"Come on, Azula, you are the pride of the Uchiha. Show them who's the best," my dear mother said, puffing me up like a proud peacock. Very on-brand for an Uchiha, right?
Seriously, who else but the Uchiha would drop world-ending expectations on a five-year-old like it's a casual Tuesday? Oh wait—scratch that.
This whole damn world has a PhD in child labor. Whether you're from a shinobi clan or just an average villager with big dreams, everyone wants their spawn to either save the world or die trying.
If you're from a civilian family? Your parents want you to rise above and become a hero. If you're from a shinobi family? Congratulations, you're their personal redemption arc. And if you're from a clan? Darling, you are the legacy. No pressure, right?
I gave a quick glance at the other kids being cheered on by their equally delusional parents. How cute. What kind of pressure could they possibly put on me? What are they gonna do—ground me?
And then I felt it. That burning, envious, I-want-your-head-on-a-stick kind of stare. I turned around, and there she was—Tsunade Senju. The so-called 'Princess' of the Senju Clan. My alleged 'rival'.
Babe, please. I'm Azula Uchiha—firstborn of the current Uchiha Patriarch. The one who stepped up after Madara did his rebellion stunt and ghosted like the drama king he is. So, technically? I'm the Princess of the Uchiha Clan.
And get this: I have not one but two memory sets in this cute five-year-old body.
One belongs to a woman from Earth who unlocked financial freedom, lived her fantasy life, and died from a cocktail of happiness and Snu Snu. That's right. She went out with a smile and probably a broken pelvis due to trying many toys.
The second? Azula, crown princess of the Fire Nation. Which means, in both lives, I've been royalty. Two different Fire Nations. Two different worlds. Same divine energy.
With my Earth memories, I practically have a cheat sheet to this entire world—past, present, and even future. Like, hello? I already know how this story ends. It involves a certain genocide and yeah, I'm not here for it.
Just thinking about anyone touching my family makes me want to light someone on fire. And not in the metaphorical way. Literally. On fire.
But I'm not panicking. That whole 'massacre' thing? Scheduled way down the timeline. And with me in the picture? That episode's getting canceled. Permanently.
Right now, the village is still shiny and new. The First Shinobi War just ended, and Sarutobi Hiruzen's still getting cozy in the Hokage seat. The Uchiha Clan? Thriving. We've got grizzled Warring States veterans sipping tea next to rookie war heroes. It's a full-on golden age.
And me? I'm basically a walking cheat code. Two lifetimes of memories, baby. Plus Azula's combat skills, political savvy, manipulative charm, and of course—her Firebending.
How that even works in this chakra-infested world? No clue. But it does work. I can Firebend with no hand seals, no jutsu chants—nothing but sheer will and aesthetics. My chakra control is off the charts. Hashirama level? Probably.
I'm on god-tier finger-snap level.
Of course, I didn't go full Avatar: The Exploding Edition on anyone. I'm not stupid. Flaunting that kind of power at this age? That's how you end up as a science experiment or a missing-nin before you hit puberty.
So I kept things subtle. Just enough flex to make other kids cry at night, but not enough to earn myself an assassination attempt.
Honestly, with no internet, no memes, no Netflix—I've had a lot of time to reflect. Five years of silent brooding and internal monologues. It's like being the main character in an artsy anime. Very on-brand.
Today's the entrance exam for the Ninja Academy. Technically, anyone can get in now, especially with the war over. But let's not kid ourselves—the village is absolutely gonna sort the future prodigies from the cannon fodder.
They say it's all equal opportunity, but please. This is the ninja world. Fairness left the building the moment kunai were invented.
The test? It was laughably easy. Nothing about Ninjutsu, no chakra control nonsense—because heaven forbid they make things unfair for the precious civilians. Gotta keep up the illusion of fairness, right?
Since the little commoners don't have access to Ninjutsu or chakra training, we had to keep it 'equal.' So instead, they judged us on three things.
First up? Taijutsu sparring. And I say sparring generously, because what kind of joke is a 'fight' between two five-year-olds who still can't tie their sandals properly?
Still, I won't lie—it was kind of a sight. These kids may be barely out of diapers, but their physical strength? Damn near on par with gym rats from my old world. Chakra-enhanced preschoolers. It's terrifying. And hilarious.
Of course, three brats stood out right away—Tsunade, Jiraiya, and Orochimaru. Like, hello? Could they be any more obvious? Walking plot armor with baby teeth.
Honestly? Jiraiya's just got a sturdier frame than most, and Orochimaru's hoarding a bit more chakra than the rest, but nothing groundbreaking. No cursed snakes slithering out of his sleeves yet.
Only Tsunade's showing any real promise—and even then, she's barely scratching the surface. More chakra and brute strength than the rest of the little runts… well, aside from me, truly.
