"What's the problem? They don't know we're here anyway."
The youngest Hatake muttered under his breath, clearly irritated.
"Don't know?" the squad leader snapped, voice sharp as a kunai's edge. "We're surrounded by at least six shinobi right now. You really think ignorance is a strategy?"
The man—Hatake Ming—felt a chill crawl up his spine. He'd heard rumors about the Amamiya clan—how a no-name family clawed its way up during the Warring States era, even defeating the Kaguya in open war. He'd dismissed it as campfire talk. But the silent pressure around them now, those unseen presences watching from the dark—yeah. The stories didn't sound so far-fetched anymore.
"Encircled?" the three younger Hatake turned in alarm, scanning the trees, but they saw nothing. The silence felt heavy. They didn't doubt their captain's instinct. If the hidden Amamiya assassins chose to act, they'd never even realize they were dead.
The group shut up quickly, their earlier arrogance gone. Even the air here felt predatory.
High above, masked figures moved silently through the branches, watching. They didn't attack—just observed. When the four Hatake finally crossed the outer forest, the watchers faded away.
The reason was simple: those Anbu were assigned only to patrol the perimeter. Beyond the trees lay the true boundary of Amamiya territory—an invisible tripwire that any outsider would trigger.
Hatake Ming sensed their presence vanish and frowned. He didn't understand why until the next moment—when dozens of shadows erupted from the forest, forming a circle around them.
"Hatake clan shinobi," a voice called, calm but laced with steel. A tall Amamiya Jōnin stepped forward, eyes unreadable. "State your purpose here."
Ming raised his hands slightly in peace. "We come on behalf of the Hatake clan to request an audience with Amamiya-sama."
The Jōnin nodded curtly. "Then you will be escorted. Follow me."
No hostility, but no trust either. The Amamiya kept their formation tight as they moved. Ming noticed it—the discipline, the synchronization. These weren't scattered survivors anymore. They moved like a military unit.
When the group reached the clan's defensive line, Ming's expression hardened. A massive wooden barrier stood before them, thick enough to withstand siege jutsu. He hadn't expected a smaller clan to build something like this.
After a quick signal at the gate, they were allowed through. Inside, Ming was surprised again—another forest. The wall didn't guard the village center but ringed an entire buffer zone. A defensive design straight out of a strategist's mind.
He followed quietly until a faint noise reached his ears. Laughter. Commerce. Human life.
The forest opened up into a bustling street lined with stalls, banners fluttering in the wind. Merchants, wanderers, and ninja from all sorts of clans mingled here—trading, chatting, laughing.
"This is…" Ming stopped walking. His jaw tightened. The Amamiya clan had created something completely alien to the Warring States era—peace.
Different clan symbols mixed freely, even children running about without fear of whose banner their parents served. No walls between houses, no guards glaring at every stranger. It wasn't an alliance camp. It was a community.
"This… isn't a clan compound," Ming whispered. "It's a village."
As they walked deeper, he saw homes side by side—Ueshi, Hanabira, Katori, and more. No towering gates, no fortifications. Just fences and gardens. The great clans actually lived together, almost like comrades.
In any other era, it would've been impossible. Here, it was simply normal.
Then came the sound of a bell. Children burst from a large building, their laughter spilling into the street. Their clothes and headbands bore different clan crests—or none at all.
They played together. No fear, no rivalry. Just kids.
Ming couldn't help asking, "What is that place? Why are all those children gathered?"
The Amamiya Jōnin glanced over. "That's our ninja school. Every family here—Amamiya or otherwise—sends their children to study together. They grow up as comrades, not enemies."
"Ninja… school?" Ming repeated softly, the words tasting strange in his mouth. Then, realization hit him. His eyes widened with awe—and envy.
A place where children of rival clans trained side by side. A generation raised without hatred.
No wonder wanderers and traders came here. No wonder the clan prospered.
For the first time, Hatake Ming understood why the Amamiya had survived. Not through bloodlines or miracles—but by doing the unthinkable.
They'd built the future.