Sengoku broke out in a cold sweat. This girl's temper really knows no bounds! Saying things like that aloud? If others overheard, it could ruin his entire reputation. There goes my marshal position low-key, low-key, stay low-key and survive the storm.
Gion wasn't a fool. At first, she couldn't keep up with the cunning mind of an old fox like Sengoku, but once she started piecing things together, it became painfully clear. The Navy was about to execute Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King, and that would mark the turning point in history. The promotion to Fleet Admiral was within Sengoku's grasp everything was lined up perfectly.
Then suddenly, a wild card appeared: Uchiha Madara. Not a pirate, but just as dangerous no, even more. Power incarnate. It was like watching Lu Bu meet Diao Chan in an ancient play: fate changing course with one unexpected encounter.
Gion couldn't deny that if someone like Madara joined the Navy, it would be a seismic shift. With his combat ability rivaling that of the Four Emperors, the cost of a few grievances might be worth it... but that didn't mean Sengoku would escape her wrath.
"Sure enough," she muttered coldly, "men are all the same shameless, scheming, and disgusting."
Sengoku winced. What did she even watch growing up? Where does a twelve-year-old girl get that kind of language? He couldn't argue, couldn't get angry because at the end of the day, he really was chasing Madara's strength. No, not for personal gain for justice, for world peace!
"Listen, Gion," he said, tone softening, "I get that you're angry, and maybe you don't understand my decision right now. But with the bond we share, do you really think I'd ever do something to hurt you? I'm looking out for your future."
Gion rolled her eyes so dramatically Sengoku was sure they'd get stuck. Tsuru was right these men, these "heroes," always acted like this when they wanted something.
"Alright, alright," Sengoku said, waving his hand. "Let's put Madara's power aside for now. Let's just talk about how he wronged you today. You want revenge, don't you? You want to get back at that white-eyed wolf?"
That got her attention. Despite everything, Gion was still young. Her pride stung. She'd saved Madara, only to end up wounded, her memories tampered with, and humiliated. She'd cried, too an ugly, sniffling mess, far from her usual composed self.
Sengoku saw the spark in her eyes and leaned in immediately, striking while the iron was hot.
"Gion-chan, I know you don't always trust Garp's... let's call it style, but trust me. With my experience, I can tell you people like Uchiha Madara, they act cold and ruthless, but deep down, they're thin-skinned. You kids have a word for that, don't you?"
"Tsundere," Gion sniffed, crossing her arms.
"Exactly! Tsundere! Once someone like that accepts you, they're totally different. He won't treat his apprentice poorly not with that pride. Sure, it might be hard at first, but over time? He'll open up. I promise you."
"You know the saying: 'A teacher for a day is a father for life.' Would a father mistreat his daughter? At worst, you'll suffer some teasing, maybe some training bruises. But once you earn his approval, it's over. The whole Navy will be on your side. He won't dare make things difficult for you anymore."
Sengoku leaned in closer, persuasive.
"Just think of it. One day: 'Master, I want the moon.' The next day: 'Master, I want the sun.' Will he say no? You just have to survive the beginning. If you push through now, the rest of your life will be smooth sailing."
Gion's eyes lit up at the vision of Madara being made to run errands, fetch snacks, polish her boots her personal powerhouse errand boy. She slapped her thigh with a smirk.
"That's it. Settled."
Sengoku immediately leaned in and whispered his full scheme in her ear. Gion listened, then glanced at him with an expression of pure mischief.
The two of them grinned in perfect villainous sync.
"He's ours now."
---
Scene Cut – Temporary Naval HQ, Loguetown
Within the temporary command post in Loguetown, Garp was laughing heartily, his mouth full of senbei.
"Hahahaha! So, Brother Ban where'd you get that massive bone you fight with? Is it a Devil Fruit power?"
Madara, having already absorbed Gion's memories using the remnants of his Rinnegan-based sensory techniques, had gained a basic understanding of this new world. Along with that, he had reluctantly accepted the cover story Sengoku gave him: that he was a wandering shinobi from Wano Country, fallen out of time and memory.
"It's a secret technique, passed down through bloodlines," Madara replied, voice calm, but vague enough to avoid suspicion.
In truth, he'd never explain his Susano'o a manifestation of chakra only possible through the Uchiha bloodline and Mangekyō Sharingan. But he'd already grasped the essential political truth: information was power, and he would give none away freely.
The betrayal by Black Zetsu and Kaguya still haunted him. And in this unfamiliar world where chakra didn't exist, only chaos and these... Devil Fruits, he found himself in a strange limbo. There was no Moon's Eye Plan. No Hashirama. Only confusion.
Still, if he had to endure this world, he might as well learn from it.
Garp munched loudly. "I saw you using something like Soru back there that high-speed movement. We call it 'shave.' Part of the Rokushiki Navy's six fundamental combat techniques."
Madara nodded. With Gion's memories and his Sharingan's analytical power, he'd already deciphered the basics of Soru just by watching. A chakra-based approximation of it had been simple to replicate. This "shave" is crude, he thought. But effective. With chakra, it can be enhanced tenfold.