Tsunade's got potential, sure. Wasted potential, but potential. I mean, if Orochimaru had that meathead body of hers, he'd probably be a Super-Kage by the end of the Third Great Ninja War. But well, the woman did have her dose of trauma.
Anyway, even with their current mediocrity, the Sannin-wannabes still managed to win their matches. Orochimaru especially—he had it easier than Jiraiya. Brains over brawn and all that.
Now me? My match was a whole different brand of comedy.
I got paired with a Nara kid. Same age as me. Sitting there yawning like a 90-year-old war veteran waiting for his last breath. The audacity. Five years old and already radiating existential dread. Iconic.
But don't let the vibes fool you. I had zero mercy to spare. I didn't even need to bust out the Ninjutsu—I wasn't about to accidentally obliterate him and get detention on day one.
He tried to use his clan's shadow manipulation. I say "tried" because wow, that poor boy was struggling like a laptop running Windows 98.
So, naturally, I punched him. Right in the face. No technique. No chakra tricks. Just a clean, fast leap and bam, goodnight. Third one-shot of the day.
Except this time, it wasn't some nameless civilian getting decked—it was noble clan versus noble clan. The crowd? Shocked, and of course, some drama and whispering among them.
After being healed by Mito, who accompanied Tsunade and was probably the only healer present, he was awake and stared at me like I'd just told him Santa wasn't real.
So, like the classy princess I am, I mourned for him. Three seconds. Very respectful. That punch is probably going to haunt his entire clan's reputation unless he grows up and does something legendary.
Meanwhile, my mother? She was naturally beaming, glowing, and radiating pride like a lighthouse. Honestly, I could get used to that look. First life, second life, didn't matter—I'd never seen it before. Kinda nice, not gonna lie.
Then came the second test. Simpler than my opponent's battle strategy.
Target practice. Just good ol' kunai throwing at dummies with painted bullseyes. Because nothing says 'elite ninja' like throwing kunai.
This test bothered me even less. Azula herself had a killer throwing technique, and with how mind-numbingly bored I'd been lately, I'd practiced kunai throwing obsessively. I got too good at it, honestly. It's not even fun anymore—just muscle memory and perfection.
"Azula, what do you think of your future classmates?" my now mother asked, voice perfectly Uchiha—calm, sharp, and always carrying that faint whiff of judgment.
She wasn't like Mikoto, the Uchiha woman I remember best from the show. No soft smiles or gentle patience. No, this woman was textbook Uchiha: proud of her bloodline, strict about everything else, and barely tolerating anything that didn't scream excellence.
And my father? He's the patriarch. That title has even more weight now, and he made sure everyone knew it. He didn't bother to show up today, but that was fine with me. I wasn't exactly yearning for a family photo op.
As for the question, there was no need for a dramatic inner monologue. "They're good," I replied flatly. "I'm optimistic about the Senju princess and these two? But they should already know I'll always be stronger."
My mother didn't scold me for my arrogance—which, let's be honest, isn't arrogance when it's true. Instead, she just gave a small nod and reached out to rub my head. "Good. Stay confident, but don't slack off. You're naturally gifted. I've no doubt you'll become one of the strongest Uchiha one day."
Classic pureblood Uchiha approval. Cold, calculated, and slightly affectionate in that weird 'I'll kill for you but won't say I love you' way.
The second test was a breeze. Just a demonstration of basic kunai throwing skills. Even civilian-trained ninja kids could handle it.
We each got five kunai to do whatever we wanted. Most kids managed to hit one or two targets. The overachievers took their time and hit all five. Impressive? To them, maybe.
I didn't waste time. I threw all five kunai in the span of two seconds, each aimed at a different dummy. Bullseye. All of them. That's why they call me a prodigy.
The third and final test was somehow even simpler—just a paper. We had to write about our dreams, goals, and philosophies. Yep, this world really expects five- or six-year-olds to spill their souls on parchment like little war poets. Philosophy? Love? Loyalty? Sure. Nothing weird about that at all.
I'm pretty sure this is the part Hiruzen really cares about. Where he quietly labels us in his mental files: trustworthy, loyal, manipulatable. He always gave that vibe in fanfics back in my first life—manipulative behind the grandfather smile.
But honestly? I couldn't care less. I don't see myself as radical as the rest of the Uchiha (Believe it).
Family or not, blood doesn't matter to me. What matters is if I see you as someone worth trusting, someone worth calling a friend.
I know the Ninja World is brutal, but I also know that real friendship can exist. That there are people here who would die for you. And if I ever find someone like that, well… they'll have my loyalty. Village or not.
So, no. I didn't write that I'd die for Konoha just to get on Hiruzen's good side. I wrote exactly what I thought. If he likes it, cool. If not? Whatever. I'm not some pawn he can toss away when it suits him.
The Uchiha now aren't the Uchiha of the future. And me? I'm not just another clan kid. I'm the Patriarch's daughter. He'll think twice before trying anything with me.
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