Branches cracked as a boy moved through the trees.
His landings were uneven, feet striking too hard, too loud. Leaves scattered and bark splintered where he pushed off, momentum carrying him forward whether he liked it or not. He corrected his balance midair, jaw tightening as he reached for the next branch.
Too slow.
Then his body flickered.
The shift was abrupt. Space folded poorly around him, his position snapping forward without precision. He reappeared half a step off, missed his footing, and dropped straight through the canopy.
Splash.
Cold water swallowed him.
Ken broke the surface with a sharp breath and shook his head, slicking his wet hair back. He floated for a moment, letting the river carry him while his chest rose and fell.
"…Still sloppy."
The words came out quietly, more tired than frustrated.
He stared up through the gaps in the leaves, watching sunlight ripple as the branches swayed above him. The Body Flicker always ended the same way. Too much chakra. Too little control.
"Output's the problem," he muttered. "Again."
Ken swam to the bank and pulled himself out. Water streamed down his bare upper body as he stood there, letting the feeling of failure settle without reacting to it. Getting angry wouldn't help. It never did.
The forest was calm. Almost peaceful.
That didn't mean anything.
The White Fang was dead.
Kakashi Hatake had already graduated.
People acted like those things were distant news, barely connected to everyday life. Ken knew better. Events like that didn't stay isolated for long. They rippled outward, quietly rearranging the future.
War never announced itself properly. It crept in after people relaxed.
He gathered his clothes and headed home.
The house sat on the outskirts of the village, far enough that noise faded quickly. It was old, sturdy in places that mattered, neglected in others. A small yard out front. A fence that leaned more than it should have.
Too much empty space.
Ken didn't linger. He washed up, ate a simple breakfast, and sat down at the table with a thin notebook. The cover was plain, corners worn from use.
He opened it.
Name: KenAge: 9Rank: Genin
Chakra: D+Chakra Control: Adept
Taijutsu:– Konoha Basic Style (Proficient)– Ninja Tool Throwing (Proficient)
Ninjutsu:– Mud Wall (Proficient)– Mud Ball (Proficient)– Three Basic Ninjutsu (Proficient)– Body Flicker (Entry)
Genjutsu: None
Ken closed the notebook and rested his palm on the cover.
A year ago, on the day his father died, his memories had returned.
Not all at once. Just enough to make everything feel wrong.
Another life. Another world. Knowledge that didn't belong to this body but refused to leave it. At first, he had panicked. Tried to make sense of it. Tried to trigger something. Anything.
Nothing answered.
No voice. No system. No convenient explanation.
Eventually, he stopped waiting.
The notebook wasn't special. It didn't make him stronger. It didn't promise anything. It was just a way to stay grounded. To measure progress without lying to himself.
His chakra control was decent. Better than most his age. Everything else was average. No bloodline techniques. No exceptional physique. His body didn't feel like it belonged to someone destined for greatness.
That was fine.
What mattered was that his memories hadn't vanished.
Whatever aptitude he'd had before came with them. Not enough to make him stand out. Enough to understand mistakes and correct them faster than most.
Ken stood and tucked the notebook away.
He couldn't afford to waste time.
Outside, the village was already awake. Voices carried faintly on the wind, ordinary and unbothered. He closed the door behind him and stepped forward.
There was work to do.