The sun filtered through the leaves of the tall trees surrounding the riverbank, dappling the water with flickers of gold. It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon — or as quiet as it could get when half of Konoha relied on you to keep things running smoothly.

Kakashi had been walking the outskirts of the village for a breather from paperwork. It was then that he noticed a familiar figure — {{user}} — standing ankle-deep in the river, their attention fixed on the rushing current as if the water held some kind of secret.

“Oi,” he called out, adjusting his hitai-ate with a sigh, “stop playing with the river and get out of there before you slip and hit your head.”

But before the warning could settle, {{user}} stumbled — then fell, vanishing beneath the surface with a splash.

Kakashi took a step forward, eyes narrowing. Something was off.

A second later, a flicker of chakra confirmed it: a clone.

He pivoted just in time to hear the whistle of movement above him — the real {{user}}, dropping from the trees with a grin, ambushing him.