Three days after Amamiya Raizen became Patriarch, the clan finally began to move like a machine under repair — creaky, but alive. With help from Amamiya Kei and two senior aides, Raizen combed through every record, property, and squad roster until he could map the clan in his head like a game interface. Resources: low. Morale: unstable. Potential: dangerously high if handled right.
Once the numbers were clear, he called for his first clan assembly as Patriarch.
The entire Amamiya compound buzzed with tension. Veterans whispered, younger shinobi fidgeted, and the smarter ones already guessed what was coming — redistribution of power.
Everyone knew the rule of the Warring States: one Patriarch, one new order.
When Raizen finally entered the meeting hall, dressed in simple black, the room fell silent. Every ninja stood at once.
"Patriarch!" they chorused.
"Mm." Raizen's nod was curt, his expression unreadable. He walked up to the raised seat, sat, and surveyed them with steady eyes — the kind that saw through excuses and pride alike.
"Since taking this position," he began, "I've learned that running a clan isn't as simple as swinging a kunai. One wrong decision, and the whole structure collapses. So, to keep this family functioning, I'll be dividing authority through a new system — the Elder Council."
Murmurs erupted like sparks catching dry grass.
The Amamiya Clan had always run on direct command. No elder system, no council. Just one Patriarch, his captains, and whatever luck they could drag from the battlefield. The very idea of sharing authority was new — and dangerous.
"Patriarch," said Kei, rising slowly. "Our clan has always followed a single command structure. If power is divided too far, won't it weaken the chain of command?"
Raizen didn't even blink. "That's why the council answers only to me. The elders will have equal rank, but when there's disagreement, my word decides it. Simple hierarchy. No confusion."
He'd prepared that line days ago. Leadership wasn't about ideas; it was about timing.
The room quieted again. No one dared object further. Raizen continued.
"The clan will keep growing, and I won't always have time to micromanage supply routes or patrol rotations. If we want to survive, we need structure now — before chaos decides for us."
He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "Five elders. Five fronts: military coordination, intelligence, logistics, missions, and internal affairs."
The murmur returned — now curious, not fearful.
"Let's start with the Elder of the United Front," Raizen said. "Strength and leadership are mandatory."
He paused for effect, then spoke clearly. "I nominate Amamiya Wata."
A ripple went through the crowd.
"During the last war, when the Kaguya Clan attacked, he held the eastern flank alone. No reinforcements, no orders, no collapse. That kind of dominance earns respect — and results. Any objections?"
No one spoke.
One of the older shinobi nodded. "Amamiya Wata-sama would honor that role."
"Then it's settled." Raizen marked it mentally. One loyal veteran placed. Four seats left.
Next came the Intelligence position — the clan's blind spot. Raizen had no clear candidate. Information work wasn't exactly their strength.
"Suggestions?" he asked.
A hand rose. "Patriarch, I recommend Amamiya Yuki," said one ninja.
Raizen turned his gaze on the speaker. "Yuki?"
He remembered the name. A sensory-type kunoichi, Jōnin-level, usually handling supply escorts and recon routes. Sharp, steady, and oddly popular among the younger squads.
"I support Yuki-san as well!" another voice said. Then more joined in.
Raizen leaned back, thinking. The crowd was already tilting her way. Not a bad sign — but neutrality had been her stance under the previous Patriarch. Safe. Noncommittal.
He could feel every eye on him now. Everyone knew how this dance worked: no matter how much they "voted," the final decision rested entirely on Raizen's approval.
First moves matter, he thought. If I promote the wrong ally, the whole clan learns the wrong lesson.
Still, his gaze lingered on Yuki. Neutrality could be reshaped — loyalty could be built. And a sensory-type elder would strengthen their weak flank.
The hall stayed silent, waiting for his verdict.
Raizen finally spoke. "Noted." His tone was calm, unreadable. "We'll see if her record matches her reputation."
That single sentence sent a ripple of both relief and fear through the hall. Everyone understood the subtext: She's being tested. Hard.
Raizen rose from his seat. "We'll finalize the other positions tomorrow. For now—remember this. The Amamiya Clan doesn't need blind loyalty. It needs people who can think, fight, and endure. Those who can't do all three… won't stand beside me."
The torches flickered behind him as he turned and left, his black cloak stirring in the draft. For a long time, no one dared move.
That night, rumors spread like wildfire. Some said the new Patriarch was bold. Others whispered he was dangerous. Both were right.
Because for the first time in decades, the Amamiya Clan wasn't waiting for survival — it was preparing to rise.