After spreading the rumor using the Transformation Technique, Ken didn't wait around.
That would've been stupid.
If he lost even once, he wouldn't be earning money. He'd be paying it.
So he trained.
Not taijutsu. Not endurance. Not flashy combinations. He focused on one thing.
The mud ball.
The moment in Nakamura Village replayed in his mind again and again. The rogue's smirk. The raised kunai. The certainty that Ken was finished.
And then—
No hand seals.
No preparation.
Just chakra moving before thought caught up.
It had caught the rogue completely off guard and ended the fight.
At the time, Ken had been trying anything just to survive. Luck had played a part too. The mud ball had been smeared with blood, making it look like spit.
He hadn't tried training it earlier. Techniques without hand seals were known to be extremely hard and dangerous.
But now, that excuse didn't sit right.
He'd done it once.
"If it happened once," he muttered, "it can happen again."
By the time they reached the training field, the crowd had doubled.
Genin lined the edges, some sitting on the fence, others standing on tiptoe. Whispers overlapped, names passed around, bets quietly exchanged.
Ken and the bulky genin stood at the center.
The bulky genin rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck like he was about to put on a show.
"So," he said loudly, spreading his arms, "you're really gonna pretend you're something special in front of all these people?"
A few laughs rippled through the crowd.
Ken didn't react.
The bulky genin smirked and continued, voice rising. "Let me guess. You're gonna pull some cheap trick, then run your mouth about—"
"Are you ready?" Ken asked.
The bulky genin blinked. "…What?"
Ken met his eyes. "To start."
The crowd quieted.
The bulky genin's face reddened. "Tch. Fine. Don't cry when—"
He never finished the sentence.
Ken moved.
Not with Body Flicker. Not yet. Just a sharp step forward that closed the distance faster than expected. The bulky genin reacted late, swinging wide, trying to overwhelm with strength.
Ken slipped past the edge of the punch and drove a kick into the man's thigh.
Solid.
The bulky genin grunted and staggered back half a step, surprise flashing across his face.
"Lucky hit," he snarled, charging again.
Ken retreated just enough to bait him. Another heavy swing. Another miss.
The bulky genin was strong. No question about that. Each blow kicked up dust, forced air to snap. But his movements were linear. Predictable.
Ken's eyes tracked everything.
When the third punch came, Ken ducked low and swept the man's leg. The bulky genin crashed to one knee with a curse.
Before he could recover, a kunai flashed into Ken's hand.
"Hey—no weapons!" someone shouted.
Ken didn't throw it.
He tapped the flat of the blade lightly against the bulky genin's throat.
The field went silent.
Ken stepped back and lowered the kunai.
The gap between someone who had fought bandits alone, sparred daily with the Blue Beast of Konoha, and a confident but ordinary genin was painfully clear.
The bulky genin's chest heaved. Anger burned in his eyes now, not confidence.
"You think that means you won?" he snapped, forcing himself upright.
Ken tilted his head. "No."
He took another step back, hands empty, posture relaxed.
"It means you should try harder."
The crowd erupted.
The bulky genin roared and rushed forward again, chakra flaring visibly this time.
Ken inhaled.
Now.
He formed half a seal—
Then stopped.
Chakra surged anyway.
A compact mud ball shot forward, low and fast.
The bulky genin barely had time to react before it slammed into his midsection, knocking the wind out of him and sending him skidding across the dirt.
Shock rippled through the crowd.
Ken didn't chase.
The bulky genin struggled to his knees, coughing, eyes wide with disbelief.
"…What the hell was that?" someone whispered.
Ken exhaled slowly, the corner of his mouth lifting despite himself.