Kishi, one of Akiko's more emotionally available followers, winced as another squad of Kiri-nin got absolutely yeeted into the afterlife.
"Uh, Akiko, maybe we should… do something? Because I feel no matter their numbers, they are just dying for nothing."
Akiko didn't even blink. Her face was as expressive as a block of ice—which, given her Yuki lineage, was probably a genetic trait.
"It's not for nothing, Kishi. They're not dying for 'nothing'. Every kunai that misses, every bone that breaks, every scream—it's all depreciating her stamina and in the long run, it's worth it."
Her voice was calm. The kind of calm that made birds stop singing.
Her closest subordinates exchanged a look. The one that said: "She's doing that thing again where her heart became as cold as ice."
They knew the deal.
Akiko wasn't evil—she just viewed emotions the way most people view expired milk: technically present, but why would you ever touch it?
She'd become a jinchūriki not out of desperation, but because the math checked out. Power-up: high. Everything else didn't matter.
Meanwhile, Azula was starting to get bored.
And when Azula got bored, people tended to stop being alive.
She'd already mulched through nearly a hundred shinobi—including a dozen jōnin whose only mistake was being within twenty meters of her bad attitude. Another fifty were currently questioning their life choices from hospital beds that didn't exist yet.
She paused mid-incineration and tilted her head.
Huh.
She'd known Iwagakure took down the Third Raikage with ten thousand men in the anime.
The Raikage she knew could probably solo a small country while doing his taxes. How did rocks of all people manage that?
Whatever. Probably sand in his shorts.
She dismissed the thought and surveyed her handiwork. Within a twenty-meter radius, the only things moving were the wind and a few guys who were technically alive but had wisely chosen to play dead.
Smart choices, which are rare in Kiri.
The surviving ninja stared at her like she'd personally insulted their ancestors.
Which, to be fair, she probably had.
None of them were old enough to remember Madara or Hashirama, but this? One woman, zero fucks given, and a body count that would make a shinobi historian weep?
This was the kind of trauma that got passed down for generations.
Azula smiled. It was not a nice smile.
She practically watched the fear crystallize in their eyes, which pleased her, then finally figured out that throwing bodies at her was less 'strategy' and more 'aggressive recycling'.
"This saves me so much nonsense."
All that remained was the final boss fight—or, if Akiko was smart, the 'submission'. Azula turned her gaze toward the White Demon and her little entourage of true believers.
Please don't be another Genji, she thought. One self-righteous speech about justice was enough to last me several lifetimes.
The crowd parted. Not out of respect—Kiri ninja didn't do respect unless it came with a price tag—but out of self-preservation. Kiri wasn't known for loyalty; it was known for stabbing first and asking questions while you bled out.
Azula strolled through the corridor of terrified shinobi like she was walking a red carpet. Her Conflagration Wings flared to life, not for combat—just for dramatic emphasis.
She hovered a few feet above the ground, looking down at Akiko and her squad on the hill with the casual superiority of a cat eyeing a mouse that thought it was a lion.
"Akiko Yuki." She spoke with 'admiration' in her tone. "White Demon of the Mist. Patriarch of the Yuki clan—and I have to say you do seem to deserve your title."
Akiko opened her mouth, about to say something, but then closed it.
She was standing face-to-face with the 'girl' who had helped level her village, killed half her family, and was much younger than her. And now this 'girl' was… complimenting her?
Should I say thank you?
Instead, Akiko did what any self-respecting jinchuriki with zero social training would do: she returned the compliment like they were trading Pokémon cards at recess.
"I've also heard about you." Her voice was flat. Neutral. Totally not panicking inside. "Azula Uchiha. The only Matriarch in the history of the Uchiha clan. Fought two Kage at once and came out unscathed. I didn't expect to meet you in this kind of situation."
Akiko indeed knew Azula because she understood how hard it is for a woman to become clan head, let alone the current strongest clan in the world.
Of both Azula and Tsunade, she had a good impression of them before, especially Tsunade, the latter having humiliated Mizura.
That was, of course, before they murdered her clan; now her impression of them is negative zero.
Azula just nodded slowly, as if Akiko had just explained the obvious. "People from different villages. If not on a battlefield, where else would we meet? A spa?"
Akiko blinked.
"But let's skip the small talk." Azula waved a hand, already bored. "I've heard of your talk and here's the thing: Kirigakure started this mess when you rolled up on Uzushiogakure wanting to exterminate it, but nobody cares who swung first, do they? Everyone's too busy screaming, 'But my family!' and sharpening kunai."
She said this while staring directly into Akiko's soul through her Sharingan.
And there it was—what she had hoped for: a nanosecond of hesitation, a 'was she… kind of right?' that flashed across Akiko's face like a startled cat.
Azula smirked internally.
Perfect. One solid beatdown, then I could hit her with the Talk no Jutsu. Step one: establish dominance. Step two: emotional manipulation. Step three: profit.
She didn't try it now, of course. Talk no Jutsu wasn't a drive-thru. You couldn't just roll up and expect results without first cracking a few ribs.
