He has even mastered Haki, and you say this is Naruto?

The first incarnation of Uchiha Madara was a god-tier warrior who dominated the Warring States Era.

Now reborn in the present day, he remained that same Madara—the one who could still stand at the peak of the current world.

This was the pride of Madara Uchiha.

Even if he had briefly faded from the world, his return would not be that of a relic—but of a titan reclaiming his rightful place at the summit.

"Lead the way."

Madara's voice echoed coldly through the damp, pitch-black chamber.

With a groan, the sealed gate to the underground sanctum opened. Wind from the outside world rushed in, stirring his long white hair.

After countless years, Madara finally stepped out of this tomb-like place.

His pale, wrinkled face was once again touched by sunlight. The foul, decaying aura around him dispersed like mist.

A relic of the past?

No—he was still Madara Uchiha.

On the rocky edge of the Land of Water, Shanks sat beside the sea, staring into the endless waves.

It had been half a year since he arrived in this world.

In that time, he'd gone from an ordinary man to a warrior whose strength could rival elites on the Grand Line.

"I really want to sail again… I wonder how strong I really am now.

Maybe I can escape if I run into an admiral."

Shanks had made terrifying progress—faster than even Luffy's two-year training arc.

Still, he remained cautious.

"No, too risky. Escaping isn't surviving. If I really meet an admiral, I might die."

He reminded himself: patience is the essence of training.

And he wasn't bored. In fact, watching his daily progress was exhilarating. It brought the same satisfaction as stacking perfect combos in a game—it was addictive.

More effort now, more reward later.

Smiling to himself, Shanks dove into the sea.

A massive shadow emerged—a 10-meter shark.

He hauled it ashore with a thud.

"Everything's oversized in this pirate world. Even sharks shoot water now?"

This one could fire a geyser from its mouth. Wild.

"Must be some special fish breed… anyway, time to cook."

Since Zabuza left, he'd eaten all the lake fish. Now he had to hunt by the sea.

Thankfully, his Observation Haki was strong enough to detect deep-sea creatures.

His Conqueror's Haki could even sense faint voices from the ocean depths.

Far beneath the waves, he could feel huge, monstrous beasts—a norm in the One Piece world.

"Am I eating more now because I've grown stronger?"

Probably. His appetite had multiplied tenfold.

In this world, great warriors weren't just strong—they were famously hungry. More food meant more power.

"Man, being this talented is annoying. My body keeps growing stronger...

But Armament Haki training is still way too slow."

With a sigh, he sliced a chunk of meat and popped it into his mouth.

Then, suddenly—he felt something.

He looked toward the distant horizon.

⚔️ The Clash

Over 20 kilometers away, Madara sat alone on a wooden raft.

He too sensed something—an unfamiliar force.

"This isn't chakra… is this Observation Haki? So this is what the rumors meant."

Madara wasn't sensing chakra. This was pure instinct—the honed awareness of a born warrior.

At the same moment Shanks noticed him, he sensed Shanks's gaze.

Shanks grew curious.

"An old man? Alone? On a raft?

That's no ordinary grandpa."

Even if Madara looked frail, the sheer calm he exuded betrayed him.

Shanks also noticed Madara's katana—a much more ornate weapon than Shanks's mass-produced sword.

"A swordsman?"

He wasn't wrong. In fact, during the Warring States, most ninja used katanas, and Madara kept his with him purely out of habit.

The blade wasn't famous, but in Madara's hands, names didn't matter.

What intrigued Madara was Shanks's swordsmanship.

"A power beyond ninjutsu. Not a Kekkei Genkai. This is… Haki?"

Madara stood. The raft sped forward.

His aura began to climb. His right hand gripped the sword.

Shanks watched through his Observation Haki.

From Madara's frail frame, a colossal white flame rose skyward—so strong it seemed to set the sky ablaze.

"That pressure… just one step away from unlocking Conqueror's Haki."

Shanks recognized the signs: a conqueror's aura that warped the weather, bent the skies.

Madara hadn't quite awakened it yet, but the sheer willpower he exuded was terrifying.

CLANG!

Shanks placed a hand on his sword. Red-and-black lightning of Conqueror's Haki spilled from the scabbard.

BOOM!

Thunder cracked overhead.

Madara leapt.

His long, white hair whipped in the wind.

His skeletal hand grasped the sword hilt.

No wasted motion. No shout. Just a jump.

VMMM!!

Shanks drew his blade—no mercy.

A beam of black-red light sliced through the air, dozens of meters long.

The sea froze in place.

Midair, Madara's own blade roared to life.

A blue arc shimmered, backed by a faint image of a giant blue spectral arm—a remnant of Susano'o.

BOOOOM!

Black-red lightning and blue energy exploded between them.

Shockwaves crushed the earth—Shanks's footing dropped by inches.

Madara flew back, clothes flapping.

CRACK!

Lightning flashed.

Shanks turned.

High above on a cliff stood Madara.

Shanks grinned.

"I win, old man."

Shanks hadn't felt killing intent from Madara. This duel was just that—a friendly clash.

Though friendly, their power level was something most ninja would never reach in their lives.

Madara hadn't used Perfect Susano'o, but the strike he unleashed matched that destructive power.

"You didn't win," Madara replied coldly. "I merely lost to time.

When I was young, you wouldn't have stood a chance."

Shanks chuckled.

"You're a strange old man."

He returned to his campfire by the sea, roasting fish and watching the waves.

A strange old man had just floated over and attacked him—how could he not be annoyed?

But seeing how ancient Madara was, he didn't hold a grudge.

"Wanna eat?" he asked casually.

Madara didn't refuse.

Though he walked stiffly—legs shaky from the effort.

He was over ninety years old, after all. What other 90-year-old grandpa could still swing a sword like that?

Madara sat with effort, looking around at the cratered ground.

He hadn't collapsed—that was already impressive.

Then he spoke:

"Your swordsmanship lacks killing intent."

First thing out of his mouth.

He had no problem placing himself in the mentor role.

Shanks didn't argue.

"I don't think pirates need to kill."

"Pirates?" Madara asked, puzzled.