Naruto: Reincarnated As Azula, From The Same Generation As The Sannin Chapter 46: The Mizukage's Resolve

The mont the door clicked shut behind Hiruzen and Sakumo, Mito didn't just breathe a sigh of relief—she went straight into grandma-security mode.

With a series of fluid hand signs that were probably older than the Hokage Monunt, she encased the room in a shimring, soundproof barrier.

It was the Uzumaki equivalent of putting a "Do Not Disturb" sign on a nuclear reactor—just in case so curious soul decided to barge in with a question about lunch.

No sooner had the barrier's energy settled than Azula's Sharingan ignited, its crimson swirls cutting through the dim light.

She didn't ask for permission; a decade of ntorship had rendered such formalities obsolete. Mito, feeling the gentle psychic nudge at the gates of her mind, simply lowered her own ntal drawbridge and welcod her disciple inside.

Within the shared consciousness, a space where thoughts took form and ti was as flexible as a noodle in a ran bowl, nearly ten years of trust and shared secrets lay between them.

It was because of this profound bond that Mito now knew of the lurking, oily nace known as Black Zetsu and his army of albino, root-vegetable–looking spies.

And then there was Kurama. The great, foxy landlord of her soul was no longer the chained beast of legend, perpetually trapped in a dank, illusory lake.

Their relationship had evolved into sothing far more… dostic. The mighty Eight-Trigrams Seal was now mostly for show, a decoy to keep prying eyes none the wiser.

The real change had co after two long years of Mito, as the jinchūriki who had been his cage, sincerely apologizing.

She'd promised him a future—true freedom—contingent on Azula or Tsunade ascending to the Hokage's seat along with a few conditions. Her sincerity had actually reached him, a novel experience for a creature used to centuries of hatred and fear.

"Yo, Kurama! As lazy as usual?" Azula chirped, her ntal projection smirking at the massive fox, who was draped over a taphysical chaise longue in a pose of supre boredom.

The Nine-Tails let out a snort that could vaporize a small lake.

'Azy? What exactly was he supposed to do in this featureless ntal void? Take up knitting?

His last great source of entertainnt, a thrilling manga series about a blond ninja boy, had hit a cliffhanger, and Mito had been unforgivably lax about procuring the next volu. The indignity!

Mito watched the exchange with a fond smile, not intervening. Letting Azula poke the proverbial bear was a ti-honored tradition.

It helped the girl unwind, and secretly, it amused the hell out of Kurama.

Having watched both Azula and Tsunade grow from snot-nosed brats into formidable kunoichi, the fox had, against his will, developed a certain grumpy, paternal fondness for them. He'd never admit it, of course; it would ruin his image.

After a few more minutes of verbal sparring, Azula did feel significantly better. She'd been carrying the frustration of her last mission like a bad sll.

"You have no idea, Mito-sensei," she grumbled, her thoughts projecting the mory. "That fossil Onoki—wouldn't co down from the sky! It was like trying to swat a particularly annoying, floating gnat. He refused to take a punch and refused to land. So infuriating!"

A wicked grin spread across her face. "Fortunately, I managed to catch the Kazekage off-guard. Put my entire soul into that one punch. I'd be shocked if he's digesting his food properly before autumn."

She then voiced a more mischievous thought. "You know, part of wonders if old man Onoki or one of the Raikage's lackeys might 'help' the Kazekage on his way to the afterlife and pin the whole thing on ."

She shrugged, a gesture of supre indifference. "But let them. It's all just noise. If I were as strong as the Sage of Six Paths' mother, what bla could they possibly stick to ? I'd just… politely suggest their entire village cease to exist. Problem solved."

Then her tone shifted from joking, becoming as sharp as a senbon. "Mito-sensei, I believe the mont of truth for the Uzumaki clan has arrived."

The words landed in the serene consciousness space with the force of a teor. Mito's calm composure, honed over a lifeti, finally cracked.

"In this mission," Azula continued, "we didn't just encounter shinobi; we encountered the Four Kages themselves, all talking around the sa general area. They're plotting sothing, and the pieces all point to one conclusion: the annihilation of the Uzumaki."

She then began her detailed debrief, recounting every sighting, every probability, every gut feeling. Here, in the privacy of their shared mind, where seconds outside stretched into hours within, there was no rush, no detail too small to examine.

As Azula's ntal projection showed Tsunade's daring use of a forbidden technique, Mito felt a complex swell of pride and fear.

"That stubborn, brilliant girl," she sighed, a mixture of exasperation and deep affection in her voice. "To think of how far she's co… from the future you saw of her being swindled by that white-haired scoundrel, to the powerhouse she is now. It makes all our struggles worth it."

