Naruto: Marrying Tsunade

Chapter 2 - Dual Kekkei Genkai

A forest had been sacrificed for this.

The price was steep.

If the day ever came when Tsunade discovered his real reason for marrying her, she probably wouldn't kill him outright. That wasn't her style. But turning him into a lifelong cripple confined to a hospital bed? That was entirely within the realm of possibility.

Aokiji sighed, his face showing a fleeting trace of sorrow.

But he had no other choice. This was all for the sake of the clan.

Now that he had sorted out his thoughts, the only thing left was execution.

However, therein lay the real problem—how exactly was he supposed to get close to Tsunade?

On the surface, it seemed easy enough. They were classmates, after all. Proximity should naturally lead to interaction. But Tsunade wasn't just any ordinary student. As the granddaughter of the First Hokage, she was practically royalty in Konoha.

There was no way she wasn't being watched.

If he got too close too quickly, someone might start asking questions. The wrong kind of rumors could easily spread—accusations that he had ulterior motives, that he was trying to get close to her on behalf of the Uchiha clan. Some might even go as far as suspecting that this was part of some grand political scheme.

And if that suspicion ever reached the higher-ups, they wouldn't hesitate to eliminate him in secret.

This wasn't paranoia.

It was history.

Tsunade's younger brother and her lover had both died tragically in a short span of time. A coincidence? Hardly.

Both of them had dreams of becoming Hokage. Both of them wanted to change the village. And with Tsunade's backing, they had a real chance at making those dreams a reality.

Who stood to gain the most from their deaths?

The answer was obvious—the Third Hokage and his supporters.

Regardless of the man's personal character, the people around him—the ones who benefited from his position—could not be trusted.

A marriage between the Senju and Uchiha clans would be the last thing they wanted. Either of those bloodlines alone was already terrifying in terms of power and influence. If they were ever united, they could easily overshadow all the other clans in the village.

It was too much of a threat.

Aokiji was separated from Tsunade by just a hallway.

And yet, it felt like an uncrossable distance.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment too long, and she quickly noticed.

Her golden brows furrowed slightly, brown eyes narrowing in confusion. "Is there something on my face?"

"It's nothing. Tsunade, you're amazing," Aokiji said, patting his chest with exaggerated sincerity.

He had already made up his mind.

Until he reached Kage-level strength, he wouldn't actively pursue Tsunade. For now, maintaining a normal, friendly relationship would be enough.

Besides, coming from his past life's perspective… he really didn't have the courage to forge iron that hot.

"That sounded fake," Tsunade said bluntly.

"I just think that someone as ambitious as you is truly admirable," Aokiji replied smoothly.

She studied him for a moment before tilting her head. "I remember you're from the Uchiha…"

"Aokiji," he supplied.

"You seem… different from the usual Uchiha," she noted.

Tsunade had grown up hearing about the Uchiha. Proud. Aloof. Hard to approach. That was the general impression they left on others.

But Aokiji? He was nothing like that. His lazy posture, his indifferent attitude—it was completely outside the norm.

"Maybe it's because I'm handsomely unique?" Aokiji grinned, flashing his bright white teeth.

Tsunade scoffed. "In terms of arrogance, you're certainly unique."

"I'm a pacifist. I despise fighting. Living like a plant—calm and unmoving—that's my ideal lifestyle," he said with an exaggerated sigh.

The tree that stands out is the first to be felled.

Aokiji understood that principle well.

If someone was too outstanding, they would inevitably be isolated. Even if they were humble, people would assume they had hidden ambitions.

On top of that, his Uchiha blood made him an even bigger target. The safest move was to blend in.

But from the way Tsunade looked at him, she wasn't buying it.

"You're just lazy," she said flatly.

"Huh? I thought I hid it well, but you saw right through me," Aokiji admitted shamelessly.

His attitude was simple—if you can't avoid criticism, embrace it instead.

First impressions mattered—he knew that.

But as an Uchiha, openly approaching Tsunade wasn't an option. He had to take another route.

As the saying goes: Fighting is fighting, but not fighting is also a form of fighting.

Similarly: Chasing is chasing, but not chasing is also a form of chasing.

After that brief exchange, they didn't speak much. Aokiji was exhausted and had more important things to do—like sleep.

Time passed quickly, and before long, the school day came to an end.

The moment the teacher dismissed the class, students rushed out like a flood. Within minutes, the once-crowded room was nearly empty.

The teacher glanced at the sleeping Aokiji, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he considered waking the boy, but in the end, he simply sighed and shook his head.

A wasted talent.

