c3: A Different Means of Retaliation
Though he said it was "interesting," Madara Uchiha was far from amused. Internally, he felt adrift. This was a new world, alien in every sense, where all his ambitions—his Infinite Tsukuyomi, the Moon's Eye Plan, even the legacy of the Uchiha meant nothing.
He had been deceived by Black Zetsu, used as a puppet in Kaguya's resurrection. He failed. And worst of all...
Hashirama...!
Gion slumped to the ground, coughing weakly. To her surprise, there was no lasting pain or internal backlash. She didn't even feel discomfort from the contact. It was just a sensation strange, invasive, but nonviolent.
After all, Madara wasn't Nagato. The control he held over the Rinnegan was native and absolute. Unlike Nagato, who strained his Uzumaki life force to wield transplanted eyes, Madara was the original bearer his mastery was surgical. There was a difference between wielding a stolen blade and one forged for your hand.
Before Madara could speak, Gion suddenly dropped to her knees, her voice firm despite her trembling.
"Please accept me as your apprentice, Madara-sama!"
Madara froze. Even he couldn't quite process this absurd turn. The Uchiha were legendarily prideful, but for all their arrogance, they were also strangely susceptible to earnest emotion. And Gion's sudden plea caught him off-guard.
"Little girl," Madara said coldly, narrowing his Sharingan, "Do you even know what you're asking? You are but an insect grasping at gods."
Gion didn't flinch. She bowed her head lower, pressing her forehead to the floor.
"For the sake of gratitude, please accept me as your disciple, Madara-sama!"
His face hardened. "...Are you trying to threaten me?"
Gion shook her head, defiant but sincere. "No. This is no trick. It's a request an earnest plea."
Madara's expression darkened. If she had tried to leverage his debt to her, he could have dismissed it outright. But her deference her honest submission made it difficult to brush her off. It left him... uncomfortable.
From the sidelines, Garp and Sengoku watched with mixed reactions. Garp scratched his head, confused. Sengoku, on the other hand, was quietly intrigued.
If Madara despite his unstable temperament could be kept close, perhaps even affiliated with the Marines through Gion, it could change everything. Even if he didn't work for them, not having him as an enemy would be a massive strategic win.
Sengoku stepped forward, voice carefully casual.
"Cough... Gion, don't push too hard. Madara-sama is likely still adjusting to this world, having just recovered. He may not appreciate such pressure."
Gion looked at Sengoku, her face briefly flickering with confusion. She'd just found a way to retaliate against Madara a way to put him on the back foot without provoking direct hostility. Why interrupt now?
But Sengoku wasn't finished.
"I imagine Madara-sama is a shinobi of great discipline. I've read of the Wano Country samurai silent strength, unwavering endurance, willing to endure humiliation to achieve their goals. Warriors from the shadows... true heroes of the battlefield."
"The Navy, as the world's largest peacekeeping force, welcomes all heroes, from every walk of life. Would Madara-sama consider staying with us for a time?"
Madara furrowed his brow. This was not a line of flattery he was used to. In the world of shinobi, people spoke through kunai and jutsu, not honeyed diplomacy.
Sengoku pressed on without pause.
"We are aware that Wano's borders are closed, and information is scarce. Gion's knowledge, though helpful, is limited. But our Navy possesses vast intelligence on the world. With her input and your judgment, we can provide the pieces you need to understand this land."
"Why not remain here temporarily? Get your bearings. We will assign our most trusted Vice Admiral Garp the Fist as your escort."
The praise, the tact, the perfect blend of diplomacy and utility it all overwhelmed even someone like Madara. In the shinobi world, people schemed behind backs. But Sengoku? He made it all sound like an invitation to royalty.
Madara hesitated... but nodded. Slightly. Barely. But it was a nod.
Still, he spoke no words. He had to preserve his image, his distance the lone god above mortals.
Sengoku nearly let out a breath of relief. He wasn't some impulsive young officer like Gion. He was a former Fleet Admiral. He knew how to play men like instruments.
Uchiha Madara might be a demon, he thought, but even demons can be charmed.
"Excellent," Sengoku grinned. "Then it's settled. Garp! Go catch two fine Sea Kings we'll feast tonight and drink to shared strength!"
Garp blinked. "Eh?! Why do I have to do the grunt work? I wasn't the one brown-nosing!"
"The one who's strongest fetches the meat!" Sengoku replied, laughing.
At the same time, Madara raised his hand and executed a one-handed seal. The Sharingan flared briefly as chakra pulsed from his body.
"Genjutsu: Release."
The subtle web of illusion he had cast over the nearby Marines evaporated instantly, returning awareness to dozens of troops who had been paralyzed or unconscious during the confrontation.
There was a ceasefire now. It would be inappropriate to let soldiers lie incapacitated in peace.
Sengoku, pleased with the momentum, led Madara toward Marineford's inner compound.
