Naruto: Reincarnated As Azula, From The Same Generation As The Sannin Chapter 26: A Father's Stubbornness

The reason Azula didn't find Tajima today when she ca back from school as usual was because of a small clan eting, one that concerned her, which was obviously not good to do at his ho.

He was seated in the austere eting hall of a lesser-used Uchiha compound, the air thick with the scent of old tatami and unresolved grievances.

In the turbulent days since Madara's departure, such clandestine etings had beco a distasteful norm, little more than the persistent buzzing of flies that Tajima, as Patriarch, was often content to ignore.

Today was different. The fly had grown teeth and had issued a formal invitation; the summons had co from Kagami.

Kagami. The na itself was a prickling thorn in the side of the traditional Uchiha. His reputation within the clan was… complicated.

None could deny his prowess; he stood as the second strongest shinobi among them, a fact that commanded a reluctant respect and a faction of loyal followers.

For Tajima, a man who abhorred the clan's self-cannibalizing strife and preferred open dialogue, ignoring a direct call from a figure of such standing was not an option. It was a strategic necessity to attend, to look this particular problem in the eye.

Their relationship was a strange and strained tapestry woven with threads of mutual respect and profound ideological disgust.

After Madara's defection, when the clan teetered on the brink of civil war, it was Kagami whom the Second Hokage had chosen as his instrunt of intervention.

Using an Uchiha to control the Uchiha—it was a brilliant political maneuver by the Senju, and a deep, festering humiliation for the clan. A taboo.

Tajima knew, on so logical level, that Kagami himself was largely a pawn, a man with little choice but to obey his Kage.

But he was an Uchiha first, and his subsequent, wholehearted adoption of Konoha's so-called 'Will of Fire' felt like a profound betrayal to those who rembered the bloody fields of the Warring States Era.

To them, Konoha was a fledgling experint, a safe haven granted by the strength of their ancestors, not so sacred covenant for which they should gladly dissolve their identity as the Senju had. Loyalty to the village was one thing; sacrificing the clan's sovereignty upon its altar was another.

And Tajima rembered. The mory was recorded into his mind with the clarity of a Sharingan recording: finding Kagami kneeling before his young daughter, his voice a low, persuasive murmur.

He spoke of the greater good of Konoha, of the inherent arrogance that plagued their clan, of how they must be better. To a child, no matter how preternaturally intelligent, such words are not discussion; they are programming. They are seeds planted in fertile soil.

The infuriating part was that Kagami wasn't entirely wrong—but his perspective was dangerously narrow. Compared to the average, pride-blinded Uchiha, his words were wisdom. But the world was not made of average Uchiha.

What of Tajima's own wife, who had given her life for her family's future? What of the countless others who fought and died for a peace that would protect all children? Why show Azula only the darkest reflection of her own bloodline?

What if, in teaching her to reject the clan's flaws, she learned to reject the clan itself? What if she beca an extremist in the opposite direction, a zealot even more devoted to Konoha than Kagami?

These thoughts simred behind Tajima's eyes as he fixed his gaze upon the man across from him. His expression was one of unmasked, glacial displeasure—a look that surprised no one, for Tajima's poor opinion of Kagami was clan legend.

Kagami, for his part, t the Patriarch's glare with a weary resilience. He was long accustod to this particular frost.

"The reason I convened this council," he began, his voice cutting through the thick silence, "is that the Hokage has made a decision. The aftermath of the war has left our ranks depleted. To compensate, the academy will enact an early graduation for many first-year students—including our children."

Tajima's instincts, honed over a lifeti of conflict, scread in warning. This was it. Hiruzen Sarutobi had already floated the idea to him weeks ago, couching it in the imnse honor of a personal apprenticeship.

The offer had felt less like a reward and more like a claim, sending a cold dread down Tajima's spine. His gut had been right.

As Patriarch, however, his refusal could not be a simple, emotional outburst. It had to be a reasoned argunt, a wall of logic.

"I find myself perplexed, Kagami," Tajima stated, his voice a low rumble of controlled authority. "The war is concluded. Every village, including our own, licks its wounds and mourns its Kage. Konoha was founded by Hashirama-sama upon the very principle that children would be shielded from the battlefield, that they would know a childhood free of bloodshed. To abandon that principle now seems not just desperate, but hypocritical."

As the inheritor of the will Kagami so cherished, the man could only sigh, a sound full of the weight of impossible ideals. "Who among us disagrees? But these are extraordinary tis. Hashirama-sama dread of an end to war. He captured the very tailed beasts and sold them to the other villages in a desperate bid for balance, for cooperation."

"Yet, they descended upon us the mont he was gone. The world does not adhere to our dreams. Our children must adapt sooner, must harden faster. They will not be thrown onto the front lines, rely exposed to the world earlier to hone their talents."

A murmur of agreent rippled through the Uchiha present. This was a language they understood; the clan valued strength above all else.

The concept of a 'child' was fluid; what mattered was capability. A four-year-old prodigy on the battlefield was not a tragedy, but a testant to Uchiha greatness. Tajima's argunt about preserving childhood was, to most of them, a sentintal joke.

Tajima knew he was being stubborn. He knew he was arguing against the very core of his clan's martial philosophy.

Most Uchiha parents burned for their children to graduate early, to grab glory and honor with both hands. He was an outlier, a protector in a culture of predators.

