A week passed.
Ken won his matches cleanly, juggling a few D-rank missions in between. Between that and the bets, he managed to save enough to keep up with the medicinal baths.
For now.
But now that his strength was known, most genin had started avoiding him. Fighting him didn't hurt their reputation anymore, but it definitely hurt their wallets.
Huh… Ken thought with a rueful smile. I really need to find a team. At this rate, I'll be facing money problems again in a few weeks.
"Are you Ken?"
The voice came from behind him.
Ken turned calmly, already used to the routine.
There was even a faint spark of interest in his eyes.
Then his eye twitched.
The girl stood a few steps away, dark hair framing a sharp, unreadable face. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't posturing. She was simply watching him.
That alone wouldn't have been unusual.
Her eyes were.
A single tomoe spun slowly within them.
Uchiha.
Ken's lips curled upward.
So the real players are here.
Before she could speak again, he shifted his stance, weight settling naturally.
"Are we fighting?" he asked, his voice almost eager.
Her gaze sharpened.
She moved.
Her kunai flashed as she lunged forward, low and fast, posture tight and efficient. No wasted motion.
Ken's grin widened as he pushed off the ground to meet her head-on.
Metal rang sharply as their weapons collided mid-stride.
Sparks burst between them.
They broke apart in the same breath they'd met.
Ken slid back half a step, forming seals as he moved. The girl's hands mirrored his, smooth and practiced—but Ken's seals finished first.
A compact mud ball launched from Ken's mouth. A heartbeat later, a fireball bloomed from hers. The techniques collided violently, exploding into smoke and dirt that rolled outward in a thick cloud.
Ken didn't hesitate.
Shuriken flicked from his fingers as he split into multiple clones, the figures spreading out in a loose arc around the smoke.
Let's see how much you can track.
The girl stepped forward without slowing. Her eye spun once.
The shuriken were deflected almost lazily. When the clones closed in, she snapped her wrist and hurled a volley of kunai, each thrown at a slightly different angle, colliding mid-air and reinforcing their trajectories.
Ken's smirk deepened.
He slammed his foot down.
The ground surged as a wall of earth rose sharply, intercepting the kunai mid-flight. Without stopping, Ken vaulted upward, using the wall as a springboard.
For an instant, several Kens hung in the air above her.
Her hands moved again.
The tomoe in her eye spun faster.
Ken flickered.
The clones vanished at once, reappearing around her in a rough circle. One darted in and slashed. Then another. Shallow cuts opened across her arm and shoulder, blood spotting the dirt.
She didn't move.
Didn't even let out a cry.
Then her gaze snapped sideways.
Straight into his eyes.
Shit—
The world lurched.
Roots tore out of the ground, coiling around Ken's legs and arms and yanking him down hard. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. Ken forced chakra through his system, disrupting it violently.
The illusion shattered.
Too late.
A kunai pressed lightly against his throat.
Ken lay there for a second, chest heaving, staring up at her.
Her eye was still spinning. Calmly.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Ken laughed.
Not a short laugh. Not nervous.
A full, unrestrained laugh that echoed across the field.
He gently pushed the kunai aside and stood, brushing dirt from his clothes. His ribs ached. His chakra felt tight. His grin was wide.
"How did you notice?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"Clones don't cast shadows," she replied calmly then flexed her Sharingan. "Your movement might fool others. Not me."
Ken's grin widened further.
"Next time," he said lightly, almost cheerfully, "I'll win."
Her eye narrowed slightly.
Before she could respond, Ken stepped back—
—and vanished.