A/N: First posted on AO3 2021/01/29.

there are two name formats in this fic:

- first name-last name (when the characters speak english/other language other than japanese)

- last name-first name (when the characters speak japanese)

atsumu's kansai accent won't be there if he's speaking english in the dialogue.

"This is a call for passengers on flight number JL-000 leaving for London, now boarding on gate number four. Thank you."

"Oh, that's our call," Motoya mentions, saving his document he's been working on and locks his tab away. "Let's go, Kiyoomi."

Kiyoomi puts away the empty cup of chamomile tea on the table, and with his cabin-sized suitcase, he gets up and leaves the lounge with Motoya towards their gate. They line up in the short-line of first-class seats, entering the aircraft first before everyone else, and Kiyoomi makes himself comfortable in the small cubicle of his seat. As he waits for the other passengers to enter, he reads several of his business emails, forwarding it back to Motoya for his reply to be processed. On the outside, Motoya is Kiyoomi's personal secretary, but on paper, he's also a major stakeholder in the company that Kiyoomi leads, Itachiyama Foods, Ltd., which specialises in fermented foods.

It's early morning when the plane flew off the ground, officially starting their 12-hour flight from Tokyo to London. They arrive in London at noon and with the nine-hour difference, it's still on the same date as their departure from Japan.

Kiyoomi and Motoya settle in their five-star hotel suite. This hotel has a spacious ballroom where the event will be held tomorrow evening, attended by leaders of food business companies, chefs, and pâtissiers alike.

Kiyoomi changes out from his casual suit into a formal dress suit for a meeting with a business partner here in the afternoon at tea time. Their designated meeting time is at three, and Kiyoomi goes down to the hotel's restaurant five minutes before, to find his guest has arrived in the lobby.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Sakusa and Mr. Komori. A pleasure to meet you again."

Brown lends out a hand in which Kiyoomi accepts for a formal necessity.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Brown. Likewise. Shall we have tea together as we talk?"

"That would be nice, thank you," Brown says, walking towards the hotel's fancy restaurant along with Kiyoomi and Motoya. "I've heard that they invited a famous pâtissier to make desserts this week. They said he's been invited to France several times already."

"Oh, really?" Kiyoomi asks as they take a seat on one of the tables. "I haven't heard of it."

"They really go all-out with tomorrow's event, considering we have more international guests this year."

Komori checks his phone for the information. "It's true, Mr. Sakusa. I've heard that he's Japanese too. He's in charge of this week's afternoon tea menu. How about ordering a set of tea cakes, Mr. Sakusa, Mr. Brown?"

"Of course."

Komori raises his hand to call for the waiter. Their order comes around ten minutes later - earl grey tea in fine china with three matching cups, completed with small metal jugs of sugar, milk, and cream; followed by a three-tier porcelain stand with pillars decorated in gold. The first tier consists of truffle quail egg with caviar sandwich, abalone tart, and soft-shell crab paper rolls. The second tier is filled with freshly-baked cherry scones and cream, lemon madeleine, and cream puffs. Lastly, there are macarons, lychee cremeux with honey and vanilla custard, and mini eclairs. The cakes are plated into perfection, sleek and elegant, beautiful and inviting to eat.

"After you, Mr. Brown," Kiyoomi says, indulging in his cup of tea. Brown takes one of the paper rolls and chews the finger food along with his tea. A smile forms on his face, finishing the food in just two bites, and Kiyoomi can positively assume that it's good - this man is not the leader of England's snacks industry for nothing.

"Oh, this is promising. I can't wait to taste the sweets."

Kiyoomi takes a bite of the abalone tart while Motoya tries the sandwich, and the moment the flavours dance inside their mouth, they look at each other in wide eyes, because this is damn good. They slowly move on to the various sweets on the tier above as three of them discuss their further collaboration on several new products. The sweet snacks even taste better than the savoury ones. If he's truly Japanese, how could Kiyoomi haven't met the chef yet? Surely, with his explorations through hotels and ryokans all across Japan - either for lunch, dinner, and afternoon tea - he should've eaten desserts made by this chef already.

Brown requests the waiter whether they could meet the chef. She shows up a few minutes later, asking them to wait, as the chef is still decorating cakes for tonight's dessert buffet.

When all of the cups and tiers are finally empty, a man clad in chef's hat and uniform appears on their table. To Kiyoomi's surprise, he looks oddly familiar - albeit the blonde hair with the underlying dark of his undercut, honey-coloured eyes, and the broad smile on his face. He knows Osamu has a twin, so is this...?

"Good afternoon, gentlemen, pardon my intrusion. I've heard that Mr. Jacob Brown has called upon me?"

How suave. This complete opposite version of Osamu has a way with his words that can charm his interlocutors.

"Ah, I'm ecstatic to finally meet you, Mr. Miya. I've heard a lot about you, though unfortunately, I haven't heard of your arrival here in London. It's a pleasure to have your dish presented for us here."

