Tendou strolled into the boy's locker room. His arms swung like lazy pendulums as he moved, and he hummed jauntily to himself, swaying to the tune. Dodging around Goshiki and Shirabu, who were squabbling as usual, he wound his way to the corner locker. His long fingers drummed against the door, his swaying becoming a full-on dance. Shirabu, one locker over, stopped arguing long enough to shoot him a glance. "You're in a good mood today." Tendou stripped off his jersey, flipping it into the locker with a flourish. His humming reached its climax, and he struck a shirtless pose, held it. Goshiki clapped politely, but the rest of the team ignored him. Mollified, he wriggled into his t-shirt. His fingers twitched. One arm made it into a hoodie sleeve before his impatience got the best of him. Hoodie half-on, he snatched out the crisp copy of Shonen Jump that lay half-covered by his discarded jersey. Kicking his own locker closed, he slid back down the line to Ushijima's, in the exact middle.

Squeezing in next to Semi, he waggled the magazine through the grate of the ace's open locker door. "Hey Wakatoshi, when we get back to our room, wanna read it? I'll let you look at all the ads."

No response. Tendou peered over the magazine. Ushijima had already changed into his regular clothes, and through the grate Tendou saw him check his phone before slipping it into his pocket. The middle blocker frowned and pulled his hand back, allowing the ace to close the door. "Hey." He scrambled the rest of the way into his hoodie, then stuck the magazine straight in his friend's face. "Do you wanna read Shonen Jump with me or not?"

Ushijima met his gaze, the olive eyes emotionless as ever. "I'll read it tomorrow." He shouldered his bag. "I'm busy this afternoon." Without waiting for a response, he stepped towards the door.

Tendou's squint followed him for a moment, before he shrugged, tucked the magazine under his arm, and bounded after him. The ace made no comment, but turned right as he stepped out onto the pavement. Tendou stopped, hooking his thumb in the opposite direction. "The dorms are that way, Wakatoshi."

Ushijima's even stride didn't slow. "As I said, I'm busy this afternoon."

Tendou's whole face drew together, like he was sucking on a lemon. His teammate's moods were inscrutable to almost everyone, even people who had known him for years. But Tendo prided himself on being able to instinctively read people's subtlest tells. The Guess Monster knew most of the time what his ace was thinking and feeling.

Right now, something was wrong.

He startled into motion, loping to catch up with Ushijima. Thrusting his hands deep into his hoodie pocket, he fell into step beside him. "So. What's this so-important appointment you have to keep this afternoon? So important that Shonen Jump can wait until tomorrow?" His eyebrows shot up. "Is it a girl?"

"Yes." Ushijima slowed his pace slightly, and Tendou matched him.

"Ooh!" He drew out the word for a good five seconds. "Do I know her? Is she pretty?"

"No. …I suppose."

"You suppose? I hope your girlfriend is cool with such totally uninspired praise!"

Now Ushijima turned to look at him. "She's not my girlfriend."

Tendou cocked his head. "Oh? Not a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Who, then?"

The ace's gaze flicked to the side. "My mother."

"Oh!" His head tilted further. He'd never seen his teammate's mother at any of their games, much less in any extracurricular setting. "Is it her birthday or something?"

"No, it's mine."

"Oh." Tendou missed a step. "You didn't mention it."

"My mother never made much of a fuss about them."

"Yeah, they weren't a big deal in my family either," Tendou said quickly. "I don't think I've had a birthday party since third grade. But if it's not a big deal, why are you meeting her?"

"'Never made much of a fuss about them' doesn't mean we do nothing." Ushijima checked his phone again. "We go out for food."

"Ah! Must be quite a job, splitting a cake between the two of you."

"We don't have cake. We order lunch."

This time Tendou's stride stuttered so violently he nearly fell over. As it was, he was coated in a thin layer of kicked-up dust by the time he managed to regain his footing. "No cake?!"

Ushijima frowned. "No."

"Is it even a birthday if you don't have cake?"

"The concept of a birthday is mostly centered around the day, rather than the specific activities undertaken on it."

Tendou shook his head forcefully. He took a wide stance in front of his roommate, hands on his shoulders. "The cake is everything. Even if you don't have presents. Even if you don't have guests. I don't care if you eat it by yourself. You have to have cake on your birthday!"

Ushijima stared down at him. "I've gone many years without it." He pulled out his phone again, glanced at it. His brow creased. "I'm sorry, I have to go. I'm going to be late otherwise. Don't wait up for me." Pocketing his phone, he lifted Tendou's hands from his shoulders, and stepped past him, continuing up the path.

