Chapter 10 – Sword Leaping Flame
Mastering Haki at least the basics came quickly for someone like Uchiha Madara. With the Sharingan activated, he committed Zefa's notes to memory almost instantly. After a full night of experimentation and chakra comparison, he had managed to grasp the essentials of both Busoshoku Haki (Armament Haki) and Kenbunshoku Haki (Observation Haki).
Kenbunshoku came almost effortlessly. With Madara's chakra control honed by decades of battle, and the refined perception skills taught by the Uchiha Clan's battle doctrine, the learning curve was practically nonexistent. A few tries using the Shadow Clone Technique to simulate combat was all it took. In truth, his sensory perception was already on par with high-level Haki users this simply gave him a new framework.
It was Busoshoku Haki that proved troublesome.
As a shinobi, Madara came from a world where high damage output reigned supreme. Shinobi were infamous for their "high attack, low defense" combat style. Covering one's limbs with willpower to improve offense and defense was counterintuitive. In the Naruto world, even a single Explosive Tag could kill a jōnin outright. Everyone fought to strike first defense was just clever substitution, Summoning Technique meat shields, or evasion with techniques like Substitution Jutsu (Kawarimi no Jutsu). People didn't tank hits; they avoided them.
Did Busoshoku Haki seriously expect you to take hits head-on?
Still, Madara persevered. After hours of refining the sensation, he finally grasped the "iron body" aspect treating it like a chakra-free, unsealed version of Earth Style: Hardening Technique, or perhaps like a raw, unfiltered version of chakra flow enhancement used by Samurai from the Land of Iron.
Of course, he wasn't impressed.
In his mind, using Armament Haki purely as a melee weapon was rudimentary. During spars with Garp and Sengoku, Madara noticed the issue clearly great power and durability, but limited reach and zero crowd control. Against foes who fought at range or with terrain manipulation like shinobi, they would struggle. He could, if he wanted, dance with Garp in melee all day but what was the point?
Were it not for that brat, Madara wouldn't have even bothered to go this deep into it. His own combat style was already evolved beyond most worlds. No further optimization was needed.
He shook his head, casting off the fatigue of a sleepless night, and stepped out onto the deck, where morning sun glinted off the sea's surface.
Once, he'd remained holed up in the cabin just to avoid the brat's nagging. But now? The truth was out. Uchiha Madara now wielded both colors of Haki.
On the deck, Gion, known later as Vice Admiral Momousagi, trained with the discipline of a future top Marine. Having grown up under Tsuru's strict guidance, she had no bad habits. Every morning, she practiced diligently.
She stood in an Iaijutsu stance, blade poised and focused.
"Brat, your stance is too loose," Madara called out with scorn. "That isn't a slash. It's a swing."
Gion stuck her tongue out at him in defiance.
"You're an old fossil with no sword skill, and you dare critique me? Stay out of it, Master Idiot!"
Madara paused. He hadn't expected that level of sass. And worse, he couldn't retort. What was he supposed to say? That her form lacked refinement in energy redirection, or that she lacked the precise chakra manipulation to simulate a real Iai draw-cut?
'This damned kid... I stayed up all night learning Haki and this is the thanks I get?'
His expression darkened. He turned away with an annoyed grunt but just as he did, he sensed it.
A sudden gust.
"You left a blind spot! Master—gotcha!"
Gion launched herself forward, aiming for his back.
Madara didn't flinch. Calmly, he grabbed her blade with two fingers, stopping it cold. She dangled from the hilt, hanging in midair.
"I told you before. That's not Iai. It's a jump."
With a smirk, he spun her sword-hand backward and lodged the blade in the hatch behind him, pinning her there like laundry. Then he picked up a mop, channeled a burst of Wind Release (Fūton) to slice it cleanly into four shafts, and dropped them to the deck. With a simple hand seal, four Wood Clone Techniques bloomed into humanoid dummies in martial poses.
"I'm not a swordsman," he said calmly, "but I've got a few tricks in the clan style."
He stepped into position, eyes gleaming red as his Sharingan spun.
"Uchiha-ryū: Tōka En'yaku."
(Uchiha Style: Sword Flame Leap.)
He vanished.
Using Body Flicker (Shunshin no Jutsu), he split into four afterimages each appearing simultaneously in front of the four clones. The phantoms left behind slowly drifted back together, merging with him after a second delay.
At first glance, he was holding a mop. Yet each wood clone now bore a clean cut across the neck each slash precise, just deep enough to sever the throat. A moment later, golden flames a stylized spiritual fire infused with chakra and will erupted from the wounds, consuming the dolls in seconds.
