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The soft tinkling of the bell echoed through the shop as the door opened, Nakajima Atsushi stepped inside nervously, unsure of where to look, a sweet scent drifted through the warm air, and as he inhaled, a distant memory crept into his mind, the mornings at the orphanage.
Even though it had been nearly a year since he'd left, he remembered it clearly, the place he'd grown up in was humble, and feeding so many children had always been a struggle, but every morning, the scent of freshly baked bread filled the cafeteria, sometimes the bread contained egg or another filling, but most of the time it was just plain bread, still, it was enough to ease the hunger for a few hours, that memory, that gentle warmth in his chest, was what had brought him to the bakery in the first place.
The wooden floor creaked softly beneath his worn shoes as he stepped forward, his eyes scanning the shelves, there was everything, crispy baguettes, golden buns dusted with sugar, round rolls with glossy crusts.
Behind the counter, a glass display case showed off more elaborate desserts, slices of cake with glossy icing, fruit tartlets that looked delicious, prices were clearly marked next to each item, and Atsushi quickly did the math in his head, between paying his rent and buying bus tickets to get to his various part-time jobs, the coins in his pocket wouldn't buy him much, as he studied the prices with quiet calculation, a figure emerged from the back room, a young man with a pale face and black hair, save for two stark white streaks that framed his face, he wore a white apron over a black uniform.
"Are you going to buy something, or are you just going to stare?" he asked curtly.
"J-just a roll, please," Atsushi mumbled, lowering his gaze.
The boy who wore a name pin on his chest that read Akutagawa picked up a pair of metal tongs, placed a roll into a paper bag, folded it with care, then rang it up on the register, the price lit up on the screen, Atsushi pulled out the exact change from his pocket and handed it over, Akutagawa didn't say anything, no eye contact, no smile, just a nod brief and barely perceptible, Atsushi left the shop holding the bag with both hands, as though it contained something more precious than a simple piece of bread, and so it went for the next few weeks.
From Monday to Friday, always at the same time, Atsushi entered the bakery with quiet steps and left with a single roll in his hands, always with the exact coins, always with the same silent reverence, by the third week, Akutagawa no longer asked what he wanted, he would just glance at him from the corner of his eye, take out the paper bag, and wordlessly complete the routine.
A year passed since Atsushi left the orphanage, in that time, his situation had improved slightly, he still worked part-time in various places and counted coins carefully, but he managed to save a few each day, not for luxuries, but for something he had always wanted a birthday cake.
According to the official records, his birthday was May 5th, it wasn't his real birthday, just the day he was found wrapped in a blanket in front of the orphanage, but still, people said birthdays were special days, and for once, Atsushi wanted to make it special, the orphanage didn't celebrate birthdays, there was no budget for cakes or gifts, just a slightly longer line in the cafeteria and the same meager portions, that's why, this year, Atsushi wanted at least one slice, and when he walked into the bakery that morning, he spoke in a clearer voice than usual.
"Good morning."
That alone was enough to make Akutagawa raise an eyebrow, he looked at Atsushi more directly than he had in weeks, still, he turned toward the shelves where the rolls were, as usual, but Atsushi stopped him.
"Wait," he said, his voice firm despite the slight trembling of his fingers. "Today I want something different. A slice of cake, please."
"Which one?" Akutagawa paused mid-step, tilting his head.
"I have a limited budget," Atsushi admitted. "Which one do you recommend?"
"What's the occasion?" Akutagawa asked, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"Today is my birthday."
Atsushi hesitated for a second, then smiled shyly, showing interest in a customer was unlike Akutagawa, he was focused on precision, cleanliness, efficiency, nothing more, but after weeks of repeating the same quiet routine, he'd begun to notice the boy, few customers were as consistent, most were elderly, with fixed habits, this boy, however, always came at the same time, with the exact coins, speaking only when necessary, Akutagawa didn't dislike him, so he opened the display case and pulled out a simple slice of sponge cake, vanilla frosting, no decorations.
"This is our cheapest option," he said, showing him the small price tag.
Atsushi's eyes lit up with such genuine joy that, for a moment, Akutagawa's heart skipped a beat, he didn't know why, maybe it was the contrast, how rare it was to see someone so sincerely moved by something so simple, and maybe because he had been the one to make it, acting on an impulse he didn't quite understand, Akutagawa opened a drawer, took out a small chocolate plaque and a piping bag filled with white chocolate, then he turned to Atsushi.