The world may have changed for Madara Uchiha, but Sengoku was already planning how to use that change to the Navy's advantage.
"Mr. Madara doesn't yet know," Sengoku said with a measured tone, "that the Navy has recently captured the most dangerous man in the world Gol D. Roger. Known across the seas as the Pirate King, he is scheduled to be executed soon. His death will be a global event. That's why we've been deployed in advance to maintain order."
Madara glanced sideways, his expression unreadable, though his eyes held faint amusement. The deference Sengoku showed was clearly not out of weakness, but strategy. Respect, to the warlord of a different world, was a subtle way to keep threats at bay.
"Pirate King, huh?" Madara said, his face still impassive. "Sounds... amusing. Can he fight me?"
Sengoku burst out laughing, but not out of mockery more out of incredulity. "Hahahaha! As expected of Madara-sama! Most would tremble just hearing Roger's name!"
But inwardly, Sengoku was calculating rapidly.
He could already see the power struggle. Madara clearly wasn't interested in taking on a disciple, and Gion stubborn, proud wasn't trying to become one either. That whole "apprentice" scene had been a ploy. A clever one, too meant to unbalance Madara without ever directly opposing him.
That's why Sengoku had stepped in to cool it down. Madara wasn't someone who responded well to pressure or emotion. He wasn't simple like Garp, or righteous like Kuzan. He had the same dangerous energy as the ancient weapons themselves unpredictable, unshackled.
And people like that... you don't drive. You steer.
So instead of challenging Madara's pride or testing his patience, Sengoku gave him a purpose a target to observe, a role to play. And maybe, just maybe, a place to belong.
At the very least, if Madara was nearby during Roger's execution, Sengoku could sleep with one eye open. But if Madara were not accounted for during that critical moment? Sengoku wouldn't sleep at all.
Still... even with Garp nearby, was that enough?
Sengoku frowned internally. Garp alone might not be able to contain Madara if he goes wild. I'd pull in Zefa too, but I've no grounds. The paperwork, the logistics... all while the Golden Lion just escaped from Impel Down, and now this Madara shows up out of nowhere? Monsters in the shadows, one after another...
Just two more days. He braced himself. Just survive two more days, and this era this chaos ends. A new age begins. An age of justice. True justice.
Later that evening, as Garp returned with two massive sea kings slung over his shoulders like barrels of sake, Sengoku quietly slipped away. He had a more delicate mission now.
He made his way to the infirmary, steps quiet, expression composed. He knocked lightly on the wooden panel at the door.
A voice snapped from within, clearly annoyed. "Come in, Sengoku-san."
Sengoku exhaled in relief. With Gion's infamous temper, he'd feared being chewed out at the door.
He stepped inside, trying to maintain dignity despite feeling like a man about to walk into a thunderstorm.
"Ahem. Gion-chan, how's the injury?"
Gion didn't look up from her seat. Her reply was cold, almost mocking, with a tone eerily similar to Madara's.
"Physically, I'm fine. But I'm... unsettled. I plan to have a proper conversation with Tsuru-san later about your behavior today, Sengoku-san. What you did doesn't match the image of the Marshal I once admired."
Sengoku froze. Cold sweat trickled down his back. She's invoking Tsuru? He hadn't even spoken to her yet, and already he could imagine the Admiral Strategist's piercing glare. He steeled himself.
"Cough, cough... Well, Gion-chan, there were reasons behind today's actions. After all, a Vice Admiral especially a future Marshal has to sometimes make... difficult decisions."
Gion looked up slowly, her eyes narrowed and her voice sharp.
"Then perhaps the Marshal would be so kind as to explain those 'difficult decisions' to others. After all, in this Navy, isn't the great Sengoku-sama known for being above reproach? A man whose influence covers the sky?"
Sengoku tried to laugh it off, tugging nervously at his collar.
"Ahaha... Let's not exaggerate. The appointment for the next Fleet Admiral isn't official yet. We're all just doing our part for justice"
Gion cut him off, her voice hardening.
"Oh? But from what I saw today, you're very efficient when it comes to arbitrariness. Let me guess, Marshal this visit isn't just about checking on me. You're here because of him, aren't you?"
Her eyes narrowed further, voice dripping sarcasm. "You're here to ask me to... what? Persuade Madara? Bend to his ego? Use myself to 'secure an asset' for the Navy? How did the strategy go again coerce, then bribe, then appeal to emotion?"
She stood now, voice rising.
"Let me guess the final step: throw in a pretty young female officer. Maybe I'm supposed to smile and play along, let him call me 'disciple' while the Navy reaps the rewards. Is that it? Sacrifice the body for the glory of the institution?"
Sengoku's face turned grim. He opened his mouth to protest but found no words. Gion's fury wasn't unjustified. She'd been wounded, manipulated, and now maybe politically positioned without her consent.
But even so, Sengoku couldn't back away. Not this time.
Because in two days, the Pirate King would die.
And everything everything would change.
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