Tendou watched him go, his wide-eyed look of astonishment quickly souring into a scowl. "Don't need cake for a birthday, huh?" he muttered. "We'll see about that."

Several minutes later, Tendou slid into a dorm room. "Semisemi!" He ignored the setter's frown. "I need your help with something!"

Semi pulled out his earbuds. "What is it now?"

Tendou gestured wildly. "Come on! Reon is home sick, so I know you don't have any plans."

The setter sighed, wrapped his headphones around his phone, and stood up. "What do you need help with?"

"You still have some spending money, right?"

He sat back down. "What do you need help with."

Sheepishly, Tendou pulled his copy of Shonen Jump out of the pocket of his hoodie. "I'm broke. I'm not buying something for me," he added quickly, seeing the other boy's skeptical look. "It's for Wakatoshi."

Curiosity replaced some of the suspicion in Semi's voice. "Wakatoshi? What for?"

Grinning, Tendou pocketed the magazine, and crouched in front of his friend. "Today is his birthday, and I want to make a cake to surprise him with."

Semi frowned. "I didn't know it was his birthday."

Tendou shrugged "Are you really surprised? This is Wakatoshi we're talking about."

The setter chewed his lip. "So, what do you need money for?"

"To buy the cake! Look, you can come to the store with me if you want, but we have to go now if we want to get everything ready before he comes back."

Semi sighed, and hoisted himself up again. He pulled Tendou to his feet as well. "All right, I'm convinced. Lead the way."

The nearest grocery store was within easy walking distance, and soon the two volleyball players were busily perusing the shelves. Tendou moved erratically, skipping aisles and doubling back, popping things into the basket apparently at random. Semi stood at the end of the baking aisle, having taken custody of the cart. He rescued the eggs Tendou was swinging around, depositing them safely next to the flour. "You know, when you said you needed money for a cake, I thought you meant we'd buy a finished one." He watched in bemusement as the middle blocker hesitated between two different brands of vanilla extract. "Or box mix, at the very least."

Still focused on his task, Tendou waggled a finger in Semi's direction. "That's where you're wrong, Semisemi. A real birthday cake should be freshly prepared by an expert in the cakely arts."

The setter cocked an eyebrow. "And that's you?"

"Of course! Trust me, when you're committed to eating the whole thing, you have to make sure it's good."

The shorter boy snorted, and crossed his arms over the handle of the cart. "You've eaten a whole cake?"

"Most years, on my birthday. It's kind of a tradition."

Semi glanced at the price tags of the two vanilla bottles Tendou had been studying, and grabbed the cheaper one. "That sounds… actively unpleasant. You don't even eat that much normally." His eyes widened. "Is that why you skipped practice back in May?"

"Like I said, it's a tradition." Tendou moved on to the cocoa powder. "Every kid wants to have his cake all to himself."

"Yeah, and every kid who tries it realizes about halfway through the second piece that it isn't fun anymore?" Semi pulled a face. "I ate half a container of frosting once and nearly threw up. Birthday cakes are meant to be shared, anyway. That's kinda the point."

Tendou glared at him. "Agree to disagree." He snatched a box of cocoa powder from the shelf and set it neatly into the cart. Straightening, he dusted his hands together. "I think that should do the trick."

Tendou had to coach a sticker-shocked Semi through the register, but soon the two boys were striding up the street, grocery bags in hand. As they turned a corner, Semi halted suddenly. He waved Tendou over. "Hey, isn't that Wakatoshi?"

Tendou pivoted, hunching in the direction the setter indicated. Both of them stared through the diner window. The slanting evening light obscured most details, but Ushijima's broad shoulders gave him an unmistakable silhouette. He sat in a corner booth, cradling a mug in his hands. He was alone.

"Is this what he left to go do?" Semi asked uncertainly.

Tendou pursed his mouth. "He looks like he's waiting for someone."

"Should we go in?"

The blocker shook his head, as much to clear it as to disagree. Putting a hand in the center of Semi's shoulder blades, he steered the shorter boy past the window. "If he wanted us there, he would have invited us. Besides, how would we explain the groceries?"

"I suppose you're right." Tendou caught Semi's gaze lingering on the solitary form in the window. Quickening his steps, he pushed the two of them around another corner, and out of view.

Back at the dorms, Tendou spread out the ingredients on the counter of the small kitchen that was attached to their living area. The students of Shiratorizawa ate almost exclusively in the cafeteria–the food was good, and their rigorous academic schedule didn't generally leave time for unnecessary activities like cooking–so the cupboards were empty. Still, there were a few pots and dishes stashed under the sink. Tendou pulled out a trio of cake rounds and slid them down the counter to Semi. "Flour those up." He stripped off his hoodie and rolled up his t-shirt sleeves. Selecting a spaghetti pot big enough to double as a mixing bowl, he began measuring the dry ingredients.

