#omg heids i have never written for kita before but this was such a cute concept

[seiwas]

for your ask! kita and farmers market au where he has a little stand and sells his rice :)

heids!! thanks for playing with me 🥺 this is an adorable au!! shoutout to @mieiri for helping me find pics 🥹

kita + farmers market au

kita joins the farmer’s market on every other sunday of the month.

his rice stall is quaint, barely even a full stall if he’s considering the technicalities. the display on his table consists of baskets of rice, all in varying grains and types, along with a few spices from akane-san, the middle-aged lady he agreed to partner with to help her cut booth costs.

it’s a good partnership, he thinks—he’s learned a fair bit about spiced rice.

business today is as usual: slow in the early morning, but bustling once it reaches 8:30 a.m.; he’s become familiar with the locals just as much as they trust him and the quality of his rice. and everything is as it usually is, except—

“hello,” you approach his booth, your smile a little shy as you gather what to say.

akane-san glances from the side.

in your hands lie two jars of jam, one a deep purple, and the other a bright orange.

he tilts his head slightly to acknowledge you, “good morning.”

you offer the jars of jam while chuckling nervously, “we’re neighbours,” you gesture towards the booth beside his, “this is my first time here, so…”

akane-san rises from her seat, smiling at you graciously, “those look delicious, my dear. you made them yourself?”

you look at her, flustered as you nod. akane-san nudges kita closer, his feet nearly stepping over yours as he inches forward.

“this is very kind of you, thank you,” kita offers his palms for you to place the glass jars on. akane-san reaches for the purple one and pops it open, the scent of wild berries filling the space between you.

she hums, long and delighted. kita smiles softly, “welcome to the market. i’m sure your jams will be a hit.”

.

it’s your sixth farmer’s market now, the fourth one you’ve spent as kita’s stall neighbour. and it’s been nice, having your company around, he thinks.

you are sweet, just as the jams you make are, and you never fail to give him a jar or two before selling even starts.

in exchange, he gives you rice, different grains and different types; he learns about your cooking schedule, and what you intend to cook for the rest of the week, just so he can give you the correct ones.

akane-san tells him that he should ask you out.

“you smile a lot around her,” she mumbles to him as you walk back to your booth. you’d just finished grabbing some lunch with kita during your break.

“it would be rude to frown, akane-san,” he settles back behind the display, hiding his smile.

she tuts, jokingly hitting him on the arm, “don’t be all smart ass with me.”

kita laughs, its sound echoing down to your booth. you turn to his direction upon hearing it and end up locking eyes. much to his surprise, he doesn’t turn away, and instead settles into giving you a smile.

it’s not like he denied what akane-san said anyway.

.

something is different the day kita walks up to your booth with a carton of eggs in his hands instead of rice.

(you’d mentioned something about wanting to try your hand at a quiche—that must be the reason why, you tell yourself).

he stands in front of your booth, shirt tucked in a little more properly than it normally is, and hands over the carton.

“fresh from the farm,” he starts, “thought i’d bring you some.”

“you didn’t have to,” you reach for it gently, your fingertips grazing the dips between his knuckles as you lower your head slightly.

“thank you for your sponsorship,” you add on, teasingly, “i’ll have to let you try the quiche now, once i make it.”

he laughs, waiting as you take your time opening the carton.

and when you do, the look on your face makes him wish he captured the moment. maybe with that polaroid camera atsumu gifted him last christmas.

inside the carton of eggs is a small cluster of flowers, handpicked (you can tell) and joined together by knotted grass.

(it’s sweet, you think, that there are even a few stems of a rice plant in the mix.)

the expression on your face is a mixture of confusion and surprise, and kita has never been one to be flustered or nervous for anything, but—

“i,” he clears his throat, “have been meaning to ask, actually,” another cough. your stare shoots straight into his nerves.

“would—“ you begin.

“would—“ he manages to say at the same time.

you both giggle, and he clears his throat again, reaching his hand out, “sorry, please go first.”

(the sentence forms itself in your mind, and you stare at the flowers again, a glimpse of courage, before you speak—)

“would you want to make some quiche with me?”

and kita smiles. is ‘no’ even an answer to anything you ask?