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Birthdays are days Nezha doesn't necessarily lament over, but they are not the days he would be excited for, either. It was decent if it was only him, his mother and father, and his shifū around, ignoring how the villagers would wish for his demise and hope the King of the Underworld would come to take him sooner.
Well, the villagers were all dead, thank the damn Heavens, he supposed—although he wishes Yaya, that sweet little girl, the first to ever see him through his demonic nature, to miraculously survive. But it doesn’t change how much it hurts Nezha to see these people die, such unjust deaths. Were they cruel to him? They were. Did they deserve to have their lives taken away in such a cruel manner? Regardless of reasons, they did not deserve it.
His mother is gone too—but she isn’t. For as long as his father and he keep her soul, now in the form of an elixir, safe, they would not lose her. Even though he will no longer feel her warmth as frequently as he would wish, not through her words nor her embrace.
Nezha let the red dudou soak in his warm tears as he shoves his face on the red silk his mother had embroidered with fine lotus flowers in golden accents. Perhaps his favourite possession in the whole world, apart from his astras, and it could be considered the first birthday present he ever received. Something his mother made with so much love poured into it to welcome his long-awaited arrival that lasted three years.
‘Damn it,’ Nezha isn’t sure why he’s still stuck in despair. His mother, Lady Yin, died for him, but it still stung him. He survives, but thousands of people don’t, including his own mother. If fate couldn’t take him through his supposed ‘inevitable’ death, there will be others that will take his place. Like how years prior, his father, Li Jing, had pleaded to exchange fates with him so his own son could live.
Suddenly, birthdays don’t feel so decent anymore. It means nothing if his mother isn’t around; it means nothing if his circle of the people he loved most has a gap in between two ends.
“Hey,” Nezha hears a soft voice calling for him. He pushes himself up and wipes his eyes, seeing Ao Bing standing by the door. In his hands are a platter of steamed buns, the same ones Nezha and Lady Yin would make when he was much younger.
“Here are some steamed buns for you.” Ao Bing places the plate on Nezha’s nightstand.
Nezha hesitates to take one, avoiding Ao Bing’s gaze, hugging his legs tight to his chest. “How do you usually spend your birthday?” Nezha asks, finally placing a bun in his mouth. “Like, is it always you, your dad, and your master? Do your freakish aunt and uncles join?”
Ao Bing sits next to him. “Just us three. The only day I wasn’t studying nor training. Shifū would travel into the drylands and grab some treats for me. Dad? The oh-so-coddling man ever, as always.” He muses, his eyes full of a special fondness. But it was simply a fleeting moment... “...Except last birthday. When... that happened. What about you?”
Nezha chuckles under his breath. “It’s nothing special, to be honest. The only day my parents aren’t occupied with work and the only day I’m allowed to roam the village free with them. Then, we head over to one of their old friends’ house outside of Chentangguan for dinner. Well… Except for last birthday.”
“Third birthdays are always full of madness, huh?” Ao Bing jokes. “But at least on my third birthday, I found you.” He says as he places his arms around Nezha.
“I know. Finding you is the best thing to ever happen.” Nezha leans into Ao Bing’s touch. “I wish my mother were here. I never imagined a birthday without her—no, I can't imagine any day without her.”
He knows he isn’t the only one mourning a loss. There is Ao Bing, still stomaching being apart from Ao Guang and spending days and nights wondering of Shen Gongbao’s wellbeing.
“Same here. At least I knew my father and my people have relocated to a safer region, but I don’t even know if Master Shen is alive or dead.” Ao Bing says. “At the very least, I knew that even in his last moments, he was protecting others. Like your mother did to protect you.”
“I know that. At least before losing her, I felt my mother’s love one last time.” Nezha says. “But it doesn’t change how much it saddens me to lose her… And how much it scares me that… I’ll lose everyone. My father, Shifū, you…” He trailed off on the last bit, dropping into a dead silence.
But Nezha couldn’t hold it any longer. He let the tears that had been gathering in his eyes run down, leaving a wet trail down his cheeks. He couldn’t imagine losing the people who loved him for who he is when there are barely any who would see him beyond his inhumane nature. Losing his mother and learning of the countless deaths of innocent citizens already took a toll on him; to lose his father, master, and best friend is the same as incinerating him with the samādhi flame.
He would rather die thanwitness their deaths.
“Nezha?” Ao Bing gently lifts Nezha’s chin. He wipes away the tears covering the Lotus Prince’s face and instinctively pulls him into a hug. “Hey… Shh… Shh… I’m here. I’m here with you.” He soothes his friend.
Nezha melts into the touch, absorbing whatever affection Ao Bing is pouring from his soul. It isn’t like his mother’s warm hug that was full of assurance. Ao Bing's hug feels cold to the touch, and Nezha senses the uncertainty coming from his heart. But through all that, there is a growing reassurance in it.
“I’m glad to have you in my life.” Ao Bing says. “I couldn’t imagine being without you, Nezha. I couldn’t. After being apart from so many, I want to remain with you for as long as we can. I don’t know what will happen to us as we go through this battle, but one thing I do know is that we will be walking through the torments ahead of us together. You and me, in this storm.”
Nezha begins to feel at peace. All his worries go away; the tormenting image of his mother in her last moments and the taunting voice that threatens him with his father’s, teacher’s, and best friend’s lives are replaced with all of the blissful moments with his loved ones. As long as those beautiful memories of the people he cherishes are still intact, things will be bearable.
He is still afraid, still scarred, still in grief, but he won’t let those emotions consume him. He needs to move forward into this battle for the greater good of the universe.
They both need to. They’ll do it together, hand-in-hand, for as long as they can.
Maybe his fourth birthday—their fourth birthday isn’t as decent as before, but as long as they cling to what they have and swear to protect it, they can make it through. They won’t be okay, but they will remain marching forward together, that’s for sure.