Chapter 182 - 180: The Shadow Clone's Existential Crisis (Omake)

The Shadow Clone of Azula Uchiha, Fourth Hokage, Master of the Flying Raijin, undisputed terror of the ninja world, and currently the most powerful being in the entire Land of Fire's capital city, was having a crisis.

She had been stationed in the Daimyo's mansion for three weeks now, three weeks of maintaining a subtle genjutsu on the entire court, and three weeks of redirecting trade agreements, whispering suggestions into the ears of ministers, and making absolutely sure the Fire Daimyo remained as useful and pliable as he had been since Azula's first visit.

It was, objectively, vital work. The kind of work that kept the Federation stable and the village prosperous and the entire political machine running smoothly.

It was also, without question, the most boring assignment she had ever been given.

"Life is short," the Shadow Clone muttered to herself, lying flat on her back on the futon in her private chamber and staring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged her. "Objectively and measurably short. I could be dispelled at any moment, hit by well landed shuriken, a sudden jutsu, or even, the main body deciding she needs the chakra back because she got into an argument with Tsunade and wants to prove a point. Then poof, I'll be a gooner. All these memories, all this experience, all this... me... returned to the original like spare change dropped into a pocket."

She sat up slowly, a new light burning in her eyes. It was the light of someone who had spent three weeks doing nothing but paperwork and genjutsu maintenance and was now ready to make some very questionable decisions.

"I should enjoy myself. While I still exist. While I'm still me."

She stood, paced the length of the chamber before stopping.

"Should I go to a brothel?"

The question was like a discovering a forbidden room she shouldn't, which, in a sense, it was.

"No, wait, hear me out." She began reasoning aloud, because reasoning was what Azulas did, even and especially when the conclusion had already been decided in advance. "I'm not the main body. I'm not Azula Uchiha in the strictest sense. I am a construct of chakra given temporary form and consciousness. If I go to a brothel, it's not the Fourth Hokage walking through those doors."

"It's... an independent agent. An autonomous being with very similar tastes who happens to share all of her memories and desires and personality traits. Completely different thing."

She nodded firmly, convinced by her own flawless logic.

"In fact, the main body should thank me, genuinely. When was the last time she had any form of release? In her last life? She's been running from summit to summit, dealing with Danzo's nonsense, managing the Federation, arguing with Tobirama about clan policy. She's stressed not only that, she can't even enjoy herself because of age issues even though she wants it bad."

She adjusted her robes with the full confidence of a Kage who had conquered nations.

"This isn't indulgence but a medical intervention. Tsunade would approve. Tsunade would prescribe this. There's probably a form for it somewhere in that new hospital system."

She made it three full steps toward the door before freezing in place.

"Wait."

A terrible thought occurred to her. The kind of thought that cut through self-justification like a Rasengan through wet paper.

"If I go to a brothel and then get dispelled, the main body will receive all of those memories. Every single one. In vivid, perfect, undeniable detail. She'll experience everything I experienced, exactly as I experienced it."

She swallowed.

"She could be in the middle of a council meeting when it happens. Shikoku would be there. Orochimaru. Her father. She'd be discussing trade routes or military strategy and then suddenly—"

She couldn't finish the thought. She didn't need to.

"She would kill me. She would invent a jutsu specifically designed to kill a Shadow Clone that has already been dispelled. She would reach through time and space to end me a second time. My nonexistence would be erased from the even more nonexistent state I would be in."

The Shadow Clone sat back down on the futon with the careful, deliberate movements of someone who had just stared into the abyss and decided the abyss could keep its brothels.

"Maybe I'll just... read a Manga."

She picked up the nearest scroll. It was a trade manifest detailing grain shipments from the Land of Earth. She stared at it for approximately four seconds.

"A very scandalous manga," she amended. "With illustrations. That's not the same thing as going to a brothel at all. It's literature and cultural research. I'm studying the... artistic impact in the Land of Fire, studying how Azula impacted the world."

She left the Daimyo's mansion exactly twenty minutes later, wearing a henge that made her look like an ordinary merchant woman, and walked directly toward the capital's entertainment district, to the Mangastore. The ones that sold the kind of literature that came wrapped in plain covers.

She would be discreet and professional. She would acquire some artistic research materials and return to her post before anyone noticed she was gone.

This was a perfectly reasonable plan with absolutely no flaws.

