Someone had turned off the lights for me and was waiting. Someone had baked a cake for me, and had even practiced it over and over. Something deep in my chest tightened. My throat went hot, and I hurriedly covered my eyes with one hand.
"...Oh, come on."
I tried my best to laugh. But my voice was shaking.
"I get so weepy as I get older. It's no good."
The four of them stared blankly. Well, they would. I was always easygoing. Whatever happened, I was the man who didn't panic, didn't make a fuss, just smiled and cooked. And now here I was, standing frozen in front of the light of a single candle, my hand over my eyes.
"...Mr. Manager," Mahiru said timidly.
"Are you maybe crying..."
"I'm not crying."
I gave my eyes a firm wipe.
"I'm not crying."
My voice was obviously damp. The four of them looked at one another.
I took a deep breath and spoke in as close to my usual tone as I could.
"...Well, this is a problem."
"A problem?"
"Yes. Um. Celebrating people is something I'm good at, but..."
I gave a wry smile and scratched my head.
"Being celebrated... I just don't know how it works. What I'm supposed to do."
With those words, I could tell something in the four of them had loosened.
"...You don't have to do anything."
It was Rei who spoke first. Not her usual rapid-fire speech, not her polite work-mode tone either. A gentle voice.
"The person being celebrated just smiles and blows out the candles."
"...That's all?"
"That's all."
I crouched down in front of the candles. A light I hadn't lit for a very long time was swaying gently.
"...Fwoo."
I blew them out in one breath.
The four of them clapped. Komugi gave a bark. A single thread of smoke rose toward the ceiling.
The cake was, to put it kindly, not well made. The whipped cream was too sweet, and the sponge was a little stiff. Only the strawberries were remarkably juicy.
But even so. I slowly savored that one bite.
The uneven air bubbles in the sponge. The patchily spread cream. The tartness of the juicy strawberries. Every one of them slowly melted away in my mouth.
"...It's delicious."
It just slipped out.
"You don't have to flatter us."
Yume pouted.
"I'm not flattering you."
I shook my head.
"It really is delicious. I've never eaten a cake this delicious before."
That wasn't a lie. Someone had thought of me and clumsily practiced over and over to bake it. There was no way that could taste bad.
"Hey, Mr. Manager," Mahiru said, her mouth full of strawberry.
"Next time, it's our turn to remember things, okay?"
"Remember?"
"The things you like. The days that matter. Even your moods, all of it."
"Since you're always the one doing things for us," said Yume.
"Let us do it for you once in a while," said Rui.
Rei tilted her sake cup toward me.
"Shall we make a toast? To the guest of honor."
Four glasses and one sake cup met with a gentle clink.
That night was quite lively. The four of them laughed and talked and ate cake, and Komugi begged for scraps. And I just smiled, right in the middle of that circle.
It's a strange thing.
I'd always been on the outside of this circle. Making food, lighting the lights, protecting a place for someone to come home to. That was my place. I'd thought that was enough.
And yet tonight, I'd been sat down right in the middle of the circle.
It made me feel restless somehow, and yet—it wasn't bad.
The night grew late. The four of them went upstairs.
"Good night, Mr. Manager."
"Good night. And thank you, really."
Halfway up the stairs, the four of them turned back and smiled.
After I'd watched them go, I was alone in the hushed living room, clearing away the blown-out candles. I traced the marks of melted wax with my fingertip.
"...How many years has it been since something like this?"
I murmured it softly.
How many years had it been? Being celebrated by someone. Someone turning off the lights and waiting for me.
Celebrating people was something I was good at. I'd created special days for people all over the world, hundreds of times over. But when I tried to trace back a memory of being celebrated myself—
It was long, long ago.
And beyond that was a place I didn't want to remember anymore. I gave my head a slight shake.
"...Let's not. Today was a good day."
I dropped the bits of wax into the trash can. Even so, one small light remained deep in my chest.
Celebrating people is something I'm good at. That doesn't change. But—being celebrated isn't so bad either, as it turns out.
That was the night I learned it for the first time, at forty-two years old.
Komugi came up and nuzzled against my legs. I stroked his golden head.
"Thank you too, Komugi."
Komugi narrowed his eyes happily.
There was still about half the cake left in the fridge. Tomorrow morning, I thought, we'd all eat it together. It would surely taste better after resting overnight, once the cream had settled in.
Thinking that, I gave a little laugh, alone.
Ah, I'm looking forward to tomorrow morning—imagine that.
It had been a very long time since I'd thought anything like that, too.