"Patriarch," Raizen began, meeting Amamiya Gen's gaze, "as our clan grows, it's only natural we'll need to accept outsiders. And the best candidates are wandering ninja. They've got no roots, no clan loyalty to bind them elsewhere. Their devotion can be cultivated here, slowly—deliberately."
He paused, eyes steady. "Most of them have been drifting for years, living job to job. What they want now isn't money—it's stability. If we give them that, they'll protect it. They'll protect us."
A low murmur swept through the meeting hall. The air smelled faintly of ink, parchment, and smoke from the braziers. Amamiya Gen leaned back, arms folded.
"Raizen," the patriarch said evenly, "you speak as if loyalty can be grown like rice in a field. But you and I both know that wanderers are quick to run when things get hard."
He wasn't wrong. Free spirits didn't like chains—and a clan, for all its warmth, was still a system of oaths and control. Most wandering ninja worked for coin, not conviction. If a mission turned suicidal, they'd vanish before sunrise. And if too many of them failed to finish jobs, the Amamiya name itself would rot from within.
Raizen's face hardened. "I know that, Patriarch. But we can't afford to stand still because we're afraid. Our clan's numbers are limited. If we don't grow, we'll die out like any other forgotten name from this era."
He straightened, voice rising slightly. "The Senju and Uchiha can afford pride. We can't. So yes—even if they're flawed, we need them. And if we treat them sincerely, they'll repay it the same way."
Silence fell across the chamber. The weight of his words pressed against every wall. Everyone knew the truth: the Amamiya clan was holding its breath between survival and extinction.
Amamiya Gen's gaze drifted over the gathered shinobi. For a long moment, no one spoke. Then, with a sigh, he stood.
"Raizen is right," he said quietly, his tone carrying through the hall. "For our clan to thrive, we must learn to open our doors—to those willing to bleed beside us, not just those born among us. The wandering ninja brought by Raizen will be slowly integrated into the clan. From this day forward, treat them as brothers and sisters."
A chorus of "Yes, Patriarch!" rang out, echoing like steel on stone.
As the crowd dispersed, Gen stopped Raizen with a small gesture. "Stay. I'd speak with you."
Raizen blinked, a little cautious. "Is something wrong, Patriarch?"
Gen shook his head. "No. Just curiosity." He studied the young man's face—a mix of youthful calm and something sharper beneath. "You've grown stronger these past years, that much is obvious. But your mind… it's what I can't see through. You scheme for the clan's sake, but there's something else, isn't there? A greater reason?"
Raizen tilted his head. "A reason?"
"I can feel it," Gen said softly. "You're racing toward something. I want to know why."
Raizen fell silent. Then he laughed quietly, like a man suddenly tired of pretending. "Patriarch… do you have a dream?"
Gen blinked, then smiled faintly. "A dream? Hah… at my age, we call it faith. Mine is simple—to make the Amamiya a first-class clan before I die."
That much, Raizen had expected. The old man had always burned with that quiet determination.
"So what about you, Raizen?" Gen asked. "What's your dream?"
Raizen looked up, eyes distant but unwavering. "To end this era."
Gen's smile faltered. "End… the Warring States?"
"This world's been drowning in blood for too long," Raizen said. "Children die before they can even read their names. Families burn for contracts. It's madness, Patriarch. Someone has to stop it. I don't know how yet, but… I want to be that someone."
He closed his fist slowly. "I'll build a place where shinobi don't need to kill just to eat. A village where we can talk, work, and grow without knives at each other's throats. Accepting these wandering ninja—that's my first step."
Gen stared at him for a long time. "…A village?"
The word hung in the air, strange and heavy. His voice softened. "That's… quite the dream."
Raizen smirked faintly. "Maybe. But if I don't chase it, who will?"
Gen exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "You're a strange one, Raizen. Stranger than I'll ever understand. But… I see it now."
He smiled, weary but proud. "Keep chasing it. Don't let the world crush that fire, even if it tries."
Raizen bowed. "Then I'll keep walking, Patriarch."
When he left the hall, Gen's gaze lingered on his back—straight, determined, already carrying the weight of something far beyond the clan.
Outside, the sky was deepening to dusk. Raizen walked toward the quarters where the wandering ninja were held, their nerves surely wound tight under surveillance.
"Stabilize the people first," he muttered to himself. "Dreams can wait till tomorrow."