After tossing the mop aside, Madara walked over to Gion, lifted her effortlessly off the hatch door, and set her down gently. Without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving Gion standing there, eyes glued to the mop stick discarded by Uchiha Madara.
From the shadows, Sengoku and Garp, who had been covertly observing the entire scene, finally stepped out. Sengoku gave Gion a light pat on the head and spoke with uncharacteristic warmth:
"That's a good technique. It fuses well with Soru the high-speed step technique of the Six Powers. With your agility, it suits you."
Gion still looked baffled, blinking at the scorched mop-stick embedded in the deck.
"But… it was just a stick…"
Garp laughed heartily and waved it off.
"But that's a stick wielded by Madara. He might not be a swordsman in the traditional sense, but he's absolutely the kind of monster who can make even a twig cut like Enma in the hands of Oden. His will and control turn anything into a weapon."
Gion stood there confused, but Sengoku's next sentence wiped the confusion away and replaced it with pure horror.
"Little Gion, the mop that Madara broke will be deducted from your pocket money. One hundred thousand Berries."
Gion's hair shot up as if electrified.
"ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND?! It's just a mop! Besides, it was the master who broke it!"
She looked like she was about to explode. Her allowance was a meager 15 Berries per month how was this fair?
Sengoku adjusted his glasses with a glint of mock-seriousness.
"Be a teacher for one day, and a father for life. Since he's your teacher, his debt… is your inheritance."
Cackling, Garp slung his arm around Sengoku's shoulders and went off to find his fishing rod. Gion was left behind, face twisted in a blend of rage and disbelief, hair flapping in the sea breeze.
After a long moment of brooding silence, she bent down and picked up the mop stick Madara had left behind.
The moment her fingers wrapped around it, four wooden figures sprang to life in front of her but now, all four bore Sengoku's smug face, complete with his justice cap and goat-beard.
Something snapped.
Her battle spirit erupted.
"This dirty old man! I'll show you Siney!!!"
With that, Gion mimicked Madara's earlier posture, trying to copy the transition into Soru while focusing her will. She steadied her breathing, planted her feet, and launched.
"Soru!"
Paji~
The training ended abruptly when her left foot tangled with her right, sending her tumbling face-first. The mop cracked under her fall.
She sat up, groaning, frustration etched on her face. But then her eyes widened. The mop stick cracked in half was slowly repairing itself, the wood fibers twisting and knitting back together as if responding to her resolve.
Taking a breath, she picked it up again, hands trembling but determined.
It was a beautiful day. The sun warmed the deck, the sea breeze danced through the rigging, and the only thing marring the peace was a repeating "pajipaji~" from Gion's persistent falls.
Madara, lying cross-legged on his bunk, calmly meditated with his arms folded. A faint smile tugged at his lips as the steady rhythm reached his ears. In the adjacent cabin, Zefa, busy drafting intense training plans, couldn't help but smile knowingly.
On the upper deck, Sengoku and Garp stood with fishing rods, casting lines that never got a bite. But their laughter was as steady as the breeze.
Garp nudged Sengoku.
"I bet you she learns that sword move in five days. I'll wager a month of senbei."
Sengoku pushed his glasses and scoffed.
"She won't crack it before we return to Marineford. That sword technique may look simple, but using Soru while executing four precision slashes simultaneously? That's no five-day job."
Suddenly, their fishing rod glowed faintly. Words scrolled across it like a message written in chakra.
"Three days."
Garp roared with laughter.
"Looks like Ban-chan's putting his faith in Gion. He's betting big, huh? I'll take that senbei with a grin."
The rod showed no more text, but the two simple words "Three Days" were enough to reveal Madara's hope for Gion's growth.
Mastery of the move would mark her transition from trainee to swordsman. Sengoku sighed deeply.
"That one sword... it's enough to stump most elite cadets for a week. To expect a teenage girl to replicate it in three days?"
The gap seemed insurmountable not just in skill, but in age, experience, and even body mechanics.
Slap~
Gion struck the deck again.
**Speed, strength, angle, timing, footwork, and cutting force—**six elements Madara wove into one seamless movement. For him, a man who combined Sharingan prediction, Body Flicker, and Wind Release chakra manipulation, it was effortless.
For Gion, it was a mountain.
All she could do was fail and stand up again.
In the dark recess of the corridor, Uchiha Madara watched silently, his expression unreadable. His Rinnegan momentarily glimmered before fading.
He seemed calm but the light and shadow in his eyes told another story. Something was troubling him.