Azula, From The Same Generation As The Sainin (A Naruto fanfic about Azula as an Uchiha)

[Melonlord]

A didn't let a little thing like a hole in his gut ruin his day. With his Lightning Release Chakra Armor crackling around him, he simply zipped a bolt of lightning across the wound, which instantly cauterized it, stopping the bleeding. Problem solved.

But these cool moves were only to fool others. On the inside, A was sweating.

His eyes were locked on Azula, specifically on that stupidly dangerous spear in her hand. You could say his focus was at 200%. He was mentally reviewing choices and trying to figure out how many push-ups he'd have to do to make up for this mess.

Now, A is confident. In his head, the only reason she'd even scratched him was that one, single, measly second where he'd gotten distracted.

That's it, he told himself. Just one second of not paying attention. Now that I'm locked in, I can dodge that possibly newly developed Kekkei Genkai. Now... how do I punch her out of the sky?

But then, reality sucker-punched him right in the brain, and his internal monologue hit the brakes.

Behind him were the Kumo-nin.

I can dodge. But that chakra in her hand, glowing like a Tailed Beast ball made into a spear is dangerous. If she most likely hurls that our way... or if it just decides to explode, it could instantly kill fifty ninjas or more.

Azula, meanwhile, was also mentally scrolling through her options for the perfect hit.

And then she saw that tiny flicker and split-second hesitation in A's eyes, the one he was trying so hard to hide behind his 'I'm the Raikage, hear me roar' face.

Her gaze flicked to the Kumo-nin behind him. And then she realized something.

She literally stopped mid-thought and just... stared at herself for a second.

Wait a minute. I should've spotted this from a mile away, at least the old me. I would've already had a plan to use those guys as hostages, as bait, as a distraction... heck, I would've offered them snacks if it meant getting the upper hand. That's just smart business. But me now, I've been so busy trying to punch things that I forgot how to play chess?

For a split second, she felt like an idiot. A very powerful, very dangerous idiot.

But then she grinned.

This just means I'm evolving. I'm not just a tactical genius anymore; I'm a tactical genius who also really, really likes to fight.

Sure, part of the reason she'd picked a fight with A was to maybe, hopefully, squeeze a Mangekyō out of him. But even if that didn't happen, she knew she'd figure it out eventually because she, Azula, always did.

No, right now, the mission was simple: Make a loud, explosive, reputation-boosting statement. Make Kumo run home crying, and walk back into the village as the undisputed queen of the battlefield, then naturally monopo— taking the Hokage throne.

She looked down at A, her grin softening into something almost... reasonable.

She shrugged internally. Oh well. Sorry, big guy. Guess you just drew the short straw and met me on my 'reasonable' day.
•••
•••
•••

It had been thirty minutes since A and Azula started duking it out, and roughly forty-five minutes since she and Tsunade first kicked the hornet's nest by attacking those Kumo-nin. In that time, the geopolitical landscape of the Ninja World had decided to shift again.

Why not?

The moment Ōnoki sensed the Raikage's chakra spinning up and then rocketing off at full speed, his internal alarm bells started blaring. Something was wrong.

And sure enough, after a quick, no-nonsense briefing from one of A's clones, Ōnoki's worst nightmare walked through the door and slapped him in the face.

If Kumo was desperate enough to drag him out here for an urgent chat, it could only mean one thing: Konoha had finally grown a spine and launched a full-scale assault.

But why? Why now, of all times? Did they know A was gone? Did we have a traitor? The questions rattled around Ōnoki's skull.

He quickly dismissed the traitor idea. Konoha wasn't stupid. If the Raikage had been absent for over two days and Kumo was acting all quiet and suspicious, even a blind monk could figure out something was up.

The real head-scratcher was the timing. From everything Ōnoki knew, Konoha under Hiruzen was about as aggressive as a sleeping kitten. They were the least likely of the five great villages to start something.

So what changed?

"Tsuchikage," the clone grunted, snapping Ōnoki out of his spiral. "This isn't the time for thinking. My main body will be on the battlefield in a few minutes. He could hold off Konoha himself for a while. But you're smart enough to know what happens if they actually succeed here."

The clone wasn't bothering with diplomacy anymore, although the main body hadn't bothered with it in the first place. He directly pressured Ōnoki.

(For the record, the clone genuinely believed the real A, even after burning chakra to rush back, could solo Konoha for two whole days.)

"Lost in thought?" Ōnoki shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, I'm sorry, would you prefer I just charge in blindly? Maybe dance through a few obvious traps? Wave hello to an ambush? Or better yet, completely ignore the possibility of betrayal?"

As he said the last word, his eyes slid meaningfully toward Ebizō, who had just arrived.

Sage of Six Paths, just strike me down now, Ebizō prayed internally, already exhausted by Ōnoki's paranoia. He said nothing.

He didn't even bother defending himself. As Suna's representative, he had to maintain some dignity... even if that dignity occasionally meant swallowing his pride and letting the old miser glare at him.

Then, without any warning, A's clone popped out of existence, gone just like that, leaving Ōnoki and Ebizō in awkward, heavy silence.

"Either the main body is in so much trouble he couldn't maintain the clone..." Ebizō murmured, breaking the quiet.

"Or he's in so much trouble he deliberately dropped it," Ōnoki finished, his mind already racing with possibilities. He added a private thought: Or he's just trying to mess with my head.

Knowing the Raikage wasn't quite as dumb as he looked, Ōnoki couldn't rule out mind games.
•••

Perhaps Ōnoki's migraine was setting new records, but the true champion of headaches in the shinobi world was the man currently staring at a report that made his heart try to escape through his ribs, Hiruzen Sarutobi himself.

The report was simple: Azula and Tsunade had vanished from the camp with the concept of 'informing the Hokage' being like some forgotten ancient custom.

"Did I become a ghost and nobody told me?" he muttered to the empty office, because apparently that's where he existed now, in the realm of the irrelevant, noticed only when someone needed a signature or wanted to borrow the good tea.

Azula had done it again. Left the village without permission, without consultation, without even the common courtesy of a vaguely threatening note pinned to his door.

The only reason he became aware of it at all was because she later stepped out of Tsunade's tent openly and headed toward Tajima's, something his intelligence network, the finest in the world, could actually detect.

Against a fourteen-year-old girl with the Flying Raijin, even the best intelligence network had its blind spots.

If not for that report, he'd probably discover her absence next week when he tried to find her for a meeting and found a very convincing shadow clone made of sticks and optimism.

He rubbed his temples, the memory of their last conversation playing on loop. Mito's words after it. "Am I really wrong for wanting peace over chaos?"

For the first time since Tobirama had slapped the hat on his head and said "Starting tomorrow..." Hiruzen genuinely doubted himself.

But here's the thing. He didn't feel wrong. He couldn't because Azula was fourteen. The kind of fourteen that still thought 'impulsive decisions' were a personality trait and 'consequences' were something that happened to other people.

Being Hokage wasn't about having brilliant ideas. Ideas were cheap, every drunk in the village had an opinion on how to run things, and they usually shared it at maximum volume while waving chopsticks.

Being Hokage meant sitting through Daimyō meetings with a pleasant smile while some bureaucrat with the personality of wet paper explained why you should cut the military budget again.

It meant watching someone you loved get taken from you and still choosing diplomacy over fire and fury, because fire and fury meant thousands of orphans and widows.

And Azula happened to be the kind that looks at diplomacy like it was a particularly uninteresting thing she hadn't decided whether to squash yet.

But that wasn't what kept him up at night. What kept him up was the creeping realization that he might not have other options. That the chaotic fourteen-year-old with the impulse control of an excited Uchiha might be his only play.

He exhaled slowly, the weight of the hat feeling heavier than usual.

Finally, he reached into his desk drawer. His fingers found a small, unremarkable scroll, he unrolled it, revealing a precise grid of seals, and pressed his thumb to four specific corners.

A new private and secure method for summoning the people he trusted most, the ones who shared his vision, his burden, his sleepless nights.

Danzō, Homura and Koharu. The only people in the world who understood that sometimes peace required hard choices.

He waited for them to arrive, completely unaware that he'd just invited the ninja equivalent of a 'harmless' mole into his garden.

But hey. Ignorance is bliss, and Hiruzen was about to be very, very blissful.

(END OF THE CHAPTER)

 

[Melonlord]

Hiruzen looked up from his ball and found Danzō standing in his doorway, and almost had a heart attack despite him being the one who called.

"Danzō," he said, slowly lowering his hands. "You know, most people knock. Some even wait for me to say 'come in'."

Danzō wasn't in the mood for nonsense, especially after being disturbed from his project, and got straight to the point.

"Hiruzen, did something urgent happen?"

Hiruzen raised a weathered hand. "Wait for Koharu and Homura. They should be—"

"I'm aware of where they should be," Danzō cut in, narrowing his eyes. "They're both inside the village. Closer to this building than me. And yet, here I am, who was outside the village training ANBU, standing before you while they're apparently taking the scenic route in an emergency summon."

Hiruzen puffed on his pipe. "They'll be here."

"It's been over ten minutes." Danzō's tone suggested this was both a personal insult and a national security crisis. "If the village was under attack, we'd have repelled the invasion, held a funeral for the fallen, and rebuilt the walls before those two remembered which building the Hokage works in."

Hiruzen didn't respond, but internally he was doing the math. If I were actively being assassinated right now, called for backup... would I be dead and buried before they showed up?

He knew he was being dramatic. Probably.

Just as the silence was becoming truly unbearable, the door swung open. Koharu and Homura entered together.

Together?

Hiruzen's eyebrow climbed high, but he quickly squashed the thought, because if there was something worth knowing about his oldest friends, his ANBU would have mentioned it.

Danzō, however, was doing Danzō things inside his head—which is to say, he was constructing an elaborate conspiracy theory complete with diagrams, motive analyses, and worst-case scenarios.

They arrived together. How convenient that two council members who were allegedly in different locations would synchronize their entrance with such precision. Either they were meeting privately before this summons, discussing matters they don't want Hiruzen or me to know about, or they've been coordinating their movements for some time now.

He glanced at Hiruzen, catching the tail end of that eyebrow raise before the Hokage smoothed his expression into something resembling relaxation.

Foolish, Danzō thought. He actually dismissed it. Probably thinks nothing happens in this village without his precious crystal ball and ANBU noticing. As if those are infallible.

His mind continued spiraling down its well-worn paranoia tracks.

Koharu and Homura have access to the same intelligence networks I do. If they wanted to meet without detection, they absolutely could. This changes things. A unified voting bloc forming without my knowledge? The balance of power in this village just shifted. Hiruzen may not see it as a threat, but that's why I'm here.

I'll need to increase surveillance. Their servants, their ANBU guards, their communication channels. Their garbage, even. Something is developing here, and I will know what it is before it becomes a problem for... the village's security.

Outwardly, Danzō was the picture of composed authority, right up until he opened his mouth.

"How fortunate that you both arrived at the same moment," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Saves us the time of waiting twice."

Koharu's face cycled through approximately fourteen expressions of displeasure before settling on her default setting: mild disgust at everything that wasn't a specific Uchiha she had complicated feelings about.

Danzō was definitely not that Uchiha, and they both knew it.

"Always so quick to judge, Danzō," she snapped, not letting the sarcasm slide even an inch.

"Some of us believe in arriving prepared rather than rushing in blindly like—" she paused, clearly searching for a comparison insulting enough, "—like a man who thinks of everything with absolute distrust."

Homura nodded sagely, which he did whenever Koharu spoke because he'd learned long ago that disagreeing meant a grudge.

"If we're both here now," Koharu continued, "the reason for the delay is irrelevant. It'll be better to discuss what has gathered us here."

Danzō's eye twitched. Irrelevant? She calls delays in emergency summon irrelevant? And these are the people running the village?

The tension in the Hokage's office was really high, as high as it could be when his three friends were present.

Hiruzen could hardly blame them, you put three men who've spent years perfecting the art of not liking each other in a room together, and this is what you get.

The original Tobirama squad had been him, Koharu, and Homura. Kagami, Danzō, and Torifu had joined up later, each for their own reasons.

And ever since those early days, the two factions had circled each other like suspicious cats.

They'd saved each other's lives more times than anyone could count.

They'd trusted each other with their backs in situations where one wrong move meant a shallow grave in enemy territory.

But some people just weren't meant to get along, no matter how much blood they'd spilled together.

Danzō was the kind of guy who'd hold a grudge against a rock for being in his way, and the other two? Hiruzen could just say they returned the favor.

"Enough." Hiruzen's voice cut through the room with an authority he rarely needed to exercise. "I already have a headache that could fell a lesser man. I called you here to discuss actual problems, not to reenact your squabbles like children. If that's all you're going to do, then save me all the trouble and leave. I'll face the incoming disaster myself."

Here's the thing about Hiruzen, the man could have a personal vendetta against you, and he'd still greet you with that warm smile and offer you tea.

The fact that he was showing actual emotion? That wasn't just bad, that was catastrophic.

Danzō, who knew his oldest friend better than anyone, gave a sharp snort and lowered himself into a seat without another word.

Koharu and Homura exchanged glances. Homura frowned as if remembering something, but they followed suit.

"After they returned from the Land of Water," Hiruzen began, and everyone immediately understood who they were, "I went to speak with Mito-sama. You all know about it. Azula was there before she... departed under less than ideal circumstances. And both of them gave me cause for serious concern."

I don't like where this is going. Danzō's instincts, honed through years of paranoia, were screaming at him.

"Azula made no secret of her ambition for the Hokage position. Mito-sama appeared to be supporting her, at the very least, she wasn't maintaining the neutrality we'd expected." He paused, looking into their eyes. "And that's not even the worst part."

He took a long, dramatic drag from his pipe. A storyteller's instinct, even now.

"Azula's ambition isn't for some distant future. She wants to be Hokage now. And I trust you all understand what that means."

An Uchiha? As Hokage? The very thought sent Danzō into an internal spiral of outrage. Absolutely not. The idea is—

Koharu, meanwhile, was wrestling with a different kind of poison. Something bitter and green coiled in her chest before she could stop it. A female Hokage? At her age? Does she think running a village is the same as wrangling her clan into submission?

Only Homura remained relatively untroubled, which would have surprised anyone who knew him.

But if you understood Azula's story, really understood it, her wanting the most powerful seat in the village wasn't ambition, it was inevitable. The only surprise was that she hadn't made her move sooner.

"Last night, she left for the Kumo frontlines without my knowledge or authorization. I only found out when she walked straight out of Tsunade's tent completely in the open, heading toward her family's direction."

"And here's where it gets truly unsettling. She and Tsunade vanished this morning. As of now, I have no concrete word on their whereabouts, but I received a report that I'm certain connects to them."

Another pause and another puff of smoke.

"There are signs of a battle going on near Kumo's main base in the Land of Frost. Our intelligence operative wouldn't get closer, he said the fighting was unlike anything he'd ever witnessed. The intensity of it, apparently, defied description."

He looked at each of them in turn.

"So. Anyone want to tell me I'm overreacting?"

(END OF THE CHAPTER)

 

[Melonlord]

"This is absolutely impossible, and we both know why, Hiruzen." Danzō's voice was wrapped in ice, but his eyes were open flames, the kind that wanted to burn everything Hiruzen had just said.

Koharu, despite her issues with him, slid into position beside him as if magnetized.

