The last Jōnin of the Ueshi clan stared at the devastation around him, a flicker of despair in his eyes. Without Raizen's intervention, the Amamiya clan's rear would almost certainly have been wiped out—eighty percent chance, by his reckoning. But that wasn't the story tonight. The Ueshi strike force, aiming to destroy the Amamiya from within, had been slaughtered, their elite strength buried in the very heart of the Amamiya estate.
Centuries of pride, strategy, and survival had collapsed in an instant. The Ueshi clan, once unbroken across a hundred years of Warring States, now faced its first true reckoning.
"What… what's the meaning of my life?" the Jōnin screamed into the night sky, fury twisting into despair. Surrounded, he lifted his blade to his own neck, slicing through and ending himself in a spray of crimson.
The Amamiya shinobi paused, staring at the fallen enemy. Hatred didn't erase respect—both clans were small, resilient families fighting every day just to survive. Witnessing the annihilation of a fellow ninja, even an enemy, stirred a subtle, grim sadness among them.
"Bury the Ueshi ninjas!" Raizen ordered, voice cold but steady. The tension in his chest eased slightly, knowing the threat had been crushed. Tonight, he had personally beheaded enough Ueshi to save the entire Amamiya clan. No one regarded him as a reckless youth anymore; he had become the pillar the family needed.
Without argument, the Amamiya ninja set to work. Kuzer rushed to Shiz recalling the scattered tribes, counting the casualties as they regrouped. Under Raizen's meticulous command, the family's ninja moved with coordinated precision. Two veteran Jōnin watching the scene shared a fleeting glance of relief—small families thrived on unity, and with Raizen leading, the next generation had a figure to rally around.
Yet victory brought a bitter truth. As the Amamiya clan cleaned the battlefield and tallied the dead, joy drained from their hearts. Among several hundred ninjas and a hundred civilians affected by the conflict, over twenty Amamiya shinobi had fallen. Most were Genin, many children left in the estate for safety. The new generation of Amamiya, promising and bright, had been cut down before they could even bloom. Silence swallowed the camp.
"Master Raizen… here's the list of the dead," Kuzer said quietly, handing over the record with respect. Raizen scanned the names, heart tightening as familiar faces appeared. Amamiya Shikaten… Amamiya Reigan … Amamiya Shinnosuke. His hand froze on that last name.
Shinnosuke—the snot-nosed kid who once clung to Raizen as a child, a Genin who had strived to follow him, now just another name on a list of death. The familiar loss gnawed at Raizen, leaving a hollow ache he couldn't shake.
Turning the final page, Raizen's chest tightened again. Scarlet ink burned against the paper: Amamiya Yamamoto.
"Uncle Yamamoto…" Raizen whispered, voice breaking inside. His first teacher, the first elder who had guided him in this world, now gone. The lessons, the care, the patient mentorship—all extinguished in the chaos of war. He crouched beside the body, silent and still, staring at the lifeless form of the man who had shaped him.
He wanted to scream, to rage against the heavens, but it turned into a long, bitter sigh instead.
"This damn war…"