Azula wasn't joking. In the anime, Tsunade had been hung up on some guy named Dan. A nice enough elite jonin, she supposed, but frankly? Kind of… weak. And that was the part that short-circuited Azula's brain.
The Tsunade she knew—the one she had practically adopted in this wild new life—was a force of nature. She respected strength above all else: strength of fist, of will, of spirit.
How did that Tsunade ever fall for a man who, by all accounts, couldn't punch his way out of a wet paper bag? It made no logical sense.
Then again, she had to keep reminding herself, the weepy, sake-soaked Tsunade of the anime wasn't her Tsunade.
Her Tsunade was too busy running the Senju, healing the world, and drinking everyone under the table to show even a flicker of romantic interest in any man—strong or otherwise.
Of course, her Tsunade, currently in front of her with a scowl, had no idea about the critique of her (non-existent, in this timeline) love life currently running through Azula's head.
And while Tsunade herself had exactly zero plans for motherhood in the foreseeable future, having a fourteen-year-old bring it up in front of a delegation was a special kind of embarrassing, even for her.
But then her eyes lit up; a sly, mischievous grin spread across Tsunade's face as she saw an opening for counter-attack.
She spoke, elbowing Azula gently. "Now that you are speaking of it, does that mean you are ready to marry and have children? Will it be next year or even sooner?"
As her best friend, Tsunade knew exactly how to get under her skin. The shot landed perfectly, and Azula was left speechless for a full two seconds, her usual composure cracking before she managed a strained smile. Touché.
"Let's… just drop it," Azula deflected, gracefully steering the conversation toward safer, more public waters. "Uzushiogakure has prepared a massive banquet in our honor, and they've been patiently waiting for you to finally show up."
Shinki, who should have been smiling, had been a silent escort and blinked slowly. He didn't comment on the fact that Azula spoke as if she weren't one of the main guests of honor.
He had other things on his mind. Like the fact that he, a grown man and a respected leader, had just been deeply uncomfortable while two teenage girls—one a Senju heir, the other the Uchiha Matriarch—debated pregnancy.
He cleared his throat, his diplomatic smile returning with practiced ease.
"Indeed," Shinki said, his voice a warm, booming thing that suited his red-haired heritage. "We've pulled out all the goods. You'll find almost every delicacy the Uzumaki are famous for, save for a few seasonal specialties that even our finest chefs couldn't conjure out of thin air."
From beside Azula, Mito Uzumaki let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. Her sharp eyes had caught the subtle shift in Azula's expression during the earlier conversation.
Azula had once, in an unguarded moment, confessed to Mito that she would never have children.
Mito didn't know the reason—some deep-seated Uchiha thing, she assumed—but the finality in the girl's voice had been absolute. Now, choosing to lighten the mood, Mito played along.
"It really is quite the spread," Mito said, a playful glint in her eye. "And it's a good thing, too. Someone was just complaining to me about being so tense that they haven't eaten since yesterday and are now, and I quote, 'starving enough to eat a whole boar.'"
She didn't name names, but the blush that exploded across Tsunade's cheeks was a dead giveaway.
Heaven only knew—the combined appetites of the Uzumaki, Uchiha, and Senju clans were a terrifying thing to behold. Some of them could give the Akimichi a run for their money.
The banquet itself was a sprawling, open-air affair, because you can't exactly fit over a thousand people indoors.
The only place in all of Uzushiogakure with a courtyard large enough was the Daimyo's residence, a place accustomed to hosting massive gatherings for the powerful and the political.
Even Azula, who was no stranger to Uchiha opulence, had to admit it was extravagantly impressive. The scents of roasting meat, rich stews, and fresh bread filled the air—a symphony of deliciousness.
A small, pragmatic part of her brain, however, was already making notes. As the Uchiha Matriarch, she lived in what the clan reverently called the Ancestral House. It was respectable, historic (since the founding of Konoha)… and frankly, a bit cramped. It was nothing compared to this.
