The room rippled with whispers the moment Amamiya Raizen finished speaking.
"Did he just say… the Elders can override the Leader?" someone muttered.
"Eighteen seats. Five of them for civilians?!" another hissed.
The noise swelled like a brewing storm. Everyone understood what Raizen's words meant.
Konoha wasn't just a village now — it was a system, and whoever sat among the Elders would hold influence over a hundred thousand lives.
Power that could make or break Hokage-level decisions.
And Raizen had just proposed giving that power limits.
If the Elders wanted to oppose a proposal, twelve out of eighteen would need to agree — two-thirds of the council.
It sounded simple, but every clan head in the room knew how impossible that number was. Twelve votes? In a world where even dinner decisions sparked clan feuds?
They weren't stupid. They could already see the catch.
If Raizen became Konoha's leader, the five civilian Elders — all handpicked from the people who adored him — would obviously back him. If the Amamiya Clan held even one or two seats, every one of his proposals would sail through untouched.
The realization sank in like a kunai to the gut.
He's locking the system from both ends.
Discontent flickered across the gathered patriarchs. Arms crossed, jaws clenched. The Hyūga and Hatake stayed silent, but everyone else looked ready to argue.
Raizen watched them with his usual half-smile — the kind that said I already know how this plays out.
He'd built the system himself. He knew its weaknesses better than any of them. But this wasn't some power grab; it was a calculated safeguard.
He remembered the future. The chaos that came when the Council of Elders strangled Hokage authority — the politics, the hesitation, the assassinations hiding behind "protocol." He'd seen what unchecked councils could do, just as he'd seen what absolute monarchs could destroy.
The Third's indecision. The Fifth's exhaustion. The disasters born from too much freedom or too little.
Raizen wasn't planning to repeat history. He was planning to rewrite it.
Still, the room's mood was clear — no one was convinced.
Raizen exhaled, fingers drumming against the table. "Listen," he began, tone softer now. "I know what you're thinking. But the Elder System has to exist. Power without checks becomes tyranny. A leader without limits is just another feudal lord — and we all know how those stories end."
He let the words hang. The older patriarchs didn't meet his gaze. They'd seen it too — bloodlines wiped out by one man's madness.
"The Council keeps the Leader from going rogue," Raizen continued. "And the Leader keeps the Council from choking progress. That balance is what makes Konoha different."
Someone muttered, "Then why make it so hard to oppose?"
Raizen glanced up. "Because I trust you — just not that much."
The tension cracked for a moment. A few smirked despite themselves.
Still, one clan head — from the Nara side — raised his voice.
"Raizen-sama, the civilian representation is too heavy. Five seats? That's almost a third of the entire council. If this passes, the shinobi clans will lose their voice in future policy."
Murmurs of agreement followed. Even the stoic Hyūga Tennin's eyes flicked with curiosity.
Raizen rubbed his temples. "Fine," he muttered. "If the clan of the current Leader holds the top position, its members won't sit among the Elders. They'll abstain while their kin leads. Satisfied?"
That caught everyone off-guard. The room quieted.
He'd just removed his own clan from political control — voluntarily.
But the clans were calculating fast. Without the Amamiya on the board, thirteen seats would remain for shinobi families and five for civilians. That still made any rebellion or veto difficult. To oppose a Leader, they'd need twelve of eighteen votes united — meaning near-impossible unity among rival clans.
A few of the smarter ones were already frowning again.
Raizen noticed. He sighed. "Alright. Then what if we drop the two-thirds rule to half? Nine votes to veto instead of twelve."
The room fell silent. Heads tilted. Fingers tapped.
Half the council could overrule the Leader — just enough to feel fair, but not enough to paralyze action. It was a compromise they could actually live with.
Raizen didn't speak again. He knew when to let silence do the selling.
Inside, though, his mind raced through the math. In this system, the five civilian votes would always back the Leader — guaranteed. That meant only four more votes were needed from the clans to secure a decision. Any capable Hokage could manage that.
Two-thirds or one-half — didn't matter. Either way, the system was rigged for stability.
If some future Hokage couldn't even win nine out of eighteen votes, then they weren't fit to lead in the first place.
He remembered the Fourth's era — a civilian-born Hokage, yet backed by the Sarutobi and the Ino–Shika–Chō alliance. Power never stood alone; it always had roots.
And if those roots reached back to the people? Even better.
Raizen leaned back, finally letting his smirk show. "So… half it is. Any objections?"
Silence.
For once, none came.
He nodded. "Then it's settled. Konoha's leadership and council structure are officially established."
Outside, the faint sound of construction echoed again — the heartbeat of a new village.
Raizen's gaze drifted toward the window, where sunlight caught the dust in golden streaks.
Democracy, shinobi-style, he thought. Rigged, biased, and bloody — but it'll work.