The room was filled with laughter and soft birthday music, the scent of strawberries and chocolate floating like clouds. Pink balloons bounced gently in the corners. The birthday girl stood proudly before her cake, her little hands clasped in front of her chest.
"Yui," her mama said gently, "make a wish."
Yui closed her eyes.
The room fell quiet.
A small moment — still and full of magic.
Then she opened her eyes, leaned forward, and blew out the candles all at once.
Fwuuuuu!
The flames vanished, and everyone clapped — a round of soft, cheerful applause.
Yui beamed.
She turned first to her mama and held out a cupcake, then gave one to her papa with a proud little smile.
Then, she picked up a cupcake — the chocolate one with tiny star sprinkles — and turned to me.
She held it out like a treasure.
"Hideki," she said softly, "this one's for you."
I reached out and took it gently, our fingers brushing for a moment.
"Thank you, Yui," I whispered, smiling.
She smiled back — a big, happy smile, cheeks blooming like birthday roses.
Then she gave one to my mama... and my papa too.
Soon we sat side by side at the little birthday table, our feet swinging beneath us, party hats slightly crooked. Our plates were full of sweetness.
Yui looked at her cupcake, then at mine. Carefully, she peeled the paper wrapper away and placed it on her plate.
She leaned toward me and whispered, like it was a secret:
"I saved this bite for us."
I nodded and placed my cupcake next to hers.
Together, we counted:
"One... two... three..."
And then — together:
"ITADAKIMASU!"
We both took a bite.
The frosting was sweet and soft on my tongue — like a warm memory I'd remember forever. The cake was full of joy, like laughter in the air.
Yui giggled mid-bite.
"Hideki... best birthday ever."
I grinned, chocolate crumbs on my cheek.
"Me too," I said. "But for you."
Later, when the cake plates were empty and the songs had faded low in the background, I stood up quietly.
I held my Shiba Inu plushie gently in my arms and walked to the center of the room — where the balloons swayed gently.
Yui sat on the couch, hugging her drawing to her chest.
Her birthday crown was a little tilted now, and her smile even brighter.
I cleared my throat.
My heart was full.
And I sang — for Yui, for this moment, for the story we were making together.
Today so happy...
Hideki come to Yui's party...
We've been friends for a long time...
Yui and Hideki — friends forever.
Hideki so happy...
Yui happy too...
Yui is the birthday girl...
This day is Yui's birthday...
I like Yui — so happy we are friends...
I ended the song with a small bow.
And a smile — full, bright, bursting from my chest.
Yui clapped harder than anyone in the room.
"THAT. WAS. PERFECT!!" she squealed, bouncing to her feet.
She ran straight to me and threw her arms around my neck, nearly knocking over one of the balloons.
"I'm going to sing it every year!" she said, her voice bursting with happiness. "That's MY song now!"
From the kitchen, Yui's mama leaned toward my mama and whispered with a hand over her heart:
"They're like... sunshine."
And Mama — her eyes warm and shining — whispered back:
"They always have been."
After the song and the hugs and the sweet cupcakes, the day didn't end — it just got softer, gentler, warmer.
I turned to Yui and tilted my head with a little smile.
"Yui... where's Bunny?"
Her eyes lit up instantly.
"Let's play!" I added, hugging my Shiba Inu plush close. "With Bunny and Shibaaa!"
Yui nodded fast — her ponytail bouncing.
"I'll go get her!"
She dashed to her room, the little ribbon on her hair fluttering like a flag in the wind. A moment later, she came back — holding Bunny in her arms like the dearest treasure.
We plopped down on the soft rug under the arch of birthday balloons.
Shiba sat between us.
Bunny in Yui's lap.
And then the play began.
We made voices for Bunny and Shiba — silly, squeaky, serious, and strange.
"Happy birthday, Yuiii," said Shiba, in my best deep-voice impression.
"Thank you, Shiba! I love pink cake!" Yui replied as Bunny, giggling the whole time.
We built an invisible world around us — full of cake towers, balloon forests, and cupcake mountains.
We laughed.
We made Bunny and Shiba dance.
We made them high-five.
We made them jump over napkins and hide under paper hats.
Then Yui gasped softly. "Let's take photo... with Shiba and Bunny!"
Her mama was nearby, smiling from the doorway.
She knelt gently, lifting the camera in both hands.
"Ready?" she said softly.
We sat close on the fluffy white rug, just beneath the balloon arch.
I lifted Shiba Inu high in the air like a proud trophy.
Yui held Bunny to her cheek, her nose brushing its soft ear.
We looked at the camera, our eyes shining.
Then — together — we shouted:
"Yui birthday!!"
Click!
The flash sparkled.
And the photo caught everything:
– Our frosting-smudged smiles
– Shiba Inu and Bunny lifted like champions of joy
– Balloons floating softly behind us
– And the two of us — side by side — in a perfect little moment, frozen in time
Yui leaned close and whispered to me, "Let's keep this picture forever."
I whispered back, "It's already in my heart."
And from the camera's screen...
A memory bloomed.
Warm and soft.
Just like us.
When the giggles softened and the frosting had been licked clean, I turned to Yui with a curious heart.
"Yui..." I asked gently, "what did you wish for? When you blew the candles?"
She looked at me, eyes wide with sparkles.
Then she grinned.
"I wished to hear Hideki sing on my birthday!"
She covered her mouth, laughing.
"And it came true!" she giggled, rocking back and forth. "Wish granted!"
I blinked — then smiled so wide, my cheeks felt warm.
I made her wish come true.
That made me feel... like a little hero.
Then I looked down at my Shiba Inu plush and back at Yui.
"Then next time... on my birthday — when I turn four — Yui must come to Hideki's house."
Yui's head tilted just slightly, curious and sweet.
"Really?"
"Yeah! In April! We'll throw a party, and Tama-chan will be there too!"
At the sound of her name, Yui gasped softly.
"Tama-chaaaan! I miss Tama-chan!"
I nodded with all my heart. "So... you must come, okay?"
Yui's eyes beamed like the moon.
"Okaaaay!" she said, grinning so wide it made me want to laugh.
We sealed it without a pinky promise — but it still felt like one.
Then, the night outside began to whisper of time passing.
Our parents exchanged glances and spoke gently.
"It's getting late," Mama said, pulling her coat tighter. "We should go, sweetheart. The roads will be full."
Yui's mama nodded too.
The year was almost over.
But this time, when we said goodbye, my heart didn't feel heavy.
Because I knew — really knew — Yui would come again.
We stood at the door, fingers still sticky with cupcake joy.
I lifted my hand and waved.
"Byeee Yuiii!"
Yui waved back, her fingers fluttering like butterfly wings.
"Bye Hidekii! Byeee Shibaaa!" she added, waving a second time toward the plush in my arm.
And just like that... we parted.
But it wasn't the end.
It was the start of something new.
The door closed gently.
The sky outside sparkled with faraway fireworks.
And the last day of the year slowly turned into tomorrow.
Yui was four now.
Soon, I would be too.
And when that day came...
She would be there.
Just like I was here.
Just like always.