Ken didn't go home.
He turned away from the main street and headed for the edge of the village, feet carrying him along a familiar route without conscious thought.
Training Ground Three sat close to the forest line, far enough that the noise of the village barely reached it. Trees pressed in from one side, shadows stretching long across the worn dirt. Most genin avoided it. Too far. Too quiet. Too easy to forget about.
That was why it had been left alone.
Ken stepped through the low fence and exhaled slowly.
This place had seen most of his early training. Long hours. Repetition. Mistakes made where no one was watching. The cracked wooden posts and uneven ground were exactly as he remembered.
Good.
He set his pack down and unrolled the scroll.
Earth Ears.
He knelt and placed a hand against the dirt.
Nothing happened.
Ken frowned and tried again, pushing chakra downward instead of outward. The sensation was strange. Not resistance, exactly. More like pressing into something that spread the pressure away.
Still nothing.
He sat back and stared at the ground.
A memory surfaced. Dropping stones into a river as a child. Watching the ripples spread outward, thinning as they traveled.
"…Waves," he muttered.
Ken leaned forward again.
This time, he didn't force chakra. He released it gently, letting it disperse instead of pushing it deep. The ground carried it outward, subtle and wide.
Something brushed the edge of his awareness.
He froze.
A faint vibration. Uneven. Moving.
Ken stayed still.
Another ripple reached him. Then another.
Footsteps.
Not close. Somewhere near the treeline.
A moment later, a small animal burst from the bushes and vanished deeper into the forest.
Ken blinked.
He tried again.
Each attempt taught him something. Too much chakra drowned everything out. Too little faded before it reached anything useful. Timing mattered. Breathing mattered. Staying still mattered.
Slowly, the sensations stopped feeling random.
They started forming a pattern.
Like a crude radar.
Ken lost track of time. Sweat darkened the dirt beneath him. His hands ached from staying pressed to the ground.
But the failures thinned out.
By the time the sun dipped lower, he could trigger the technique consistently. Every attempt gave him something. Direction. Distance. Movement.
Not detail.
But awareness.
Ken sat back and let out a long breath.
Entry.
Barely usable in real combat. Too slow. Too limited.
But it worked.
Every time.
He lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky through the gaps in the trees. For the first time since the mission, the tension in his shoulders eased.
He exhaled, slow and steady.
I chose right.
The technique wasn't flashy. It wouldn't win fights on its own. But it closed a gap he couldn't afford to ignore.
A small smile crept onto his face before he realized it.
Genuine.
Ken pushed himself up, brushed the dirt from his clothes, and took out his notebook. He added a short line and closed it again.
Sensory Jutsu: Earth Ears (Entry)
His gaze lingered on another line.
Body Flicker: Entry
Ken sighed.
He put the notebook away and stepped back onto the field.
Night was still young.