Author's Note: Because I'm feeling particularly entitled. As always, thank you Alina for being an awesome beta.

Simple

by hermithole

Light slanted in through the cracks of the trees. At this proximity, he could see the enemy base, with tall sturdy blocks of concrete that lined the exterior and extended skyward, and spiky points of fence that stretched from end to end. The sight might have warded off a lesser man, but Hatake Kakashi was no lesser man and fear had never been his forte. He was an elite jounin, had been since he was twelve, with a lifetime of experience behind him to parry what was before him. That said, he was hungry. Really, really hungry. So hungry that he had a good mind to forgo the mission and traipse to the nearest store in search of a nice bowl of ramen and a nice bowl of miso soup.

With a side serving of tempura, he pictured himself telling the owner, make it nice and good.

Now was not the time to think such thoughts though, however pitchy the voice in his head was getting. Now was the time to concentrate on the mission before him, a mission that, if successful, could pay his rent, buy a lifetime supply of masks, and still had enough left over to take five girls out to dinner and attempted to not-foot the bill. He was a simple man, and bailing out on bills was one of the highlights of his sheltered life.

Sheltered life ha ha. The thought amused him, and Tsunade would probably kill him. The Hokage hated distractions during missions, especially where food was concerned, never mind that it was essential to his general well being. But Hatake Kakashi was not one to shy away from a challenge (except, perhaps, where footing the bill was concerned) and he decided that a silent rebellion was better than nothing at all.

Even if the rebellion was decidedly petty:

Ha.

Still very, very hungry.

With a sigh, he stepped through the clearing of the trees and strolled to the entrance, where three colossal guards stood, rigidly erect and blissfully monotonous.

"Hello, fellows." Besides being simple and hungry, Hatake Kakashi was also polite and amiable.

A moment passed as the guards stared at him. He could see the wheels turning in their heads, hear the creaking of the screws as they attempted to figure out who the hell he was, why he was wearing a mask, and more importantly, why his hair was in a bloody mess.

Obviously physique did not parallel intellect. It took all but thirty seconds (in which he considered walking back to Konoha, catching up on Icha Icha Chaos and perhaps grabbing a bite or two… or three) before the guard in the middle, with asymmetrical eyes and equally asymmetrical ears, finally shouted, "Shit, it's the Copy-Ninja Kakashi!"

At moments like this, do you say "Yes it is I, Copy-Ninja Kakashi!" or do you simply leap? Judging from the shuriken that was aiming for his eye, he decided to simply leap.

It was a precise science to evade them, he decided, a skill borne of meticulous planning and veracious farsightedness that taught him exactly when and how to move. Bodies clashed not a moment sooner than their heads, and the guards toppled over like daisies. They moved like packed mongrels, Kakashi decided in retrospect, packed mongrels that growled like sissies with remarkable aptitudes for toppling over like daisies.

"Shit," he said, for the drama factor.

The kunai aimed for his stomach conveniently missed his stomach by a few inches, darted into the trees far behind and conveniently disappeared. The guards growled again, which to his untrained ears sounded more like a hybrid between a disconcerting whine and an equally disconcerting bark, and charged at him. Hatake Kakashi had a good mind to whip out a red flag and whinny a "Here boy!" but Hatake Kakashi was also simple man who hated extravagance of any sort.

So he ducked.

It was all very convenient.

"I hate you," the guard with asymmetrical eyes said, lying on the floor, in a last-ditch attempt to rebel fate.

The mission was either too good to be true, or they weren't paying him enough.

"That's nice," Kakashi pocketed his kunai, bent down, unsheathed his hitai-ate and fixed his Sharingan onto the guard with asymmetrical eyes.

"Now if you will excuse me," he began, "but do you mind telling me where the nearest ramen store is or will I have to make sure you never see another day as a man?"

He waited patiently as the guard foamed at the mouth, attempted to swallow the foam and pointed at the clearing where the trees parted and the road began.

"Thank you," his eyes crinkled into a friendly smile.

Hatake Kakashi might be a hungry man, but he also knew his manners.

Life was good.