"Hiruzen. Remember why Sensei entrusted the village to you? He died peacefully because he believed in that Hiruzen. So tell me, do you really have the nerve to sit there and say you'd hand everything over to that girl with the same peace of mind?"

They were directly vetoing the possibility, and they had a filing cabinet full of reasons why.

Hiruzen exhaled through a wry smile. "I'm not hiding where I stand, you both know my position. But let's be practical here. What am I supposed to do when the two strongest people in the village take the same stance, and seven of the top ten fighters are standing in their corner?"

Koharu opened her mouth, then finally closed it. For once, the great Koharu Utatane had absolutely nothing to say.

Silence: the only argument she couldn't win.

Danzō was completely displeased and even... disgusted.

"If that's your stance, then I'm disappointed. Genuinely disappointed." He let the words flow out without worrying about hurting his friend. "Ten years as Hokage, and this is your first real crisis. Your response is 'I don't know what to do'?"

His mind flickered back to that cursed day. Me, who never hesitates... I hesitated just a second. One miserable second. And Hiruzen, who hesitates, picked that exact moment to grow a spine.

Under the table, his hidden hand tightened until his nails bit into his palm.

Hiruzen's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Disappointed? Disappointed? You want to talk about what I've faced? Do you have any idea what this hat weighs, Danzō? Every single day, I decide who lives and who dies. Every. Single. Day. You think those aren't crises? You think those aren't real?"

For a beat, it almost landed.

Then Danzō was even more annoyed. "Nobody forced you into that chair. If it's such a burden, get up. I'm sure there are a thousand shinobi in this village who'd love to put on that 'heavy hat' and relieve you of your suffering."

"But you haven't. Which means you chose this and chose to hold those lives in your hands. So stop playing the martyr, Hiruzen. For once in your life, stop hesitating and call it what it is."

Their eyes locked and neither blinked.

Koharu and Homura suddenly found breathing to be a complicated task they weren't sure they remembered how to perform. Because this wasn't a council meeting anymore, rather, this was a detonation with a delayed fuse.

Danzō broke first, but only to look down at his own fist, still clenched on the table like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth. "You stood there, Hiruzen. You had the chance to end it before it grew legs. But no, you talked about peace and understanding like either of those things ever built a village."

"We had such a chance. If we'd acted, we could have cut her growth in half, or even..." He didn't finish the sentence, just looked at Hiruzen.

But everyone in the office understood his meaning.

So, in the end, it all comes back to that day. The day he decided to sit on his hands and 'wait and see,' huh?

Hiruzen didn't immediately fire back. He took a second to think about it before deliberately shaking his head, his eyes going steely.

"Regret? No. I will never, ever regret not being a monster to a kid who hadn't done a single thing wrong. A kid who, even now, has done nothing against this village except be the most stubborn, power-hungry brat we've ever produced."

He nodded to himself, as if his own opinion was the final word on the matter, especially since that 'brat' had just handed him the entire nation of Water on a silver platter, along with a mountain of very nice loot. (The part about the loot is indirect.)

Across the table, Danzō's good eye twitched. "You call it 'willful' when she sneaks in and out of the village like a cat? When she refuses to take orders from anyone? When she's currently holding a loaded political explosive tag that could blow this village apart from the inside? That's not 'willful,' Hiruzen. That's clearly a threat."

This was no longer a meeting but a really awkward, high-stakes lunch date between two ex-friends, with Koharu and Homura stuck at the kids' table, silently praying no one asked them to pick a side.

After a few agonizing minutes, the temperature in the room finally dropped from 'volcano' to 'merely sweltering.' Homura seized his chance, clearing his throat like a man about to ask his boss for a raise right after a round of layoffs.

"Right, now that we've all had our say," he spoke, his voice squeaking just a little, "Hiruzen, we need a concrete answer. Are you handing her the hat or not? Yes or no. Pick one."

He went straight for the jugular, figuring that if Hiruzen was going to just hand over the village, all their scheming was pointless anyway.

Danzō, for his part, felt a strange flutter in his chest. Anticipation? No, no. Absolutely not. It was just… research.

He was merely testing Hiruzen's resolve. If the man was willing to give up the Hokage seat without a fight, then he was clearly too weak to sit in it. It was logic, not greed.

At least, that's the lie he'd been telling himself so long it had taken root in his shriveled little heart.

And Hiruzen? He was caught in his own little hamster wheel of a dilemma. Should I hand over power for the good of the village and avoid a civil war? Or should I hold on to it because, well, is a teenager who sets things on fire for fun really ready to be the leader of a military superpower?

That was his struggle. It was never about him wanting to cling to power. He was sure of it, absolutely, 100% sure.
•••
•••

The F4 could deliberate all they wanted. It changed nothing about the real center of attention in the current ninja world.

Azula rolled her shoulder, feeling the satisfying ache of a fight worth fighting.

Across from her, the Raikage's chest heaved, steam rising from half a dozen fresh wounds he'd been forced to seal with his own lightning.

Scars he'd carry forever.

"You know," she called out, a smirk playing on her lips, "this is fun. But not quite what I pictured when I imagined fighting you."

She meant it.

Every slash, every burn she'd carved into him was her signature. Years from now, when someone asked A who'd marked him so thoroughly, he'd have to answer: her name, spoken aloud.

