Most shinobi villages were obsessed with physical strength. Kumo especially. Strength ruled the hierarchy, but that was short-sighted. Kaien believed Kumo needed a research corps not just for jutsu, but for military doctrine.
He'd start a sealed team of thinkers—chakra theorists, tacticians, sealing specialists—whose entire job would be to analyze the next ten years of potential conflict. What was the next Kekkei Genkai likely to emerge? Which clans had hidden bloodlines they hadn't yet awakened? Which countries were stockpiling chakra ore or experimenting with puppetry tech like Suna?
If Kumo wanted to win the long game, they needed foresight. Not just reflexes.
Integrate Lesser Clans With Strategic Marriages
Kumo had a bad habit of hoarding strength. The Raikage line. The Hotstushi. The few known Kekkei Genkai were kept close. But Kaien thought like a statesman. If you want real loyalty, you integrate—not dominate.
Why not offer respected branch marriages to the lesser border clans who had unique chakra affinities? Earth-lightning combinations. Wind-lightning. Even water affinity clans were out there, hidden in coastal regions.
A well-placed marriage could bring in an entire clan's worth of techniques, which would not only enrich the bloodline pool, but also create a politically loyal wing to the Raikage's regime.
Turn Kumo Into a Trade Hub for Sealing Technology
Uzumaki were gone. Sealing was a lost art. Kumo should have hoarded what remained after the war. Kumo had enough scraps of old forbidden scrolls and half-failed experiments to start something fresh.
Kaien would push Kumo to become the new sealing capital—not by copying Uzumaki seals, but by fusing sealing with lightning principles. Think of fast-activating seals. Reactive barriers. Storage scrolls powered by electrical surges rather than chakra pulses.
If Kumo exported scroll tech to neutral clans or minor nations, they could build not just revenue, but soft power. Influence. Information leverage. A village that controls knowledge controls the board.
Aya stirred beside him. Her arms tightened, pulling Kaien against her skin. He felt her chakra flare softly as she shifted, sleepy and humming. For all the cold analysis running through his mind, he felt warmth in her touch. Comfort.
The world didn't deserve her. That was another thought that returned again and again.
If he ever rose to power, he'd make sure people like her never had to bleed on the frontlines again.
Codify Kumo Identity. Create a National Story
Konoha had the Will of Fire. Suna had the desert's endurance. Kiri was the bloody mist. Even Iwa had the unyielding rock.
What did Kumo stand for? "Strength"? That was too shallow.
Kaien would build a national myth—The Storm's Mandate. That the storm does not kneel, but it protects. That lightning cuts not for cruelty, but to end conflict before it spreads.
He'd write songs. Poems. Mission oaths. Let children grow up knowing that their strength was meant to defend, not dominate. That kind of spiritual cohesion could change everything.
It will remind people what they are fighting for. Not just for fun.
Reform the Shinobi Economy
Nobody talked about it, but shinobi villages bled money.
Kaien knew that missions weren't always enough to support a nation-state. That was why shady black-ops work, bounty hunting, or chakra-for-hire gigs became common.
But what if Kumo led the next evolution?
He'd formalize chakra-based industries. Lightning-affinity shinobi could generate power for surrounding towns. Use storm release chakra to irrigate distant rice valleys.
A chakra-powered economy wasn't a fantasy—it just needed vision. And Kumo had the raw chakra output to be the engine.
The sun outside the window cracked through the blinds, lining the wooden floor with gold. Aya stood and stretched, her arms lifting Kaien up with her. He stared into her eyes—deep, brown, lined with quiet fatigue.
"You're too quiet," she said softly, smiling. "Always thinking, aren't you, little Kai?"
He blinked slowly, wishing he could speak.
You have no idea.
Lightning Diplomacy
Kaien didn't believe in isolation.
Kumo needed allies. Not fake allies. Real ones. The kind forged through long trade, cultural exchange, and mutual need.
He'd push for lightning embassies. Miniature summits between minor nations and shinobi clans. Not everyone needed to be absorbed into Kumo, but they could orbit it. Take the Land of Frost. The Land of Hot Water. These were weak states with usable terrain, chakra ore, or manpower. No need to conquer. Just invest. Offer protection. Train a generation of joint shinobi who owed Kumo everything.
That was the real game. Influence without occupation.
Kaien exhaled slowly. Inhale. Exhale. That was all he could do for now.
He was still a newborn. He knew it. But power wasn't always about swinging a sword. Sometimes, power was remembering what everyone else forgot. Seeing what others ignored. Speaking when it counted.
And one day—when he could walk, speak, train—he'd build this future.
Not because he wanted glory.
But because no one else seemed to see how close Kumo was to true greatness. And how absurd it was that no one was reaching for it.
Storm Born. Cloud Forged.
Kaien closed his eyes.
The work would begin soon. But for now, he allowed himself one more moment of warmth in his mother's arms.
Now he just needed time - alot - to build it. He don't know how many would pass.