"It seems you've finally hit your limit?" Azula's voice dripped with mock regret as she surveyed the three broken shinobi before her.
One was completely unconscious, drooling slightly. Another lay twitching on the ground, apparently discovering new ways to regret his life choices.
And she was well, technically in the best condition—which meant she was only on her knees, gasping like a fish that had recently discovered the joys and horrors of breathing air.
But when Azula looked into Akiko's eyes, she didn't see the expected defiance, the burning hatred, or even the "You are a villain!" speech.
Instead, she saw something that looked suspiciously like... resignation?
"Wait," Azula tilted her head, genuinely curious now. "Did you actually know from the beginning that you couldn't win? That's either incredibly wise or incredibly depressing. I haven't decided which yet."
Akiko didn't bother denying it. "I'm a Jinchuriki. I understand the power of Tailed Beasts. More importantly, I understand the power of someone who can defeat two Kage at the same time." She paused, then added with a hint of dark humor, "I could feel the power of the Nine Tails Jinchuriki, it's something despairing."
Azula's eyebrow climbed toward her hairline.
"So it was Mito-sensei who made you realize you were out of luck? Good instincts, terrible luck running into me." She waved her hand dismissively, as if brushing aside Akiko's entire life story. "I'll generously overlook the fact that you underestimated me."
The air grew heavy as Azula's expression shifted from playful to predatory. "Now then. Do you surrender?"
And there it was. The legendary weapon more powerful than any jutsu—the Talk no Jutsu. Well, Azula's version of it anyway.
Where Naruto would give a heartfelt speech about dreams and friendship and maybe cry a little, Azula's approach was more like: "I just kicked your butt. Wanna join my side? No? Okay, I'll kick it again."
Still, a plan was a plan.
Akiko stared at her like she'd grown a second head.
"Surrender? You do remember we are mortal enemies, right? The thousands of people your group killed? We would never surrender."
Azula didn't respond with words. Instead, she slowly turned and gestured behind her—a grand, theatrical sweep of her arm that would have made a stage actor jealous.
Thousands of Kiri-nin stood there.
Correction: thousands of Kiri-nin stood there without weapons, without scrolls, and with expressions ranging from 'I have made a terrible mistake' to 'please don't hurt me'.
Some of the clever ones—or perhaps the most cowardly, depending on your perspective—had actually managed to seal their own chakra.
One enterprising fellow had apparently tied himself to a rock with his own rope, just to make sure there were no misunderstandings about his surrender intentions.
Azula turned back to Akiko with an expression that screamed Are you absolutely sure about that "never surrender" speech?
Akiko, to her credit, maintained her cool composure. Her face remained perfectly neutral, a mask of calm indifference.
Inside, however, her brain was screaming: THESE TRAITORS! THESE ABSOLUTE—THEY COULDN'T EVEN PRETEND TO FIGHT FOR FIVE MORE MINUTES?!
She pretended not to see anything. It was the only dignified option left.
Azula's playful demeanor evaporated like water on hot concrete.
"In every war, there are winners and losers. That's just math. The winners decide what happens next. Usually, that means the losers get erased from history like they never existed." She snapped her fingers for emphasis. "It's the tradition. The way things have always been done."
"But here's the thing." Her voice softened, though her eyes remained sharp as kunai. "I'm not most people. I'm feeling... magnanimous today. Generous, even."
She flashed a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "So I'm going to allow Kiri to surrender. All of you, but it is a limited-time offer."
Every ninja present heard her. They didn't need superhuman hearing—her voice carried with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how much power she wielded.
She didn't need to turn around to feel the shift in the air behind her. Fear transforming into cautious hope. Hatred twisting into something complicated and uncomfortable.
Gratitude. That's what it was. Reluctant, shameful, bitter gratitude.
Akiko's mind raced, even as her body refused to move. She had prepared herself for death. She had accepted it, embraced it even. Dying on her feet, fighting to the last breath—that was honorable. That was what a leader should do.
But she wasn't a fool. She could feel Azula's intention, strange as it was. The woman actually seemed inclined to let them live.
