Monotonous | Nanami Kento x Reader

30 | Y/N | Secret Recipe

All was silent in the empty bakery, except for the humming emanating from your figure as you worked. Kento's tie, which you still used as a makeshift headband, kept your wispy stray hairs away as you leaned over a baking tray in which you meticulously piped out batter for the nth time.

It had been a couple days since that call with Kento, and ever since, you had been planning things for the bake sale. 

Cakes, cookies, all the works, but there was just one thing you really wanted to prepare as well, but it just seemed like it wouldn't be.

You sighed, pushing the tray back as you set the pipette down, rubbing your eyes. What was the point of this anymore? 

You spent months agonizing over the perfect recipe. Tried out practically millions of different ratios and proportions and ingredients and techniques, yet all it ever lead you to was a waste. A dead end that was just never meant for you to open.

Just as you were about to take off your apron, the kitchen door swung open. You looked over your shoulder to see your boss, Kenshi there. Instead of his regular suit, he was clad in simple white clothes, complete with an apron. Curiously, it didn't have the company logo plastered on it like yours did-- it seemed like his own personal one, plaid pink with white stripes.

"Y/N, Shiori told me you were still here." He looked around the filled kitchen, expression unreadable. "You're lucky Keith isn't here. He'd have a stroke if he saw this mess."

"Sorry, Mr. Takada. I'll clean up." You wiped your hands on the towels.

"I heard about what you plan to do." He paused for a moment, as if rethinking his words. "I believe in you."

"You... do?" 

"Is it really a surprise? I know I'm not the best person to talk to, but I always saw the potential in you."

"Thank you." You gave a small smile, tilting your head. "I was hoping to have some macarons, but I just don't know why they're not coming out right."

Kenshi glanced over at the tray on the counter, clicking his tongue. "Not bad." 

"But it's not perfect." Your eyebrows drew together in frustration. You let your apron down, frowning. "It's not even close to perfect."

"It's an art form that takes years of perfecting."

"Years I don't have." 

You weren't one to give up, and even Kenshi knew that, so when he saw you be this dejected, it couldn't help but remind him of someone he didn't want to remember. But the past hardly had the manners to know when it should be brought up or not. 

He gave you a scrutinizing look. A long one, before he came to a decision. With a crooked smile, he went over to the cupboards, taking out some other ingredients. "Put on your apron. Let's see if I can still crack this after years of not baking."

You wanted to object. There was a part of you that felt insecure if he poked holes at your techniques, but you bit your tongue, nodding. You retied the apron haphazardly, and went to help him.

As he readied the eggs, delicating cracking them against the granite counters, you realized you had never seen him bake before. From what Shiori told you, he had all but given it up years back. But it was as if it was just yesterday. His hands never wavered, not once. Kenshi's dark eyes narrowed in concentration.

It was like watching a genius. 

"You're not going to learn if you just watch." He called out, and you flushed at being caught just staring. You shuffled over at his beckoning.