“–It’s your birthday today?”


Raiden was suddenly asked for no reason, and frowned. He had been living in this damned 86th district for at least a year, and spent almost a year with this Death God of a squad leader before him, who did not know how to talk.

He was then reminded that he, just like Shin before him, had turned 13.


“Ah…yeah, it’s today. Speaking of which,”


He had long forgotten about it, for there was no need to remember their date of birth, let alone celebrate birthdays, in the 86th district.

Raiden suddenly thought of something, and asked. No way would the guy before him be possibly months older.


“When’s yours?”

“I forgot.”


Shin tersely retorted, shrugging. It seemed he really forgot, rather than simply evading the topic, and he did not seem pained about that, given his voice and expression.

It would be years later that Shin learned that he was born in May, but they did not know at this point.

Shin suddenly tilted his little head.


“A birthday happens once a year. Maybe we can celebrate or something?”

“…Celebrate huh? Sounds good.”


Shin had simply forgotten his birthday, and like him, many other Eighty-Sixes forgot theirs. The memories before they were exiled to the 86th district were devoured by the flames of war, and they hardly remembered anything.

Raiden’s mood was ruined when he realized he was the only one who would occasionally remember his birthday.

And then,


“So what are you really thinking?”

“It’s about time this squadron’s reshuffled. The guys still living aren’t happy, so let’s find an excuse to celebrate.”



Raiden gave a skeptical, dumbfounded look, but Shin did not mind.


“It doesn’t look like the “Legion” will be moving today or tomorrow. We found a lot of sugar the last time, so we should be able to make some desserts.”


Shin suddenly giggled.

Raiden had a really, really bad feeling about it.


“We found leftover canned crackers, canned milk and eggs in that storeroom. I’ll try to make the custard tart I saw in that recipe book the last time.”

“Stop it.”


Shin’s cooking was really, horrifyingly, horrible.

He would callously skip steps, thinking they were a hassle, or sometimes repeat the steps. He never proportioned his ingredients, and never would control the fire, thinking it would be fine as long as it was cooked. In any case, his cooking was a mess.

And also, one would get the feeling his tongue was insensitive.

In cooking, one would have to set portions, and follow the steps strictly. One should never be careless in making sweets.

Shin did not seem to mind, and silently giggled.


“You don’t have to be so courteous.”

“I have a feeling my life will be in danger…seriously.”


Raiden scratched his head once he realized he was had.

It had been almost a year since they met, and the impression of the seemingly emotionless Death God remained in his mind for that long. It was a good thing that he could joke, but what was with those crazy jokes?


“So you want to eat them? Got it, I’ll get it sorted.”


Perhaps he would use the crackers in place of tart, and put in some custard. That was still possible in the 86th district. Maybe they could build an oven too.

Eating sweets at this age? I guess he’s still a kid. Raiden thought, and glanced towards Shin.

However, Shin stared back at Raiden dumbfoundedly.


“No…actually, I don’t like sweets.”

“You bastard.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *