The alliance came together faster than I expected. Guess desperation makes for efficient negotiations.
After days of tense meetings, the three clan heads—myself, Patriarch Hanabira Shinji, and Patriarch Daitō Tokusei—stood on the edge of a sheer cliff overlooking a sea of trees. Morning mist curled like smoke over the forest floor.
"This place…" Tokusei muttered, folding his arms as he surveyed the valley below. "It's good. Defensible, fertile, close to trade routes."
Shinji nodded in approval. "Agreed. Our borders will all be within reach. A central position—balanced."
I gave a short nod, keeping my tone even. "Then it's settled. The new territory of our three clans will be established here."
Both men exchanged a look, and for the first time that week, their faces eased. Not much, but enough.
You could almost mistake it for trust. Almost.
The only real downside? Each clan would have to abandon their old holdings. Distance meant risk—supply lines, trade, communication—but in this era, nothing was safe anyway. The Amamiya clan had built itself on surviving bad bets. This one just happened to be bigger.
"My clan will begin preparations immediately," I said. "Construction, defenses, resource allocation. We'll take the lead."
Tokusei gave a weary smile. "Then we'll follow, Amamiya-dono. An alliance means shared burdens."
Hanabira Shinji inclined his head. "Once our internal matters are settled, we'll relocate."
"Understood." I bowed slightly. "Then from this day forward, may our clans move as one."
Their faces turned solemn. None of us said it out loud, but we all knew: once the banners were raised here, the world would start watching.
That evening, I returned to the Amamiya compound and issued my first command.
Relocation Order: Immediate.
The clansmen were confused, of course. Moving a whole family's worth of people, assets, and infrastructure wasn't something you did on a whim. But I wasn't asking. Orders were orders.
And if anyone doubted me, they hadn't survived enough wars.
The Stone Forest
I entered the stone forest before dawn, the air thick with fog and silence.
Thirty masked figures appeared around me in a blur, kneeling.
My Anbu. The backbone of our shadows.
"New order," I said, my voice low but steady. "Effective immediately, we're issuing a recruitment edict. You will monitor every new ninja who enters our ranks. If a spy slips through, you deal with it—quietly."
Thirty voices answered as one. "Understood!"
Then they vanished into the mist.
The Edict of Summoning
By noon, the new law was sent out:
Any ninja may seek residence within the Amamiya Clan—provided they meet three conditions.
No murderers or blood-drunk killers.
No fugitives hunted by major clans.
No unknown origins.
If they met those, they earned the right to live, to learn, and to fight under our banner.
Simple. Brutal. Fair.
The moment that decree hit the trade city of Uiseong, whispers spread like wildfire.
"The Amamiya are accepting outsiders?"
"They've gone insane."
"They'll be wiped out within a year."
Most clans scoffed. A few smirked. And somewhere in the shadows, I could already imagine the Uchiha and Senju taking notes, curious whether we'd rise or crumble.
The Flood
Within days, the southeast of the Fire Country was buzzing. Wandering ninjas—rogues, mercenaries, orphans—began flocking toward us.
Some wanted food. Some wanted purpose. Most just wanted to stop running.
The irony wasn't lost on me. A clan with no bloodline, no legendary heritage… becoming a shelter for those with nowhere else to go.
At first, it was chaos. Too many arrivals, too many unknowns. My head hurt from the paperwork alone.
We tightened the screening. Anbu shadows sifted through every applicant, uncovering spies faster than I could blink. A dozen infiltrators expelled in the first week. Dozens more after.
The rest? They passed.
Two hundred new shinobi. Mostly Genin-level, a few Chūnin, and—surprisingly—a handful of seasoned Jōnin. Not bad for a dying clan's gamble.
I didn't let them live within the main compound yet. Trust wasn't charity; it had to be earned.
So they trained outside our walls while Anbu eyes watched from above.
The message was clear:
Join the Amamiya, but understand this isn't a family—it's a warband. You pull your weight, or you vanish.
Echoes Across the Warring States
Word of our actions didn't stay local.
News of the Amamiya–Hanabira–Daitō Alliance and the defeat of the Kaguya Clan spread like wildfire.
"Three minor clans stood against the Kaguya?"
"And won?"
My name—Amamiya Raizen—began circulating through the continent like a rumor that refused to die.
A boy who led his forgotten clan to victory.
A strategist without a bloodline.
A new name whispered alongside Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara.
Ridiculous, really. Those two were giants. I was just someone too stubborn to stay buried.
Still… hearing it didn't hurt.
Maybe for once, the world was finally starting to look our way.