Kohaku didn't like to make a big fuss about her birthday. It was nice to have people wish her a good next year, and while there were a whole lot more people around these days, she honestly didn't expect anything more than a small celebratory meal with her family.
And that was what she got, first thing in the morning. She, Ruri, and their father had a nice breakfast together, briefly reminiscing about the scrapes Kohaku got into as a child (not that she still didn't, as Ruri teased).
When they were finished and Kohaku was getting ready to leave for the lab to help with whatever needed doing, she realized her daggers weren't where she thought she had left them.
"Ruri," she said as she searched around their shared sleeping space, moving boxes and pots, "have you seen my daggers?"
"Hm, no, but I'll look over here. Did you leave them at the lab yesterday?"
Kohaku sighed. She was usually so careful with her tools, but maybe she'd put them down while training and forgot about them. "Maybe. I'll check there. Let me know if you find them. I'll see you later!" And she was off.
She got quite a few "happy birthday" wishes as she walked to the lab from villagers and unpetrified people alike—maybe Ruri had spread the word? It was a bit strange, but she smiled and thanked everyone regardless.
She popped her head into the lab. "Hey, guys," she said. Chrome and Senku were looking at something, while Gen was sorting some rocks with Kaseki and Suika.
"Happy birthday!" everyone but Senku cried.
She smiled and thanked them, feeling warm and happy. They talked for a bit, just small talk, and then Kohaku sidled up next to Senku. "Hey," she said.
"Hm?" He didn't look away from his experiment.
She huffed. Always so focused. "Did I leave my daggers here last night?"
"Oh, yeah. I put them over there." He gestured to a bag on the small table by the entrance to the lab.
"Thanks!" she said, jogging over to them. Except the daggers and sheaths she pulled out…
"Um, Senku, these aren't mine," she said, a bit surprised that he didn't know what her tools looked like after all this time.
He scoffed and said, "What are you talking about? Those are ten billion percent yours."
"But…"
And then she saw the little grin he had on his face, how he was still facing his project but not doing anything with it, watching her out of the corner of his eye. How Kinro and Ginro were peeking in from outside, how everyone was waiting for her reaction—
—oh. Oh.
She looked more closely at the daggers and sheath belt. They were exquisitely crafted—Kaseki's work, no doubt, with help from Chrome. There were patterns stamped into the leather of the belt, not quite perfectly, which led her to believe it was a contribution from Gen and Suika, perhaps.
The blades themselves—gorgeous. She could tell that Ginro and Kinro both had a hand in their design. They were practical, but also a bit flashy.
And of course, it wouldn't be a gift from Senku unless there was something utterly baffling about it. The metal of the blades was colored. It was amber tinted, and she smiled. Amber itself could be brittle and so was unsuited to be used in blades that saw as much use as hers.
There were also shapes etched into the handle that looked a bit like the writing of the past. "Does this say something?" she asked.
Senku pointed at one of the shapes—when had he come closer? "This character is 'ko,'" he said, "and this one is 'haku.' Amber. And you, of course."
She had never cared about seeing her name written out—at least, not before now. She looked at the characters—琥珀—and realized that they meant her and something about that was very important to her, even if she couldn't explain it. Senku was saying something about names and alternate spellings and katakana (whatever that was), but she didn't really understand, so she refocused on the blades.
Slowly, she spun them in her hands, gripping them as she normally gripped her daggers. They were well-balanced, which was no surprise. Kaseki had been making weapons longer than she'd been alive, and Senku's new methods only improved the outcomes of his work. The light caught the color of the metal, making it shine, and she couldn't help but smile.
She'd…never had a gift like this before. It was perfect. And her friends—friends, she had actual friends—were gathered around, and all of them had helped somehow, and she'd carry their thoughtfulness with her all the time now.
Her eyes burned and she cleared her throat. "Such a great gift," she said. "Who knows what we'll find once we set sail? It's good to be prepared for anything. Good thinking, everyone."
Gen sighed and said something about practical people and beautiful gifts, and her friends were laughing and going on with their day.
And all she could do was stand there and stare at the daggers in her hands, because she'd never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life, and she didn't know what to do with the emotion stuck in her throat.
Senku didn't leave with the others, instead leaning against the wall next to her.
"How'd you make the metal this color?" she asked.
He chuckled. "So sure it was me?" She gave him a flat look and he snickered. "Yeah, yeah, okay." And he started talking about metals and chemicals and electricity and she didn't have a clue what any of it actually meant, but it sounded difficult and time-consuming.
She didn't ask him why he did this for her, or who worked on what, or anything like that. It was enough to know that her friends all cared about her, and that she never would have had them—never would have known how wonderful or full of hope the world could be—if she hadn't met Senku.