"Name?" he asked, without looking up.
"Excuse me?" Atsushi blinked, confused.
"Whose name do I write?"
"Ah… Nakajima Atsushi."
With precise movements, Akutagawa began to write on the plaque.
"Happy Birthday, Nakajima Atsushi"
His handwriting was careful and elegant, Atsushi stared at the message, unmoving, his heart pounded, and his eyes threatened to fill with tears, maybe they would have if he had known that this gesture wasn’t part of standard service, name greetings were only made for full cakes, ordered in advance and yet, Akutagawa had broken his own rules just for him, not satisfied with that, Akutagawa placed the slice with the message inside a small, clear plastic container, then he took a few fresh strawberries from the refrigerator and arranged them neatly on the cake, a swirl of whipped cream decorated the edge, he didn’t change the price, he didn’t enter anything extra into the register.
As Atsushi approached with a handful of counted coins, Akutagawa handed him the container with a neutral expression, but his gaze lingered for just half a second longer, Atsushi received the cake as if he were being entrusted with a treasure, his fingers cradled it carefully, and when he looked up, he offered a shy smile.
"Thank you. Really."
Akutagawa nodded, just as he did every day. But this time, when he added his usual farewell, there was a subtle pause in his voice.
"Come back soon… and happy birthday."
Atsushi froze for a moment, then quietly stepped out, the cake still nestled in his hands feeling, for the first time, that his birthday had truly been special, that interaction stayed with Akutagawa longer than he expected, it wasn't like him to think about a customer after they left, he told himself it was nothing, that he simply had leftover ingredients, that the gesture hadn't meant anything, but that smile, the way Atsushi had held the cake like it was special, that image clung to his thoughts.
The next day, when the bell above the door rang, Akutagawa already had a paper bag ready, Atsushi entered as always, walked to the counter, handed over the exact coins, received the bag, and bowed slightly in goodbye, everything followed the usual routine or so it seemed, a few minutes later, the bell rang again.
"Excuse me," Atsushi said, stepping back up to the counter with an apologetic smile. "I think you gave me the wrong bag."
"No." Akutagawa looked at him without blinking.
"It's just… besides the roll, there's something else. It looks like a donut with icing and walnuts."
"It is."
Atsushi hesitated, brows knitting. "I'm sorry, but I can't pay for this."
"I'm not charging you."
Atsushi stared, confused and clearly uncomfortable.
"Let's say," Akutagawa cut in, crossing his arms, "I'm requesting your services. I need someone to test new products before adding them to the menu. Your opinion will help determine if they're worth offering."
Atsushi blinked at him, silent, as if trying to determine whether he was serious or just doing him a favor he didn't want to admit.
"You really need someone's opinion? Mine?"
"I've seen you eat bread every day," Akutagawa said, shrugging. "If anyone knows how to tell a good one from a bad one, it should be you."
Atsushi let out a small, surprised laugh. The offer was so unexpected and unintentionally flattering.
"Alright," he finally said. "But if it's not good, I'm going to say so."
"I expect you to."
With the creation of their new arrangement, the interaction between them began to shift, Akutagawa, meticulous as always, designed and printed small cards, which he started slipping into Atsushi’s bag each day, they asked a simple question:
"Did you like it?"
Beneath it were two boxes, one for "Yes," one for "No." The "No" box was never marked, but Atsushi began leaving small handwritten notes instead, so, in response, Akutagawa updated the cards, leaving space for comments.
"A little too sweet for my taste."
"The icing peeled off."
"The cinnamon was perfect, but the filling overpowered the flavor."
Each morning, Atsushi would carefully place the previous day's card on the counter, Akutagawa, took every comment seriously, he noted the name of the bread, the date, and filed the cards in a small wooden box he kept next to the register, over time, something else began to change, at some point, they exchanged phone numbers, at first, the messages were purely practical, Akutagawa asking if Atsushi had any allergies, or if there were flavors he disliked, but slowly, the messages shifted, warnings about the weather, updates on traffic, a quiet goodnight.
Even so, the handwritten notes never disappeared, it had become a ritual, something they both respected, and when the bakery was quiet, they sometimes shared a cup of tea by the counter, they didn't speak much, but they didn't need to, the silence between them had become a kind of warm companion.
Almost a year later, in March, Akutagawa offered Atsushi a slice of cake identical to the one from his last birthday, and quietly brought out another for himself, Atsushi was pleasantly surprised, but reminded him.