The two continued their chat not with any particular goal, but with a strange rhythm forming between them. Madara, cold and precise. Garp, loud and carefree.
But between the lines of their words, something deeper began to form: a cautious, unlikely rapport.
The two bantered idly for a long time, and when the conversation lost momentum, Sengoku brought in Gion, whose eyes were still slightly red from crying, into the arena.
Uchiha Madara's brows furrowed the moment he saw Gion. Her expression was unreadable, but the faint puffiness around her eyes suggested she had just shed tears. For some reason, that irritated him or maybe unsettled him was the better word. He didn't understand what was going on in the mind of this brat, and now this scene was giving him a splitting headache.
As she stepped through the doorway, Gion suddenly called out in a fragile, wavering voice:
"Master~"
Uchiha Madara's entire expression darkened. He opened his mouth to reject the bizarre title but then saw her lip quiver and her already red-rimmed eyes welling up again.
...Tch.
His blood pressure spiked. Without saying another word, he snapped his fingers into a one-handed seal and vanished instantly with Body Flicker Technique, leaving only a whisper of displaced wind.
At the same time, Garp, seated below, casually raised his eyes to glance at the rooftop. Sengoku gave him a small nod of confirmation the plan had worked. Garp didn't quite follow the details, but caught the general drift. He stayed put, pretending nothing had happened.
There was no need for him to chase after Madara. After all, the man didn't even bother to suppress his aura. Even without Observation Haki, Garp could feel it clearly. Madara's presence radiated like the sun overwhelming, undeniable.
Sengoku tugged at Gion's sleeve and led her away, the corner of his mouth lifting into a satisfied smirk. Their eyes met, and Gion gave him a small nod. The message was clear she would follow after Madara later.
This was the strategy Sengoku and Gion had cooked up: feign vulnerability, provoke a reaction, then use the emotional opening to close the gap. And based on the result just now, it was proving extremely effective.
Madara might seem like a cold, arrogant warlord indifferent to emotion, forged in violence but he clearly placed weight on things like bonds, honor, and unspoken loyalty. He reminded Sengoku of those old-school West Blue gangsters who went on about "brotherhood" and "family." Fierce to outsiders, but soft when it came to those who broke through their armor.
Sengoku hadn't survived this long in the Navy without understanding people. Uchiha Madara's raw power might eclipse even the likes of Whitebeard or Kaido, but when it came to social maneuvering and political instinct, Madara was still a lone wolf. His strength had made him self-reliant, even isolated. Sengoku, on the other hand, had built an empire through networks and timing.
---
That night, Madara lay alone on the roof of the two-story barracks. From here, he had a full view of Loguetown's square, where the execution platform was being assembled again this time for Gol D. Roger.
He knew Garp was monitoring him probably by Sengoku's orders but Madara didn't care. If the Navy believed a mere watchman could contain him, they were either fools or gamblers.
He was just… lost. Since the battle at the Valley of the End, he had lived hidden beneath the earth, tethered only to his ambitions and the Eye of the Moon plan. Back then, he was never truly alone. He had purpose.
He had pursued an ideal: peace through illusion, ending humanity's suffering by bringing them into an eternal dream. Misguided perhaps, but it was a vision he believed in.
Even after his resurrection by Impure World Reincarnation, fighting the combined might of the Five Great Nations during the Fourth Shinobi World War, he had never been happier. There was something exhilarating about hearing the panicked whispers "Madara… The Uchiha Madara…" followed by the cold dread of realization on the battlefield.
He remembered Onoki, still bearing the will of stone despite his age, trembling in the face of Tengai Shinsei, when meteors themselves were his weapons. He remembered the other Kage too Mei, Gaara, A, Tsunade united against him. Weak, perhaps, but bold.
Especially Tsunade. Though nowhere near the level of Hashirama, she had his blood, his pride, his spirit. Standing tall even when outmatched. As Hokage, she was worthy of her title.
He remembered Might Guy, bathed in red steam, body breaking down with each step, the Eight Gates burning through him like wildfire. A fool but a magnificent one.
And then… Naruto and Sasuke. The boys who carried on his clan's legacy and the world's hope. That one Sasuke his face was too much like Izuna's, but colder, prouder. And Naruto… the reincarnation of Asura. Unyielding, infuriating, but worthy.
Madara didn't hate any of them. On the contrary, their resistance fascinated him. It reminded him of why he ever fought.
Even when he fell betrayed, stabbed by Black Zetsu, used as a puppet to revive Kaguya he didn't curse fate. His only regret was underestimating them. He hadn't lost in power, only in caution.
In the end… you won, Hashirama.
Your Will of Fire… it endured. It's been passed down through Tsunade, through Naruto… through this whole cursed world you so loved.
And me?
He looked up at the foreign night sky. The moon here was unfamiliar. The stars, the winds, the air they weren't from his world. And yet, the ache in his chest was the same.
I was going to share a drink with you, old friend.
Guess I'll have to drink alone.
---