Spring, Konoha year 10.
The weather was still cold, but the Toyotomi Clan's newly claimed grounds in Konoha's northeastern corner, once a barren slope, were bubbling with activity. The freshly tamped dirt road was still damp, yet new white flags embroidered in black with the Toyotomi crest already lined both sides, snapping in the biting wind.
At the center of the clan grounds stood a temporary platform built from thick logs and bluestone, draped in red and festive decorations. Crude as it was, it exuded a fierce, overbearing vitality.
Below the platform stood a dense crowd. The front few rows consisted of Toyotomi Clan ninja, all dressed in brand-new, dark gray, high-collared uniforms, their backs ramrod straight and their eyes openly brimming with excitement and ferocity.
Behind them were family members, children, and many commoners and artisans who had attached themselves to the clan, all craning their necks to look ahead.
Farther out, more people had come simply to watch.
Konoha's clans, large and small, had all sent someone, whatever their private misgivings; appearances had to be maintained. Prominent clans such as the Sarutobi, Shimura, Hyuga, Akimichi, Nara, and Yamanaka had sent, at the very least, influential stewards or direct descendants of the younger generation. The smaller clans had simply sent their clan heads in person.
The Uchiha seats were at the far edge, sparse and quiet, occupied by only a few stiff-faced peripheral elders who were clearly there to go through the motions. Elder Yan had not come. No one from the Senju Clan had come either, but everyone knew there were bound to be plenty of eyes watching from the shadows.
A strange atmosphere hung in the air. There was curiosity about the new clan, scrutiny of Toyotomi Yinglang, this "leader of traitors," disdain, apprehension, and, of course,