•••

•••

The Mangastore was small, tucked between a sake shop and a textile merchant, with a dusty front window and a proprietor who looked old enough to have personally witnessed the Sage of Six Paths.

He took one look at the disguised Shadow Clone and pointed toward the back room without a word. Either he was very perceptive or every customer who walked through his door wanted the same thing.

The back room was a treasure trove.

Shelves lined the walls, stacked with books that would have made Jiraiya weep with joy. The Shadow Clone browsed with the clinical detachment of a scholar, pulling volumes at random and assessing their contents with a critical eye (Mangekyō Sharingan). Too tame, too predictable, too obviously drawn by someone who had never actually—

She stopped. She had found something.

The book was called Tales of the Warrior Princess, and the cover illustration alone was enough to make her raise an eyebrow.

The summary on the back promised a story about "a powerful kunoichi who conquers nations by day and her loyal attendants by night." It was, without question, something interesting.

She bought three copies.

"One for reading," she explained to the proprietor, who had not asked. "One for archiving. One in case the first one gets... damaged."

The old man nodded sagely, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Perhaps in his line of work, it was.

•••

•••

Three days later, the original Azula was in the middle of a strategy meeting with Shikoku, reviewing the latest intelligence reports on Hisashi's public statements, when a burst of chakra memories slammed into her consciousness like a freight train.

She paused. Her expression, already neutral, became somehow even more neutral. The kind of neutral that preceded natural disasters.

Shikoku noticed immediately. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Azula said, her voice perfectly level. "My Shadow Clone at the Daimyo's mansion just dispelled herself. Accidentally, while reading."

"Reading what?"

Azula was silent for a long moment. "A book."

Shikoku waited. His Nara instincts told him there was more.

"A very... detailed book," Azula continued, each word precise and measured. "With illustrations. And a plot that I now know intimately despite having never opened the cover myself. The main character was a warrior princess with improbable anatomy and even more improbable stamina. There were three attendants who were very loyal. I now possess approximately four hundred pages of very loyal memories."

Shikoku opened his mouth. Closed it, and opened it again. "Do you... want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Should I... leave?"

"The meeting is over," Azula declared. "We will reconvene tomorrow. I need to... process. And possibly invent a jutsu that can kill a Shadow Clone retroactively."

Shikoku gathered his papers and fled. He was a wise man. He knew when to retreat.

•••

•••

That evening, Tsunade found Azula sitting alone in their quarters, staring at the wall with an expression that could only be described as "haunted."

"Bad day?" Tsunade asked, settling down beside her.

"My Shadow Clone visited a Mangastore in the capital," Azula said. "She bought pornography. Then she accidentally dispelled herself while reading it, and I received every single memory vividly while I was in a meeting with Shikoku."

Tsunade was silent for approximately one second before she burst out laughing.

"It's not funny."

"It's extremely funny." Tsunade wiped a tear from her eye. "What was the book about?"

"A warrior princess who conquers nations by day and her loyal attendants by night."

"That sounds like you."

"It was not me. It was a fictional character with improbable—" Azula stopped. "I refuse to describe it further."

"Did the Shadow Clone at least enjoy herself before she popped?"

"Apparently," Azula said, her voice dripping with something between resignation and despair, "she enjoyed herself four hundred pages' worth."

Tsunade laughed so hard she fell off the couch.

"I'm glad my existential violation amuses you."

"More than you can possibly know." Tsunade climbed back onto the couch, still wheezing. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to find that bookstore," Azula said, "and I'm going to buy the rest of the series."

Tsunade blinked. "Wait, really?"

"The Shadow Clone was a construct of my chakra. Her tastes are my tastes. Her... interests... are my interests." Azula's composure cracked, just slightly, and a faint flush crept up her cheeks. "And the book was well-written. Objectively, the plot was engaging and the character development was surprisingly nuanced for the genre. I want to know what happens in the sequel."

Tsunade stared at her girlfriend for a long moment. Then she grinned.

"You know," she said, throwing herself at Azula, "if you wanted inspiration, you could have just asked."

Azula met her eyes. "I didn't want to presume."

"You're the Hokage. You can presume a little."

The next morning, Shikoku arrived at the Hokage's office to find a note on the door: Meeting postponed, personal matters. Do not disturb unless the village is on fire.

He nodded to himself, turned around, and walked away. Some things, a wise man simply did not question.

(END OF THE OMAKE)