He knew this recipe by heart. Three cups of sugar, three cups of flour. Half as much cocoa. Baking soda, baking powder, salt. Once, he'd hardly been able to see over the counter to measure. Now, his long-fingered hands moved with practiced ease. He'd made this cake less than a dozen times, but it had cemented itself in his muscle memory–the way the whisk sifted through the powder, the scrape of it against the bowl, the many shades of brown and white gradually blending into tan. He let himself get lost in the familiar motions.

"What are you guys doing?" Goshiki peered around the door, brushing misshapen bangs out of his face.

Semi wiped his hands on a towel, and waved him in. "Come see."

The first-year complied, nose working hopefully. "Are you cooking?"

"Baking," Tendou corrected.

Goshiki blinked. "Okay. What are you baking?"

"A birthday cake for Wakatoshi." Semi held up the floury cake rounds. "Are these good?"

"Great." Tendou side-eyed Goshiki. "If you're here, you might as well help. Get that oven preheating."

"Okay!" The younger boy moved eagerly to the stove. He hesitated, fingers on the dial. "To what?"

"Three fifty." Tendou scooped up the egg carton. Selecting one, he cracked it sharply against the edge of the counter and deposited its contents in the makeshift mixing bowl.

Task done, Goshiki looked up uncertainly. "So, today's Ushijima's birthday?"

"Apparently." Semi stepped back, letting Tendou repossess the rest of the wet ingredients.

"Oh." The spiker visibly relaxed at the implication this wasn't common knowledge. "Is that where he went this afternoon? To celebrate?"

"Who's celebrating?" Shirabu shoved the door fully open, propping an elbow against the frame. He surveyed the room. "I wondered where everyone was."

"Ushijima's out celebrating his birthday," Goshiki explained. "We're making him a cake."

"If he's celebrating out, why are we making a cake?"

"He's not having cake out," Tendou supplied sharply. "We're making cake because that's what you're supposed to do for a birthday."

"Ah." The setter leaned in the doorway a moment longer, before giving in and moving into the room. "Want any help?"

Semi glanced at Tendou, then shrugged. "The more the merrier."

"You and Goshiki better pull your hair back," Tendou said, adding a splash of vanilla. He rubbed a floury arm across his forehead, leaving a white streak above his eyebrows. "I don't want anyone's hair in it but mine."

"Disgusting." Semi pulled a pair of hair ties out of his pocket and handed them to his teammates.

"Do you do a lot of baking, Tendou?" Goshiki asked, trying to wrangle his bangs up under the tie. "You didn't even look at instructions."

"No." The blocker pulled a dented blender out of the bottom cupboard. He frowned at it, shook it, then shoved it towards Shirabu. "Wash that."

Shirabu complied. "How many times have you made this recipe?"

Tendou leaned back against the counter, splaying his fingers out as he counted "Nine… no, ten times."

"I'd say that counts as a lot." Semi moved to help Goshiki with his hair. "That's more times than I've baked anything."

Tendou scrubbed at the flour on his forehead. "Well, I only make it once a year."

Goshiki squirmed under Semi's fiddling. "Really? Why?"

Tendou squinted at him from under his arm. "Because I only have one birthday a year. Duh."

"So, this is your birthday cake?"

"It's the cake I make for my birthday, yeah." The mixer passed from Shirabu to Semi to Tendou, who plugged it in.

Shirabu leaned on the counter next to Tendou, cocking his head. "I don't remember you having a birthday party."

"I didn't. I had a cake. That's the important part."

The setter's brow furrowed. "Did you have the whole cake?"

Tendou frowned, the sound of the mixer drowning out any further questions.

By the time the cake was in the oven, the other three had quieted. When Tendou snapped out directions for the frosting, they complied without comment. Even Shirabu and Goshiki were strangely civil to each other, seeming to sense the tall boy's mood. Semi tried to ask him a question about the recipe, but the blocker glared at him, and he closed his mouth. Tendou tried to ignore the look the setter gave him. Muttering something about getting some air now that the hard part was done, he slammed the door, and stalked out into the night.

It was early evening still, just on the line between cool and cold. He hunched on the doorstep, knees tucked under his chin. He wished he hadn't left his hoodie on the kitchen floor inside.