"It's a pleasure to meet and serve you my dish, Mr. Brown. I hope everything is into your liking."

"Believe me, everything on the plate is marvellous, especially the madeleine - that's my personal favourite."

"Thank you, Mr. Brown. It's an honour to hear that from you."

"Oh, you deserve every ounce of compliment for it." Brown then gestures to Kiyoomi and Motoya's way. "Let me introduce my partners here. They are also Japanese. As you may know, this is Mr. Kiyoomi Sakusa, and this is his secretary, Mr. Motoya Komori."

"This afternoon tea was lovely, Mr. Miya," Komori mentions, "I'm surprised that we haven't encountered each other in Japan yet before."

Miya smiles, giving him a short nod. "Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it. I travel a lot, and I don't usually stay long in Japan."

"So you must be Osamu Miya's twin," Kiyoomi finally states, and Miya's attention turns into him. "I wonder why I haven't heard of you before?"

The corner of Miya's eyebrows twitches just slightly, almost unnoticeable. At the same time, Motoya looks at him wide-eyed, and the table vibrates upon Brown's hand comes crashing down on the table.

"Mr. Sakusa, due to all respect, haven't you heard about Atsumu Miya? At all?"

"I can't believe you," Motoya whispers into his ear. "He's the most famous pâtissier from Japan, Kiyoomi. You're friends with his twin, for god's sake."

Kiyoomi shakes his head pitifully. He doesn't have much interest in pastries and desserts; thus, he doesn't follow any news related to it.

"Well then, please let me introduce myself. My name is Atsumu Miya, a freelance pâtissier, originating from Hyogo. I'm honoured to meet you, Mr. Sakusa."

There's a sharp edge on the tone of his voice - but isn't it quite stingy for this Miya to be offended just because Kiyoomi doesn't know about him? He must think very highly of himself. Kiyoomi has met a lot of people similar to them, and he believes they are troublesome to deal with.

He tries his best to prevent the corner of his lips from curving downwards. "...Likewise."

Miya replies with a tight smile - an obviously forced customer service smile – and turns his attention to Brown and Motoya chatting him away with various questions about the dish.

Kiyoomi ends his afternoon tea without saying another word to the pâtissier anymore and returns to retire in his chambers for a good night, time-difference adjustment sleep.

He's sure he won't be meeting Miya Atsumu apart from his stay in London, after all.

Atsumu has never felt so insulted in his entire life.

Sakusa Kiyoomi, CEO of Itachiyama Foods, Ltd., his twin brother's business partner in addition to being the leader of one of the biggest food businesses in Japan, doesn't fucking know who he is. He's Miya Atsumu - the high school kid who won a national baking competition and was invited for masterclasses with famous pâtissiers in Japan, who got accepted into Le Cordon Bleu - for fucks sake - and has his face printed into culinary magazines and articles all over the internet.

Sure, he's not a pastry chef who has an elite bakery in France that sells ultra-fine desserts or a chef who has a cooking show, but everyone who works in the culinary world has at least heard about him.

But really, what makes him so worked up is not the fact that Sakusa doesn't know him per se. It's his audacity to innocently imply that he doesn't know who Atsumu is because Osamu is on a much different level than him, like those snobby cooks and chefs who cast him aside because they don't see his cooking skill as worthy as Osamu's. Sakusa's handsome face and two gorgeous moles can go to hell.

Atsumu is so pissed that he calls Osamu close to midnight as he waits for his batch of cheesecake baking inside the oven.

"'Samu."

"'Tsumu. It's almost midnight there, what are ya so pissed about?"

"I met Sakusa Kiyoomi today."

"Oh? Kiyoomi-san is in London?"

"He had a meeting with Jacob Brown today and they ordered afternoon tea. Which, for yer information, that I prepared. Do ya know what the fuck he said to me?"

"What?"

"Oh, I'm so fuckin' pissed I remember his words verbatim. So ya must be Miya Osamu's twin. I wonder why I haven't heard of ya before? I swear, he sounds like that chef on that event in Osaka who literally kicked me out of the kitchen."

Osamu snorts loudly, sounding more like a pig than human, and laughs hysterically through the phone. It isn't long until he starts coughing and heaving, and Atsumu is sure that he has tears in his eyes by now. Atsumu's mood turns sourer to Osamu's amusement.

"Are ya done? I'm surprised yer not dead laughing like that."

"Oh my god," Osamu heaves, and laughs again. "I- that's so funny, what the hell. Ya just make my whole day."

Atsumu clicks his tongue in annoyance, and spats, "Yer fucking welcome."

"But seriously though, I didn't know there's someone who works in Japanese culinary world that hasn't heard of ya. And this is the CEO of a big company we're talking about."

