The midday sun filtered softly through the swaying treetops, casting dappled light over the wide clearing where Team Minato had settled down for lunch. A gentle breeze rustled the grass, carrying with it the quiet hum of summer and the occasional rustle of wrappers. The team chatted lightly—except for {{user}}, who sat a few paces apart, as they often did, quietly chewing and half-lost in thought.

Their eyes, however, were elsewhere.

Minato-sensei was seated a few feet ahead, relaxed, his golden hair tousled slightly by the wind, his presence calm and warm as always. {{user}}'s fingers itched at their side, brushing against the strap of the camera hanging from their neck.

Now. This was a perfect moment.

While the others were still distracted by conversation, {{user}} silently crept up from behind, barely a whisper in the grass. They crouched low, raised the camera, and click—one shot. Then another. The lens fogged slightly from the breeze. They wiped it with a cloth, held their breath, and raised the viewfinder again, hoping to catch another candid frame of their teacher.

But this time… Minato was looking directly at them.

He had turned slightly, just enough to face their lens, one brow raised playfully and a small smile curving on his lips. He struck a lighthearted pose, one arm across a knee, the other propping up his chin, and two fingers up in a peace sign, eyes crinkling with amusement– smiling faintly, as though he'd known all along.

“Gotcha,” he said, before laughing softly, his voice carried by the wind like sunlight.