"I've already tried this product."
"This isn't a tasting. It's a celebration." Akutagawa, visibly embarrassed, had to clarify. "My birthday."
Maybe later, his sister or coworkers would congratulate him, but this quiet moment was just for the two of them, when he blew out the candle, his wish was simple, that his days could continue just like this.
A month later, one morning, Atsushi didn't show up as usual, Akutagawa texted him several times, but received no reply, he grew increasingly anxious until, finally, in the afternoon, the bell above the door rang, and Atsushi stepped in with a wide smile.
"I got a new job," he announced.
He explained that his new boss, Fukuzawa Yukichi, seemed kind, the pay and benefits were great, but there was only one issue, he would start work very early and wouldn't be able to come to the bakery in the mornings anymore.
"Thank you for everything this past year," Atsushi said, bowing deeply. "I know why you did it. And I have no way to repay you."
"So, you're abandoning the project I asked for your help with?" Akutagawa frowned.
"I'm sorry, I thought…"
"This isn't charity," Akutagawa interrupted sharply. "It's serious business."
Of course, Akutagawa was happy for Atsushi, he didn't mind the end of the evaluations. What bothered him was the way it sounded like a goodbye, and he wasn't going to allow that.
"The bakery opens at 6:30 a.m.," he muttered, avoiding Atsushi's gaze. "But I start baking a couple of hours earlier. You'd better leave your house in time."
"If it's not a bother… I'll do it," Atsushi replied with a warm smile, having clearly noticed the red in Akutagawa's ears.
Neither of them addressed the logistical truth, at that hour, nothing would be ready yet, but it didn't matter, Akutagawa would make it work and Atsushi would wake up early, after all, they both knew the truth, this "project" was no longer just about bread, it was a quiet promise to keep finding each other, even as the world around them changed.
With effort and quiet will from both sides, the routine remained, the daily samples, the notes, the exchanged messages, all of it continued, steady as ever, but something else pulsed beneath the surface, feelings, long since straying beyond the boundaries of friendship, beat silently in every gesture, in every glance that lingered too long, every word just a little sweeter than it needed to be, in how both searched for excuses to keep seeing each other, all that remained was to speak it aloud, but neither dared.
May 5th arrived, it marked not just Atsushi's birthday, but a full year since their quiet agreement had begun so, Akutagawa prepared something special, on the counter sat a full-sized cake, beautifully decorated with fresh fruit, whipped cream, vanilla frosting, all chosen precisely according to Atsushi's tastes, details Akutagawa had collected with care note by note, day by day, in the center was a message.
"Happy Birthday, Nakajima Atsushi. Thank you for this year."
Atsushi was speechless, a single tear slipped down his cheek as he blew out the candle, making a wish deep in his heart that he could keep having moments like this, they each ate a slice, sitting side by side as they had so many times before, afterward, Akutagawa carefully boxed up the rest of the cake so Atsushi could share it at work, just before he left, he handed him a white envelope, sealed with a small muffin-shaped sticker.
"Open it when you're alone," he said, offering no further explanation.
That day felt like an eternity for Atsushi, he loved his new job and appreciated his kind coworkers, but never before had he wanted so badly to go home, be alone, and open an envelope, what would it say? A kind note? A thank you letter closing the "project" once and for all? He had no idea what to expect, that evening, sitting on his couch, he took a deep breath and opened it with trembling hands, inside was a single card, not a letter, not a formal goodbye, a note identical to the ones he'd been filling out every morning for a year, but this one had no boxes, just a single line, no print, it was written in that handwriting he knew by heart.
"If you like, kiss the baker."
The message was vague on purpose, perhaps, if you like the cake? The baker? Both? Atsushi stared at the note for several minutes. Maybe it was a joke, maybe it wasn't; he didn't sleep that night, the next morning, he arrived earlier than usual, his heart was pounding, his steps were hesitant, when he stepped through the door, the bell rang as always, but this time, Akutagawa wasn't behind the counter, he was standing in front of it, waiting, Atsushi knew instantly it was intentional, both of them were visibly nervous, the faint blush on their cheeks betrayed the calm they were trying to project, Atsushi took one more step, he met Akutagawa's eyes and without overthinking, he closed the space between them leaning in, until his lips met Akutagawa's, the kiss was soft, clumsy, sincere, when they pulled apart, Atsushi reached into his pocket, unfolded a small note, and placed it gently on the counter, his answer, the one he'd carried with him all night.
"Always."