The Shinobi World.
The glow of sunset bathed the land, birds sang their songs of return, and a golden veil spread over the bustling village. People hurried along the streets, their silhouettes tinted with warm light.
Inside the Senju compound in Konoha, Hashirama and Madara sat cross-legged on cushions along the veranda facing the garden. Between them sat a small tea table, upon which rested a tea set and a plate of rice crackers.
Watching the peaceful garden with its tiny bridge and flowing stream, Hashirama spoke earnestly:
"Madara, I know why you're so desperate to grow stronger — it's because you want to prepare for the coming of the Ōtsutsuki clan.
But there's no need to rush. We still have plenty of time to get ready. You don't have to shoulder this alone — I'll help you. You should also try trusting the next generation a little."
As he said this, Hashirama turned his head to the left, his expression sincere.
Huh?!
What was Hashirama talking about? The Ōtsutsuki clan?
Oh right — those arrogant but ridiculously underwhelming aliens!
Those pampered brats who've never been smacked around by reality — they dare to trouble me, Uchiha Madara?
What a joke.
Still, saying he wanted to grow stronger for the future of the shinobi world sounded nobler than just saying he wanted to grow stronger for himself.
So…
Hashirama's right. Hashirama's always right. Whoever disagrees with him is automatically my enemy!
Though his thoughts wandered all over the place, Madara's expression remained perfectly calm — not a flicker of emotion showed on his face.
That's the advantage of being naturally stone-faced: no one can read your mind.
Unlike certain people whose expressions change every two seconds, practically advertising their every thought to the world — and inevitably digging their own graves with their "talking faces."
"...I know."
Madara replied coolly, his tone flat, his demeanor as composed and aloof as ever.
"That's good. I'll keep training hard too — gotta make sure you don't leave me behind."
Hashirama smiled faintly.
Because of a little information gap, Hashirama didn't know about Madara's recent humiliating defeat at the hands of Byakuya. Naturally, none of those who'd been beaten wanted to talk about it either — who would go around broadcasting their own embarrassment?
Especially when those "victims" were some of the strongest and most respected figures in the shinobi world.
The real reason Madara was so eager to grow stronger was that he had read a book recording the future of the shinobi world — that misunderstanding was what led Hashirama to draw his own, rather off-track conclusions.
Still, fortune and misfortune are intertwined — Hashirama's mistaken assumption ended up giving him a new reason to train: to protect their home and fight side by side with his old friend once more, just like in the old days when they ended the Warring States era together.
Hashirama took a sip of tea to moisten his throat and said:
"Madara, this upcoming event is a great opportunity. We can use it to train promising young ones — like Might Guy, for instance, the one who, uh, beat you up in the future..."
Hashirama reasoned that since the Ōtsutsuki called themselves a clan, there must be dozens, maybe hundreds of them. The shinobi world didn't even have that many Kage-level fighters, so they needed to cultivate the next generation.
There was just one problem... Hashirama's word choice.
Madara crossed his arms, his expression blank but his eyes sharp as blades.
"Hashirama… what do you mean 'beat me up'? I was giving him an opportunity — an opportunity to shine on stage!"
As he spoke, Madara's voice grew colder, and a chill pressure filled the air around him.
"It's all the same, all the same. Don't worry about the details."
Hashirama waved it off with a laugh, ignoring the icy glare directed at him.
"If Guy could gain even the slightest advantage against you, it means he's worth nurturing. Don't you think?"
Hashirama knew Madara too well — he knew exactly how to calm him down.
Sure enough, upon hearing Hashirama's praise, Madara's anger subsided noticeably. He spoke with a more composed tone:
"Might Guy is indeed a taijutsu prodigy. Now that he's a store member, he can easily eliminate the side effects of the Eight Gates. But he can grow stronger on his own — he doesn't need you to train him."
"True," Hashirama scratched his head. "Then maybe we should pick an Uchiha..."
"I refuse."
Madara interrupted immediately.
"There's nothing to teach about the Sharingan."
"Naruto and Sasuke?" Hashirama asked cautiously, naming the so-called "children of prophecy."
Madara gave him a sideways glance.
"You planning to take kids into a battlefield?"
"Then who do you suggest?" Hashirama passed the decision back to him.
"No idea." Madara's answer was short and flat.
"???" Hashirama blinked.
Smiling faintly, he leaned back, propping himself up with one hand and calling toward the house,
"Izuna! Come deal with your brother — he's picking a fight again!"
"Hashirama, you—!" Madara's eyes widened in disbelief, furious.
Just a couple of sarcastic comments, and now he was calling for his younger brother like a tattletale?!
"Huh?"
Izuna poked his head out of the kitchen, looking confused.
Uchiha Izuna — resurrected five days ago.
At the moment, he and Uzumaki Mito were locked in a fierce struggle for dominance… over the kitchen.
For context: Madara and Hashirama's houses were right next to each other, and they usually ate together. Cooking duty alternated between Mito and Izuna.
Whenever it was Izuna's turn to cook, Tobirama never came home for dinner. The relationship between him and Izuna was… less than friendly.
Izuna didn't actually poison Tobirama's food, but he did like to toss in some "creative" ingredients — like croton seeds or extra wasabi.
"Nothing serious," Izuna said. "Hashirama's just asking when dinner'll be ready?"
Before Hashirama could speak, Madara moved like lightning — his left hand shot behind him and clamped over Hashirama's mouth, silencing him completely.
"..."
Izuna could clearly tell his brother was hiding something, but he didn't press. He shrugged and disappeared back into the kitchen.
"Pff—ha!" Hashirama pried Madara's hand away, rubbing his reddened face. "I'm pretty sure you were trying to rip my mouth off. The evidence is solid."
"No need to suspect," Madara replied coolly. "That's exactly what I was trying to do."
"You're a grown man, and you're still tattling like a child. Don't you feel embarrassed?"
"Not at all~"
Shame? What's that — as long as it works, it works.
"Back to picking candidates," Hashirama said, rubbing his face and steering the conversation back on track.
Their discussion continued late into the night. Considering the many powerful taijutsu users in the One Piece world, they finally settled on a taijutsu reinforcement team: Hyuga Hinata, Hyuga Neji, Rock Lee, and Might Guy.
For the record — Might Guy was assigned as the teacher, not the student.
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(End of Chapter)