows that when two people are that right for each other, it’ll all fall into place sooner or later. in time, she’s proven right, spectacularly so.
she’s at their wedding now. she catches a glimpse of their wedding cake out of the corner of her eye, and turns around for a proper look. she’s taken aback for a moment, and then she lets out a laugh. it’s strawberry shortcake.
