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In a cool wet dew of late spring, Y/N walked the streets of Konohagakure on her way to her tiny bakery. It was around five-in-the-freaking morning. Any other day she’d be sleeping in, but today, she had a plan.
She jingled the keys into the door, giving it a wiggle and turn, then slammed it shut, clamouring over the steps in her unusual hurry. Oops. (Thankfully, none of the staff were there yet to see her unfamiliarly jovial attitude.)
Y/N had prepared a few pastries in advanced the night before, eager to bake and present them before the shop opened. She needed the time to prepare something else for once.
She got to work quickly, laying them neatly with berries and the sort, all into the windows and selecting some slices of cake from the fridge to go on the main display. She had loads of time yet before the shop opening, this was fine, this is fine, she reminded herself repeatedly.
Once everything was in place in the windows, she wrapped a small slice of mildly warmed quiche in a pink spotted cloth, took off her apron to hang on the wall, and ran out the door, locking it again.
One of her employees was to be here in an hour and they can deal with the rest then, when the rest of the world is fully awake.
She didn’t care, for now, it was just past six, and Y/N had somewhere to be.
Y/N picked up the pace - trotting more or less - to her destination, Konoha’s Fire Books. She clutched the cloth between her hands for warmth.
Is it insane to be at a bookstore so early in the morning? Well, incredibly. But she had someone to meet, so in she walked.
The bell on the door jingled slightly, and a man Y/N didn’t know with short blonde hair greeted her. She looked around his shoulder but didn’t seem to find what she was looking for.
The bookshop owner seemed to notice her intrigue.
‘Are you looking for Sukea?’
‘W-why yes! Is he not here today?’ She asked, tilting her head in disappointment. The man folded his arms.
‘He’ll be here in a bit, he’s a bit late, so I’m filling in.’
She sighed looking at the clock. It took twenty minutes to get here, and she really needed to get going, otherwise it’d be ages before she got back to her bakery. What an incredibly unfortunate situation. She was flustered. But it wasn’t like he knew she was coming.
‘Can I leave this here for him?’ She asked the man. ‘And could I leave a note?’
He nodded, offering her a pen. He left the desk to give her some privacy. She looked at the little parcel and began to write something.
I know you don’t like sweets, so here is something new. A quiche, it’s made with a flaky pastry crust. It’s hearty, soft, slightly buttery, and savoury, just how you like it.
At the end of the note, she was about to write her name, but instead, a quote, dictating in elegant poetry her love for him— it was a line from one of her favourite cheesy romance novels (though she’d never admit it).
.
.
.
Y/N spent the next few days wondering to herself if Sukea liked the food, or if ever he even got it. What if the owner ate it? What if Sukea hated it? What if, what if?
The next morning, she decided to do the same thing.
She prepared all the food the night before to be set out in the early hours and made it to the bookstore with minutes to spare before opening. However, Sukea was again, not seen.
The man with the short unkept hair unlocked the door for her and waved a quick hello. She received the pink spotty cloth from him and replaced it with a green striped one instead. He watched as she placed it on the desk with a new note. A new line from her romance novel, one she’d never tell.
A new dish, but savoury and tasty none-the-less. Surely this would win him over.
This happened over the course of a week. She’d go in early, prep her work for the day, run out the door to Fire Books with a dish wrapped in waxed cloth, and then run back to the bakery.
Y/N began to feel a bit down, but not entirely disheartened. Surely if he hadn’t liked her pastries, he wouldn’t have been eating them, right? He was eating them… right? She looked at her hands on her desk at her bakery, thinking.
The door jingled. It was Sukea, and he looked marvellous.
She lit up, though suddenly was hit with a red flame of embarrassment as he walked towards her. She stood straight, flushed. He looked at her, returning the cloth she had dropped off the morning of. It was empty. He ate it, surely?
‘Y/N’, he grinned a bit, his eyes gleaming.
‘G-good evening Sukea, I was about to close up shop.’ She bowed slightly, then awkwardly looked up at him, taking the cloth, ‘…I don’t suppose you’re here for something?’
He laughed slightly and shook his head. He put his hands in his pockets.
‘I was hoping if you’re not too busy,’ He looked at her, then the door, ‘perhaps you’d join me on a walk?’
She looked at the clock, it was about closing time anyway.
Eh, fug it. She nodded and quickly began to finish things off.
.
.
.
‘I have been enjoying the gifts you’ve been leaving me,’ He mentioned casually as they walked down towards the trees. Y/N gulped; the way he was wording this made her wonder if he was actually uncomfortable with it all. She wrapped her arms around her body, not trying to show her discomfort, but nodding.
‘Oh yeah?’ She let out a slight laugh, but it was more from how embarrassing this was, than actual enjoyment.
Sukea looked up at her, silently, then back down at the path he was walking. She didn’t know where they were going, but she had hoped he did. He offered his hand, which she took slowly, and lead her down a hill a bit, just outside the town. It was a secluded knoll, covered with trees and emerald tall grass. The path clearly hadn’t been walked in some time.
There was a stream.
Sukea sat down by the street and patted the grass near him. She smiled, sitting down. He studied the water and rested his arm upon his raised right knee. He seemed very relaxed. Y/N felt the complete opposite. Oh, she was dying.
‘Is this a date? Are you going to murder me? What is happening here? Also, what did you think of my quiche?’ She wanted to ask.
Thoughts flooded her head like the bubbles of the bank below them. Sukea cleared his voice slightly, speaking first. Nearly word for word, he quoted her first note.
‘Your beautiful eyes carry an allure that transcends mere appearance, captivating those who gaze into them. Framed by delicate lashes that flutter like the wings of a butterfly, they possess a spark, an indefinable essence that seems to dance and shimmer.’
She looked up from the oblong shaped pebbles she was admiring to his face as he quoted. She laughed at the idea that he read it so much he memorised it, but her smile turned to pure horror as he continued on with the rest of the quote that wasn’t in the note:
‘Every emotion, from unbridled joy to profound sorrow, reflects in their depths, making them windows not just to your soul, but to the universe of stories and experiences they hold within.’
‘WHERE DID YOU READ THAT.’ She sat up quickly.
‘In the book, of course.’ He laughed, waving his hand playfully.
‘You know that book?’ She blushed.
‘Of course.’
‘How?!’
He grinned, lifting her chin gently towards him. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
‘Yes I would!’ She coughed, sitting back. He chuckled.
In her horror, he quoted her other notes, and continued on with them. He had read the other books too! All these embarrassing wishy-washy romance novels, her secret was out. ‘Oh my god.’
And with that, their whimsical exchanges, mixed the flavours of her pastries and his love of books, blossomed into nightly walks by the stream. Their own lives a little love story which rivalled the books they both cherished.