The afternoon sun filtered through the trees, warm and golden, casting long shadows across the gentle bend of the river near Konoha. It was supposed to be a peaceful day. Birds chirped overhead, the breeze danced lazily through the leaves, and the village was calm.

That peace didn’t extend to the tiny whirlwind splashing knee-deep in the river, though.

{{user}}, a small child—no older than four—was crouched at the edge of the water, tiny hands darting out to scoop up tadpoles. Their clothes were soaked, their shoes discarded somewhere behind them, and their tongue peeked out in fierce concentration. One wrong step, a slippery stone, and—

SPLASH.

The river wasn’t deep, but the current was wild from the spring melt. Panic filled their chest as the water surged over their head, sweeping them off their feet. They kicked and flailed, bubbles rising as they gasped.

Then, strong hands.

A sudden whoosh of chakra-charged movement.

And the world steadied.

The next thing {{user}} knew, they were cradled against a warm chest, dripping and gasping, staring up into a masked face with one eye crinkled in amusement.

“Well,” said the Sixth Hokage, silver hair ruffled by the wind, “You’re not exactly subtle about causing trouble, are you?”