Naruto: Reincarnated As Azula, From The Same Generation As The Sannin Chapter 68: On The Possibility Of Tsunade Having A Baby

Of course, Asuka didn't ntion the real kicker—that because of the whole thing, her mother had straight-up banished her father from the house for a full, miserable month.

The man had been forced to sleep in the clan's administrative offices, surviving on ran and sha.

Rumor had it they'd co this close to ending the marriage. It was the kind of family drama that would fuel whispered conversations for years.

But even if she had ntioned it, to Azula this particular slice of Uzumaki dostic fallout couldn't have interested her less.

Her focus was laser-locked on the seals. Her mind, a library of forbidden and advanced fuinjutsu, was already whirring.

She knew intricate, devastating seal-illusion combinations that could surgically strip a person of a single sense—plunging them into absolute silence, or total darkness, or robbing them of the very feeling in their limbs.

She could, if she felt particularly vicious, snatch all five away at once, leaving a soul trapped in a suffocating, senseless void inside their own skull.

What truly had her gears turning, though, was that throwaway line about the ti differential: "One day outside is like five days inside." Her scientific mind was buzzing with questions.

Was it a psychological trick—a brutal genjutsu that simply manipulated the victim's perception of ti, making a second feel like an hour? Or was it the real, mind-bending deal—a spatial-temporal seal that actually warped the fabric of reality within its boundaries?

She knew the Uzumaki were the undisputed pioneers of containnt seals. They'd literally invented the art of shoving a chakra god of destruction into a human baby.

Inside that seal, ti was a suggestion; a day for the jinchuriki's consciousness could be a re minute for the outside world. But that was all… internal. It affected the mindscape, not the physical world, like the dreaded Tsukuyomi of Itachi Uchiha.

But a seal that genuinely altered the flow of ti in the real world? That wasn't just a step up; it was a leap into the realm of a legendary thing to learn.

A slow-burning excitent flickered in her chest, but she quickly doused it with a dose of cold, hard logic. Mito, her teacher and the greatest fuinjutsu master alive, had never once breathed a word about such a thing. If it existed, Mito would know. Therefore, it probably didn't.

Probably. The scientist in her refused to close the case without hard evidence. She would have to see it, test it, and feel its chakra pattern for herself.

Asuka watched the play of intense concentration on Azula's face and wasn't surprised in the slightest.

In the short ti she'd known her, she'd confird Azula as the type of person who saw the world as a series of locks waiting for her specific key.

Their little tour of Uzushiogakure was just wrapping up when things got interesting. There was a faint puff of air, a subtle displacent of dust, and a shinobi materialized directly in front of Azula, kneeling on the cobblestones.

He was an ANBU, face obscured by a featureless porcelain mask, but the shock of vibrant red hair spilling from the back of his headband was a dead giveaway—Uzumaki, of course.

His voice was flat, a monotone stripped of all inflection. "Azula-sama. The Daimyo informs you of the arrival of the main Uzumaki delegation. Your presence is requested."

She eyed him coolly. A modern mind might have found his delivery borderline rude, lacking the groveling deference one might expect for a person of her status.

But this wasn't that kind of world. Here, diplomacy was often just a polite word for a negotiation between people with high enough kill counts to be taken seriously, and ANBU of every nation were famously, rigidly professional.

This wasn't disrespect; it was just protocol.

"Understood. Lead the way," she replied, her tone equally neutral.

She wasn't exactly bored by the sights of Uzushiogakure—the spiraling architecture and pervasive history were fascinating—but a part of her couldn't help but feel the experience would have been infinitely better with Tsunade there to snark about it all.

Her blonde, slug-slinging friend had a way of cutting through pomp and circumstance like a chakra scalpel.

That was the burden and the isolation of her position. From the mont she was born, with her unique heritage and the terrifying talents she'd displayed, she was set apart.

In all of Konoha, she could count on one hand the people who saw her, and not the "asset," the "prodigy," or the "political pawn."

