The bonfire from the night before had long gone cold, and dawn crept across the Amamiya compound like a slow, reluctant tide. The wandering ninjas—now officially part of the clan—stirred awake beneath canvas tents and rough blankets, faces still half-lit by fading embers.
I'd barely gotten two days of rest before Yamamoto-san came knocking, all polite smiles and paperwork that reeked of responsibility.
So much for reincarnator privileges.
The clan was moving again. Four years of rebuilding after the last war, and now the Amamiya were ready to expand their borders. Problem was, someone else had noticed.
The Kaguya Clan, proud and violent as ever, had returned from exile and set their eyes on Uisei City—our stronghold, the beating heart of the Amamiya's revival. The new Kaguya patriarch apparently saw its prosperity and thought, "Yeah, I'll take that."
Typical.
But even a big clan needs an excuse to start a war. So, a few months back, a Kaguya trade caravan was ambushed near Yicheng. Their men were slaughtered. Conveniently, they blamed us.
Negotiations? A joke.
They dragged on for months until the Kaguya finally started "mobilizing defensive forces"—the kind of phrase that really means get your kunai ready.
Now rumor said they were preparing a full offensive.
Even if the Kaguya weren't as famous as the Senju or Uchiha, they were still a heavyweight—Shadow-level elders, half a dozen elite jōnin, and more trained shinobi than our entire clan combined. Against that kind of wall, the Amamiya couldn't stand alone.
So the Patriarch, Amamiya Gen, did what any pragmatic leader would do—he sought allies.
Two small families, both bullied by the Kaguya: the Daitō Clan (大道一族) and the Hanagata Clan (花形一族).
Together, maybe we could make enough noise to keep from being erased.
When I heard all that, I couldn't help muttering, "Guess I missed quite the party while I was gone."
The Kaguya used to serve under the Fire Daimyō, even allied with the Hyūga. But after losing too many wars, they were exiled to the Land of Water. This was before that happened—before their bloodlust finally burned them from the map.
Which meant we were facing the Kaguya at their most dangerous: proud, desperate, and bored.
Kuze-san, the logistics officer, handed me a mission scroll. "Since you've returned, Raizen-kun, the Patriarch wants you to handle this one personally."
I took a glance. Escort mission.
"Supplies to the Daitō and Hanagata allies."
I almost whistled. The list was ridiculous—armor, detonation tags, medicine, food rations, even chakra-conductive metal for weapon forging. That wasn't an aid shipment; it was a lifeline.
Kuze-san sighed. "The Kaguya have already sent covert teams against us. We need to strengthen our allies before open war begins."
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "We're really sending all this out before a battle? We might as well attach a note saying 'please attack us.'"
But I got it. If the Daitō and Hanagata fell, the Kaguya would focus everything on us. The Patriarch wasn't being generous—he was buying time.
"I'll take it," I said, rolling up the scroll. "When do we leave?"
"Today. The Kaguya could strike within the week."
Figures. No rest for the newly reincarnated.
By afternoon, the courtyard buzzed with movement. Carts loaded with crates rolled toward the main gate, guards checked seals, and shinobi tested their weapons.
Beside me stood Hatake Gintama—silver-haired, quiet, and far too composed for someone who'd just joined us. He was leading the other convoy heading to the Daitō Clan.
We exchanged a nod. No speeches. Just that silent understanding between men who've seen too many fights and expect another one soon.
When the last crate was loaded, I gave the signal. "Move out!"
The wheels creaked forward, carrying our supplies—and possibly our survival—out of Uisei's gates.
Behind us, Amamiya Gen watched from the ramparts, his face unreadable. He knew what I knew: once we delivered these supplies, there was no turning back. The moment we sided with the Daitō and Hanagata, war with the Kaguya became inevitable.
But the Amamiya couldn't retreat.
Uisei was our lifeline—our gold mine, our home.
We'd built it from ash, and no ancient bloodline was going to take it.
As our convoy vanished down the dirt road, I caught myself glancing back at the village—at the smoke rising from forges, the chatter of young shinobi training in the yards.
All that noise, all that fragile peace.
"Guess this is it," I muttered. "The calm before the storm."
And deep down, I already knew—
once the Kaguya's banners appeared on the horizon, nothing would be the same again.