Naruto: Reincarnated As Azula, From The Same Generation As The Sannin Chapter 110 - 108: The Cursed Image In Tsunade's Mind

The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves as a sudden shiver ran down Tsunade's spine while she leaped from tree to tree, pulling her from her thoughts.

Her body moved on instinct, muscles coiling with readiness—but there was nothing there.

She didn't sense any chakra signatures or anyone's presence, nothing but the gentle rustle of wind through the trees.

That's strange.

She trusted her instincts implicitly—they had kept her alive through more missions than she could count, and what she felt was like soone targeting her.

A Shadow Clone materialized beside her with a soft puff of smoke, imdiately disappearing into the front to scout. Just in case.

"Am I getting paranoid?" she murmured, brow furrowing in that way that made her look simultaneously thoughtful and adorably puzzled.

She shook her head, golden hair catching the light. Probably just stressed. The past few days had been... a lot.

Then, like the sun breaking through clouds, a thought surfaced that made her lips curve almost against her will, forgetting that she was in a situation where she'd felt danger.

By now, Azula should be back in the village, right?

The realization hit her with unexpected warmth.

It had been almost a month since they'd last trained together, shared als, bickered over strategies, or simply existed in each other's orbit. Tsunade pressed her lips together, sothing soft and unfamiliar fluttering in her chest.

Their bond hadn't always been this way. When Tsunade graduated—two years ahead of Azula—they'd been little more than acquaintances connected by Mito.

But sowhere around the ti Azula made chūnin, when they were both almost nine, sothing had shifted.

They'd beco inseparable mission partners, the kind of duo that other shinobi talked about with a mixture of envy and exasperation.

We drive each other crazy sotis, Tsunade thought, a genuine smile tugging at her lips.

Her mind wandered, as it often did when she thought of Azula, to comparisons.

"Co to think of it," she said aloud, tapping her chin, "isn't this exactly how Jiraiya and Orochimaru are?"

She froze.

Wait. No. That's not—

Her fair skin flushed a brilliant crimson as her traitorous brain supplied, with perfect, mortifying clarity, the mory of that manga. The one so Orochimaru fangirl had published years ago, depicting her teammate and his... and Jiraiya in that way.

Tsunade had burned it. Imdiately after reading it three tis. For research purposes.

If soone ever wrote sothing like that about and Azula...

The thought alone made her want to sink into the earth. She was the Princess of the Senju, daughter of the God of Shinobi. Azula was the Uchiha Matriarch, leader of that clan's terrifying legacy. Surely no one would dare—

Nude paintings.

The image exploded in her mind unbidden: her and Azula, captured in ink and pignt, without armor or uniforms or pretense. She could picture it with mortifying clarity—the sharp line of Azula's jaw, the way her onyx eyes would probably hold that sa intense focus they did during battle, the—

If that happened, who would be on top?

Her practical mind seized on the question with the sa analytical focus she applied to dical jutsu.

I'm physically stronger, obviously. So probably ? But Azula's fire techniques are nothing to dismiss, and she's so intense about everything she does, she'd probably—

Tsunade buried her face in her hands, her cheeks burning like she'd stood too close to one of Azula's fireballs.

WHAT ARE YOU THINKING, TSUNADE?!

She shook her head violently, golden hair whipping around her face, trying physically to dislodge the thoughts. When she finally stopped, she was slightly dizzy, slightly breathless, and still blushing like a schoolgirl.

Focus, Tsunade. You're heading back to camp. Like Azula said, you should always appear with class and that certain aura.

•••

It didn't take Tsunade long to clearly see the camp's periter and spot her two favorite idiots waiting up ahead, her expression turning into a blush as she recalled that manga.

"Why are you looking at like that?" Jiraiya asked, imdiately suspicious. Then it hit him—he rembered exactly when he got that look from her. "Wait. No. I know that face. Whatever you're thinking, it's disrespectful."

Even Orochimaru, who usually lived to contradict Jiraiya, looked personally offended. Which made sense—the man had standards. Being grouped with Jiraiya in any context was unforgivable. It should have been a better manga—.

"Nothing, really," Tsunade said, and for once—once—she offered an apologetic smile to Jiraiya. "Finished my scouting for today. Sothing's off, though. There were fewer Kumo ninjas than there should be."

Normally, soone of her caliber wouldn't be running point on suicide missions like "let's poke the Cloud ninja nest and see what bites."

But Tsunade had two modes: patching people up and punching problems until they stopped being problems.

Scouting was fine as long as it kept her busy.

The problem was, the last few days had been quiet. Instead of Cloud attacks or explosions, there was the kind of silence that made you wonder if the brutes were actually, for once, planning sothing that wasn't just "run in loud and figure it out later."

"Definitely weird," Jiraiya agreed, smart enough not to push his luck with the apologetic smile. "They usually fight first and maybe think about it later if there's ti. So why are their big players hiding? Raikage not living up to his reputation?"

Tsunade snorted, rembering the last ti that man ran into Sakumo. "Oh, he's not really brainless. But 'strategic genius'? Azula literally left him speechless last ti."

Jiraiya scratched his head. "Wait. Does getting left speechless by Azula an you're not smart enough? Or does it an everyone's just not smart enough around her?"

"Don't start your nonsense," Orochimaru cut in before this could spiral into whatever Jiraiya thought counted as conversation and his delusions. "Kumo isn't even retreating. They're definitely planning sothing big, and we need to figure out what."

They fell into step together, weaving through camp toward the command tents. Jiraiya and Orochimaru had just gotten back from their own scout routes—different directions, different teams, the sa lack of answers.

All fourteen, pushing fifteen, already jonin, the Hokage's students—already the kind of people no one in camp questioned, even if they were technically the kids at the table.

The only things they didn't have yet were rank, seniority, and the official titles that made the war council actually listen instead of just nodding politely.

But Tsunade was about to beco a clan head, since the Senju were about to get back their family na.

And among the people running this show were her best friend's dad, a bunch of her clansn, and about a hundred soldiers breathing easily because she'd dragged their half-dead bodies back from the edge with nothing but stubbornness and dical genius.

So yeah. They'd listen if she had sothing to say.

(END OF THE CHAPTER)