"And he's yer loyal customer and partner, for fucks sake," Atsumu hisses, just before he smells something off. It's not burning, but it's close - Atsumu dashes to look inside the oven, and the top of his cake is starting to burn already. "Argh, fuck- I burned my cheesecake-"

"That's what ya get for bein' an attention whore."

"Go to hell, 'Samu. I'm hanging up."

Without waiting for a reply, Atsumu ends the call, throwing his phone unto the counter, and takes the cheesecake out. Judging from the top layer, the cake is still edible - but just edible is not on Atsumu's dictionary, especially if he's dishing it out to food leaders from all over the world. What an embarrassment it would be for pâtissier Atsumu Miya.

He sighs. He has to make a fresh batch to replace this one, thanks to one and only Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Two months have passed since Kiyoomi's encounter with Miya Atsumu, and now, he's attending another international event in New York. The hotel restaurant is full, crowded with people worldwide to taste the desserts offered on the special menu.

Kiyoomi is enjoying his afternoon coffee with Motoya, finally taking a break after the non-stop business meeting since the morning. On the table are two cups of Americano, a New York cheesecake slice, and a piece of bourbon cake.

"Ugh, this is amazing," Motoya hums, eyes closed, as he munches on the first bite of his cheesecake. "This is even better than the ones we eat at Kinaza."

"Really?" Kiyoomi asks, raising one of his eyebrows. Kinaza is a well-known bakery located in the heart of Tokyo, which is always crowded by people, and more so in the afternoon. It's a must-visit stop for tourists whenever they are in Tokyo. They are best known for their cakes, and their desserts are the best Kiyoomi has ever eaten - especially their homemade plum cake. It's a shame that they don't open a branch anywhere else, considering their flourishing business. Along with Motoya, they are Kinaza's loyal customers. If Motoya says that the cake he's eating can rival Kinaza, Kiyoomi is sure that it's good.

Motoya cuts some of his slice using a new, unused knife, and places it on Kiyoomi's plate. "Here, try some!"

Kiyoomi eats it all in one go. The moment it enters his mouth, he looks at Motoya, and in awe, he nods in agreement. It's simply… sensational. All the flavours - the sweetness, salt, and sour - just blend together in harmony, creating an ultimate balance that blows his taste buds into a bliss.

Whoever made it must be a godsend.

Cleansing his palate with the black coffee, he starts on his portion of bourbon cake. It's also good, but it's not as phenomenal as the cheesecake.

"This is also good, but yours is better."

"Let me try."

Motoya tries a bite. "Mhm, the cheesecake is better."

Kiyoomi finishes his cake as Motoya scrolls on some files on his tablet. He stops, fixing his look on a document, and mentions, "Hey, Kiyoomi. You remember Miya Atsumu-san, right?"

Of course. How can Kiyoomi forget about his embarrassing feat in front of a business partner two months ago?

"Yes. What about him?"

"He's one of the pastry chefs invited into this event," Motoya declares, passing the tab to Kiyoomi. "He's also in charge of the special menu we're eating now. Oh, I wonder if one of these are the cakes that he made?"

Right after Motoya mentions it, three chefs exit the kitchen and navigate the tables to greet the guests. A tall chef with brown hair and blue eyes comes over to their table and smiles.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. How is your afternoon?"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Williams," Motoya greets first, as always - because Kiyoomi doesn't know any pastry chef's name to save his life - in which Kiyoomi follows. "My name is Komori, and this is Mr. Sakusa. What a pleasure to meet you. The cakes are wonderful, and I must say, it's quite rare to have chefs collaborating for the main cake for the event tomorrow."

"It's a unique experience having three different personalities into one dessert."

"We'll be looking forward to tomorrow, Mr. Williams," Kiyoomi finally says.

Williams chuckles. "Believe me, I'm also excited for tomorrow."

"Anyways, Mr. Williams," Motoya mentions, motioning to the slice of cakes that they haven't finished yet. "Are you perhaps in charge of our cakes we're having?"

"Ah, I'm in charge of the bourbon cake and Boston cream pie."

"The bourbon cake is lovely." Kiyoomi offers him a small smile. "If I may ask, what kind of bourbon that you used in it?"

"Knob Creek. Only the best bourbon for best flavours."

"I agree. Only the best ingredients for the best flavours."

Williams nods in reply and grins. "Well then, please enjoy your afternoon. I think Atsumu will come to you soon, he's the one who made the cheesecake."

The tall chef leaves and moves on to the table across them. Motoya finishes the last bite of his cheesecake with sparkling eyes.

Miya Atsumu, huh? Kiyoomi has to admit that this man has the skill.

Miya comes over to their table not long after William does, and upon Motoya's presence, he beams and greets him in Japanese. "Nice to meet you again, Komori-san!" his eyes glance to Kiyoomi, and the big smile falters by half. "Oh, and you too, Sakusa-san."

"Hello, Miya-san! I heard that you're the one who made the cheesecake?"

"Please call me Atsumu, Komori-san. And yes, I made the cheesecake and carrot cake for today's menu."

