Work Text:
I.
The greengrocer’s stall is washed in golden sun at the harsh stroke of midday. Midori groans. The cuckoo clock on the wall coos—of course he knows it’s noon. That damned clock won’t shut the hell up about it.
The greengrocer himself is a tall young man with pallid skin and a bundle of anxieties festering inside of him.
“...Your total is ¥2000,” he mutters. His arms are weighed down by an invisible bunch of bricks. His vision blurs. “Will that be all for today?”
What’s bothering him most right now is customers. There are just too many of them. He doesn’t exactly like people, no, but fruits and vegetables are his passion. He loves the food and he loves the plants.
That makes dealing with human beings—ugh—worth it.
There’s a long line of people today. Midori wonders what the occasion is. His heart beats faster as he makes a hackneyed attempt to bag vegetables faster and faster with each customer. Three seconds for the avocados and the apples in one crisp paper bag.
“Here you go, ma’am.”
A crowd of people gathers in the street outside the stall. Great. A long line. Midori’s work is mechanical and methodical and he hardly stops to dust off his apron or rest his gloved, calloused hands.
Celery, lettuce, oranges.
One bag.
“Here you go, sir.”
Tomatoes, corn, onions.
Two bags.
“Thank you for shopping at Takamine Greengrocer.”
Garlic, bell peppers, and cabbage.
Three bags.
“Here is your change, ma’am.”
Midori is exhausted. Sweat drips down his face. The smell of fresh vegetables is beautiful and fresh, yes, but overwhelming when one smells it for three hours straight. His stomach turns itself over, begging to be nourished.
After the last guy i line leaves, I’ll put up an “I’m having lunch, come back later” sign. I swear.
He carries on with his work, hardly even making eye contact with customers as he hands them their bags. Eye contact takes too much effort.
Until the last guy in line catches his eye.
He’s about Midori’s age, short with silky purple hair falling over his face. He’s emo, probably, or some sort of chuunibyou. He’s dressed like some Tumblr scenecore kid, with that black shirt and rainbow striped arm warmers.
It’s the middle of summer anyway. What a ridiculous choice of clothes.
But Midori’s jaw drops. He tries to spit out the words, but they get stuck in his throat. This scene guy’s got an air about him. He has a shimmering golden eye and an innocent smile that shines like a lightbulb in a dark room. And he smells like flowers, too. That’s definitely a plus.
He spits it out after a few manoeuvres of the tongue.
“Hello, how can I help you?”
The scene kid smiles and lays a bundle of vegetables on the cool metal counter. “I am just buying these, de gozaru. ”
Midori smiles awkwardly, making unsteady eye contact. He shoots his shot while he slips an eggplant or two in the bag. This usually isn’t part of it. “Customer name?”
“Sengoku Shinobu, de gozaru.” His arm jerks into his chest. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m Takamine Midori.” He runs a tomato through the price scanner and shoves it in the crinkling brown paper bag. “I just like getting to know customers.”
Shinobu grins. “People don’t usually take that opportunity with me. Thank you.”
Midori slips the last bulb of cauliflower in the bag and sets it on the counter. “Your total is ¥5600.” He usually hates small talk, but he’s willing to make it this time. “Are you cooking something big?”
“No, I’m just stocking up, de gozaru .” He turns peony-pink up to his ears and takes the bag into his hands, hugging it close to his body. He hands over the money.
Midori laughs and shoves the money in the cash register. “I see, I see. Have a good day, sir.”
Shinobu leaves. Midori puts up his daily “out for lunch, I’ll be back at 1” sign, shakes off his green apron, and leaves the greengrocer’s stall.
But the scene stranger is stuck in his head like a mellifluous song.
II.
Midori munches on his chicken sandwich, sitting cross-legged on a yellow-painted wooden bench a few stalls away from his own. His jeans are weathered, brushed with dirt and dust from wearing them to work every single day. His also-weathered sneakers scrape against the grey concrete of the street.
He watches cars and people pass by absently. Today is a busy day. It isn’t very traffic, but there are tens of people passing by in front of him. And he hates people.
Except for the one he sees passing in front of him. Pink shorts and black leggings underneath—and who could forget the rainbow leg warmers! Checkered black-and-white sneakers too. Midori recognises Shinobu instantly. He’s still carrying the bag of vegetables, but he has a burger from McDonald’s in his hands too.
Shinobu faces the bench. “May I sit here?”
He swallows the last bit of chicken spread in his mouth. “Sure.”
Shinobu idly eats his Big Mac, chomping into it and crinkling the wrapper around it.
“So,” Midori begins, shrugging. “What do you do for a living?”
Shinobu peers at him. “I take care of frogs at the local zoo, de gozaru. ”
“Ah, so you must like animals a lot, then.”
He pumps his free fist. “Yes! I do! I do! I really do, de gozaru. I love them so, so, so much.”
Midori giggles. He’s cute. “Feel free to tell me about frogs anytime.”
“Hmm.” Shinobu strokes his chin. He’s very animated and snappy. He swivels his head toward Midori. “Frogs were the first land animals with vocal cords, de gozaru. And male frogs have vocal sacs, which are pouches of skin that fill with air. They resonate sounds like a megaphone. Some can even be heard a mile away, de gozaru !”
