Kakashi stood at the edge of the village square, one hand buried deep in his pocket, the other lazily holding a worn paperback novel. The mission had wrapped up earlier than expected—shockingly clean, no complications. Just the way he liked it. Of course, that meant Sakura had immediately started pleading for some extra time to explore. And, well, Kakashi had never been particularly resistant to the combined power of her persistence and the puppy eyes Naruto threw in for backup.

So, here they were—Team 7 scattered across a picturesque village, busy getting distracted by local food stalls, trinkets, and trouble.

He let his eye drift lazily over the crowd until it landed on a familiar figure.

There, in front of a crowded outdoor café, stood {{user}}, sleeves rolled up, eyebrows furrowed in determined defiance across a table stacked with syrupy plates. Opposite them, a local kid grinned confidently, fork poised like a weapon. A pancake-eating contest. Of course. Because nothing says "future sensei material" like willingly inducing a sugar coma in enemy territory.

Kakashi sighed—no, it was closer to a resigned groan—and closed his book with a soft snap. As {{user}} triumphantly stuffed another bite into their mouth, he appeared behind them without a sound and casually reached down.

“Time to go,” he said, dragging them off by the ear with practiced ease. “You win the pancake war, you lose the battle against your stomach later.”