"Let me get this straight," Satō, the Third Kazekage, said, his voice dangerously low. The scroll in his hand trembled not from fear, but from pure rage. "Hanzō looked our envoy in the eye and demanded this? A king's ransom in weapons and the head of Kayo, one of our most promising shinobi?"
He slammed the scroll onto the central table, the crack echoing in the tense silence of the council chamber.
His glare swept over the assembled shinobi but ultimately landed on the figure of Shō, who had just returned from the Rain.
"Since when," Satō hissed, "do envoys of Sunagakure return with their tails between their legs? Since when do we not fight for every single grain of sand our village is worth?"
A muscle twitched in his jaw. The humiliation was a fresh, open wound.
First, the combined might of several Kage failed to stop three Konoha ninja—three!—who had the audacity to walk away unscathed. The memory was a stain on his leadership.
But what truly festered was the personal shame. Teaming up with the Tsuchikage, a fellow Kage, against a single fourteen-year-old girl from the Uchiha clan… and not only failing to take her down, but being soundly beaten in return.
He could feel the subtle shift in the eyes of his subordinates, the unspoken question: Is he strong enough?
And now this. Hanzō, from a village that was little more than a glorified swamp, was demanding blood for blood.
He wanted Kayo's head on a platter and enough explosive tags to fund Suna's entire military for a month. It was an insult wrapped in a provocation.
The room was divided, a silent war of factions reflected in the seating. On one side sat Satō and his reformists, eager to push Suna into a new, more aggressive future.
On the other was the formidable Chiyo, her brother Ebizo, her son and his wife, and a handful of other elders—the stalwart guardians of Suna's traditional values.
"Blaming Shō is nonsense, and you know it," Chiyo retorted, her voice like grinding stones. She didn't bother with formalities; her age and accomplishments granted her that liberty. "The problem began when Kayo decided to kill Ame civilians based on a hunch. That is what could have started a war. We are shinobi of the desert, not butchers."
Shō, clearly from Chiyo's camp, stood a little straighter, gratitude in his eyes. Kayo, the hot-headed prodigy who had caused this mess, was Satō's man, his chosen protégé and potential successor.
Chiyo could understand the Kazekage protecting his own—that was the shinobi way. But she would not stand for him scapegoating her people to cover for his own faction's blunder.
"A mistake?" Satō shot back, his eyes narrowing. "Every shinobi makes them. But let's not forget the context. Kayo successfully eliminated a traitor who had stolen vital intelligence from this very council."
He let his gaze linger meaningfully on Chiyo and her family. The traitor, after all, had been loosely affiliated with their camp.
It was a low blow, but an effective one, and the reason they had been relatively quiet about the entire Ame incident.
He quickly moved on, not wanting to ignite that particular fuse. "The real issue is Hanzō's delusions of grandeur! He fancies himself a demigod who can make the Five Great Nations kneel? But we cannot afford to be bogged down in a squabble with the Rain. Not now. The situation in Uzushio is critical."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone, trying to pull the room's focus to the bigger prize. "With the Uchiha and Senju throwing their weight behind them, if we don't crush that island now, we're looking at a new superpower rising on our flank. Konoha, despite our threats, might be emboldened to intervene directly. That is the worst-case scenario."
He painted a picture of strategic necessity, of a village fighting for its future.
And if, in the process of securing that future, a certain black-haired princess—no, Queen—from Uchiha was made to pay for the humiliation she'd inflicted upon him… well, that was just a fortunate bonus.
He was willing to pay any price, sacrifice any number of capable shinobi, to see that happen.
For the village, of course. Always for the village. ... ... ... The tension in the ninja world was everywhere, reflected in Kiri, Ame, and Suna. Every major village was a powder keg, and everyone was just waiting for the spark.
Which was why the situation in Uzushio was, to put it mildly, bizarre.
Here was a village sitting pretty in the eye of the hurricane. With every other great power sharpening their kunai and looking their way with hungry eyes, Uzushio should have been a bastion of frantic preparation and grim-faced resolve.
Instead, ever since the Uchiha and Senju had arrived, the place had the relaxed, almost festive vibe of a summer festival.
The tension had not just eased; it had packed its bags and left for a long vacation.
The Uzumaki clan elders, in a move that would give any other Kage an aneurysm, had openly announced the upcoming attacks to the entire village.
In other villages, this would be a state secret guarded by ANBU, with only a chosen few informed. Here, the civilian baker was enthusiastically discussing it with the grocer, speculating how long it would take until they defeated the incoming attacks.
But well, there are people who are even more strange.
"I really cannot understand," Tsunade grumbled into her glass of fruit juice (a cruel, Mito-enforced substitute for sake), "why you are excited for something so boring."
