c7 – Cooperation
As the sun dipped below the horizon, marking the final evening before the public execution of Gol D. Roger, a towering figure with a purple mohawk stormed into Loguetown the revered Black Arm Zefa, personally summoned on urgent orders.
Roger's execution was scheduled for tomorrow, and though Sengoku originally planned to supervise alongside Garp, he had been pulled into an urgent operation elsewhere involving Cipher Pol and the Gorosei. Concerned about the unpredictable Uchiha Madara, Sengoku took no chances. Zefa, a former admiral and now instructor of elite Marine recruits, was temporarily redeployed from his post at Twin Cape to shadow Madara during the execution, both as escort and deterrent.
Zefa, still in his black trench coat bearing the Marine insignia, arrived at the Marine outpost in Loguetown just as Sengoku was conversing with a man clad in ornate red armor, eyes like tomoe spinning faintly behind a mask of indifference.
Zefa paused. The man before Sengoku wasn't a regular informant or even a Warlord his very presence warped the atmosphere.
Sengoku looked up and greeted warmly, "You're here, Zefa."
He turned and gestured to the armored figure. "This is Uchiha Madara, a very… distinguished guest of the Marines. You and Garp will accompany him during tomorrow's execution. A sign of trust and also a precaution."
Zefa's pupils contracted slightly. If Sengoku needed two admirals to "accompany" this guest, it wasn't just diplomacy. That meant this Uchiha Madara had combat power equal to at least an admiral possibly more. Few alive could rival that.
Madara remained still, unfazed. He understood the stakes. The execution of the Pirate King was more than a sentence it was a symbol. And with the eyes of the world watching, a stranger like him had to be monitored. He didn't fault them for it.
"Hahahaha! Zefa! You came too? What, here to keep an eye on Brother Ban?"
Garp's thunderous laughter echoed through the room as he burst in predictably at dinner time. Just like the old trio days, he always arrived when food was close.
The moment Garp stepped in, Madara's expression darkened, the air around him shimmering with suppressed chakra, like a storm ready to break.
Zefa instinctively took a step back. This wasn't haki this was something entirely different. More ancient. More violent. It reminded him of the primal energy he once felt from Whitebeard at his peak.
Before anything could ignite, a small blur darted out from behind Garp.
"Yooo~ Master! I missed you!"
Madara let out a breath and relaxed. That annoying little ghost Gion was here again. She didn't bring the cursed "Will of Fire" scabbard this time, so she was tolerable. Barely.
Garp threw his arm over Madara's shoulder like they were old drinking buddies.
"Hahaha! Brother Ban, if Gion likes you this much, why not join the Marines? Eh? You'd be perfect!"
Madara didn't flinch. "I reject."
As expected, Garp wasn't offended in the slightest. He chuckled again, tightening his hold on Madara's shoulder.
"No biggie, no biggie. But just think about it great pay, meals on time, and with your strength, you'd shoot straight to Vice Admiral. Hell, if you stick around, you could make Admiral. But I don't recommend it. Otherwise, you'll be stuck babysitting those trash Celestial Dragons."
"Garp!!!" x2
Both Zefa and Sengoku shouted in perfect unison from across the room. Garp just laughed, waving a hand dismissively like it was a minor slip-up.
"Hahahaha! Sorry, sorry. Don't mind that. Just pretend it slipped out."
The junior officers with Zefa stared in frozen horror. Did Garp really just call the Celestial Dragons trash in front of a possible world-level threat?
Madara was amused. He had heard whispers of the Celestial Dragons"Heavenly Nobles," false gods lording over mortals. The idea disgusted him.
"World Nobles? Daimyō in masks? Why should anyone fear such insects? Why not just kill them all?"
Zefa: "...!"
Sengoku: "...!!"
Garp couldn't contain his laughter. This was the kind of chaotic energy he liked someone who didn't give a damn about titles, politics, or the Tenryūbito.
Madara's lawless tongue reminded Garp of Rocks D. Xebec… only Madara was more controlled, more calculating, and somehow, even more terrifying.
And despite all that, Garp liked him.
Sengoku took the time to explain why even someone as powerful as Uchiha Madara couldn't afford to casually lay a hand on a Celestial Dragon. The World Nobles were the descendants of the founders of the World Government, and harming even one of them could trigger a global incident. If a Celestial Dragon was attacked, Admiral-level combat power was dispatched immediately Kizaru, Akainu, or even Aokiji could arrive within hours. But while Sengoku hoped this explanation would keep Madara in check, he didn't notice the spark of amusement and intrigue lighting up Madara's eyes.