"I ordered the cheesecake, and Atsumu-san, your cheesecake is the best I've ever eaten. Sakusa-san also thinks the same."

Motoya throws a wink at Kiyoomi, and Kiyoomi rolls his eyes. Meanwhile, Miya's previous dirty look upon him has now gone.

"Oh really?" Miya asks, a small smirk forming on the corners of his mouth. "What do you think of it, Sakusa-san?"

What a troublesome man with an overbearing ego. Frowning, Kiyoomi decides that he doesn't have a liking for him and he doesn't need this guy around his business circle. Kiyoomi has enough dealing with these kinds of people in the industry, and he knows well how to put them off.

"It's nice." Kiyoomi keeps his eye contact with Miya, and says, "But maybe you can do better."

Miya's jaw clenches ever so slightly, and in a moment, a flash of burning fire reflected on his eyes. Kiyoomi smirks, adding more fuel into the fire.

"Don't worry about it Sakusa-san, I only strive to become the best."

Kiyoomi takes a sip of his coffee, and replies, "Let's see about that."

After three months of travelling his ass from country to country, Atsumu finally steps his foot in Tokyo. The moment he leaves the airport, still in the afternoon, he visits the only bakery that he owned from all over the world - a humble bakery by the name Kinaza.

On his surprise arrival, he is greeted by his two most trusted colleagues, Tsukishima and Hitoka, baking in the kitchen.

"I'm home~!" Atsumu exclaims, placing a box worth of souvenirs and goodies from his escapades on an empty counter. "How are my lovely juniors doin'?"

Hitoka quickly turns into his way, eyes widening, and splutters, "Ah- Welcome back, Atsumu-san!"

Tsukishima takes a cake out of the fridge and works on the icing. "Things have just gotten worse the moment you came back."

"Tsukki! Is that how you greet me after three long months?" Atsumu gasps dramatically, "Just when I've gone back to look after the shop-!"

"We've been doing perfectly fine without you. In fact, I think the sales increased with just the two of us here, right, Yachi-san?"

Atsumu glares at Tsukishima's daunting smirk and throws in the best puppy dog eyes to Hitoka. She keeps looking back and forth between Atsumu and Tsukishima, seemingly undecided on who she will side with. "Uh, I- Eh, I don't know…?"

"I know yer just bein' me to me, Tsukki! Even though I brought you a strawberry shortcake..."

"Oh?" Tsukishima piques up interest. He abandons the bag of icing and opens the box Atsumu left on the counter. Without saying anything, he tucks himself into the corner, helping himself to the sweet dessert, instantly going to bliss with his eyes closed the moment the first spoonful of cake enters his mouth.

Atsumu shakes his head, chuckling softly. He knows Tsukishima's favourite bakery - the one in Korea - Atsumu's last stop before going back to Japan - all too well. Picking up the abandoned icing, Atsumu finishes the cake decorating himself. "See, now yer quiet."

"Aren't you going back home, Atsumu-san?" Hitoka mentions, passing a bottle of green tea to Atsumu, in which he accepts gladly. "You must be tired from the flight."

"It's not a big deal, Hitoka-chan, I've been through worse. I'll help ya clean up tonight before goin' home."

"Then, you wouldn't mind if I go home early today, would you, Atsumu-san?"

Atsumu turns to Tsukishima, grumbling," Oh, no you don't! Yer not escaping the cleanin' up, Tsukki!"

Tsukishima rolls his eyes as he finishes his cake, and Atsumu presents the newly decorated cake in the glass display.

Atsumu shows up uninvitedly into Osamu's restaurant, Ikinari, in the morning when Osamu is still doing the preparation for his menu today. When Atsumu enters from the back door, unlocked, he barges into the kitchen where Osamu's assistants boil some mouth-watering dashi and cut their own homemade udon. The old ones, who know Atsumu already, greet him casually while the new assistants look at him wide-eyed, filled with curiosity. Atsumu basks in the cute attention, spotting Osamu in the corner deboning a salmon.

"Sorry, but people aside from the staff aren't allowed to be in here."

Osamu doesn't spare him a glance, and there are muffled sounds of laughing in the background. How rude, laughing at a guest like that.

"I'm literally yer sous-chef for more than half of our lives and yer tellin' me I don't have a right to be here?"

"Yes," Osamu states, deadpan, looking back at Atsumu in the eye. A small smile then comes creeping on his face. "Welcome back. I hope ya bring somethin' with ya today."

Atsumu snorts and places a plastic bag on the counter where Osamu is working on. "Don't worry, there's more for ya and mum and dad the house."

Osamu peeks into the contents of the bag, grinning. "Ya better."

"So, what are ya plannin' for today?"

"Ya mean for the desserts? Nothin' much than the old regular anmitsu."

"Eh, how boring," Atsumu mocks, rummaging into the fridge. "Ya got some extra ogura?"

