Amamiya Raizen wanted to help Hatake Gintama reclaim his clan's leadership—but openly marching into another clan's politics was suicide.
Among shinobi, meddling in another clan's internal struggle was the same as declaring war. So, he'd follow Gintama quietly. Shadows were safer than banners.
"I wonder," Gintama muttered, his voice low and worn, "how exactly does the great patriarch plan to help me?"
Raizen smirked faintly. The man looked like a soldier who'd run out of wars—except the one dragging him back home. "You'll return first," Raizen said. "I'll take care of Amamiya matters and come when it counts. When you call, our support will hit like a hammer."
Gintama nodded slowly. "Then we'll call that an agreement."
When the deal was sealed, Raizen turned his clan's affairs over to the elders. Gintama, meanwhile, followed Hatake Ming down the dirt road leading to the southeastern borderlands of the Land of Fire—the territory of the Hatake Clan.
The Hatake were once samurai, and it showed. Patrols moved in neat formations, armor plates gleaming faintly under the misty dawn. Blades hung at their sides instead of kunai. The smell of steel and oiled leather hung in the air.
But when Gintama and Ming crossed into the clan's outskirts, a group of armed samurai immediately surrounded them. Their leader stepped forward, hand resting on his sword.
"Hatake Gintama," he barked, "betrayer of the clan! By order of Patriarch Hatake Resuke, you're to be seized and thrown into the dungeon to await judgment!"
The ring of steel filled the air as they moved in—
until a booming voice shattered the tension.
"Let me see who dares to touch him!"
From the treeline emerged another Hatake group—this one in ninja flak, not armor. The difference was night and day. The first were samurai, rigid and proud; the newcomers were shinobi, eyes sharp and restless.
"Three Elders," one of the samurai spat, glaring at the leading ninja. "You dare defy the patriarch's command?"
The elder chuckled darkly. "Defy Resuke? Let the old fossil try and stop me."
"You—!" the samurai leader began, but when more Hatake shinobi gathered behind the elder, he faltered. After a cold snort, he backed away, muttering, "Fine. Enjoy your rebellion. The patriarch will have your heads."
Watching the exchange, Gintama's face hardened.
The clan was worse than he'd imagined. Elders ignoring the patriarch, clansmen ignoring their elders—the Hatake clan had become a battlefield of ideologies. Samurai versus ninja, tradition versus survival.
The Third Elder laughed, voice echoing through the wind. "Resuke's finished! His samurai pride is dragging us into the grave. Our ninja faction grows stronger every day. Your return, Gintama, just tipped the scales!"
"Three Elder," Hatake Ming warned sharply, "watch your tongue. The patriarch is still the patriarch."
The elder waved him off. "Spare me the samurai sermon. Loyalty's a word for fools." Then, with a sharp gesture, he led the group deeper into the compound.
Word spread fast. By the time Gintama reached the inner grounds, every Hatake in the village knew—the Silver Wolf had returned.
He didn't visit his son immediately. Instead, he followed the elders into a dim, half-hidden meeting chamber. Flickering lamplight painted weary faces in gold and shadow.
Meanwhile, far across the estate, the samurai who'd tried to arrest Gintama knelt before the aging patriarch.
"Patriarch Resuke, Gintama has returned. The Three Elders are gathering ninja in secret."
The old man barely reacted. "I see."
"Patriarch!" the samurai cried out. "You must act! If Gintama returns, the ninja faction will replace you!"
Resuke's eyes clouded. "Replace me…" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. With a tired wave, he dismissed the messenger.
When the chamber emptied, the patriarch sat motionless. Pain flickered across his face, gone as quickly as it came.
He had once believed strength and honor could coexist. Now, his clan was tearing itself apart in the name of both.
While Resuke remained silent, the other side moved.
In a secluded hall, the Hatake ninja gathered under the banner of change. When Gintama entered, every eye turned to him—the prodigal son, the strongest of his generation, the one they once called "White Fang's Shadow."
For them, his return wasn't nostalgia. It was hope sharpened into a blade.
...
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