“That’s very interesting. I’m guessing they’re your number one interest, huh?” He smiles. “Mine are plush toys. I have, like, twenty of them in my bed. Sorry, I know it’s childish.”
Shinobu’s legs kick up. “Oh, don’t worry about it, de gozaru ! There’s no such thing as a shameful interest as long as it’s harmless.”
“I’m glad to know you think so.” Midori takes a bite out of his sandwich. It tastes like spicy paprika and thick globs of mayonnaise overlaid, with a touch of mustard seed and pepper. Not to mention the chicken, which is completely overshadowed by spices. It dawns on him that he’s out of conversation topics for this strange scene ninja chuunibyou. “This chicken sandwich is good.”
“Oh, yeah?” Shinobu bobs his head. “This Big Mac is good, de gozaru .”
“I like food,” Midori says. “I usually like cooking, but when I come home from work, I’m too tired to cook a proper meal, so I just cook up whatever quick, lazy
food I can make. I’ve been reheating the same bowl of fried rice for the past week.”
Shinobu raises his eyebrows. “I am rather similar, de gozaru. It is rare I do cook nice meals for myself, but I do plan to, hence the vegetables. I have been tired recently due to all the visitors at the zoo, but I am trying my hardest to cook well.”
“Maybe I should try your cooking sometime.” Midori laughs. He finishes off his chicken sandwich, gulping down his last bite. He checks his old, trusty wristwatch. Time to go back to work. “Anyway, I have to work now, but it was nice talking to you.”
He stands up, brushing crumbs off his jeans.
Shinobu looks up, swallowing a munched-off piece of his half-eaten Big Mac. “Bye-bye! I hope we meet again, de gozaru. ”
Midori’s face lights up with the hint of a sweet smile. “I hope so too.”
III.
Wednesdays are slow days at Takamine Greengrocer. People are usually at work and there aren’t many people walking along the quaint street the greengrocer’s stall stands on. Midori hasn’t had a customer in an hour. He rests his elbow on the counter, his hand on his cheek. He’ll change his gloves when a customer comes.
He spots a familiar face strolling across the street. Shinobu. He’s wearing a black-and-purple checkered hoodie with black leggings. A far cry from the wild clothes he’d been wearing the last time Midori saw him.
“Hey, sir!” Midori calls out. He isn’t usually this outgoing with customers, but this one is cute enough for him to let it slide. Shinobu walks toward the front of the stall, peeking at the selection of fruits and vegetables before the counter. “Are you looking to buy anything today?”
Shinobu looks up, his grey sling bag hanging from his shoulder. “Oh, just call me by my first name, de gozaru. This ninja likes it very much. And yes, I’m looking to buy vegetables.”
He picks up a few from the wooden baskets of produce and sets them on the counter.
Lemons. Potatoes. Peas.
Those are the vegetables Shinobu’s looking to buy.
“Why are you buying vegetables so soon?” Midori tosses his hot plastic gloves in the garbage bin and grabs a new set, snapping it on his hands. “You last bought vegetables a few days ago.”
“I cooked an Indian-spiced stew with the last ones I bought, de gozaru,” Shinobu says with a soft grin as Midori rings up the lemons. They both smell like fresh produce now. “They were so good, I just have to buy them again. I am going to make roast chicken with these.”
“I’m glad you like them,” Midori says, bagging the fruit. “They’re very fresh, you know.”
“I can tell!” Shinobu giggles, fishing his neon pink wallet out of his sling bag. The peaks of his ears turn a tint of red. “You are very strange, you know. You sell and sell vegetables but you hardly cook or eat them. What did you have for lunch today?”
“The same chicken sandwich I ate last time,” Midori grumbles. “I’ve been eating that for a week now. I had to run some errands for my mom yesterday, and the day before that my friends dragged me out, and the day before that...gah, I just haven’t had time to make something fresh.”
“I know a nice organic restaurant nearby here, de gozaru. ” Shinobu stares at the vegetables being delicately shoved (if there is such a thing) into bags one by one. “My friend Kanata- dono drags me there all the time.”
Midori stops bagging the vegetables and slams his hands on the counter.
“Shinkai Kanata?”
Shinobu flaps his arms and hops up and down.
“Yes! The tour guide at the local aquarium, de gozaru. ”
“He’s my friend too. I didn’t know we had a friend in common. He dragged me to an organic restaurant the other day too.”
“Oh, so we’re thinking of the same restaurant, de gozaru. ” He laughs.
“We’ll have to go there sometime.”
A customer lines up behind Shinobu.
“Right,” Midori says, slipping the last vegetable into a paper bag. Shinobu reads the total off the scanner and hands Midori the exact amount in cash. Midori puts it into the register, a satisfying cha-ching click ringing. “You should go. My next customer’s here.”
“I’ll meet you tomorrow here after your work, de gozaru. ” Shinobu grabs the bag and holds it in his hands, standing off at the side. “It’s a date, then?”
Midori’s cheeks turn hot. He freezes up. His body tingles. Date? Date? Date? Surely he doesn’t mean that. Maybe he does. He’ll find out soon.
He beams. “It’s a date.”