"If crushing a bug can summon a dragon... then this world is more fun than I thought."
To Madara, the idea that attacking a single "ant" could summon powerful warriors was almost a game. The possibility of fighting a top-tier powerhouse like Garp, Akainu, or even Sengoku himself because of a provocation thrilled him. After all, in his own world, only Hashirama or the Ten-Tails Jinchūriki could truly challenge him—here, even entertainment came with consequence.
Sengoku, meanwhile, watched Madara with a tightening jaw. The man's expression was too eager, too animated, and it gave him a sinking feeling. Would bringing Uchiha Madara into the Marines stabilize the world… or collapse it entirely? Was he Roger's equal… or worse?
He found himself picturing a nightmare scenario: on a calm, sunny day, Uchiha Madara, now a Marine admiral, growing bored, dons the standard-issue white coat, then saunters into Mary Geoise just to trample a Celestial Dragon underfoot—forcing Garp to spar with him while celestial palaces burned behind them.
The mere thought gave Sengoku a migraine. He looked at Garp, who was busy cracking jokes with Madara as if they were long-lost drinking buddies. One Garp had already given him gray hair. Add Madara to that equation? He'd be dead in his chair before he ever retired.
Yet even Madara was unsettled deep down. He didn't belong to this world. His nature was at odds with it. In many ways, this bizarre, chaotic place was more Hashirama's style—loud, idealistic, full of unpredictable people and shifting alliances. Madara had no ambition here, no desire to return to the Naruto world, and no concrete goals. All he had were these strange, powerful people—Garp, Gion, Sengoku. Each one insane in their own way.
As Madara sat staring into the campfire, lost in thought, the group around him went silent. They could tell he was genuinely reflecting. Sengoku's breath was tight. He had a feeling this was it—Madara was seriously weighing whether to ally with the Navy.
Gion, curious as ever, squatted beside him, arms looped around her knees, watching Madara's profile. His face, lit by flickering firelight, was unreadable.
After what felt like forever, Madara finally exhaled deeply.
"Sorry. I won't be joining the Navy."
Sengoku's expression darkened. He had hoped but expected this outcome. A man like Madara wouldn't be swayed by rank or titles so easily.
Just as Sengoku opened his mouth to ease the disappointment, Madara continued.
"But I am a shinobi. And I intend to inherit the will of my greatest friend… and establish a shinobi village in this world."
Sengoku's eyes widened. A spark of interest ignited.
"What exactly do you mean by that, Mr. Madara?"
Still watching the fire, Madara absently turned Gion's slayer sword over in his hand. The flames reflected off its blade, casting shadows across his face.
"I wish to collaborate with the Navy. Shinobi need food, equipment, and missions. I propose a mercenary alliance. In exchange for resources and territory, my shinobi will take on assignments—assassination, escort, infiltration, espionage, battlefield support. Name the job."
Sengoku's brain fired like a machine. This… this was essentially a CP0-style covert ops team—but with admiral-level power as the cornerstone. His superior, Commander-in-Chief Kong, had once insisted that the Navy shouldn't entangle itself in morally gray operations. That's what Cipher Pol was for. But if Madara created a separate mercenary force, under the guise of an alliance…
It was perfect.
Madara would handle the unspeakable. And Sengoku would have plausible deniability. He'd gain a whole covert division led by a monster who once battled gods and Bijuu in his own world.
And Madara? He wanted land, resources, manpower. He couldn't build a shinobi village in the sky. But with Navy support, he could secure territory, perhaps somewhere near Skypiea or on a remote Grand Line island. He needed elite recruits too—and the Marine training grounds were full of potential candidates.
Sengoku's thoughts aligned quickly: Use our land, eat our food, train with our people… in name, it's a cooperation. In practice? He's ours. A powerful ally, no rank needed. A free general who takes missions and gets paid. No salary, no paperwork. A mercenary admiral.
It was, in every sense, a dream deal.
Like a starving man handed a banquet, Sengoku straightened his back and nodded with gravitas.
"Mr. Madara… on behalf of the Navy, I'm willing to negotiate. Let's discuss the terms of our cooperation. I hope this marks the beginning of a long and prosperous partnership."
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