Why? Akiko had no idea. Maybe she just liked collecting surrendered villages like trophies. Maybe she had a soft spot for hopeless causes. Maybe she was just weird.
Whatever the reason, Akiko found herself turning to look at her fallen comrades.
Kishi was still unconscious, drool now joined by a small bubble that expanded and contracted with each breath but at least he was breathing.
Hikuto was awake, technically, but 'awake' was doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.
His eyes were open, but they had the glazed, unfocused quality of someone who was currently having a very profound conversation with his ancestors. His injuries were severe enough that if help didn't arrive soon, he'd be having that conversation in person.
And then there were the Kiri-nin themselves. They looked back at her with expressions that practically screamed 'PLEASE SAY YES, AKIKO-SAMA'.
They had already surrendered in every way that mattered—their weapons were on the ground, their hands were in the air, and their dignity was somewhere in the dirt.
My role is the leader of what's left of Kiri, Akiko reminded herself. My goal is to reclaim control of the village. Every decision must benefit the village and its people. Personal feelings should be irrelevant and emotions should be tossed somewhere.
Objectively, logically, strategically—surrendering was the correct choice. They would preserve their forces, they would return to the village and most importantly, they would rebuild.
They would only have to pay some prices to Konoha which is an acceptable loss.
But then she thought of Haruki. Of Fara. Of Inā.
Did this mean they died for nothing? Should they have just surrendered from the beginning? That their lives didn't matter from the beginning to the end?
Azula's perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. The look Akiko was giving her was absolutely priceless.
It was like she'd just caught Azula kicking puppies and stealing candy from babies.
"Why are you looking at me like I'm the final boss in some tragic opera?" Azula's voice dripped with theatrical offense. "You swung first! We just happened to swing back harder, faster, and with better aim. That's not villainy, that's called winning with style."
She leaned forward slightly, her smile sharp enough to cut diamond. "And let me be crystal clear about something, because I think the blood loss might be affecting your hearing—when we 'attacked,' we were practically saints about it. We only removed the ones who chose to remove us first. No clan exterminations or family annihilations. We didn't even kill anyone's beloved pet, and trust me, some of those ninja hounds were asking for it."
She paused for dramatic effect, because what was intimidation without a little theater?
"But please, by all means, be stubborn. Dig those heels into the ground. Refuse the very reasonable terms I'm offering. I'm sure your clans will appreciate your principled stand as they're being turned into historical footnotes. The destruction of Kiri won't be on our hands—it'll be your signature move. Really add it to your resume: 'Akiko of the Bloody Mist, Professional Bad Decision Maker.'"
Azula had discovered something wonderful about herself during this war: she was absolutely magnificent at capitalism. Not the boring parts with ledgers and interest rates, but the fun parts.
The carrot and the stick. The velvet glove over the iron fist. The whole 'make them an offer they can't refuse' energy.
Centuries of human history had proven one thing—if a trick sticks around that long, it's because it works. And watching Akiko's internal struggle was like watching a particularly entertaining puppet show.
The rage was there. The pride was there. But underneath all that, the survival instinct was doing some very interesting gymnastics.
From what Azula had gathered about this walking ice sculpture disguised as a kunoichi, Akiko was the type who could meditate through an earthquake and negotiate through an apocalypse.
Give her thirty seconds to process, and rational choice would win. Probably. Hopefully. If not, well... Azula's fire was always hungry even if it's pitiful to delete a hottie.
Akiko's teeth ground together with enough force to mill grain. "Kiri... accepts defeat."
The words clearly tasted like poison on her tongue.
"On one condition." She held up a finger that was shaking almost imperceptibly. "No humiliating conditions."
Then her body, which had been held together by spite and stubbornness alone, finally threw in the towel. Akiko's eyes rolled back with the dramatic flair of a theater student dying on stage, and she crumpled into a heap of unconscious kunoichi before Azula could even formulate a response.
Azula blinked at the unconscious form.
"...Well." She smoothed down her robes. "I suppose that's one way to start and end a negotiation. Definitely not how I'd do it, but points for timing."