c9 : Watching the Execution
For a moment, Roger withdrew his gaze calm and serene, like he had just acknowledged an old comrade. Then, as if nothing more needed to be said, he turned his head and continued walking forward along that path that belonged only to him.
As he ascended the steps of the execution platform and sat cross-legged in the center, an overwhelming aura rolled across the square an invisible pressure not unlike a seasoned Haoshoku Haki user asserting quiet dominance. Roger looked more like a king hosting a conversation with his people than a criminal awaiting death.
Then, from the edge of the crowd, a voice erupted hoarse and desperate, nearly a roar:
"One Piece!! Where is it?! Did you find it?! That legendary treasure—One Piece!!!"
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
No one had expected anyone to dare shout such a question aloud. But soon, something flickered in the air. Excitement. Suspicion. Greed. A shared fever. The crowd's collective pulse quickened, and thousands of eyes turned to Roger, their gazes burning with longing.
From his command post, Sengoku paled, immediately shouting into the Den Den Mushi:
"Execute him! Now!!"
The executioners raised their halberds gleaming steel aimed to silence him. But Roger simply burst into laughter.
"Gahahahahaha!! My treasure?!"
"You can have it all if you want wealth, fame, power…"
"Go and find it! I left it all in that place!"
And then—thud.
The twin blades plunged through his body. But that wide, wild smile never left his face.
In the next instant, an uproar detonated in the square. The entire island of Loguetown trembled with the sound of fists slamming tables, boots running toward the seas, and cheers roaring like ocean waves.
A new era had been born.
On the platform above, Sengoku's face twisted in fury. Garp's jaw was tight with fury. Zefa's fists clenched, nails digging into flesh. All the high-ranking Marines knew what had just been unleashed.
"Is that why you turned yourself in, Roger?! You damned bastard!!!" Garp shouted through gritted teeth.
Behind them, Uchiha Madara stood, arms folded, eyes narrowing. The king who had brought down the curtain... had ignited a wildfire.
On Madara's shoulders, Gion was still perched her youthful expression twisted with awe.
Despite her age, even she was struck by the raw presence of the man who had just spoken. She couldn't name what she felt: admiration, fear, or yearning?
But then, Madara's chakra flared violently a pressure more raw than Haoshoku, steeped in ancient battlefields and godly conquests. The shockwave jolted her spirit, yanking her out of reverie like a Genjutsu-breaking release.
"Don't drown in the aura of the moment, brat," Madara said coldly.
"The end of an era is seductive, but you must never stop thinking."
Gion snapped back to attention, a chill racing down her spine.
"Is this… the spirit of One Piece?"
But then, remembering how Madara's energy had harshly shattered her awe, she pouted.
"Tch. My master's such an idiot. No sentiment at all."
Madara glanced up, deadpan, hoisted her from his shoulders like setting down a log, and began walking off.
"Still mouthing off? You're the type to steal a ship and run off to sea someday, aren't you?"
He didn't look back.
Behind him, Garp and Zefa remained rooted for a moment before silently following. Their steps were heavy. For warriors who had seen countless battles, this single event carried the weight of generations.
Gion trailed behind them, unable to understand why the mood had sunk so low. After all, wasn't the Pirate King already executed?
By afternoon, the primary duty had passed to mid-ranking officers. Garp, Sengoku, Zefa, Madara, and Gion re-boarded their warship bound for Marineford.
The atmosphere on board was leaden. No one spoke. Not even Garp cracked jokes. Zefa sat in the shadows, fists still tight. Sengoku paced in silence. Gion dozed off occasionally, confused by the heavy air.
Only Uchiha Madara remained utterly unfazed. To him, the turning of an era was like seasons changing inevitable. He had seen empires rise and fall, bent the world to his will, and fought gods in another world.
The chaos of an era? Hah. For Madara Uchiha, the era was just a canvas for him to paint his legend.
As for Gion, her spirit was still filled with inherited values: kindness, filial piety, discipline. Raised under the Marine code, her world was defined by honor and the Will of Fire a creed passed from her father, lit within her by Madara's impossible strength.
Whether the era became stormy or serene, she was still just a kid. And kids? They dream of adventure, not politics.
Uchiha Madara had clearly taken a deep interest in the sea. In a lifetime of battle that had stretched across the bloodied fields of the Warring States Period of the Shinobi world, naval combat was a novelty. He'd fought Hashirama at the Valley of the End, clashed with the Five Kage, and once controlled the Ten Tails yet sea battles were few, and the ocean's boundless horizon stirred something wild in him. This was no small battlefield it was a stage worthy of legends. Madara had been visibly restless these days, itching for worthy prey.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku! A pirate ship has been spotted ahead!"
Sengoku squinted at the commotion on deck, his gaze falling upon the excited Marines as he called toward the cabin with commanding authority:
"Madara! We've got hostiles incoming. Don't worry about the 300 million bounty—just sink them!"
