Shinobi Stories

Little Red Riding Hood

Kiba x Reader

Humour

Working at Konohagakure's taiyaki bar had its benefits, and even before you officially started work there, you were reaping them like there was no tomorrow.

First and foremost, the free food. That was always a great place to start. When lunch rolled by, you were allowed to take one- and sometimes more- of the chocolatey delights, and your kind old boss would offer you some homemade bento, complete with all the dainty extras you were too lazy to make yourself. At the end of the day, if there was anything left over, it was there for your taking- a perk you often took advantage of.

Also, your boss was kind and the pay almost too much so for the little work you did. Not that you were complaining. You appreciated that more than anyone. The uniform wasn't that bad either: quite simple, little more than a red hooded smock and an apron.

However, the best thing about the job was the ninja who ate there. Coming from a civilian family, you had always had very little contact with shinobi, so when they returned from their missions and paid your tips with tales of distant villages, it more than made up for your long hours and monotonous work.

Of those ninja, Kiba Inazuka was your favourite. Perhaps you were obligated to say that, since he was a loyal customer with a sweet tooth that any missing-nin would be afraid of, but it was the truth. His stories were the funniest, lewdest and loudest, and his smiles the most enchanting. And his laughter- only one with the strength of ten men could possibly resist joining him.

It was safe to say that you had liked him as soon as you had first laid eyes on him. He had swaggered into that shop a newly promoted chūnin, full of self-proclaimed superiority, and bought the shop clean. While old master fretted and fussed over the empty pantry, you lingered to chat. Your eyes had been drawn first to his huge, loveable mutt of a dog, so he told you of him first, and a little of his jutsu. And as he talked, you started to notice other things, like the curve of his lip and the sharp edges of his teeth, the set of his cheeks and jaw and the precise markings that ran down them, the glint in his eyes and lilt of his bicep, the crest of his unmade hair and the honey in his rich, gravelly voice. Undeniably good looking.

Perhaps he saw a little of that in you too, since one particularly rainy day, where the droplets fell fast and hard so they felt like liquid needles on your skin, he came to take shelter beneath the canvas roof. While Akamaru pressed up to the grill for warmth, Kiba shivered in the corner, relying on the warmth of human companionship to stop himself from freezing. When you offered him your hood, he took it gratefully, repaying your generosity with a kiss on the cheek and an order for ten taiyaki.

That was the way it went with Kiba; straightforward yet nonchalant. Whenever it seemed like he was actually kind of into you, it turned out he was just trying to schmooze something out of it. If you had a penny for every time he had kissed you as a form of bribery, you would have bought your way into the ninja academy long ago.

By the time Valentine's Day rolled around, you decided you'd had enough of his guessing games and prepared him some chocolate from the leftover taiyaki filling. If he realised what the gesture meant, he didn't show it, instead choosing to laugh at your poor craftsmanship. He didn't kiss you that day, not even in jest. And he took cares not even to touch you in the coming month.

Just when you were beginning to lose hope in your fruitless love, it was White Day and the morning brought a letter and one of the taiyaki Kiba had bought the previous day. The crust was slightly stale when you bit into it, but even his laziness and old taiyaki couldn't dampen your mood. His handwriting was rushed and almost illegible, and it took some effort to read his words:

'Hey. Think I'll take you up on your Valentine's offer- could be a blast. Of course, it helps you're pretty and funny and -good- goddamn great at cooking (sorry if that sounded shallow) Basically, I really like you too. So here's my White Day present- nothing in Konoha is better than your taiyaki. Come to my place later, okay? And bring more- Akamaru loves that shit. Love, Kiba x'

It didn't take much effort to persuade old master to let you off work for the day, not when you were smiling that way, especially not when you paid him extra for all the taiyaki you took.

You knew Kiba's house was on the edge of town because on the flip side of the note came was a (decidedly crappy) hand drawn map. Taiyaki in a take-away basket in your right hand, the note crumpled in the left, you set out on what you hoped would be the best trip of your life. And so it was; nothing in town could taint your perfect mood. The sight of young ninja didn't stir any jealousy. Seeing that Ichiraku had a queue out the door didn't worry you or your purse. The fact that the clothes store was sold out of those boots you had been saving up for didn't frustrate you. No matter what, your smile didn't waver. In fact, it only grew as it was absorbed and reflected off the faces of passersby.

And then, finally, you were there. His house, half obscured by the forest, was the most beautiful thing in the world at that moment.

No, save that thought. Kiba was. He left the house, bounding up to you like an excited puppy. The taiyaki forgotten, you ran to meet him, your arms encircling his body, your mouth closing over his. He was clearly taken aback by your openness, confused and unresponsive.

"_?" he said from somewhere over your shoulder. Which was weird, since you were sort of in the process of making out with him, "Why the shit are you snogging Akamaru?"

You let go quickly, your previous passion forgotten in a furry instant as Akamaru became his canine self once more. He looked at you with bewildered eyes, sitting back on his haunches, very much dazed. It occurred to you that it could have been the actual Kiba looking like that, unable to refuse you after discovering how bloody great at kissing you were. Instead, he was laughing at you, his mirth barely expressed through his almost violent hysterics.

Sheepish, you retrieved the taiyaki you had dropped in your haste to molest his dog, searching for the last shreds of your dignity amongst the crumbs.

He took the basket from your hands, smiled, "God, I love your dumb ass."