It was a ritual, a sacred art. First, you punch the trauma in. Then you talk it out.
Akiko, for her part, caught the distinct lack of warmth in Azula's eyes. No cozy tea-chat energy here. It would've been creepy otherwise.
She straightened. "Kishi. Hikuto."
Her voice dropped lower. The kind of tone that preceded a very bad day for someone else.
Behind her, two figures shifted. Kishi and Hikuto weren't just jonin—they were Kirigakure's top jonin, which meant they'd drowned their childhood pets for practice. Top fifteen in the village. Almost on her level before the tailed beast.
They didn't speak, but they understood.
And then Akiko's chakra erupted, red and thick, rolling off her in waves like a bad sunburn with intent.
Azula recognized it instantly. She'd interrogated Genji long enough to know exactly why the Matriarch of the Yuki clan was not present when they attacked.
Isobu, the Three-Tails. The 'pitiful' giant turtle with boundary issues.
Azula didn't move out of genuine curiosity.
Genji had called Akiko his chosen Mizukage. Just needed to beat Ryūkotsu, collect the hat, and start signing executive orders. She left the village when they attacked to become a Jinchuriki.
Now Akiko was standing there, two tails of boiling chakra whipping behind her, eyes sharp, mind intact.
Impressive, Azula admitted. Either she was a prodigy, or Isobu just really liked her. Or probably both.
Azula also flipped the switch back into Battle Mode, but still 'casual god-tier' with none of her two chakra modes activated.
She hung in the sky like a final boss who forgot to load her ultimate abilities.
Then she made a Rasengan. Just... made one since it wasn't a big deal.
And then—because subtlety is for people who don't have fire powers—she ignited a controlled explosion at the soles of her sandals and cannonballed herself toward the ground like a comet with a grudge.
Hikuto and Kishi took one look at the screaming ball of the Uchiha-Fire-Princess death hurtling toward them and collectively said, "Nope."
They backflipped like their lives depended on it along with Akiko in her Tailed Beast mode. Because they did.
The hill behind them, however, did not have the luxury of legs or survival instincts.
It just... stopped existing.
Mito, watching from the sidelines with the weary patience of a grandmother who's seen too much, pressed her fingers to her temple.
She'd witnessed a lot of ridiculous chakra control in her lifetime. Hashirama could grow forests with a clap, but every time, she would always be impressed by Azula.
This was a girl who said, 'Let me make an explosive spinning ball of death, then use explosions to deliver it faster than sound, and oh, I'm not even using my special powers yet.'
Mito sighed. Somewhere in the Pure Land, Hashirama was probably crying tears of pride and inadequacy.
The fight, however, did not pause for Mito's sake.
Hikuto and Kishi, still airborne like startled cats, retaliated instantly—kunai raining down with explosive tags fluttering behind them.
Meanwhile, Akiko was having some serious remorse. She'd popped her bijuu cloak way too early, and now she was juiced up but locked out of her Ice Release, which ruined what could have been a perfect combo.
Azula didn't even blink.
She shifted.
Using her Fire Body Flicker, a burst of chakra, a smear of orange light, and suddenly she was in Hikuto's face while the kunai passed through her afterimage like she was already living five seconds in the future.
Hikuto's brain screamed: Hydrification. Now. Now now now.
He melted. Literally. His body became liquid on instinct, because every Hozuki worth their salt knew that when a Uchiha princess with Sharingan and zero chill flies at you, you do not try to tank that.
You become water. You run.
Kishi, the close-combat specialist, saw his friend about to get turned into soup and had approximately one thought: I'm too far, I'm too slow, I'm too— He threw kunai anyway. Non-explosive ones, of course, hoping to slow her down and buy a second.
Azula parried them with her bare palms like she was shooing flies, not even slowing down.
Her Sharingan spun and she felt the chakra patterns of Hikuto felt familiar, then recalled information about him.
Hozuki Hikuto from the Hozuki clan, good at body Hydrification which turns solid body into liquid and turns physical attacks into sad splashes.
Weakness: lightning release.
She was 0.2 meters away from Hikuto's watery face.
She hadn't even done hand signs.
But her hands were already coated in crackling, screaming, gleeful lightning.
Hikuto's heart—somewhere inside his liquid form—did a panicked teleportation. His brain helpfully supplied the memory of the last time lightning hit him in this state. It wasn't a good memory; it involved twitching and smoke.
Also a distinct lack of dignity.
Oh no, he thought, bracing for impact. Not again.
From the sidelines, Akiko's jinchuriki-enhanced reflexes caught every frame: the lightning, the distance, the utter lack of mercy in Azula's eyes.
"Not good," she whispered. Understatement of the century.
(END OF THE CHAPTER)
I hate this, I woke up in good energy started writing, then was in the Zone before being interrupted by a friend, chatting for like two hours, completely disrupting my program, but I've managed an 1.8k words chapters, also thanks for your concerns, I'm good, sorry for no fulfilling my 2k words promise and well, to be more shameless, vote for me.