"What's happening over there?"
"Is someone causing trouble?"
"Don't be ridiculous—who would dare stir up trouble here? This entire sector is under Jiraiya-sama's supervision!"
The rising commotion drew countless onlookers. More and more shinobi hurried toward the center of the exhibition hall.
Madara let out a long sigh and walked forward unhurriedly.
When he arrived, the first thing he saw was Hashirama standing boldly on the shoulder of a massive mecha while a crowd below shouted for him to come down.
The moment Madara laid eyes on the machine, he understood immediately why Hashirama had climbed onto it.
Because this mecha resembled a beast—no, a dragon.
Not the serpentine Eastern dragons of myth, but a form closer to the Western-style pseudo-dragons occasionally depicted in ancient Ninja World lore.
Its deep-black chassis radiated overwhelming force. The dragon-shaped head was raised high, its massive arms thick and heavy, forged for pure destructive power. Most striking of all were the enormous mechanical wings extending from its back—black edging into crimson. Its entire design, black armor traced with red circuitry lines, projected a regal, intimidating presence.
"I love this big guy! Name your price!" Hashirama declared, eyes shining as if he had found a new pet—or a new toy for his house.
His enthusiasm was met with a derisive snort.
"Name your price? What do you think this place is?" someone scoffed. "This is an exhibition. Nothing here is for sale."
"And even if it were, do you think you could afford it? You could sell yourself, and it still wouldn't be enough. Weapons of this class require more than money—they require status."
The man speaking clearly possessed considerable strength—strong enough that even the surrounding shinobi recognized his chakra. He was at least Kage-level.
Madara remained silent, amused, waiting to see how Hashirama would talk his way out of this one.
"It costs… a lot?" Hashirama muttered, staring longingly at the dragon mecha.
Status wasn't a problem for him.
Money absolutely was.
All the money he'd earned over the years had evaporated in casinos, leaving him with pockets more empty than Tsunade's wallet—if that was even possible.
Ask Tsunade for money? Impossible. Hashirama knew better than anyone that Tsunade was chronically broke.
Thus, Senju Hashirama had achieved a unique reputation across the lands: the Second Biggest Sucker of the Ninja World.
Although gambling had been declared illegal, countless small underground casino parlors still operated. "Entertainment only"—that was the rule. Any compulsive gambler caught in the act would be immediately deported to the Wind Capital to plant trees as rehabilitation.
No exceptions.
Most of Hashirama's earnings in his early days came from the Wind Capital. The region's desertification had always been severe. When Hashirama learned that Yamato—another Wood Release user—was making a living planting trees and had even managed to buy a large house through it, Hashirama had attempted to "help" by reforesting half the Wind Capital in a matter of days.
The "help" nearly destroyed the region's labor structure.
In the end, Naruto had personally intervened to stop him. Left unchecked, Hashirama would've turned the entire Ninja World into a lush green paradise—and possibly flattened Shukaku's desert nest for good measure.
Nowadays, deserts were rare in the Ninja World.
Similarly, formerly harsh environments—like the perpetually fog-shrouded, rain-drenched Water Capital—were being terraformed and expanded. That major land reclamation project had only recently been completed.
With the world modernizing, all nations now used advanced transport systems and infrastructure. The Ninja World had become a realm of technological marvels.
"Who dares cause trouble here?! Are you tired of living? This entire exhibition hall is under my management—Jiraiya's!"
A bold voice thundered across the crowd as Jiraiya marched in, surrounded by cheering visitors and fellow shinobi.
Jiraiya—the living legend.
After becoming an ace aerial combat pilot years ago, he'd taken a new interest in advanced machinery. Through relentless study and field testing, he had transformed himself into an elite mecha engineer—an ace mecha engineer.
Normally, Jiraiya rarely appeared in public. But for this exhibition, he had personally returned.
And his purpose was clear:
He had come for the massive dragon mecha standing before him.
He never expected someone to try to snatch something right under his nose—whoever dared must have been tired of living.
The moment Jiraiya received word that someone was causing trouble in his exhibition zone, he rushed over immediately. He wanted to see which hot-blooded fool thought they could act recklessly here.
But when he pushed through the crowd and finally saw the person standing atop the mecha, his face instantly darkened.
Just as he opened his mouth to reprimand them, he froze. Something felt… off.
He blinked.
Then blinked again.
The genjutsu dispelled, and the person's true identity was revealed—Hashirama.
Madara's genjutsu had only been a casual cast, so it was natural for Jiraiya to see through it. His strength had grown significantly over the years.
Jiraiya had taken Sage Mode far beyond its original limits. By refining and restructuring the flow of Natural Energy, he had created a new form of Sage Mode—one capable of drawing in vast quantities of Natural Energy, temporarily amplifying his own power to terrifying levels.
In terms of raw combat strength, Jiraiya now stood among the absolute top fighters of the current Ninja World.
"Hashirama-sama… why are you here?" Jiraiya asked, face stiffening.
Trouble. Absolute trouble.
That mecha—the one Hashirama was standing on—was the very prototype Jiraiya had planned to keep for himself. It was a newly released model, smaller in size than the giants, but with combat power fully comparable to top-tier units.
If Hashirama wanted it… what could he possibly do? Compete? Against the First Hokage?
And worse—if Tsunade found out he was trying to fight with Shodai-sama over a toy, she'd pulverize him.
Jiraiya's expression instantly turned grim.
At that moment, Madara's genjutsu fully dissipated. Unless Madara recast a stronger technique—one that consumed significant ocular power—there was no point in maintaining it.
Madara simply watched, already losing interest. To him, the event had run its course.
The "ordinary-looking young man" everyone had seen a moment ago reverted to his true form, drawing in gasps of recognition. There was no shinobi in the world who wouldn't recognize Senju Hashirama, the former God of Shinobi and First Hokage.
Ah.
So it was Shodai-sama.
Then there was nothing to worry about.
The commotion naturally reached Naruto, who could only let out a helpless sigh when he heard the full story.
He summoned both Hashirama and Jiraiya immediately.
And, upon hearing that Hashirama had taken a liking to the mecha, Naruto simply waved his hand—granting it to him for free, right in front of Jiraiya's resentful, heartbroken gaze.
However, Naruto had one condition.
He needed Hashirama to assist with a mission.
Naruto slowly set a folder on the table—the intelligence he had obtained earlier that month.
When Hashirama and Jiraiya finished reading it, their expressions sharpened with sudden seriousness.
They knew exactly what the Kara organization represented.
And they understood the danger that came with it.