The Kaguya Clan had fallen from grace. Once a mighty force of over three thousand shinobi, they now barely numbered a thousand. The proud war banners that once made nations tremble had been reduced to rags fluttering over burned-out ruins. Their arrogance survived longer than their strength, and for now, that lingering reputation was the only thing keeping scavengers away.
For everyone else, it meant caution.
For me—Amamiya Raizen—it meant opportunity.
History loves a scavenger who knows when to bite.
The Amamiya Clan had carved its way up from nothing, and the Kaguya's downfall was the perfect stepping stone. If I could absorb their lands, their industries, and what was left of their people, the Amamiya name would jump from minor clan to major power overnight.
They had ten times our wealth. Ten times our land. And right now, zero sense of direction.
Still, even a dying beast can tear out your throat. Underestimating them would be suicide.
"The dead camel's still bigger than the horse," I muttered, staring down at the map on my desk. "But that just means more meat to carve."
The Kaguya still had over a thousand battle-ready ninja and a strong foundation. Their overall strength still surpassed the three-clan alliance we'd built with the Hanabira and Daitō. To fight them without care would be to drown in our own blood.
But the Kaguya were no longer gods. They bled, just like the rest of us.
And if I wanted to build something that could stand beside the Uchiha or Senju one day, this was the moment to strike.
I called for Amamiya Itsuo, my right-hand man. "Send word. Summon every clan leader and wandering ninja under our banner. We're holding a full council."
Itsuo blinked. "All of them, Raizen-sama? Even the Hanabira and Daitō?"
"Especially them," I said. "It's time we talked about war."
Word spread like wildfire. Across the campfires of the allied clans, whispers started to swirl.
"Why is the Amamiya patriarch calling a meeting again?"
"Think it's about trade?"
"No. It's war. Has to be."
When the three clans gathered, the hall was packed — over two thousand shinobi, each armed, each wary. Their eyes darted between one another; alliances built from fear were fragile things.
At the front, I sat between the Hanabira patriarch and the Daitō patriarch. Both looked uneasy, hands folded like men sitting in front of a loaded kunai.
"Everyone," I began, my tone steady. "We're here to discuss one matter — the Kaguya Clan."
The words fell heavy. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The Hanabira patriarch frowned.
"What about them?" someone called out. "We already beat them back. Isn't that enough?"
I almost laughed. "Enough? The Kaguya attacked us twice. Burned our homes, slaughtered our scouts, and treated our people like pests. Now they're weak, fractured, and hiding behind the ashes of their own pride. And you're satisfied?"
Silence. Only the crackle of torches answered.
"So here's what I propose," I said. "We end them. Completely."
The room froze. Even the air seemed to stop moving.
Hanabira's patriarch, Takumi-san, stood abruptly, his chair scraping the floor. "Have you lost your mind, Raizen-sama? The Kaguya may have fallen, but they're still stronger than all three of our clans combined! Do you want us to be wiped out?"
"Funny," I said, leaning back. "I don't remember the 'stronger' side winning last time. Or did your memory vanish along with your backbone?"
The insult hit hard. Takumi-san turned red but couldn't argue. Because I was right — we'd beaten them. Barely, bloodily, but we had.
The crowd's mood shifted. A few heads nodded. Eyes sharpened.
I pressed on. "They're not gods. They're just people with old bones and too much pride. We've faced them before and lived. This time, we finish it — and build something worth bleeding for."
Someone shouted, "But defending is different from attacking!"
"Exactly," I said. "That's why I'm giving you a choice."
I looked straight at the other patriarchs. "Hanabira Clan. Daitō Clan. You can stand with us, or stand aside. The Amamiya will move forward regardless."
The Hanabira chief opened his mouth, but I cut him off.
"No one's forcing you. Stay behind if you like. But remember this—while you hide and lick your wounds, someone else will claim the Kaguya's lands, their trade, their glory. And you'll still be living under our shadow."
The Daitō patriarch sighed heavily, avoiding my gaze. The Hanabira chief clenched his jaw, silent. Neither agreed. Neither refused.
Fine. I didn't need them.
"The Amamiya Clan begins war preparations today," I declared. "We march soon."
The Amamiya shinobi stood and saluted as one. "Yes, Patriarch!"
Their voices shook the hall like a drumbeat. The others said nothing, but the fire in my people's eyes was enough.
If the Hanabira and Daitō wanted to crawl behind walls, let them. I'd turn this war into the forge that would burn weakness out of the Amamiya name forever.
Time to remind the world: even forgotten clans can rise again.