He heard the latecomer before he saw him, a distant cough and sniffle, and the patter of footsteps. He shuffled to the side of the stoop, and the footsteps slowed as they rounded the corner. Tendou didn't make eye contact, chin jutting out. A few moments, then with the soft rustle of cloth Reon took a seat next to him. He sniffed, running the back of his hand under his nose, and stared up at the sky, where the first stars where just starting to appear.

Tendou stared at a pill bug making its laborious way across the cracks in the pavement. Finally, the silence became unbearable. "You're supposed to be home sick."

The vice-captain didn't shift his position or his gaze. "I left my school bag here. It has my class notes, so I came back for it."

"Reon forgetting things? You really must be sick." The words came out sharper than he'd intended. He tightened his grip on his knees.

Beside him, Reon coughed into his elbow. There was a tinge of amusement in his voice. "I wouldn't have taken the day off if I wasn't."

"Right." His chin was digging into his arms. He let it, feeling the breeze prickle at his exposed skin. "Reon?"

"Mm?"

"Did you have birthday parties growing up?"

A moment's pause, as the other boy considered the question. "Sure, sometimes."

"Did a lot of people come?"

Another thoughtful silence. "I guess it depended on the year. Sometimes it was just my family, but sometimes I'd invite my friends over."

"Would they show up?"

"Usually. Occasionally something would come up. They would have other plans." He coughed. "Or they were sick. But usually they could come."

Tendou poked the pill bug. It curled into a ball, and he began rolling it in aimless circles on the pavement. "Did you ever invite your whole first grade class?"

This time Reon didn't answer, the silence between them heavy and patient.

"Was your whole class ever sick?" He spun the bug faster. "If not first grade, maybe second grade? Or third grade? Was your whole class sick or busy for three years? Because–" His voice pitched higher. "–Because if they were, that wouldn't be all bad, you know? You wouldn't have to share the cake with anyone." The ball escaped his fingers and skittered off into the night. He stared at the place it had disappeared. "You could have it all to yourself."

There was a long pause. Finally, Reon leaned back. "I suppose I could." Even hoarse, his voice was calm and measured. "I do like sweets. I suppose I could even eat a whole cake–though I might be sick afterwards. But I think, even with all that cake, I would be a little lonely. I think, given the chance, I would rather share it with my friends."

"Sure. But if they were all sick three years in a row, they might be sick the next time too." His eyes were still fixed on the spot where the pill bug had vanished into the darkness. "If that was the case, why waste the paper on invitations?"

"Well," Reon said slowly, "if that was the case, I think there's only one thing I could do."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I would make sure that if any of my friends were having birthdays, I would go to the party." He tried to laugh, but it ended in a cough. "Even if I was sick. Even if I was the only one." A laugh rang at the edge of his voice. "Besides, then I could eat half their cake."

Slowly, Tendou straightened, unwinding his limbs like a spider. He stared down at his hands. "Well," he said finally, "we are making a cake inside. Do you want to help?"

With a grunt, Reon stood up. He turned, the moonlight casting soft blue highlights along his face, and held out a hand to Tendou. "I'd love to." Tendou accepted it, allowing himself to be hoisted up. "Let's go on in."

It was nearly nine o'clock by the time Ushijima returned. He closed the door to the dormitory common room behind him with a soft click, and slipped out of his regular shoes and into his slippers. Just inside the doorway, he hesitated, as something caught his attention–although what, he wasn't sure.

The lights flooded up, and he shielded his eyes, momentarily blinded.

"Surprise!"

The Shiratorizawa volleyball team bounded out from their hiding places. Several of them sported crudely-made party hats, and Goshiki had found an app that made a party horn noise, which he immediately began abusing. Shirabu still had his bangs tied back under his party hat, which had the odd effect of making his face mostly forehead. Still, he grinned at Ushijima, swinging his legs over the back of the couch he'd been hiding behind. "Happy birthday, captain."

Ushijima glanced around the room. "I told you not to wait up for me."

Semi shrugged elaborately. "Well, we weren't gonna miss getting to celebrate your birthday, were we?"

"That's right." Reon put a hand on his shoulder, motioning towards the kitchen. "This way, please."