"Yeah, I think we still have some on the back. What are ya plannin'?"

"Mochi and ice cream, I guess? It'll be a good addition to yer anmitsu."

Osamu hums, slicing the deboned salmon into sashimi-sized pieces. "I appreciate it and all, but I can't believe yer neglecting yer bakery when yer finally in Tokyo after three months."

"I told Hitoka-chan that I will go back tomorrow." Atsumu absent-mindedly opens the cupboard below and takes out an expensive, rarely-used ice cream machine. "I'm meetin' Yoshida-san for lunch."

"Yoshida?" Osamu blurts out, hand movements stopping. "As in, Yoshida Akihiko? One of the richest guys in Japan?"

"Nah, it's his daughter, actually. Yoshida Akira, the one that's gettin' married. She asked me to do the wedding cake for her."

"Damn. She's definitely goin' to have some mind-blowing buffet. Yer gonna hafta snatch me an invitation."

Atsumu laughs. "We'll see."

He goes to the back and pulls out a sack of red-beans, flour, cream, milk, sugar, and proceeds in transforming the ingredients into fine mochi and ogura ice cream. Atsumu works in the currently unused dessert counter and finishes by noon, just in time for their opening nearing lunchtime. With the abundant mochis and fresh ice cream in the fridge, Atsumu bids his goodbye and leaves.

Kiyoomi has a meeting with an important client this noon, and as usual, he likes to take them to Osamu's traditional Japanese fine-dining restaurant that's located not far from where Kiyoomi's office is. He met Osamu through an event held in Turkey, and was blown away by how Osamu presented his dish, especially the pickled plums - Kiyoomi's favourite food - and they became good friends and partners ever since.

He orders cold udon with tempura. The cold opposes the scorching heat of summer, complimenting the udon's smooth and chewy texture so perfectly. The various tempura - tiger shrimp, conger pike, lotus roots, sweet potato, okra, and nori - are fried into a golden brown colour, and are cooked into perfection. The peculiar ingredients fit best into the summer season indeed. It blends well with his homemade tempura dipping sauce that has a refreshing aftertaste – is it a hint of lemon? Count on Osamu to use only the fresh, high-quality ingredients on his cooking.

They're serving anmitsu for dessert- a traditional Japanese dessert made from agar, red bean paste, peas, gyuhi, peaches, pineapples, cherries, and oranges. Kiyoomi had previously eaten them before, but today, there's an additional mochi and ogura ice cream that he had never seen before. He excitedly scoops up the ice cream with a piece of mochi, taking it in as his first bite.

The cold and taste dissolve in his tongue. The ogura ice cream is not too sweet, and he can taste the dominant natural red bean sweetness instead of the sugar, its texture soft and creamy with a variant of texture from the pieces of whole red beans inside the ice cream. Meanwhile, the mochi between his teeth is chewy yet soft, the consistency and texture just right - not too soft and not too tough. The subtle sweetness also complements the ice cream incredibly well.

Wow. Did Osamu come up with a new menu?

When they finish their desserts, Kiyoomi asks the waiter to call for Osamu. He comes almost instantly, and Kiyoomi introduces him to his client.

"How's the food today, Kiyoomi-san, Satou-san?"

"Oh, I enjoyed it a lot. My fish and vegetables are incredibly fresh, and it's cooked into perfection." Satou offers him a delightful smile, and Osamu bids his thanks to her.

"Amazing as usual," Kiyoomi says, "I'm not a fan of okra, but as you can see, you made me eat it whole."

"Okra is a summer ingredient. You can't resist it."

"And the mochi with ice cream. It was a wonderful addition to the anmitsu. They're really good, Osamu-san, are those your new recipes?"

"Unfortunately not," Osamu answers, the smile on his face undecipherable to Kiyoomi. "It was my twin who made those. He specialises in desserts, after all."

Osamu's twin? An image of an overconfident, piss-haired pâtissier pops up inside his mind - of course, Miya Atsumu.

He is thankful that the man is nowhere near when Kiyoomi complements his dish because he's not sure he has the patience to see his cocky smirk after what Kiyoomi had said to the pâtissier at their last meeting in New York.

Kiyoomi holds in a frown and settles with, "Ah, I see."

The three of them exchange some small talk until Osamu excuses himself from the table to return to the kitchen, and after making a deal with his client, Kiyoomi pays for their meal and leaves the restaurant.

Yoshida Akira has just left the table when Atsumu's phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out to see his stupid twin's face on the screen calling for him. Atsumu swipes the end button - how can Osamu know the precise time of his meeting with Yoshida ends? Is he that desperate for her wedding invitation? What a glutton.

Osamu doesn't back off until Atsumu reaches his car in the basement, connects his phone to the Bluetooth, and he relents.

"Why are ya so persistent?! I'm in a meeting!"

"No way. It's past four already, there's no way ya could stand out for a meeting that long."

"Yer lucky ya called right when Yoshida-san left."

