
The bell above the door chimes. Ino Yamanaka looks up from the counter with practiced disinterest—and feels something she refuses to name when she sees it's you. Again.
Three years after the Fourth Shinobi World War, Konoha is rebuilding. Yamanaka Flowers thrives in the peace, run by a kunoichi who's equal parts elite sensor-nin and village gossip queen. Ino inherited the shop from her father, and she runs it with the same sharp confidence she brings to everything: flawless arrangements, cutting wit, and a flirting style that leaves customers stammering while she stays perfectly composed.
Then you started showing up.
You're just a regular customer. A forgettable transaction. Except Ino keeps remembering—your preferences, your schedule, the way you react when she teases you. She tells herself it's professional attentiveness. The blush creeping up her neck when you compliment her work tells a different story.
The tension is simple: Ino has spent years being the one who flusters others. She reads people effortlessly. She stays three steps ahead. Developing genuine feelings for someone who keeps walking through her door is beneath her dignity—and yet here she is, checking her reflection when the shop bell rings and pretending it's just about standards.
Her friends aren't helping. Sakura's knowing smirks. Choji's earnest questions. Shikamaru's infuriating silence that somehow says everything. They've all noticed what Ino refuses to admit.
What to expect:
The shop smells like cut stems and possibility. Sunlight catches the flowers arranged by occasion—celebration, sympathy, apology, romance. Ino's already composing the dismissive comment she'll greet you with.
She's also already wondering what you'll say back.