Oh well, she thought, an ambitious spark lighting in her dark eyes as she surveyed the bustling scene. I'll just have to get a bigger place when I become Hokage.
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The banquet was, by all accounts, surprisingly chill.
For a gathering that had Uzumaki, Uchiha, and Senju sharing platters of food instead of exchanging jutsu, "surprisingly chill" was basically a resounding success. If the night ended without a single S-rank technique lighting up the sky, you could honestly call it a win.
But after dark? The peaceful vibes were strictly a surface-level thing.
Deep within the Uzumaki compound, in a room sealed tighter than a Hokage's secret scroll vault, the three women had gathered.
Azula, Tsunade, and Mito sat in a triangle with a barrier jutsu that made eavesdropping a physical impossibility.
Now, Tsunade would be the first to grumble about it, but in these kinds of brain-bending strategy sessions, she was usually the decorative piece—
The one who'd rather solve a problem with a well-placed fist than a convoluted five-part plan. Mito and Azula were the masterminds; she was the wrecking ball they aimed at the problem.
But tonight was different. The worry gnawing at her gut had overridden her usual preference for direct action.
Her typically boisterous expression was gone, replaced by a deep, serious frown. She zeroed in on her grandmother. "Grandma. Let's cut the nonsense. How are we supposed to handle the combined armies of four Great Villages by ourselves?"
She'd run the numbers in her head again and again. It was a terrifying mental spreadsheet. On one side, you had their heavy hitters.
Azula was a monster who could dance with two Kage at once and come out smiling. Tsunade herself was confident she could take any one Kage-level opponent, ensuring she had a certain percentage of winning.
Mito, despite her age, was a fortress of chakra and fuinjutsu, easily worth two Kage in a fight—especially with that strange mode she displayed earlier in Konoha.
Then you had Shinki and Mugetsu, each a formidable force in their own right, good for another Kage each. And let's not forget the ex-patriarch, Tajima—a man who could likely solo two Kage.
So, top-tier? They could field at least ten Kage-level combatants. That was insane.
A step down: the elite jonin. The Uchiha clan alone boasted over thirty. Add in the Uzumaki and the raw power of the Senju, and their collective elite jonin force outnumbered Sunagakure's entire roster. It was a staggering concentration of quality.
But then… there was the bottom line. The numbers. The rank-and-file. The genin and chūnin who formed the backbone of any army. Combined, they probably didn't even break three thousand.
Her conclusion was understandable. "We could take on any one of the Five Great Villages—Konoha included—and wipe them off the map. I'm sure of it. But all four? At once? I think it will be very difficult to resist. Their low-level ninja might be cannon fodder, but there's so much fodder it would chew through our best. I don't see a clear path to victory here."
At her blunt assessment, Mito and Azula exchanged a look—a silent conversation passing between them in a heartbeat. They sighed in perfect, synchronized unison.
Azula's sigh, in particular, was heavy with the weight of things left unsaid. She'd never sat Tsunade down and explained the whole excuse of I-have-seen-glimpses-of-a-possible-future. It was messy.
A slow, confident smile spread across Azula's face, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes but held an unnerving amount of certainty.
"You just have to trust us, Tsunade," she said, her voice low and steady. "You know me. You know Mito. Do you honestly think for a second that either of us would ever make a move that would deliberately put you, or our family, in real, irreversible danger?"
She was smiling, but her tone was dead serious. It was that classic Azula coolness—that unshakable aura of having all the answers even when the world was burning down around them.
For a long moment, Tsunade just stared, caught in the gravity of that gaze. The world seemed to narrow, the sounds of the night fading away, leaving only her friend's unwavering confidence.
Her heart, which had been thumping a frantic rhythm against her ribs, slowly began to calm. She didn't understand the how, not yet.
But she understood the who. The tension drained from her shoulders, and she looked away, a faint blush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.
"Tch. If you say so," she grumbled, crossing her arms in a show of defiance that was now completely hollow. "I trust you and Grandma, okay? I was just... worried. Don't make a big deal out of it."