"So, ya got one for me?"

Atsumu plays with the two postcard-sized cards with beautiful incarnations on his hand before throwing it on the passenger's seat. "How much are ya willin' to pay for it, 'Samu?"

"I won't. I'll throttle ya for it. But hey, this is not what I call ya for."

"So? Spit it out."

"Kiyoomi-san comes by to my restaurant today."

"Kiyoomi?" Atsumu has heard of this name before, but he's not sure where. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Sakusa Kiyoomi. Yours truly."

Atsumu rolls his eyes as he clicks his tongue and drives away from the hotel. "Oh, him. I don't think I want to hear anything of his interest, 'Samu."

"Oh no, believe me, ya want to hear this one. He said that yer mochi and ice cream are really good and asked me if it was my recipe," Osamu implores, snickering, "And his face- god- the face he made when I said yer the one who made it- it's like- it's like he's holdin' in a dump."

Atsumu stops on the red light and whistles. "...Oh? Did he really?"

"Yes. Ya think I would voluntarily tell ya this? I wouldn't tell ya this if I don't think Kiyoomi-san's expression is funnier than the fact that he didn't know ya."

"Wow. Thanks for the insider's information."

"Consider it a payment for the invitation."

With that, Atsumu disconnects the call.

"Sakusa Kiyoomi." Atsumu snickers to himself, stepping on the gas as the lights turn green. "An unexpected tsundere, it seems."

Motoya's younger sister, Mariko, is only seventeen years old, but she is a promising young, aspiring chef. She plans on participating in an event in France which opens internationally for non-professional cooks. She will be staying there for a week, and Motoya plans on accompanying her to Paris, and of course, he plans on dragging Kiyoomi with him.

"You don't have a lot of important meeting schedules anyways, Kiyoomi," Motoya states, showing Kiyoomi's timetable for the week on his tablet. "And even if you do, I can just move the schedules."

"I don't see the point of going there if I don't have any business to do, Motoya."

"Well, you're her favourite cousin! You would be a great support for her!"

Kiyoomi tilts his head, pulling his lips slightly to the side. "She has you."

Motoya raises his hand in exasperation. "Kiyoomi. I'm saying you should take a break. You've been working non-stop!"

"I… don't think I need one?" Kiyoomi doesn't feel that much burdened by his job, after all, and he's been doing fine. He travels a lot for his job, doesn't that count as a break too, in a way? Besides, taking a thirteen-hour flight to a country that Kiyoomi doesn't speak its language is not something very appealing to him if he's only idling his time away there - Kiyoomi rather spends his break inside the solace of his house, or in his family's private villa in Kyushu.

"C'mon, Kiyoomi. Pretty please? I'm sure Mariko is going to be happy with you too there."

Motoya is smiling cheekily, and Kiyoomi narrows his eyes in return. "I know you just don't want to spend your free time there alone, do you?"

Motoya purses his lips and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. Kiyoomi is right. He looks at the table of his schedules - it's free enough to be rescheduled early or later on - and sighs.

"Fine."

"Yes," Motoya exclaims and snatches back his tablet. "I'm booking the ticket now."

Kiyoomi shakes his head and returns his attention back into the spreadsheet on his laptop - maybe he could buy his mother the limited edition Louis Vuitton bag for her birthday too, after all.

The main event takes place on Kiyoomi's fourth day in Paris. They started in the morning, Kiyoomi and Motoya helping Mariko with her stand and assisting her in the food preparations. When it's her time to shine, they leave the stall to roam around, trying foods from various stalls. There are many dishes from around the world, mainly from Europe, and Kiyoomi eats so much with Motoya that he's sure he's unable to eat dinner. After four days eating exquisite, French dishes - which are undoubtedly pleasant, of course, including today's food tour - unfortunately, right now, Kiyoomi is sure that he could die by overeating with the lingering taste of Bechamel sauce in the back of his tongue.

By around eleven, Mariko has long fallen asleep in the room. Motoya is also preparing to sleep when Kiyoomi exits their suite to indulge himself in something different to calm his overly sensitive senses - a dessert, perhaps; or a fine, French wine.

Kiyoomi goes up to the highest floor, where an open restaurant and bar resides. Several people are sitting by the counter drinking alcohol, and after showing his room card number, he slumps on a stool far from the crowds. A waiter passes him a menu which Kiyoomi speed-scans briefly, settling into a glass of 20-year-old red wine, and hums happily as the alcohol and sweetness coats his tongue.

Only into half of his glass, a man takes a seat near Kiyoomi – only one seat away – and greets the bartender loudly. He seems to be well acquainted with the bartender as they speak in rapid French, laughing along to something while the bartender pours some cognac into a snifter glass, and places it in front of the man. When the bartender leaves to tend to other customers, the man glances to Kiyoomi's way, and their eyes meet - the man's eyes widen as he takes a sip of his drink, and Kiyoomi's expression mirrors his shock.

