The dawn broke over the coastal cliffs like a slowly unfurling scroll, pale sunlight glinting off the waves that lapped gently at the harbor below. The air carried the tang of salt and timber, blending with the faint smoke from the village's chimneys. I stood at the balcony of my half-finished estate, gazing down at the organized chaos below, a strange mix of pride and calculation tightening in my chest.
The coastal land, once untamed and rough, had begun to breathe under my influence. Farmers worked their plots with quiet diligence, fishermen hauled in their catches, and guards—my small but growing corps—patrolled in neat, disciplined lines. For now, the villagers accepted my presence. They did not know whether I was benevolent, powerful, or dangerous. That ignorance, carefully maintained, was my first tool.
---
Morning Assessment
I began my morning routine with a systematic review of the territory. Kina handed me reports from her network as Sano and the others prepared the morning drills for the new recruits. The first step was to understand everything: resources, personnel, and potential threats. Each village's productivity, the flow of goods along the coast, the presence of travelers, and even rumors whispered in the taverns were cataloged and cross-referenced.
Information was more potent than steel. A single piece of knowledge could prevent raids, uncover traitors, or expose spies before they acted. My Shadow Division—still in its infancy—was essential for this. Kina, with her quiet precision, had begun recruiting locals who understood the value of secrecy and reward. A few fishermen, a former low-ranking samurai, even a wandering herbalist now served as my informants. Their task was simple: observe, record, and report.
As I studied the reports, I felt the familiar hum in the back of my mind—the faint whisper of the Ability. Infinite copies, infinite space, infinite lifespan. It was a quiet, steady certainty. The world was large, dangerous, and unpredictable, but I had a tool no one else could touch. And I had begun to use it only where necessary: supplies, weapons, and resources, always hidden within the mundane.
---
The Army Forms
By mid-morning, I turned my attention to the fledgling army. Fifty recruits had arrived from the nearby villages, willing to serve in exchange for coin, protection, and training. They were unrefined, unskilled, but malleable—a perfect canvas for the discipline I intended to instill.
Sano drilled them in physical endurance and basic formations. Kina and Riku instructed them in weapons and rudimentary ninjutsu, learned from Daigo's previous teachings. Even the simplest techniques, when combined with strategy and coordination, could be deadly in numbers.
I observed quietly, occasionally correcting posture or issuing instructions. Each action was calculated. Every word, every glance, was a test of loyalty and comprehension. By the end of the day, the men were tired, yet they had begun to internalize the idea that discipline yielded survival—and survival was the highest currency in this world.
The hierarchy was simple: Sano as commander, Kina and Riku as lieutenants, and the villagers serving as the base. Loyalty, I reminded myself, was earned through both fear and reward. Those who worked efficiently were paid promptly, those who faltered were corrected swiftly. I did not need to be loved—only respected, feared, and, most importantly, invisible to the larger powers until my strength was undeniable.
---
The Golden House Revisited
After the morning exercises, I returned to the Golden House to request additional information about my coastal territory. The streets were noisy, filled with merchants shouting prices and travelers arguing over cargo. Yet, the Golden House building stood apart, an elegant structure among the disorder, a place where secrets were both currency and shield.
The clerk who recognized me before greeted me politely. "Lord Itō," he said, bowing lightly. "How may we assist you today?"
"I need a full overview of nearby clans, roads, and the potential vassal structures under the daimyō," I said, keeping my tone calm. "I also want to know any rumors of ninjutsu or shinobi activity along the coast and inland."
He hesitated slightly. "Some of this information is sensitive, my lord. It may take time."
"I have time," I replied. "And resources."
Gold coins slid across the table. The weight was more than enough to secure even the most hidden scrolls. I didn't need to ask twice. Within the hour, a sealed bundle of documents and maps was handed to me. Carefully hidden within the appearance of normal business correspondence, the materials contained detailed information on local landowners, minor clan leaders, mercenary groups, and unregistered shinobi.
I smiled faintly, thinking: even in chaos, order could be purchased.
---
The Early Spy Network
Back at the estate, I began organizing the information into a structured network. Kina oversaw the recruitment of informants, while I coordinated their assignments.