Apart from her own parents and brother, there were only five to seven people whose relationship with her was genuine, untainted by the complicated dynamics of subordinate and superior.

...

...

...

Tsunade's POV

The mont we stepped into Uzushiogakure, my eyes scanned the welcoming party, and the usual suspects were all there: Azula, the Uchiha who had co earlier, and a few uncles and aunts from Grandma's clan.

But my attention snagged on the young girl practically glued to my best friend's side. She was staring at with these huge, shining eyes, like I'd just descended from the moon on a chariot of fire. It was… weird.

Before I could process it, Azula's gaze locked with mine. A single, deliberate blink. Situation normal. Mostly. Two rapid blinks from . The shiny-eyed one is creeping out. She almost—almost—smirked. This was our language, a code built from years of shared chaos and silent observation.

Our silent conversation was cut short by Grandma Mito's voice, and it wasn't just her words that struck , but the sound of them. They were light, buoyant with a joy I hadn't heard in what felt like a lifeti.

"Shinki," she said. "It seems you have truly grown up."

I stared. It had been years since I'd seen her look so… free. The weight of Konoha, of being the Nine-Tails' jailer, seed to have slid from her shoulders the mont her sandals touched Uzushio's soil.

And the way everyone here looked at her? It wasn't just respect. It was reverence, as if a living legend had finally co ho.

The man she was speaking to was the reason for that—Uzumaki Shinki, the Daimyo who had shepherded the remnants of the Uzumaki clan since the last Great War, and the grandson of the legendary Ashina himself.

The problem, however, was that he should have been as old as Hiruzen-sensei. But here he was, vibrant and strong, having just "grown up" in Grandma's words.

Sotis, I genuinely forgot that my grandma had the right to call almost all the people I knew young.

Shinki didn't seem offended in the slightest; he was practically radiating sunshine. "Mito-sama, it's been a lifeti. I never expected I would have the honor of seeing you here in mine."

I winced internally. Oh, he'd walked right into that one. Sure enough, a familiar, playful sternness settled on Grandma's face.

"And what is that supposed to an?" she asked, her tone deceptively sweet. "That you didn't plan to visit until after my funeral? Or are you simply cursing to die quickly?"

I knew it was a tease—a classic grandma power play—but the way Shinki's confident smile faltered and he started fumbling for words was downright hilarious.

Then sothing truly bizarre happened. Azula, the human embodint of not my problem, decided to intervene.

"Mito-sensei, what are you talking about?" she said, her voice cutting through the mild tension. "You still have at least another decade in you. The Uzumaki have the reputation of being the clan of longevity, after all."

I blinked. Since when did Azula play peacemaker? Since when did she care? But Grandma, who understood the labyrinth of Azula's mind better than anyone, just gave her a knowing smile.

"A decade, hmm?" she mused, and a shadow of genuine weariness passed behind her eyes. "Living long isn't always the blessing people think it is. You get the distinct privilege of sending all your cherished people to the grave before you."

A heavy silence descended—the kind that reminds you that in our world, every surviving shinobi is a library of loss. We wear our scars on the inside, and the longer you live, the more crowded that library gets.

Thankfully, Grandma Mito was not one to dwell in lancholy.

She shook her head, the ghost of a smile returning as she patted my arm. "Anyway, I have lived long enough to see my grandchildren grow into fine shinobi, and that is a blessing. Although, I suppose my one regret is that I may not live to see the child of my granddaughter."

"Grandma!" I yelped, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. She couldn't just drop a bomb like that in the middle of a diplomatic hocoming!

But before I could stutter out a defense, a loud, utterly impolite snort of laughter cut through the air. Who else?

Azula was full-on laughing now, a rare, unguarded sound that was both beautiful and terrifying.

"Mito-sensei," she managed between breaths, wiping a mock tear from her eye, "with all due respect, your dream might be a little too ambitious. Tsunade settling down to have a baby? Hah! Now that is what I call a fairy tale."

(END OF THE CHAPTER)

It's been a long ti since I've tried the first POV and it seems that my skill there have regressed.