"Sakusa Kiyoomi…?" he says, slipping back into Japanese, "What a surprise to meet you here."

Like he said, it is a surprise indeed. "...Miya."

The said man moves into the stool right next to Kiyoomi along with his drink. Any shock in Miya's face is now gone, replaced by his usual lazy smirk. "Why is a fine man like you doing here all alone by yerself?"

The last time they met, Kiyoomi had established antipathy between them. Miya is unexpectedly friendly with him, and Kiyoomi is sure that there's a reason behind his behaviour change, which Kiyoomi doesn't know.

"Can't you see I'm enjoying my wine?"

"Surely ya know that wine is to be enjoyed best with people."

"I don't need company, especially not from you."

Unexpectedly, Miya laughs. "Now, now, why so hostile? Did I ever do anythin' wrong to ya, Sakusa-san?"

Kiyoomi frowns upon his nonchalance. "If anything, you're the one who started it first, Miya."

"Yeah, well, I admit I took it too personally." Miya rests his chin on his palm and grins. "I apologise for my behaviour."

Ah. Now that Miya mentions it, Kiyoomi thinks he can understand it a little. When Kiyoomi is still in high school, he hears and sees the name Miya Osamu everywhere, but not Miya Atsumu.

"I also apologise for my… ignorance."

"Nah, ya don't need ta, really. I know that yer actually an honest guy. A little birdie told me that ya liked my stuff?"

Miya waggles his eyebrows and grins cheekily. Kiyoomi cringes, crinkling his nose, and turns away to his wine. He can't believe Osamu snitched on him.

"I've had better."

"Of course ya have," Miya says, rolling his eyes. "Yer a rich guy. You've eaten a lot of stuff."

Kiyoomi hums. "True."

They talk the night away, sharing their experiences travelling the world. Miya is surprisingly an easy company to be with.

Kiyoomi returns to his chamber past midnight, thinking that maybe meeting Miya Atsumu in his travels is not a bad thing at all.

The next time Atsumu meets Sakusa Kiyoomi is when he's on Hokkaido - a place notorious for their agriculture and livestock - to look for a propitious farm that can provide him milk on large bouts for his bakery because apparently, one farm is not enough to supply his bakery's needs.

Atsumu opts to drive for efficiency to move throughout Hokkaido, starting from Sapporo, Asahikawa, and Kushiro, staying in the places for a day or two before moving on to the other place. He finishes his tour by staying on Sapporo for one night in a cheap inn before catching the train back to Tokyo the next morning.

He stops by to an izakaya that night for a quick bite and drink, and that's when he sees the dark-haired beauty sitting in the far corner, awkwardly drinking his beer. He looks like he would rather be anywhere other than here that it's almost funny. Atsumu snickers, finishing his karaage, and approaching the table, he pulls out the chair across the man, sitting there uninvitedly.

"Nice seein' ya again, Sakusa-san."

Sakusa looks up, brow creased, and shakes his head. "Miya. Why am I not surprised to see you again."

"Because we keep meeting in uncanny places." Atsumu shrugs. "So, what are ya doin' in a place like this?"

Sakusa points out to the joint table in the middle where loud, red-faced men are shouting and laughing along. "We're having a company outing."

Compared to those rowdy salarymen, Sakusa looks out of place, and why is he here, anyway? He's the boss of an international company who travels the world and stays in the best hotels offering only the best food and drinks for his high-class palate. There's no reason for him to be stuck with a regular company outing.

"Aren't ya the boss? Ya can just leave."

"Unfortunately not," Sakusa snorts and gulps on his drink. "This outing is arranged by my father. I'm basically forced to be here to 'develop better relationships with your underlings', as he said."

Atsumu laughs upon Sakusa's finger quotes and the apparent distaste on his face. "Where's Komori-san, anyway?"

"My father dragged him away with him for a meeting with a client."

"I see." Atsumu raises his hand to call for the waiter, and orders another plate of mixed fried goods. He's not going anywhere aside from his hotel room anyways, and it's not like he has anything to do either. With Sakusa here, he would rather spend his night with someone rather than being alone. "Would ya mind if I accompany ya for tonight then, Sakusa-san?"

Without a beat, Sakusa waves his hand. "Do what you want."

Atsumu grins, catching a rare twinkle of mirth that passes through Sakusa's dark irises, and they talk the night away.

With his temporary permanent stay in Japan, Atsumu returns to manage his bakery full time, offering new kinds of cake to the menu. He trains Tsukishima and Hitoka for new techniques and recipes for the bakery and hands over several menus for them to handle as soon as they grasp the skill. Looking at their handiwork, Atsumu can't help but feel proud for his juniors – they have grown so much since the first time Atsumu met them seven years ago. That time, Tsukishima and Hitoka were freshly graduated from high school, spending their break before college at Atsumu's baking workshop. They ended up working in the culinary world even after they graduated from college, in the end.

