Objectively speaking, attacking Kirigakure with a full army was a very inefficient way to cripple their military strength.
It was too messy and time-consuming, but the worst of all was the casualties.
Not the enemy's—I didn't particularly care about those—but ours. In a large-scale battle like that, people inevitably die or get maimed, and from my perspective, that was completely unnecessary.
A far better option existed: an elite strike team.
Me, my father, Tsunade, Mito-sensei, Murasake, Kagami...
There would be no dead weight or screaming fodder, and certainly no formations, speeches, or banners flapping dramatically in the mist.
We'd slip into Kiri, dismantle every important combat asset we could find, kill anyone too dangerous to be left alive, and once we got tired—
Poof.
I'd teleport us back to Uzushio before anyone even understood what had happened, which was more clean and efficient.
And yet, despite this being a ninja world—a world built on espionage, assassination, betrayal, and stabbing people in the back while smiling politely—
Everyone kept talking like samurai.
"Honor."
"Reputation."
"Facing them head-on."
It was exhausting.
Even before the meeting to discuss attacking Kiri, I had already proposed my plan to my father. I laid it out calmly, logically, with all the patience of someone explaining basic arithmetic to a child.
Although I'm now the Uchiha Matriarch and I can make 98% follow it, sometimes a refusal doesn't cost much.
"Too dangerous," he said, his expression objectionable. "Kiri is still one of the Five Great Villages and we don't know what trump cards they're hiding."
As if that had ever stopped me from wanting to poke something.
What genuinely surprised me was Mito-sensei, because when I brought the idea to her, expecting at least a neutral reaction, she sided with him without hesitation.
"We might have a ninety percent chance of returning unharmed," she said calmly, folding her hands like she wasn't casually discussing the end of nations. "But if the remaining ten percent comes true, the consequences would be catastrophic. That is a risk we simply cannot afford."
…Annoyingly reasonable.
I hated that.
I understood their logic. From a purely strategic standpoint, mobilizing an army reduced the chance of complete disaster, even if it increased the number of minor losses.
But that only proved one thing.
I wasn't strong enough yet.
If I had power on Madara's level—if I could stand alone against entire coalitions, against multiple Kage at once—then none of this would matter.
I would walk into Kirigakure unannounced, kill whoever I deemed necessary, then move on to the next village.
And the next.
I would end the coming ninja war before it began, no matter how many traditions, councils, or "honorable considerations" I had to trample along the way.
Because in the end, the most honorable thing of all…
…was winning without letting the world drown in blood first.
But the harsh truth was simple: I didn't have that kind of strength yet.
So I turned to Tsunade instead, because I at least got to care about those important to me.
"I know you're extremely confident in your power," I said, meeting her eyes, "but don't forget—Akiko's Ice Release can restrain your Water Release to some extent. You're still leagues above her physically, but don't get reckless when dealing with the Yuki clan. Also, don't forget my Flying Raijin kunai."
She blinked, clearly not expecting the sudden concern. Then that familiar bold smile immediately reappeared on her face.
"Relax," she said confidently. "You know I'd never joke about my own life. Besides—aren't you there? And Grandma too?"
…Wow.
I actually froze for a moment.
Since when did Tsunade become this shameless? Was this really the same woman who used to puff up her chest and pretend she didn't need anyone, especially Sakumo and me?
I couldn't help but look at her again—really look at her.
And honestly? Depending on others wasn't weakness; it was growth. Especially in this world, where trust didn't almost automatically end with a knife in your back like it did back on Earth, which was rather ironic.
"It's good that you're learning to rely on others," I said with a smile. "Just don't get too comfortable leaning on other people's strength… or you might end up like—"
I stopped myself.
I didn't need to finish that sentence. She already knew exactly who I meant.
Ever since learning about her brother's original fate, Tsunade had inquired about every detail surrounding it that I knew.
The war, the choices, and naturally, she'd also asked about Orochimaru—because no matter how cold he already seemed, anyone who truly knew him would never believe what he would become in the future.
Her smile vanished for just a few seconds.
Then she nodded, eyes steady, fists clenched.
"I know what I'm doing."
...
...
...
In truth, Tsunade was anything but as carefree as she looked.
Ever since she learned that Azula had known about the future since childhood, her way of looking at the world—and at Azula—had quietly, uncomfortably changed.
No matter how much she tried to ignore it, the image kept forcing itself into her mind: a four-year-old girl, barely tall enough to reach a table, already knowing how everything would end.
Watching her parents die, her brother, her clan. Everyone—wiped out over something as stupid and human as internal politics.
She couldn't even imagine herself at that age, knowing that monsters would one day descend from the sky—monsters stronger than her grandfather, of all people—and that their arrival would spell annihilation.
Knowing it… and being powerless to stop it.
Yeah. No amount of sake could wash that thought away.
She shook her head sharply. Now wasn't the time to spiral.
She was the second-in-command of this operation, not a therapist with unresolved childhood trauma.
Her task was clear: lead the Senju assault toward the Yuki Clan, tear through their forces, and—if fate lined up nicely—personally deal with Akiko Yuki.
Akiko Yuki. Twenty-four years old. Newly appointed Matriarch. Ice Release prodigy.
And, if the political winds blew the right way, a very possible future Mizukage. In other words: a problem Tsunade intended to solve with her fists.
Kirigakure itself was a nightmare of contradictions.
A massive village with a population hovering between fifty to seventy thousand, sitting comfortably on an island as if daring the world to try something.
Its geography made large-scale invasions rare, which in turn made Kiri arrogant—and lazy—about external threats.
Even the way the clans were laid out told the whole ugly story.
The Kaguya and Yuki clans were shoved to opposite extremes of the village, practically exiled without being officially exiled, while clans like the Hōzuki—former rulers—sat right in the center like they still owned the place.
Even at the village's founding, these people hadn't made peace because they trusted one another.
They'd done it probably because dying alone was worse than surviving together.
(END OF THE CHAPTER)
I tried the first POV and as you can see, it didn't end well, which due to the inner monologue stalled the progression as the attack should have already started in this chapter, it was due to the lack of a good planning 😕