A little immortality.

"Hmph." The Raikage's teeth gleamed through his grimace. "And here I thought you'd have learned not to underestimate an old man by now."

Truth was, they'd both taken damage.

Azula's breathing had gone uneven a while ago; her techniques burned through chakra like oil through paper, and the fatigue had started creeping in around the edges.

That's when he'd caught her. A hit here, a blow there. Nothing clean, but devastating enough.

Still, when their eyes met across the cratered battlefield, neither looked away with anything less than respect.

A realized something during this fight, something that loosened the knot of tension he'd carried for decades: she wasn't trying to kill him.

She was playing.

Fighting because the fire in her veins demanded an outlet, because the clash of power against power felt good. So he'd stopped holding back too and cut loose.

And gods help him, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this alive.

For a while—neither could say how long—they forgot there was even a reason for this.

Azula broke the silence first.

"So. Have you thought about it, Raikage?"

She didn't wait for an answer, just started laying it out plain.

"I alone can go toe-to-toe with you. Tsunade alone is enough to carve through your elites like they're training dummies. Mito-sensei?" A pause, a flicker of something almost like fondness. "She could erase your country and Iwagakure without breaking a sweat. She just doesn't like the mess."

She then offered an alternative.

"You've heard how we handled Kiri after they surrendered. It's not shameful, A. It's smart. Better than us killing each other over nothing when we both know how this ends."

The words hit harder than any punch she'd thrown.

Because he did know. Had been trying not to know, but the truth sat heavy in his chest now, undeniable after hours of matching her blow for blow and still walking away with nothing but a draw.

Fifty-fifty. That's the best he could hope for against her alone.

And if he allied with Iwa and Suna? Hiruzen handled Ōnoki. Tsunade handled the Kazekage. Then what? Tajima, Mito, Danzō, Torifu, Kagami, Konoha heads of different clans along with their clansmen, and the whole damn Uzumaki clan are waiting in the wings.

He couldn't see the path to victory anymore—just the path to annihilation.

(END OF THE CHAPTER)

 

[Melonlord]

The silence that followed was absolute.

Thousands of Kumogakure shinobi stood frozen, barely breathing. Their Raikage and Azula had fought to a standstill, and now they waited, praying their Raikage wouldn't choose to back down.

It was finally A who spoke, breaking the silence.

"You fought me at full strength without holding back or restraint (believe it). And yet..." His eyes narrowed. "I've killed enough men to know when someone wants me dead, and you didn't. Why?"

Killing intent wasn't some mystical aura; it was something very simple.

Men who'd spent their first decade learning to end lives and every year since either taking them or running from those who would, they knew.

Every Kumo-nin present had felt it: Azula could have burned them to ash according to what she had displayed in her fight against their Raikage before A ever arrived and vanished with her Flying Raijin without a problem.

She did none of these things.

And now their Raikage confirmed what they'd all suspected but couldn't believe: she hadn't been trying to kill him either.

What the hell was happening?

Azula laughed.

"War is stupid." She smiled, and it wasn't cruel. It was almost... fond. "People deserve better than to feed my flames. And..."

Her gaze swept across the Kumo-nin standing behind him, ready to die for him, worthy of the village with the least rebels. "You've built something worth admiring here. I'm not in the business of burning beautiful things for no reason."

In Konoha, Hiruzen Sarutobi sneezed violently during his meeting.

A heard what she didn't say. I respect you and respect your village. I want to conquer it intact.

This woman wanted possession without destruction. There was a difference, and he respected her enough to recognize it.

But he scoffed anyway because pride demanded it.

"Don't insult my intelligence, Uchiha. You didn't cross half the continent, fight me to exhaustion, and now just... what? Want to hold hands? What is your real goal?"

Deep down, in a place he'd never admit existed, hope stirred.

He remembered Hashirama Senju, a time when the world held its breath not from fear, but from possibility.

Before Madara fell to darkness, before the wars resumed their endless cycle, there had been a moment when strength meant something other than destruction.

Azula was no Hashirama. She burned things for sport, apparently, but she also hadn't burned his things.

He'd spent his entire life never hoping in anyone but himself. An Uchiha? For peace? The very idea was almost offensive.

Almost.

Azula watched the emotions flicker behind his eyes, too fast for anyone else to catch, but she'd been reading people like scrolls since she could talk.

Oh, she realized with genuine amusement. He's a big tsuntsun?

She didn't answer his question directly because she wasn't begging or pleading for him to submit; she was convincing him with her Talk no Jutsu. There's a difference.

So instead, she asked her own question.

"You felt it too, didn't you?"

"During our fight. That moment when winning stopped mattering and you just... fought. When was the last time anyone made you feel that alive?"

"Your point?" A asked, very confused.

"My point is simple," Azula said, her voice carrying absolute certainty despite the glares burning into her from every Kumo-nin in the room. "I don't want to destroy your village. Unlike that one built on betrayal and bloodlust, I think Kumo has potential."

She didn't flinch under their hatred because her position was absolute, and they all knew it.

"I'm going to build something neither you nor anyone else has managed: a world without war for the next hundred years, a world without lies or manipulation. You can feel it too, can't you? The truth in what I'm saying."