Her thoughts then turned grimly to the looming threat. "War is knocking at our door, Azula. There's no avoiding it now. But with you, , and Tsunade standing together? I am confident we can shield our clansn. We will rewrite this fate."

The idea of so grand, preordained "prophecy" and a "Child of Destiny" ant little to them now.

If saving the Uzumaki ant that so blond, blue-eyed savior of a future that might never co would fail to be born… so be it.

They had long since decided that being a slave to a supposed tiline was a coward's excuse.

If you weren't willing to fight fate for the people you loved, then you were nothing more than a puppet, and they had cut their own strings years ago. ... ... ... The seismic shockwaves of this single, monuntal event rippled outwards, touching every corner of the Five Great Hidden Villages and fundantally altering the political landscape of the entire shinobi world.

Yet, if one were to pinpoint the epicenter of this quake, the person most profoundly and personally rattled was, to the surprise of many historians of the future, the Third Mizukage himself, Mizura.

Back within the oppressive silence of his Mizukage office, the air was thick with the acrid scent of his own fury. He stood, a pillar of simring rage, his knuckles bone-white as they pressed against the polished surface of his desk.

"Damn it!" The curse was a low, guttural thing, torn from the depths of his soul. "Damn it! Damn it!"

He had not felt such a profound, gut-wrenching powerlessness since the blood-soaked chaos of the Warring States period, an era defined by legendary strongn and daily carnage.

Back then, death had a simple, brutal logic. But this? This was an entirely new kind of humiliation. This powerlessness did not stem from a superior force he could comprehend, but from a maddening, incomprehensible paradox.

His mind kept circling back to the impossible truth: a re girl of fourteen—not even a woman.

A child, barely seasoned, had not only stalled him—the Third Mizukage, a man in his absolute pri—but had co perilously close to claiming victory.

Were it not for the cadre of Elite Jonin who had sward to his aid, the outco might have been a permanent stain on his legacy.

He, who had once contended for the title of Second Mizukage! He, who stood unquestionably among the five strongest shinobi in the entire Land of Water! Beaten, not by a seasoned rival, but by a teenager.

And then there was the technique—the source of this outrageous power. The na was seared into his mory like a brand: Forbidden Art: Scarlet Beast Seal.

He would never forget the sight of it. A re Elite Jonin, a kunoichi who should have been effortlessly swept aside, had been montarily transford into a peerless combatant, her power elevated to a level where she could face him without flinching.

It was alchemy. It was witchcraft. It was the ultimate cheat, and it solidified a resolution within him that was now as hard as diamond. The secret arts of the Uzumaki clan must be his.

His mind raced, cataloging the countless losses Kirigakure had suffered at the hands of those accursed seals.

He recalled one infamous report from the last Great Shinobi War: a single Uzumaki shinobi, in a move of breathtaking and callous efficiency, had sealed an entire army of one thousand n inside a single person. The tactical result was devastating.

By sacrificing that one vessel, Konoha had effectively erased a thousand-strong division from the battlefield in an instant, single-handedly tipping the scales of a major confrontation in their favor.

And that was rely one example. There were whispers of even more outrageous jutsu—techniques that allowed an Uzumaki on the brink of death to enact a final, catastrophic revenge, sealing away everything and everyone within a certain radius for all eternity.

For Mizura, a shinobi who had clawed his way to the pinnacle of power without the crutch of a prestigious clan, this was the ultimate key.

Sealing techniques were not just tools; they were the great equalizer, a force that could compensate for any lack of inherent talent or lineage. To achieve true, unchallenged greatness, this was the first and most crucial step.

His eyes, sharp and decisive, lifted from the grain of the wood to the two figures standing patiently before him: Genji and Kusaki. They were his most trusted confidants, the only souls privy to the raw, unfiltered nature of his temper. The air in the room shifted as his gaze settled upon them.

"Genji. Kusaki," he began, his voice no longer a ragged whisper but a clear, cold blade of sound, cutting through the tension. "I have decided."

He paused, letting the weight of his declaration hang in the air. This was not a topic for debate. It was a decree.

"This alliance with the other villages must be ford. Its sole purpose: the utter and complete destruction of the Uzumaki clan and the acquisition of their sealing arts. Whatever the cost." He leaned forward, the Mizukage's hat casting a shadow that seed to swallow the light. "I am willing to personally lead the assault, and Kirigakure will commit the largest possible contingent of our forces. We will not be denied our destiny."

The finality in his tone left no room for question. The path was set, and it was paved with the promised ruin of Uzumaki.