But this was the nature of their world, and he was her father. His voice dropped, losing all pretense of debate and becoming a flat, immutable decree. "Then let be clear so there is no misunderstanding. My daughter, Uchiha Azula, will not graduate this year."

This was his line in the sand, drawn in steel. Azula's reputation was not so local rumor; it was a dossier on the desks of every Kage in the great nations. And what was the first, most sacred rule of shinobi geopolitics?

You kill the other village's geniuses. Especially one whispered to possess talent on par with Uchiha Madara himself. Would the world allow a second Madara to rise? The answer was a resounding, bloody no.

He knew his defiance made him look weak, overprotective, even cowardly in the eyes of his clansn. Let them think it.

The choice was simple, and he had made it the mont he first held her: would he cling to pride and let his daughter walk onto a world stage with a target on her back, hunted by four hidden villages? Or would he be called a coward, shielding her until her fla burned too brightly for any of them to snuff out?

The choice was effortless. And his absolute, patriarchal finality now placed it squarely in Kagami's hands, rendering the man's carefully laid plans with Hiruzen utterly, and publicly, worthless.

Based on his arrangent with the Hokage, Azula's life was about to change dramatically. Once she graduated, her ti would be spent less at ho and more on missions; and even when she returned, her hours would be dedicated to tutelage under Lady Mito.

So, Kagami, who had planned everything with Hiruzen and the rest, was the first to break the silence. "Tajima, this isn't like you. As our Patriarch, you are the example for every clansman to follow. While Azula is your daughter, we must rember: an Uchiha does not require coddling. She needs strength."

He delivered the words knowing they were a deliberate prod, a move that would undoubtedly strain his already complicated relationship with the clan head, but one he felt necessary to make.

His sentint was swiftly echoed by Takana, a man known to lead the more extre faction's chorus. "He speaks truth! Was it not the sa with my son, Futake? The boy was barely six winters old when he faced the lightning-users of Kumo on the battlefield. Look at him now—he awakened his Sharingan in the heat of combat, a prodigy forged in fire!"

Takana's chest swelled with paternal pride, but his eyes were sharp and calculating. "Only by leaving the house can Azula truly cash in on her formidable potential. To hold her back is a disservice to her gift."

In truth, Takana was no fool. He could see the protective gleam in Tajima's eyes, a father's love warring with a leader's duty. Arguing the opposite was a risk, a direct challenge that could provoke a grudge.

But ever since the news had broken—that the future heir they had all silently endorsed was now the personal disciple of an Uzumaki, the wife of a Senju no less—a cold fury had settled in his gut.

To him, it was the ultimate insult, a declaration that no Uchiha was worthy of guiding their own brightest star.

He made his play banking on Tajima's known character: a man who preferred debate over decree, persuasion over punishnt. He, like Kagami, expected a reasonable counter-argunt, a leader's attempt to calmly convince them of his view.

Or so they thought.

What they failed to account for was the unique alloy of Tajima's soul. Here was a man who had chosen diplomacy over dominance to heal the clan's inner conflicts, a patriarch who loved his family so deeply he shackled his own power for their unity.

This made him a family man first—a trait not so rare among the Uchiha, whose passions ran as deep as their chakra reserves.

But in the shinobi world, imnse power—especially the Uchiha kind—ca from vast chakra, which stemd from powerful spiritual energy. And powerful spiritual energy often ant one thing: an immovable, legendary level of stubbornness.

Tajima did not offer them a rebuttal. He did not try to persuade.

Instead, his eyes shifted. The familiar onyx black lted into a bloody crimson, one tomoe spinning into two, then three.

Then, in a breathtaking, terrifyingly beautiful display, the three tomoe in each eye swirled and rged, morphing into a pattern none present had seen in years—a fierce, spinning Triskelion. The Mangekyō Sharingan.

The temperature in the room seed to drop ten degrees.

"I," Tajima stated, his voice low and devoid of all argunt, "am not asking for your advice."

The silence was absolute.

"As your clan leader," he continued, the hypnotic patterns in his eyes holding them captive, "I chose to honor the majority's will and the Hokage's order. Our young clansn may graduate early—those who are willing and whose parents consent. That decision stands."

He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in, his gaze sweeping over the stunned elders.

"But as a father," he said, the words final and absolute, "my daughter will not. This is not a discussion. It is not a demand. It is simply the reality."

His expression was a masterclass in defiance, a clear, unspoken challenge etched into every feature: If you disagree, we can settle it now.

The outco is inevitable.

As the only known wielder of the Mangekyō Sharingan, confronting him in this state was pure insanity. Every Uchiha in the room knew it was a fight that could only end one way. His reputation might take a small hit for such a blatant display of nepotism, for flexing ultimate power in a dostic dispute.

But in that mont, Tajima found he couldn't bring himself to care. The day's gathering had already bored him, the endless political maneuvering feeling like so much nonsense.

He would stay until the bitter end, of course—because he was the Patriarch. But his point had been made, not with words, but with a legacy of power that none of them could ever hope to challenge.

(END OF THE CHAPTER)

AHH! I already started hating university, or rather the feeling of your life in the hands of others, like, you need to please them a little. But anyway, sorry for the lack of chapter yesterday, I was a little bit frustrated.

Anyway, thanks for the support and don't forget to vote, I was in the top 30 yesterday, I was really happy.

And for those willing and with the powers to support, welco to my Patreon with now two advanced chapters.

patreon/lonlord