She paused, then smirked.

"The question isn't whether you trust me. It's whether you trust yourself enough to bet on something other than fear."

So that's it, Tsunade realized, a genuine smile tugging at her lips. Not world domination, but something even bigger.

If Azula announced tomorrow that she planned to rule everything, Tsunade would believe it without hesitation. That kind of goal just came with different perks, like war and elimination.

But A understood something Tsunade missed.

Her tone told him everything. This girl was asking him, the most volatile Kage in existence, to surrender in such a way no one else would dare.

No one except someone utterly insane.

Like her.

And the terrifying part was he was actually considering it. Joining her made more sense than partnering with that miser Onoki and the cowardly Kazekage.

A never hesitated. Once he chose, he chose.

"Kumo withdraws," he announced. "No alliances with Iwa or Suna. But don't expect Konoha to get everything it wants."

Translation: We'll follow your lead, but give me some face in front of my people.

Azula's eyebrows drew together. This was what she wanted, but not quite. She didn't want followers.

She wanted obedience, the kind Kiri gave. If she ordered the new Fourth Mizukage to appear tomorrow, she'd appear.

But it doesn't matter, she decided, planning something. They'll surrender completely soon enough.

There was a reason she handled Kumo differently than Kiri. These weren't shinobi in the traditional sense; they were warriors at heart.

Black-hearted, yes, but proud.

Forcing them would mean endless rebellions, wasting her time chasing them across mountains.

Better they come willingly.

Or discover exactly why no one refuses the Fire Princess twice.

"Okay, I will give you a day to think about it. Be ready, negotiations will start tomorrow." She didn't want to blurt her terms in front of thousands of Kumo-nin because she knew that if she did, it might touch their pride and complicate things.
•••

And so, Azula and Tsunade walked right out in front of thousands of stunned Kumo-nin with not a single soul brave or stupid enough to get in their way.

As for why not just zip out of there with the Flying Raijin? Well, Tsunade glanced at her companion, taking in the torn clothes, the sweat-soaked hair, the slight tremor in those shoulders.

Azula looked ragged, and she honestly looked hilarious.

The moment they were alone, Tsunade lost it.

She doubled over, clutching her stomach, laughing. "Oh hahaha, I haven't seen you this messed up since—okay, actually, I've never seen you this messed up. Totally worth skipping the fight and just watching you enjoy yourself."

Azula rolled her shoulder, the joint popping back into place with a satisfying crack. A slow, sideways smile crept across her face. "It's been years since I had a real challenge. Shame he couldn't push me to my absolute limit, though."

Tsunade's laughter faded. Her eyes drifted to the tiny, perfect point in the center of Azula's forehead.

"Then why didn't you go all out?" Tsunade asked, suddenly serious. "That whole thing with A and the Cloud village… that wasn't you. The you I know wouldn't have been so… nice?"

She cringed at the word. Nice? Azula? But compared to her usual standards? Yeah.

Azula pursed her lips, considering. "It's not that deep. My research on the Sharingan has been conclusive for a long time now. To evolve it, to awaken the Mangekyō… it's not about sorrow or killing your best friend. It's just about emotional swing."

She started walking again, Tsunade falling into step beside her. "Problem is, people like us, the ones born with a certain… yin control, like the Nara clan, we don't do huge emotional swings. I honestly thought fighting A would get my blood pumping enough. It did, but it wasn't enough."

A shadow flickered across her face as she thought about a certain old hermit, holed up in some cave, probably watching all of this go down on a TV made of pure chakra.

"Plus," she added, quieter now, "gotta keep some cards hidden. You never know when a ghost from the past decides to crash the party."

But Tsunade wasn't listening anymore. Her brain had snagged on one thing: emotional swing, excitement, and awakening the Mangekyō.

A slow, dangerous grin spread across her face.

So… me accidentally flashing her in the bath got her more worked up than throwing down with the Raikage? She preened internally. Take that, you muscle-bound oaf. I win.

Feeling the sudden silence, Azula glanced over. Tsunade had that look, the one that meant she was cooking up something insufferable.

Azula decided not to ask because ignorance was peace.

"The Land of Frost," Azula announced, changing the subject. "Their spas should be empty with all the border fighting. Perfect time for a hot spring."

Because the Land of Frost was freezing, and the only thing keeping merchants brave enough to visit was the promise of a good soak. The Daimyō understood business.

Tsunade perked up. Then deflated. "Wait. If the spas are empty… does that mean their casinos are closed too?"

Azula pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's where your brain goes?"

What could she say? Gambling was Tsunade's one true vice—an addiction, a release, a beautiful disaster. Azula just shook her head, a flicker of something soft and determined in her eyes.

Someday, she promised herself, watching the blonde scheme beside her. Someday I'll do something about it.

But for now? A hot bath sounded like heaven.

(END OF THE CHAPTER)

 

[Melonlord]

The journey to the Land of Frost was less a journey and more a series of complaints disguised as conversation.

But they quickly arrived at the spa town located between a valley like a secret the 'white' mountains were keeping.

Steam rose from dozens of those unnatural hot springs, with traditional wooden structures buildings and curved roofs.

It was, objectively, beautiful.

"This is disgustingly picturesque," Tsunade announced.

