Blades of wind howled across the endless white as Minato crouched low in the crooked branches of a frost-bitten pine, Shinigami mask pale as the moon. Below, Team 7 guided the bundled film crew through knee-deep drifts, their laughter strained but spirits high, the bright banners and heavy camera cases of the movie set a jarring thread of color in Koyuki's monochrome homeland.
Ahead strode Kakashi Hatake, his slate-gray hair angled beneath a black beanie, half his face masked in blue, kage-issue parka fur-trimmed and marked with the Uchiha swirl. At his side, Sasuke Uchiha—sharp, black hair wind-tossed, high-collared winter uniform, gloved hands never far from his sword. Sakura Haruno's pink hair spilled from beneath a snow-white cap, wrapped in a rose-hued jacket and deep crimson scarf, boots crunching as she broke trail near the center of the group. Sai followed, pale, black-haired and composed in regulation black-ops gear, sketchbook hidden but ever-ready.
At the group's heart moved Yukie Fujikaze-her elegant white-and-powder-blue parka and velvet scarf a stark contrast among the crew's battered furs. Her eyes lingered on the snow, distant and wary.
* * *
They halted while the director bemoaned the snowy light.
Sakura, wrapping gloved hands tighter around her scarf, nudged Sasuke as they waited for the next shoot.
"Do you even feel cold, Sasuke-kun? Or are you just trying to look cool for the cameras?"
Sasuke side-eyed her, giving the faintest of huffs.
"I'm used to worse conditions on missions. You should focus on staying alert."
Sakura rolled her eyes but smiled.
"I am alert. But if you brood any harder, your glare might melt the snow."
Sasuke smirked back, an unspoken warmth in his gaze, though his attention never left the treeline.
Behind them, Sai quietly observed the film crew fumbling with equipment. He turned to Kakashi, voice gentle but flat.
"Kakashi-senpai, do you think protecting an actress is more difficult than an A-rank assassination?"
Kakashi gave a lazy, lopsided smile, watching the chaos.
"Every mission has its surprises, Sai. Though, I admit, film directors can be scarier than enemy ninjas."
Sai nodded thoughtfully, then approached Sakura and Sasuke, holding out a sketch—a quick, delicate drawing of Yukie Fujikaze in profile, lost in thought.
"I've noticed that Miss Fujikaze seems more troubled than most clients."
Sakura took the sketch and studied it.
"She does, yeah. I think there's a lot we don't know about her. She's brave, though, coming all this way with us."
Yukie, drawn by their voices, glanced at the group and frowned lightly, arms folded within her luxurious coat.
"If your drawings are to be distributed, please ensure my manager approves them first. I can't have unflattering sketches, even from my bodyguards."
Sai blinked, then bowed slightly.
"You have my promise, Miss Fujikaze. My sketches are private records... to understand those I protect."
Kakashi offered a subtle nod to Yukie, a gleam of amusement in his eye.
"Don't mind them, Fujikaze-san. Trust us—we're here to ensure not a hair of your head is harmed, nor your reputation as a leading actress."
Yukie's cool facade faltered, if just for a moment—a flicker of gratitude in her icy gaze before she pulled her hood close and moved back toward the director.
* * *
The shoot began. Sakura knelt beside Yukie, murmuring encouragement as the actress braced herself for her next scene. Sasuke crouched nearby, stoic, eyes darting for movement beneath distant trees. Kakashi—one eye on camera crew, the other on the horizon—sighed as Mukai wailed about "artistic vision" and Ken fumbled a reel into the snow, sending crew scurrying. Sai watched Yukie, brush flicking lines in his notebook: perhaps the first likeness drawn of a woman whose burden she concealed beneath the ice.
Suddenly, a low rumbling echoed from the northern slopes—the telltale hiss of shifting snow.
Kakashi stiffened. "Get ready. That's—"
Before he could finish, a white avalanche thundered down toward the set. Sasuke whipped out his sword, Sakura and Sai yanked Yukie behind a jutting camera sled. Kakashi spun through rapid hand signs—"Earth Style: Rising Wall!"—and a barrier of ice and stone shot up before the crew.
Yet even that wouldn't have been enough. Minato, unseen, wove his own silent sign. The swirling snow veered, unnatural, as a precise Wind Release burst from his hidden perch—redirecting the avalanche just left of the cowering crew. The ice roared past, leaving only a haze of spray. Team 7, blinking, stared at their miracle.
"A hot spring goddess," Ken whispered, as if to comfort himself.
Kakashi frowned, the old itch at the back of his neck returning. Something's here, he thought. But Minato was gone—already moving, already shadow, a flicker among the snow-cloaked branches.
* * *
Night fell.
Warmth returned in flickers around the campfire. Sakura gently applied liniment to Yukie's wrist, murmuring, "You really were brave today. It's okay to rest—let us handle the danger."
"I never wanted this role—any of it. I wish life were simpler." Sakura squeezed her hand gently. "Sometimes the hardest roles are the ones that find us, not the ones we choose."
Elsewhere, Sai offered Kakashi a quick sketch of the unusual scene. "If you'd like to review my surveillance impressions, Kakashi-senpai…"
Kakashi peered at the drawing, smirking. "Not bad. Next time, draw me with a more heroic jawline."
Sai tilted his head, mock-serious. "I draw what I observe." Kakashi chuckled, shading his eye with the beanie's edge, then grew quietly alert as he sensed something in the distance.
Sasuke, stationed on the edge of the camp, called quietly to Sakura, "Stay near Yukie. If anything happens, get behind the tent.
Sakura nodded, "You be careful too, Sasuke-kun." The air between them hummed with tension—and trust.
***
When the enemy struck, the team was ready as one. Kakashi's arms flashed with kunai, Sasuke's sword met armor with a crash of sparks, Sai's ink tigers snarled, Sakura shielded Yukie with outstretched arms. Yukie, that night, realized these were not merely actors in her film—but fierce protectors, risking all for her safety.
And unseen, high above, Minato in the mask watched, ever ready to descend from the shadows should everything depend on it.