The network was simple but effective:
1. Observers: Villagers placed in key locations—markets, docks, taverns.
2. Messengers: Trusted youths who carried information discreetly between villages.
3. Analysts: My own eyes and mind, compiling reports and detecting patterns.
By evening, small bits of intelligence had already begun to flow. A caravan carrying rare salt from the inland lands, a wandering ninja searching for employment, and whispers of a minor Uchiha scout passing near the northern hills. None of this was dangerous individually, but together it painted a picture—a living map of the threats, opportunities, and movements within my sphere.
It occurred to me that a stronghold of knowledge could rival even brute strength. If I knew the movements of those around me, I could predict, prepare, and manipulate. Survival was no longer reactionary—it was proactive.
---
Supplies and Resources
I moved on to restocking supplies. My Ability allowed me to duplicate nearly everything I needed, yet I maintained the guise of ordinary logistics. Sealed scrolls disguised weapons, rations, and copies of gold and silver. Only I knew the truth: the estate was already prepared for a siege or disaster, though outwardly it appeared modest.
Exploding talismans and ninja tools were scattered in hidden compartments—enough to arm my initial guards and provide leverage should a rogue shinobi appear. By combining mundane resources with hidden superiority, I created a balance: power without suspicion.
Even basic items, copied and stored, became an invisible insurance policy. The villagers remained unaware, trusting me simply because my orders were effective and consistent. In this world, subtlety was more lethal than overt force.
---
Personal Reflection
By nightfall, I stood once again on the balcony. The sea reflected the moonlight, silver and serene. The estate glimmered faintly under lantern light. Fifty guards, scattered informants, and an administrative structure were now in motion. My first step toward influence and security had been taken.
And yet, I remained vigilant. The world beyond these cliffs was chaotic: clans warred, hidden ninja experimented, and political intrigue waited for the unprepared. I reminded myself that my ultimate goal was not glory or conquest—it was survival, peace, and quiet autonomy.
The Ability, infinite and unseen, would be my silent partner. It allowed me to prepare, equip, and shield myself without raising suspicion. I could be patient; centuries, perhaps millennia, were nothing in my hands.
---
Training Begins
The next week, I started the first phase of organized training. Guards were instructed in formation drills, resource protection, and basic combat coordination. Daigo oversaw the ninja instruction, teaching small units to move silently, communicate with gestures, and execute controlled techniques. Kina's network continued to grow, extending reach to nearby villages and trade routes.
I watched it all carefully, taking notes. Adjustments were made daily: Sano was reassigned to coastal patrols, Riku to forest routes, and the remaining men to infrastructure security. Each decision was measured, ensuring loyalty while maintaining flexibility.
My goal was clear: the coastal land had to become a stable, self-sufficient entity, capable of defending itself without drawing attention from neighboring daimyō or minor clans. Strength, yes—but unseen strength.
---
Political Considerations
Late one evening, I reviewed the information from the Golden House. Minor clans nearby were weak, bickering among themselves. Their vassals were poorly managed, and taxes were inconsistent. Uchiha scouts moved in the west, Senju movements were limited to the north, and no major conflicts threatened my immediate area.
It was the perfect environment to consolidate power quietly.
I plotted carefully:
Continue the appearance of modest governance.
Build the army and spy network under the guise of protection.
Use wealth invisibly to secure loyalty and suppress rebellion.
Avoid attention from larger powers until I was untouchable.
This was a strategy not of conquest but of survival — a quiet, enduring web of control.
---
Nightfall
As darkness settled over the coast, I finally allowed myself a moment of reflection. Kina brought in tea while the guards patrolled quietly. The waves crashed gently, and I could hear distant laughter from the village below. Life moved slowly here, unremarkable but stable.
I thought of my past life, of the chaos I had escaped, and of the centuries ahead I intended to survive. Every scroll, every coin, every carefully trained soldier and spy was a step toward a quiet empire—a sanctuary where I could live without fear.
And in the silence of the night, I whispered to myself:
The world may change, the clans may rise, but I will endure. I will observe, prepare, and survive. This is the life I choose.
The sea, unchanging and eternal, seemed to agree.