"That's the idea." Azula was already walking toward the largest establishment, a three-story inn with a carved wooden sign reading Heaven's Touch.

"The Daimyō of this region understood that people will travel through war zones for the promise of luxury. It's the same principle as casinos, though fortunately, casinos are for the rich, and not sane rich would come to the Land of Frost in this period of time."

Tsunade perked up. "Speaking of casinos—"

"No."

"I didn't even ask anything!"

"You were going to ask if they are also open, but they don't even have one. This is a spa town, not a vice den."

Azula paused at the entrance, glancing back. The setting sun caught her black eyes. "Though I suppose having you here is vice enough."

She slid the door open before Tsunade could process whether that was an insult or something else entirely.

•••

The innkeeper was a small, round man with nervous eyes and the desperate smile of someone trying very hard not to think about the war happening disturbingly close to his place of business.

"Welcome! Welcome to Heaven's Touch! How may I—" He stopped, taking in their appearances.

Two women, travel-worn, one with torn clothing that looked suspiciously singed, both radiating an aura that made his survival instincts scream.

His smile became even more desperate. "—help you?"

"A room," Azula said. "The best one with private access to the springs."

"Of course, of course! Right this way, we have our finest suite available, normally reserved for visiting dignitaries, though with the current... situation..." He laughed nervously, mopping his brow with a cloth.

"Business has been challenging. You wouldn't believe the cancellations! People are so sensitive these days, just a little border skirmish and suddenly no one wants to travel."

He led them through a serene courtyard garden, past carefully raked gravel and frozen koi ponds.

Azula and Tsunade exchanged a look.

"Little border skirmish," Tsunade muttered under her breath. "That's one way to describe armies clashing twenty miles from here."

"Shh." Azula's lips twitched. "Let him cope."

The innkeeper continued his monologue, apparently grateful for an audience not currently trying to kill him.

"And the nerve of some people! Just last week, a merchant from the capital wrote demanding a full refund for his prepaid booking because and I quote 'the potential for violent death interferes with my relaxation.' As if we control the geopolitical situation! Do I look like the Daimyō to you?"

He laughed again, the sound edging into hysterical territory.

Azula's expression remained perfectly pleasant. "Terrible for business."

"Terrible," the innkeeper agreed fervently. "And the worst part? My 'friends' in the Land of Snow are probably thriving! 'Oh, come to the safe hot springs,' they advertise. 'No chance of being caught in a shinobi conflict here.'"

He mimed quotation marks with his fingers, offended on behalf of his entire profession.

"As if peace is something to brag about. Any fool can run a business in peacetime but it takes real entrepreneurs to keep going when the world's falling apart!"

Tsunade choked.

Azula's smile didn't waver, but something dangerous flickered in her eyes. "Quite right. The truly dedicated understand that commerce transcends temporary inconveniences like warfare."

"Exactly! You understand!" The innkeeper beamed, completely missing the irony. "This woman gets it. Now, here we are, the Sakura Suite. Private onsen, heated floors, the finest futons in the prefecture. Normally this would be fifty thousand ryō a night, but for discerning guests who appreciate the realities of business..."

He spoke conspiratorially. "Twenty thousand with breakfast included."

•••

The moment he left, Tsunade collapsed onto the nearest futon, shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Did you hear that man?" She wheezed. "'Any fool can run a business in peacetime.' You fought a Kage just a few walk away from the town! There are probably bodies! And he's worried about his competitors in the Land of Snow!"

Azula lowered herself onto the edge of the futon with considerably more dignity, though the slight wince as her muscles protested didn't escape Tsunade's notice, something she didn't heal with her Fire Release Chakra Mode because of spending much chakra.

"He's a businessman. They exist in their own reality. For them, war is just another market fluctuation."

"The potential for violent death interferes with my relaxation," Tsunade quoted, dissolving into giggles again. "I'm going to use that. That's my new excuse for everything."

"You already use 'I don't want to' for everything. You don't need another excuse."

"Rude. And accurate." Tsunade propped herself up on her elbows, watching Azula carefully remove her sandals.

It was... strangely vulnerable.

"You okay?" Tsunade asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it.

"Just a little bit sore." She couldn't help but smile. "It's been a long time since I felt my body like this. It should be since the day I awakened my Sharingan. It's enjoyable."

"Uh huh." Tsunade sat up fully. "And when's the last time someone made you soak in a hot spring after a job well done?"

Azula considered this. "Never."

"Then you're doing it wrong." Tsunade stood, stretching with a series of pops that made them both wince.

"Come on, let's test if this private onsen is actually private or if our businessman friend is going to charge us extra for 'premium water usage' or something."

•••

The private onsen was actually indeed private, a little rock pool tucked into a corner of the inn's garden, ringed by bamboo fencing, steam rising gently from the natural hot spring into the cold air.

Perfect.

Azula began peeling off her clothes with elegant precision. Her scroll had an outfit for every occasion, especially a spare for after a good fight.

But—swoosh, swoosh.

She didn't even need to look to know it was Tsunade, probably dumping her things anywhere without a second thought.

And yes, they'd booked a single room even though the whole spa was empty. A strategic choice, obviously. Just in case of an attack or ambush.

Definitely.