Wordlessly, Ushijima allowed himself to be steered into the kitchen. The table had been cleared off, and a chocolate cake sat proudly in the center. It perched on a display stand cobbled together from an upside-down bowl, a pudding mold, and a plate, and topped with six candles of disparate sizes. Tendou stood behind it, his chef's hat clearly made of the same paper as the party hats the others wore. He spread his hands wide as they entered, like some kind of religious leader welcoming the faithful. "Behold! A miracle cake for the miracle boy!" He pulled a lighter seemingly out of nowhere, and ignited it, grinning gleefully at the flames. Slowly, he lowered it towards the cake. "All right, everyone! One, two three! Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…"

Ushijima stood in silence as his teammates serenaded him. Once the song finished, Tendou clapped his hands. "Since I did most of the baking, you four are responsible for serving." He hesitated. "Reon's sick. Maybe not him. You three. Reon, you supervise." He grabbed Ushijima by the arm and dragged him into the dining room. He plonked him into one of the dining chairs, sitting down across from him. There was a clattering noise from the kitchen, and Tendou stiffened. "Don't hurt my cake!" he warned loudly. When no further concerning sounds were forthcoming, the blocker slumped back in his seat. "It might not be warm anymore," he admitted. "We weren't sure what time you'd be back. Lunch date took a while, huh?"

Ushijima shifted in his seat. Tendou didn't have to study his ace to know that something was wrong this time. He dropped his voice, so that their teammates in the kitchen couldn't hear. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Frank olive eyes met his. "She had something come up at work. There's nothing to talk about."

"Okay." Tendou steepled his fingers. The breeze whipped in through the open window, and Ushijima shivered. Instantly, the middle blocker sat bolt upright. "I know what you need!" He darted for the kitchen, returning a moment later with his hoodie bundled in his arms. It was covered with flour and hair, but he plopped it triumphantly on the table in front of Ushijima.

The taller boy's eyebrows drew together. "Your clothes don't fit me."

"Not the jacket," Tendou explained, digging through the folds of fabric. "Here!" He yanked the copy of Shonen Jump, still unopened, out of the pocket. He smoothed the cover awkwardly. "Things got so busy I haven't even had time to read it yet. Want to take a look?"

Ushijima's eyebrows lifted, and he scooted his chair around the table so that it was next to Tendou's.

Before he could begin, Shirabu popped his head around the door. "Make room for cake!"

It was well and truly late by the time the festivities were finished. Reon had excused himself early, since he was expected back home, but the rest of them lounged around the common area. Goshiki's snoring from where he lay curled on the couch, formed a pleasant background hum with the splashing of water from the kitchen as Semi started the cleanup. Tendou sprawled in one of the battered dining chairs, chef's hat forgotten on the floor beside him. "They'll never invent a better flavor than chocolate."

The dishes rattled as Semi slid a few more plates into the sink. "Since taste is subjective, I don't think there can be a definitive answer to what the best flavor is."

"You could poll everyone in the world, and use the majority response," Shirabu suggested. He had pulled out his homework and was sitting on the ground with his back against the couch. He pulled his pencil from where he'd stuck it behind Goshiki's ear, and tapped his textbook thoughtfully. "I don't see how else you could determine it."

"I don't think they will." Ushijima didn't look up from Shonen Jump.

Tendou let his head loll towards him. "Mm?"

Ushijima flipped a page. "Find a better flavor."

"See?" The blocker gestured with a spindly finger. "Wakatoshi gets it."

Shirabu frowned at his notes, tapping his lip with his pencil. "I don't think that counts as definitive."

"Well, as you said, it is subjective. Without a larger sample size, I can only base it on my own perception."

Semi chuckled. "It was a pretty good cake."

Shirabu sighed. "That's also subjective." He coughed. "But… yeah."

Tendou lay back in his chair, thoughts pleasantly dulled with food. Semi set the last plate in the rack to dry. Wiping his hands on a dishrag, he stepped into the common room. "Someone should probably wake Goshiki, otherwise he'll spend the whole night down here."

With overexaggerated effort, the middle blocker pried himself from his chair and into the living room. He crouched beside Shirabu, and poked the first-year's forehead. It took a few tries, but eventually the spiker's eyes fluttered open. He stared groggily up at Tendou, blinking slowly. Tendou pulled a face at him. Seemingly unphased, the boy yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He wiped the trail of drool from his mouth, and smiled sleepily up at him. "Will you make a cake in two weeks for my birthday?"

"What?" Tendou stuck his chin out. "I just made you a cake."

"No, you made a cake for Ushijima. I want you to make one for me." A note of uncertainty crept into the younger boy's voice. "Will you?"

Tendou pulled himself to his full height, looming over the first year. "I only make that cake once a year. But–" he added, as Goshiki wilted, "I will make you cupcakes. And they will be chocolate."

The younger boy straightened immediately, smile widening. "Okay! I'm good as long as you make it. That was the best cake I've ever had."

"You know," Tendou admitted, the taste of chocolate still lingering sweetly in his mouth, "me too."