The scent of burning incense mingled with the earthy aroma of the forest. Underneath the towering cypress trees, dozens of mourners gathered in a semi-circle, their somber faces illuminated by the flickering light of the pyre. Flames licked at the sky, consuming the body of Takeda Nobukatsu—the patriarch of the Takeda clan. His death marked the end of an era, and for the first time in years, the small but noble family stood rudderless, vulnerable to both internal strife and external threats.

Takeda Ryuji stood near the back of the assembly, his face hidden in the shadows cast by his father's pyre. At only seventeen, his frame was lean but wiry, and his sharp eyes betrayed an intellect far beyond his years. He didn't weep like some of his siblings. He hadn't shed a tear since Nobukatsu's passing, and he wouldn't start now.

Around him, his brothers and sisters stood in tense silence. The eldest, Takeda Haruto, gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles pale. Beside him, their uncle Takeda Shingen whispered to an advisor, his calculating eyes darting toward the crowd. Even now, during their patriarch's funeral, ambition burned within them.

Ryuji smirked bitterly. He had expected no less.

As the flames rose higher, casting long shadows across the forest floor, one of the elders stepped forward. "With the passing of Takeda Nobukatsu, the question remains: who shall lead the clan?"

The murmurs began immediately, swelling like a rising tide. Some whispered Haruto's name, others Shingen's. Not a single voice spoke of Ryuji.

"I will lead," Haruto declared, his voice cutting through the noise. He stepped forward, his imposing figure radiating confidence. "As the eldest son, it is my right to take our father's place."

Shingen scoffed, stepping into the firelight. Despite his age, he moved with the strength and grace of a seasoned warrior. "Your right? Haruto, your inexperience will doom us all. The clan needs a leader who understands war, diplomacy, and survival."

"And that leader is you, Uncle?" Haruto shot back, his tone laced with venom. "You're a relic of the past. The clan needs fresh blood."

Ryuji watched the exchange in silence, his expression unreadable. Let them squabble, he thought. They were revealing their weaknesses with every word.

The elder raised his hands, trying to calm the growing tension. "This is not the time for discord. The clan must unite—"

"Enough," Ryuji said, stepping forward at last. His voice was calm, but it carried an edge that silenced the crowd.

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All eyes turned to him, some curious, others incredulous. Haruto's lips twisted into a sneer.

"What are you doing, Ryuji?" Haruto demanded. "This is no place for a child to meddle in matters of leadership."

Ryuji ignored him, stepping closer to the pyre. The heat warmed his skin, but his gaze remained cold.

"The Takeda clan is at a crossroads," Ryuji said, addressing the crowd. "We face threats on all sides—rival families, bandits, and the shifting tides of politics. We cannot afford hesitation or division."

"And you think you can provide unity?" Shingen asked, his tone mocking. "You? You're nothing more than an untested boy playing at ambition."

"I may be young," Ryuji replied, his voice steady, "but I see what none of you do. You cling to old traditions and petty rivalries while the world moves on without us. Under your leadership, this clan will wither and die."

Haruto drew his sword an inch from its sheath, the sound sharp and threatening. "You overstep, Ryuji. Apologize now, or I'll cut that arrogant tongue from your mouth."

Ryuji met Haruto's gaze without flinching. "Apologies are for the weak."

The crowd gasped, and the tension thickened like a storm about to break.

Shingen laughed, though there was no humor in it. "You're bold, boy. I'll give you that. But boldness alone doesn't make a leader."

He stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. "If you're so eager to lead, prove your worth."

Haruto smirked, stepping beside their uncle. "Yes. Let's see if this runt can back up his words."

The crowd retreated, forming a wide circle around the three. Some murmured prayers, others whispered bets on how long Ryuji would last.

Ryuji unsheathed his sword slowly, the steel gleaming in the firelight. His heart pounded, but his grip was steady. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

Shingen attacked first, his katana slicing through the air with deadly precision. Ryuji sidestepped, his movements fluid and deliberate. Haruto followed with a thrust aimed at Ryuji's chest, but Ryuji parried, the clash of steel ringing through the clearing.

The fight was a blur of motion—Shingen's powerful strikes, Haruto's relentless aggression, and Ryuji's calculated counters. Where they fought with brute strength, Ryuji fought with precision, exploiting their openings and turning their strength against them.

Within moments, Shingen overreached, and Ryuji's blade found its mark. Blood spattered the ground as the elder crumpled, clutching his wound.

Haruto hesitated, his confidence faltering. That hesitation was all Ryuji needed. He stepped inside Haruto's guard, his blade slicing across his brother's chest. Haruto staggered, his sword slipping from his grasp as he fell to his knees.

Ryuji stood over them, his chest heaving, his sword dripping with blood. The crowd was silent, their shock palpable.

"I will lead the Takeda clan," Ryuji declared, his voice rising above the crackling of the pyre. "To glory and beyond!"

His words echoed through the clearing, carried by the wind. For a moment, no one moved. Then, one by one, the others lowered their heads in submission.

As Ryuji turned back to the pyre, a strange sensation washed over him. A faint, ethereal voice spoke in his mind.

[System Notification: Bold Leadership Detected.]

+10 Swordsmanship Ability

+10 Strength

+10 Vision

Ryuji's vision sharpened, the world becoming clearer and more vibrant. He smirked, his grip tightening on his sword.

This was only the beginning.