Chapter Word Count: 400||Story Word Count: 2,800||Chapter Count: 7/20
Takato closed and locked the bakery door before he headed right inside to where the actual baking took place. His dad stuck his head in there from the part of the house meant for living in.
"Everything all right? You took longer than I thought." He frowned. "You didn't stop at the tavern, did you?"
Takato shook his head. "Dad, I need to make some quick bread. I'll pay for the ingredients myself."
His father stared at him even harder. "Are you all right? Did something happen?"
Takato started to gather up what he needed. "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you. But I need to help someone and I'm going to bake bread to do it."
"Guilmon-bread?" Guilmon asked, coming over to Takato's side. Takato smiled down at him, trying and failing to keep the worry out of his eyes.
"Not this time. I think they'd know something was up if someone else gave them Guilmon-bread."
His father set his hands on his hips. "Takato, I don't care if I'll believe you or not. You tell me what's going on."
Takato turned to him. "There are some people at the tavern. I think they kidnapped Princess Shuichon. I'm going to bake them some poppy bread."
For a few moments silence hung in the air. Then Matsuda Takehiro rolled up his sleeves and came over to help his son measure out the flour.
"How are you going to get it to them?" he asked as they worked. "Just hand it over?"
"No." Takato had thought about it all the way home until the idea sparked. "I'm going to ask the cook to give it to them. They shouldn't suspect anything." He hoped. He'd talked about the bakery and Guilmon-bread, so would they make a connection to fresh baked bread that came from the inn?
He didn't really have that many other options, unless it came to waiting for Prince Jenrya to turn up and only be able to tell him that they'd passed through.
Guilmon growled. Takato didn't pay attention to it at first; he wanted to get this taken care of. Then it happened again and he looked over.
"What is it?" Guilmon didn't often do that, really. But now he stared at the back door, hackles up, snarling.
"Someone's out there."
Takehiro headed over, arms white with flour, and opened the door. "Who is it?"
To Be Continued
Notes: Silly Takehiro. Well, in his defense, he doesn't know someone is coming to kill his son.