Azula kept going, until she was down to her comfortable red underwear, draping a towel over them without looking back.

Tsunade, who'd just wrapped a towel around herself after haphazardly discarding her clothes, watched the whole thing in a daze.

It wasn't until Azula started to turn that Tsunade quickly looked away, missing the slight smirk on Azula's face.

With her absolute sensing ability, how could she not feel Tsunade's burning gaze on her?

"Huh? Why aren't you waiting for me?" Azula teased, trailing behind Tsunade as she hurried toward the water.

Tsunade grumbled under her breath, finally understanding why Azula had reacted the same way when she'd seen her naked earlier.

Don't overthink it, Tsunade. You're about to give her the most wholesome, embarrassing moment of her life.

A mischievous plan took shape in her mind as they reached the pool.

She dropped her towel and dove in—completely naked.

She was Tsunade, after all; comfort came before everything else. She couldn't resist glancing back at Azula with a provocative look that screamed, "Do it if you're brave enough" without uttering a word, before slipping underwater.

Azula knew full well Tsunade was naked, but the thick mist was relentless. Even her unparalleled vision couldn't pierce it unless she activated her Sharingan, which she didn't.

Should I just go naked? she wondered. It was only her and Tsunade, after all—and being naked was way more comfortable than wearing underwear.

Knowing exactly what she was comfortable with, Azula didn't hesitate a second longer. She put on another strip show.

Damn mist! Tsunade grumbled, suddenly understanding why Jiraiya always called it his natural enemy.

For a long moment, she and Azula simply gazed at each other—no words, no shyness, just pure clarity and unspoken understanding.

Azula recognized that look. She understood Tsunade even more now, and precisely because of that, a bunch of complicated emotions stirred inside her.

Finally, she chose to dive in too. Instantly, she relaxed, dropping the pressure.

•••

"Sigh. You know, sometimes I really don't get it. Why start a war over a little disagreement? Wouldn't it be way better to just soak in a hot bath, hit the gambling tables, and call it a day?" Tsunade said after feeling comfortable.

Azula recognized it for what it was, though: a vent, not a real question. Tsunade was far too sharp to truly miss the point of war.

So she played along with a smirk. "Most warlords just don't have their priorities straight like you do. They also lack your very specific talent for sniffing out the nearest gambling den in the middle of total chaos. A rare gift and remarkably persistent."

Tsunade didn't even blink. "Still better than throwing lives away just to grab a scrap of territory everyone knows will just get handed back when the war's over."

She was thinking of those endless wartime cycles, troops flooding some outposts deemed a 'vital strategic point' only to lose it days later and start the whole pointless dance again.

"Well, look on the bright side," Azula said, her voice smooth as she drew Tsunade's attention. "Now that I'll be in power, those kinds of wars are finished. This world is about to see peace like never before."

She spoke like it was already a fact without doubt or hesitation. And for someone as bold as Tsunade, that kind of absolute confidence hit just right.

Still, Tsunade couldn't help being realistic.

"If anyone in this world could actually pull that off, it's you. No question." Her eyes flicked to the bruises still scattered across Azula. "But you need to get stronger than this. At least another level or two."

"I know. But at my level, not just anything can boost my strength anymore. I should be due for another upgrade soon, though." She admitted, already thinking about her 'one hundred ways' to awaken the Mangekyō.

Tsunade didn't question it.

"Well, let's not get into all that here. Time to just relax." She paused, a thought popping up. "Speaking of relaxing, I noticed you were pretty tense earlier. Want a medical massage?"

Azula didn't overthink it. It wasn't the first time Tsunade had offered one after a good fight, and she knew from experience it was worth it.

So she nodded.

She assumed it would happen after they got out of the pool. Which is why she was a little surprised when Tsunade swam straight toward her instead.

That brief surprise was all Tsunade needed. She slid past Azula in one smooth motion and settled right behind her.

Now Azula started to catch on. Well, not the full picture. She just figured Tsunade was being mischievous, looking for a little tease.

Still, having someone at her back felt a little weird. She admitted this to herself, thinking of her life back on Earth—where, honestly, she'd been way too dominant in every relationship.

But maybe it's an Uchiha thing? She thought of Madara, who'd claimed he couldn't even pee with someone standing behind him.

Then Tsunade's hands landed on her shoulders, and all those thoughts went straight into the trash.

Damn, since when did I get this sensitive? She was shocked, fighting with everything she had not to let out a moan, which would've been incredibly awkward.

But Tsunade, her hands moving across Azula's body, felt her tense up immediately. She smirked.

"Don't be so tense. You're supposed to relax, not tighten up. Don't you trust my skills?"

She spoke as she launched her offensive, this time even channeling a bit of her chakra to make her hands warmer. The effect on Azula was instant.

Calm down, Azula. You've seen it all. You broke a pelvis on a toy that was too big. You literally died because of—

Her thoughts shattered when she felt something press against her back.

"Hmm, Tsunade, what are y-you doing?" She stuttered, despite her best efforts.

Tsunade didn't let up. "Don't worry, I'm just using chakra. Doesn't it feel much better?"

It does feel better. But if this keeps going, I might be cumming.

(END OF THE CHAPTER)

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As for the update schedule, it's basically every Monday with at least 7 chapters and likely more