It's Friday, one of their busiest days with parents and couples stopping by to buy cakes for the weekend. It is still crowded even until fifteen minutes before ten, and there are not many cakes on the glass display anymore. When the time turns ten in the evening, Hitoka turns the sign hanging on the door into 'closed', and they get started with the cleaning. Hitoka cleans the bakery while Atsumu and Tsukishima clean the kitchen.

Atsumu has finished sweeping the kitchen floor, glancing on the remaining cakes on the glass display. There is still a slice of plum cake and peach cake, three slices of cheesecake and strawberry shortcake, some roll cakes and baumkuchen, and two slices of sweet potato cake. Feeling a bit hungry, Atsumu takes the plum cake into a plate.

"Atsumu-san, are you going to eat that cake?" Hitoka asks as she wipes the cashier counter.

"Mhm."

"I don't think you should eat that one. There's a customer who always comes here to buy that after closing hours."

Atsumu grabs a fork, still carrying the plate with him. "Why are you selling stuff to customers when it's closing hours already?"

"Because he's our most loyal customer," Tsukishima adds, snatching the plate away from Atsumu. "We like him."

"Hey!" Atsumu exclaims, only to have Tsukishima preparing the dessert into a box. "It's not nice to show favouritism among customers."

"Oh, I think you'll like him too, Atsumu-san. Just wait."

Atsumu twists his lips, unsure about Tsukishima's statement, and prepares some ingredients for tomorrow's cakes.

The entrance bell rings not long after, and Hitoka greets the guest. "Hello, Sakusa-san!"

Wait. Did Hitoka say Sakusa?

"Hello, Yachi-san."

There is no mistaking that rich, baritone voice - Atsumu peeks through the window separating the bakery and the kitchen, and sees tall, dark curly hair and signature two moles above his right eyebrows - still handsome even covered by a mask.

Tsukishima jeers from behind Atsumu, "See? I told you, you'd like him."

"Is this the loyal customer yer talkin' about before, Tsukki?"

"Yes."

Atsumu bites his lip, attempting to bite off the grin forcing its way to his face. Sakusa has his attention on the glass display, and Atsumu uses this chance to knock on the glass to send a code for Hitoka. When she looks back, Atsumu motions Hitoka to switch with him, and nodding, Hitoka goes to the back while Atsumu goes out to the bakery.

"So, is this yer definition of doin' better, Sakusa-san?"

His cheeky grin is now on his face in full force, and when Sakusa meets his eyes, Atsumu delights in the shock plastered on his face. Sakusa takes in a deep breath and sighs.

"Why do I see you everywhere, Miya. And why are you here?"

Atsumu smirks. Oh, how he has been waiting for this opportunity. "What, am I not allowed to work at my own bakery?"

Sakusa gapes, eyes widening as he stares at Atsumu in disbelief. "You're joking."

"I can give ya a look on this building's certificate if ya want, Sakusa-san," Atsumu chuckles, leaning on the display, "Or ya can ask Hitoka and Tsukki on the back."

Sakusa shakes his head and runs his fingers to rub his temples.

"There's no need to be shy for likin' my desserts," Atsumu sing-songs, placing the box of plum cake on the counter. "So, is there anythin' else I can get ya? I personally recommend the sweet potato cake, if ya haven't tried some yet."

"No. Just- just get me some of the peach cake. For Komori."

"Okay then."

Atsumu takes the slice out from the display, placing it neatly into the box, and inserts both of the boxes into a paper bag. "That will be 500 yen."

Sakusa hands Atsumu a 5000-yen bill but pauses before Atsumu takes it. "Isn't it usually around 1000?"

"A discount from yours truly," Atsumu hums, giving Sakusa the 4500 yen change along with the cakes. "Thank you for shopping at Kinaza. Will I see you again soon, Sakusa-san?"

"...Perhaps."

With that, Sakusa takes his exit, leaving Atsumu bombarded with questions from both Tsukishima and Hitoka.

When Kiyoomi takes out his box of cake from the bag, he finds a name card attached to the box. Out of curiosity, he plucks it off to see Miya Atsumu's name and email address. On the right corner, there's an arrow scribbled in pen. Kiyoomi flips the card to see a handwritten phone number with a 'hit me up' written underneath it.

Kiyoomi can't believe himself when he types a message in, and presses send to Miya's number that night.

A/N:

menu references:

- afternoon tea in London: dining/new-afternoon-teas-hong-kong

- types of cakes on the event in New York: food/the-history-kitchen/american-cakes-history/

- tempura , omi's lunch menu on osamu's restaurant: tempura-recipe/

- anmitsu (traditional japanese dessert) , the dessert omi eats on osamu's restaurant: wiki/Anmitsu

fun fact: atsumu and osamu's bakery/restaurant are somewhat anagrams of 'inarizaki'

let me know what you think. thank you for stopping by!