Though it took Kakashi no time at all to conclude that he felt something for Masako, it took him the better part of two years to finally accept that it was romantic in nature. And despite his reluctance to say anything, it only took a moment of indulgence on his side for her to start suspecting him.

It was the sprig of yellow flowers placed in a beautiful ceramic vase that tipped her off.

Having gone for 20 years without receiving anything of the sort, Masako was at first very suspicious of the small gift left at her door. After all, it could have been a clever ruse designed to harm her in some way – traps were something that she looked out for constantly, a mindset that had saved her life before.

But after spending much time examining it, she happily concluded that it was, in fact, exactly what it appeared to be, and carried it inside, admiring it the whole way.

How sweet, she thought, placing it on her kitchen counter and gently running her fingers over the delicate petals. I didn't even think people did things like this anymore. At least outside of novels. I wonder who it could be from?

Trying to rack her brains for any possible suspect, she continued to admire the flowers.

There was something oddly familiar about this gift, though she couldn't quite place her finger on what it was. It wasn't the vase, she decided. Finery in any form never really featured in her life, and the vase, though pretty, wasn't ringing any bells. The flowers she could identify as camellias, and she almost blushed when she remembered what it symbolized. But neither aspect really gave her any leads as to the identity of her possible secret admirer - only that he was definitely a romantic.

It was only when she absentmindedly looked around her room that the source of the déjà vu became clear. Her gaze landing on her bookshelf, it struck her again that it was a gesture straight from a novel. The same novel that Kakashi had let her borrow not two weeks before, insufferably smug as he reminded her that she had sworn never to read the Icha Icha series.

I'm probably wrong, but…

Trying to process the link, she yanked the book from the shelf and found the passage. There it was, word for word, the description of how the hero had left his beloved a token of his secret affection: a vase of camellias.

"No way," she breathed, looking first at the page, then back at the flowers, then back again. A slightly fantastic notion was forming in her head, one that she tried to reason away. Kakashi, leave her flowers like some lovesick schoolboy? She wasn't even sure that he welcomed the possibility of romantic love; his fondness for trashy romances notwithstanding, he had never even shown the slightest hint interest in anyone he had come into contact with. Surely it wasn't him. She couldn't reconcile the Kakashi she knew with one who used a secret flower language to make declarations of love.

Hearing a knock on her door, Masako almost threw the book back onto the shelf. She wasn't sure that she wanted to share this with anyone just yet. And when she heard Kakashi's voice, it became crucial that she didn't betray any suspicion.

"Are you busy?" His words were slightly muffled through her door.

Peeking through her peephole, Masako briefly considered not letting him in. But it had been several months since she had last seen her friend, and old loyalty won over her newfound confusion. Opening her door, she beckoned Kakashi in, watching him carefully.

"Hey," she said, tone completely casual. He responded to her greeting with a noncommittal grunt, and leaned against her countertop. He was, Masako noted with a kind of self-suffering resignation, not two feet away from the object of her current confusion. Forcing a smile, she sat down.

"Did I interrupt you? You only just got back from your mission, I'm guessing." Masako only half heard his words, instead closely watching his face and trying to catch out any sort of strangeness in his expression; he had definitely seen the flowers, but gave no reaction.

Come to think of it, she wasn't even sure what she was looking for, having never really seen the face of someone quietly nursing a secret love. Not unless she counted Asuma, but that was definitely not secret. Or one-sided.

Realizing he expected her to answer, she gave a rote reply, trying to cover up her wandering train of thought.

"Yamanaka wants you to come in, said something cryptic, as always," he said, either oblivious to or ignoring her discomfort. "Said you should report to him tomorrow…"

The conversation continued like this for some time, a lopsided affair that Masako was only partly present for. He never called her out on this, however, and bid his goodbye after their customary catch-up.

"I'll see you around," he said, raising his hand as he walked away, not a single word uttered by either on the vase that had sat between them.

His visit, which she was sure would eventually dispel her suspicions, only served to confuse her further. She'd expected that he'd say something – she'd have said something, if he had flowers on his countertop, after a mission, of all things.

You're overanalyzing this. It's not even like he likes flowers, so of course that'd be strange. You like flowers, he knows you like flowers, maybe he thinks it's a new decoration, or something.

And so her thoughts went in circles.

With his back turned, she had no way of seeing the fleeting look of satisfaction that crossed his face. Having looked discreetly around the room, he was almost shamefully ecstatic that she had chosen to take the camellias in. At her prolonged absence, he had allowed his sentimentality to override his usual stoicism, and he had left them at her door without truly thinking it through; it was only after he left that it occurred to him that she may think that it was too cheesy and trite.

Though he was too late to prevent her from discovering them, he was glad that while it turned out much better than he hoped. He didn't think his heart could take it if she had teased her supposedly secret admirer; though she couldn't have known it, he had staked some of his pride on that moment.

In the weeks that followed, Masako kept a close eye on Kakashi. Every word, every gesture. She began to notice how his hand lingered on her in the most innocent circumstances, how he sounded more gentle when he addressed her, how he was almost always on time to meet her. But still no confession, not even a single slip of the tongue.

The aggravating nature of her internal conflict left her with a lot of pent up frustration, so she decided to put it to good use.

So he's a little nicer to you than he is to others – that doesn't really mean anything, she thought as she tackled the growing dust on her shelves. Masako was getting a little tired of sneezing every time pulled a book out.

You're not even sure it was him who left the flowers to begin with.

After wiping down the shelves, she figured that she might as well sort their contents out. To her chagrin, five minutes in saw her holding a stack of cheap romance serials that she had forgotten to return. To Kakashi. And she'd been doing so well keeping her mind off him.

The kitchen surfaces needed a really good scrub.

But it couldn't really be anybody else, could it, her traitorous heart whispered.

Maybe it would be good if she cleaned out her shower – she'd been putting it off for days, after all.

"Look, he left them anonymously for a reason," she said to her reflection as she polished her bathroom mirror. "So he obviously isn't going to talk about it."

With one last, aggressive, swipe, Masako was left with a sparkling apartment and thoughts even more fixated on Kakashi than they had been when she started.

Well, that was a whole lot of useless, she thought. There's only one thing left to do.

Checking the time, she changed into clothes she didn't care about and made her way to the training grounds.

Several hours later, as she trudged back home covered in sweat and the remains of an unfortunate tree, she had settled on three conclusions:

First, that he was a proud man, and as a friend, Masako respected him well enough to let him have his pride.

Second, that her silence would benefit her as well. Perhaps it was immature, but if – and only if – she was right, this discovery had opened up a whole slew of possibilities that she couldn't face just yet. She was flattered, but reciprocation would be…different.

Which brought her to the third – it just wouldn't be practical. Not with how things were. And that was that. She made her decision.

Worn out, Masako drifted a dreamless sleep, but not before one last thought flickered in her mind.

Even so…it would have been nice.

Reviews are always welcome!