She said it just loud enough for her companion to hear.
Azula, currently Tsunade's personal source of exasperation, didn't even look up from the massive roll of parchment she was sketching on. Her current obsession? Shipbuilding.
Shipbuilding.
Was this a dignified pastime for a woman who could level a forest with a single glance? For a clan head who commanded the power of the Sharingan?
Tsunade was pretty sure the Uchiha clan archives contained ancient, deadly kenjutsu styles, not blueprints for hull reinforcement.
Azula just chuckled, a low, knowing sound. "This, my dear Tsunade, is where you become profoundly uninteresting. Your world revolves around two things: the clatter of dice and the bottom of a bottle. No wonder Mito-sensei has you on a liquid diet of juice and hope."
"You try dealing with your idiot teammates day in and day out without a drink," Tsunade shot back, though there was no real heat in it.
"Tempting, but I'll pass," Azula said, finally looking up. Her dark eyes, sharp and perceptive, pinned Tsunade in place. "Think about it. You're a kunoichi. If you're caught in a storm at sea, you can chakra-walk to safety or summon a giant slug to ferry you home."
"But what about the fishermen who supply this island with food? What about the merchants who bring in goods? The civilians visiting family? A storm isn't an inconvenience for them; it's a death sentence."
She paused, letting the image sink in. Tsunade, for all her bluster, was fundamentally a protector. Her medical research proved that. She was silent, her brow furrowed.
"Okay, fine. I get it," Tsunade conceded, crossing her arms. "But am I not contributing enough? My medical research will save countless lives from injury and illness. That's not nothing."
"It is absolutely not nothing," Azula affirmed, her tone softening a fraction. "It's vital. But you have so much more potential. I'm not saying you should abandon your hobbies—though moderating the gambling would be wise before you lose the Senju compound to a lucky fishmonger."
"I'm saying it's a pity to see a mind like yours, with such a good research talent and the... robust constitution of a half-Senju and half-Uzumaki, focused on such a narrow slice of what's possible."
For a fleeting moment, Azula's mind drifted to her memory—a different Tsunade, older, wearier, her genius diluted by grief and debt. This Tsunade, here and now, didn't have to be that. She could be so much more.
The effect on the younger Tsunade was immediate and visible. A spark lit behind her eyes, her posture straightened, and she looked for a second like she was ready to single-handedly redesign the entire shinobi world before lunch.
Whether that newfound determination would last past tomorrow was anyone's guess, but the seed had been planted long ago.
Satisfied, Azula turned back to her blueprints. The ships were important, yes, but they were just the first piece on the game board.
Her real goal was far more audacious: to kick-start an industrial revolution in a world that still fought with kunai and fireballs.
And what better time for invention than during the cold war before the real one? Necessity was the mother of invention, and the looming threat of annihilation was one hell of a motivator.
She let her mind wander, picturing it. Not just wooden galleons, but sleek, chakra-fueled warships plated with seal-hardened steel.
Vessels that could fire concentrated beams of elemental energy—attacks on the scale of a Tailed Beast Bomb—from miles away. Ships that could cut through the waves at the speed of sound, untouchable, undeniable.
But more than anything, she couldn't stop staring at the sky.
In her past life, the night sky had always been her quiet obsession—the way the universe moved, the secrets hidden behind every star, the ridiculous amount of things humanity still didn't understand.
Even now, in a world of chakra monsters and walking natural disasters, that fascination hadn't gone anywhere.
At least the Naruto world had already confirmed something her old world could only fantasize about: aliens were real. Actual aliens.
The Ōtsutsuki existed, and they weren't just little green men—they were chakra-vampire space gods who went around harvesting planets like apples.
Terrifying? Yes.
Interesting? …Also yes.
Honestly, she already had plans. Big ones. Once she unified the shinobi world—because of course she would—and once she gathered every genius she could find, she was absolutely building a spaceship.
Several, actually.
And once a year, she and Tsunade would take a one-month vacation into space, just cruising around in the void, sightseeing cosmic horrors and pretty stars.
She'd leave a Flying Thunder God mark somewhere safe, come back whenever she wanted. Easy.
As for the war currently raging below?
She couldn't bring herself to care too much. Worst-case scenario, she could simply ask Mito to baptize the enemy with a few dozen Tailed Beast Bombs.
Between Mito's absurd chakra reserves and her own absolute confidence, she doubted any army could stand under that kind of "holy cleansing."
Some people dreamed small. She dreamed of peace, unity… and interstellar road trips with her friend. Priorities.
(END OF THE CHAPTER)
Honestly, do you feel like it's getting boring and I should spice things or just continue with this pace and expand the worldbuilding?
And please hope you can vote friends, it will be cool to make it back to the top three.