With a thunderous crack, the cabin door exploded outward. Uchiha Madara strode through the shattered doorway, the doorknob still spinning in his hand. He gave a curt nod.
"Understood."
With that, he tossed the doorknob aside, leapt from the warship, and ran full-speed across the ocean's surface using chakra-enhanced water-walking, a technique reminiscent of Tree Walking, but refined from his shinobi days.
"Katon: Ryūka no Jutsu!"
(Fire Style: Dragon Flame Jutsu!)
In mere moments, he was upon the enemy vessel, weaving signs with practiced grace. From his mouth, a blazing dragon of fire surged forth, engulfing the side of the pirate ship in an explosion that rocked the hull. Then, as the flames licked the sky, Madara launched himself into the air, descending like a meteor.
The impact split the deck open, the resulting shockwave launching nearly half the crew into the sea. The sheer force of it mirrored the destructive power of his Susanoo-enhanced strikes during the Fourth Great Ninja War.
A burly, bearded pirate likely the captain staggered up, pointing a trembling finger at Madara.
"I am"
But before he could finish, the spectral ribs of Madara's Susanoo (Initial Form) materialized. With brutal finality, a spectral arm lashed forward, swatting the man's head clean off. Blood sprayed across the deck as nearby crewmates were crushed beneath flying debris and bone fragments. A tattered flag fluttered to the floor, stained with gore.
Madara stood on the bow, scanning the remnants. What remained of the pirate crew was reduced to trembling fools paralyzed by terror. The once-eager excitement in Madara's eyes dulled with disappointment.
"Is this what 300 million buys you in this world?" he muttered.
"Mokuton: Jukai Kōtan."
(Wood Style: Deep Forest Emergence!)
Massive roots erupted from the hull, spiraling and coiling like sea serpents around the entire ship. With a final constriction, the vessel groaned and buckled, splintering with a wet crunch. The pirate ship was crushed like overripe fruit, its hull leaking water and blood as it sank slowly into the deep.
On the distant warship, Garp chomped on a senbei, his eyes half-lidded in amusement. Without a sound, Madara's form flickered Body Flicker Technique and appeared beside Garp. The half-eaten senbei packet fell lazily to the deck.
"Hmph. Tenshōri... So that brat Sasuke's teleportation method does have its uses."
The Marines aboard the ship stood frozen, jaws unhinged, watching Madara return to the cabin as if nothing had happened. Only Garp blinked once, still chewing.
"Hey... anyone seen my senbei?" he asked around a mouthful.
Sengoku glanced at the crumbs on Garp's shirt and sighed, grabbing a donut off a nearby tray and lobbing it at him.
"You've got the strength to steal food, but couldn't lift a finger to help? Madara specifically asked you to spar!"
Garp scratched his head sheepishly.
"Tch. That guy's close-quarters skills aren't bad, but his jutsu are damn annoying. All I'd be doing is tanking explosions and getting flung around like a sack of rice. It's boring."
Meanwhile, Madara bypassed his own room and approached another cabin door—Zefa's.
Knock, knock.
"Come in, Madara. What is it?"
Zefa, as always, was polite. That alone earned him Madara's respect. Sengoku was too busy with logistics, and Garp well, he was a loudmouthed old fool who either made fun of everything or spread nonsense like wildfire.
"I want to know more about this... 'Haki.'" Madara said, straight to the point.
Zefa blinked, then smiled knowingly.
"I see. I thought you had the Color of Conqueror's Haki already. But you weren't using Haki, were you? No problem. I'll lend you my notes."
Madara nodded. Zefa was reliable. During their days at sea, he had answered Madara's barrage of odd questions, even the ones comparing Haki to chakra control or sensory techniques.
"That wasn't your 'Conqueror's Haki.' It was simply momentum killing intent focused with chakra."
Zefa was fascinated. Madara was no Devil Fruit user, yet his abilities mimicked multiple fruits from logia-like elemental control to paramecia-like wood creation. He was, to Zefa, a one-man army, a fusion of all categories of power.
Madara had once attempted to teach Zefa the basics of chakra refinement, but the latter couldn't even sense the flow of energy. Still, the dialogue intrigued both sides.
Taking the note, Madara left the cabin without further comment.
Originally, he had planned to wait until they reached Marineford to begin studying Haki but that plan went up in smoke the moment she began pestering him daily. That brat, with her pitiful gaze and annoying persistence, never let up.
Of course, Madara couldn't care less about the kid's opinion.
But before he could drive her away, Garp started spreading nonsense across the seas:
"Madara's a cold-hearted bastard won't even teach his own daughter!"
Damn that old man.
So here he was, reading about Haki just to shut everyone up. That brat wasn't his disciple. And she sure as hell wasn't his daughter!
"Tch. Ridiculous."
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