"Master Amamiya Raizen has returned."
The announcement hit the meeting hall like a bell. The Amamiya ninja snapped to attention; even the lowest guards straightened. Raizen stepped in, dust on his boots, the scar at his jaw still tender where Tokusei's dying jutsu had struck. He felt it—this room no longer treated him as 'that kid'. Reputation is a contagious thing.
Miyame and Matsuo-san were already there, faces drawn. Raizen slid into a seat and glanced at them. "What's the situation?"
Matsuo-san's answer landed like a stone. "Senju, Uchiha and Hakata — they've erupted into open conflict."
Raizen blinked. He'd expected the big clans to clash someday; he hadn't expected the storm to break this soon. The Yuyi clan had only just taken punishment; they shouldn't be ready to ignite full-scale war so quickly.
Miyame continued, breath tight. "The Hyūga have mobilized to contain the fallout. Their support for Ueshi has been withdrawn."
That was the pivot. Raizen folded his hands, thinking three moves ahead. "Meaning the Ueshi clan is vulnerable."
"Exactly." Matsuo-san spread a crude map on the table. "After Ueshi Tokusei's death, they pulled three Jōnin to guard the Tiannan vein. Add the local guards—about thirty trained shinobi and over a hundred regular sentries."
Raizen tapped the map, eyes cold. "Three Jōnin." He considered it then shrugged with that lazy, dangerous grin of his. "They can be handled."
Miyame's excitement was obvious—hope is as intoxicating as victory. "If the Jōnin are pinned, the rest fall apart. We hit the vein hard and fast; I can deploy detonating clay to sow chaos and force them into disarray. You strike while they're scrambling."
Matsuo-san stiffened. "Bomb a mineral vein? The Tiannan vein is valuable—symbolic and practical. Damaging it risks everything."
"It won't be wrecked," Raizen said bluntly. "Just enough noise, smoke, and panic to break the defenders' nerves. Think of it as a psychological opening—scare tactics, not scorched-earth." He met Matsuo-san's eyes. "Tiannan intact, but their formation broken."
After a long beat, Matsuo-san nodded. "Understood. If you insist, then tonight."
Raizen's smile went thin and sharp. "Tonight. We strike at dusk. Make it fast, leave them nothing to rally around."
They spent the rest of the afternoon finalizing roles. Miyame coordinated the Amamiya Chūnin, Matsuo-san handled logistics and messengers, and Raizen mapped precise entry points for his Flying Thunder strikes. When the meeting broke, the hall hummed—not with celebration, but with tense, predatory focus. A clan ready to take the initiative is dangerous; a clan that moves at night is lethal.
Raizen lingered over the map a moment longer, thinking of Tokusei's dying grin and the way the Ueshi would look when their front line crumbled. Tonight would be a message: strike while your enemy bleeds, before their allies can stitch them back together.