If a young man didn't put in the effort now, he would only regret it when he was older. The truth was, the teacher had never harbored a particularly favorable impression of the Uchiha clan. Arrogant, aloof, and always scheming in their own way—that was their reputation among the village. But as long as Aokiji wasn't causing trouble or disturbing others, there was no point in interfering. If the boy wanted to waste his own potential, then so be it.

By the time Aokiji finally woke, the classroom was empty, the once lively atmosphere replaced by an eerie silence. The desks and chairs stood still, their orderly arrangement untouched, as if no one had ever been there at all.

Blinking the last remnants of sleep from his eyes, he wiped a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth and stretched his stiff limbs.

"Guess I overdid it again…" he murmured to himself, running a hand through his messy hair before standing up.

Stepping outside, he was met with the sight of the late evening sky, dyed in brilliant hues of crimson and gold. The sun, heavy on the horizon, cast long shadows across the village, stretching his silhouette across the dirt path. The air was cool, carrying with it the distant scent of burning wood and the faint murmurs of Konoha winding down for the night.

As Aokiji walked, his figure alone and unhurried, two passing men took notice of him. One of them, a middle-aged shinobi with a scar across his cheek, paused and glanced back. His gaze lingered on Aokiji's retreating form, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

"Isn't that Uchiha Aokiji? Haven't seen him in a while. How's he doing these days?"

His companion, an older man with graying hair, let out a short sigh before shaking his head.

"Not like he used to, that's for sure," he replied.

Uchiha Aokiji. Once a child prodigy, admired and envied in equal measure. Born with a rare dual Kekkei Genkai—Ice Release and the Sharingan—he had been someone the clan had placed high hopes on, believing him destined for greatness.

But fate had been cruel.

Born an orphan, Aokiji had been raised by his grandmother, a former kunoichi who had long since retired from the battlefield. But when the war's demand for manpower grew desperate, the village had called her back to duty.

She had never returned.

Stripped of the only family he had ever known, the boy had spiraled into despair. Once diligent and driven, he had shut himself off, withdrawing from those around him. Over time, he had become a slacker, indifferent to the world.

The Uchiha elders had not been blind to this change. Believing that companionship might heal his grief, they had enrolled him in the academy, hoping that he would one day recover and reclaim his lost potential.

But whether that hope would bear fruit remained to be seen.

Aokiji arrived at his home, a modest dwelling tucked away in a quiet part of the village. The moment he stepped inside, his casual demeanor vanished.

Without hesitation, he shut the door behind him and crouched down, lifting the edge of a worn-out rug. Beneath it, a thin layer of white powder lay undisturbed.

Good. No one had been here.

Next, he moved to the windowsill, running a careful finger along the thick layer of dust. Not a single disturbance. That was another sign.

Aokiji exhaled slowly, his tense shoulders loosening just a fraction.

Ninjas rarely used the front door when they intended to break in. If someone had tried to enter, it would have been through the windows or other less obvious means.

Just to be sure, he reached up and covered his right eye with his hand, closing his left. Chakra stirred within him, flowing to his eye socket.

A faint crimson glow flickered through the gaps between his fingers.

The Uchiha's bloodline ability—Sharingan.

He had awakened it the day he learned of his grandmother's death, the raw pain and helplessness pushing him beyond his limits. But he had never reported it to the clan.

Activating the Sharingan at five years old? That would have made him a prodigy in their eyes.

And in Konoha, being a prodigy of the Uchiha meant painting a target on your back.

The village's higher-ups had always feared the Sharingan, wary of the power it granted. If they knew he had awakened it so early, it would only bring him unnecessary attention—perhaps even a quiet elimination.

Confirming once more that his home was secure, Aokiji let out a breath and rolled up his sleeves.

Now, it was time to train.

Despite his reputation as a slacker, his exhaustion was not an act. He was genuinely tired, but not for the reasons others assumed.

His schedule was reversed—he slept during the day and trained at night.

The academy's lessons were nothing he couldn't learn on his own, so he took advantage of class time to rest whenever possible.

But when night fell, that was when the real work began.

Training until his body ached, poring over his grandmother's old notes, repeating the cycle over and over again.

By the time dawn approached, his body was drenched in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Damn… this is exhausting," he muttered, rubbing his sore arms. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath before cracking his knuckles. "Just a little more… then I'll take a bath and head to class."

Despite the fatigue weighing down his limbs, he forced himself to stand straight, steadying his breathing.

Focusing his chakra, he formed a practiced hand seal.

A strange, refreshing coldness swirled in his chest, spreading outward like an invisible current. It wasn't the sharp bite of winter, nor the suffocating chill of ice—it was something uniquely his own.

Slowly, he lifted his palm.

A shimmering ice crystal formed in his hand, catching the dim light of the room and refracting it into dazzling fragments.

For the first time that night, a flicker of excitement appeared in Aokiji's eyes.