Chapter 212: A Simple Plan!
He stood up, his tone calm yet carrying an unquestionable truth.
"If our Suzaku Pirates do everything, then food becomes a reward dropped from the sky.
Can you guess what would happen?"
Suzaku smiled, but that smile sent a chill down Hashirama's spine.
It was not the warm, reassuring smile of a benevolent savior or a heroic liberator. It was the profoundly sharp, deeply calculating expression of a true conqueror who fundamentally understood the darkest, most fragile corners of human nature. The flickering light from the oil lamps in the grand tatami room cast long, ominous shadows across Suzaku's handsome face, highlighting the absolute, chilling certainty in his dark eyes.
He slowly began to pace the length of the polished wooden floorboards, his heavy boots making a soft, rhythmic thudding sound that seemed to echo the heavy beating of Hashirama's anxious heart.
"Look at the people of this country right now," Suzaku continued, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper that commanded the entire room's attention. "For twenty agonizing, blood-soaked years, they have been violently oppressed. They have been beaten like stray dogs, starved into living skeletons, and treated as nothing more than disposable, worthless labor by Kaido and his monstrous Beasts Pirates."
He stopped pacing and turned sharply to face the two legendary shinobi.
"Their immense pride as fierce warriors and honorable citizens has been systematically, intentionally crushed into the toxic dirt. Their very spirits have been completely broken. If we simply open our massive treasuries, distribute all the hoarded food, and freely hand them shelter without asking for a single, solitary drop of sweat in return... what do you think we will create?"
Suzaku didn't wait for an answer. He leaned forward, resting his hands flat on the edge of the low wooden table.
"Before long, what I harvest won't be a vibrant nation, but a group of useless people who only know how to open their mouths and wait to be fed."
His words hung heavily in the quiet air, completely shattering the naive, idealistic fantasy of unconditional charity.
"If we treat them like helpless, fragile infants, they will forever remain helpless, fragile infants," Suzaku declared, his eyes flashing with an iron-clad resolve. "They will lose their remaining fangs entirely. The moment a new threat appears on the horizon, they will simply hide behind our backs and weep, having forgotten how to hold a sword or swing a hammer to protect their own homes."
He stood up perfectly straight, his imposing aura radiating an absolute, undeniable authority that demanded complete submission.
"A healthy nation must never take this path. Charity only breeds absolute weakness, and in this treacherous, chaotic sea, weakness is a direct invitation to death."
Suzaku's gaze swept across the room, ensuring his philosophy was understood.
"Every single person must have these words etched into their very bones—'Rewards through labor are only natural!'"
A profound, incredibly heavy silence descended upon the spacious room following Suzaku's powerful, uncompromising declaration.
"Hmph, Hashirama, you still haven't fixed that bleeding-heart problem of yours."
Uchiha Madara, who had been completely silent and perfectly still in the shadows until this very moment, crossed his arms and let out a disdainful cold snort.
The heavy, metallic clinking of his crimson, segmented combat armor resonated sharply through the room, serving as a stark, violent reminder of a lifetime spent navigating the bloodiest, most ruthless battlefields in human history. Madara slowly stepped forward, his massive, imposing figure seeming to absorb the very light around him.
His dark, piercing eyes were full of contempt for his old friend's 'naivety.'
He looked down at the sitting Hashirama with a mixture of deep exasperation and long-standing weariness, completely unable to fathom how a man who had survived the brutal Warring States period could still harbor such soft, incredibly dangerous ideals.
"This kid is right."
Madara stated the words firmly, his deep, rumbling voice carrying the rough, uncompromising, and deadly edge of a true predator.
"Shinobi complete missions to get paid; this is a rule we have always followed."
He uncrossed his massive arms and gestured sharply toward the paper window, pointing out toward the ruined, smoking expanse of the Flower Capital lying below the castle.
"In this harsh, unforgiving world, where is there such a thing as a free lunch?"
Madara's logic was simple and blunt, yet it struck right at the core. It was entirely devoid of flowery ideals, focusing purely on the absolute, undeniable mechanics of survival that he had learned through decades of burying his own brothers and enemies alike.
"We are conquerors, Hashirama. We are the absolute supreme military force of this territory, not a group of gentle, coddling babysitters," the Ghost of the Uchiha continued, his tone brokering absolutely no argument from anyone.
"We only need to supervise and ensure there are no parasites embezzling rations or oppressing the people. That would already be a perfect start."
Madara smirked, a highly dangerous, thrilling light flashing deep within his dark eyes.
He understood that simply removing the daily threat of random, senseless slaughter and providing a perfectly fair, stable environment to work in was already a miraculous, unimaginable blessing compared to the hellish nightmare Kaido had subjected them to.
He turned his intense gaze back to Hashirama, his facial expression hardening into impenetrable stone.
"As for the rest, let them earn it with their own sweat!"
Hearing the two of them say this, tag-teaming him with such harsh, incredibly brutal, yet flawlessly irrefutable logic, Hashirama's 'depressed mushroom' expression looked like it was about to sprout from the top of his head.
The legendary, incredibly powerful God of Shinobi physically wilted where he sat on the tatami mat.
A visible, deeply suffocating aura of profound, comical gloom seemed to instantly materialize out of thin air and wrap tightly around his tall, muscular frame. He poked his two index fingers together, looking back and forth between the imposing, armored Madara and the fiercely confident Suzaku with the demeanor of a completely defeated, heavily scolded child.
However, beneath the comedic depression, Hashirama possessed a brilliant, genuinely strategic mind that had successfully built the very first hidden village from absolutely nothing.
He defended himself aggrievedly, "The logic is sound... but houses will eventually be repaired, and factories will eventually be demolished. What happens after that?"
Hashirama leaned forward, his dark eyes instantly shedding their comical gloom, filling instead with a sincere, incredibly desperate worry for the citizens' long-term economic future.
He gestured wildly with his large hands, trying to illustrate the inevitable, looming problem.
"Think about the reality of this timeline! Yes, right now they are extremely busy clearing rubble. But my Wood Style can repair buildings in days, and manual labor can clear the debris in weeks. What happens to the entire economy exactly one year from now?"
He looked at Suzaku, pleading for a real, sustainable answer.
"What should everyone do then? If they rely entirely on temporary construction work to buy their daily bread, won't they just starve all over again once the city is finished?"
"I've already thought of that."
Suzaku gave a confident smile and spread the blueprint back out on the table.
He moved with swift, highly practiced motions, sweeping aside the small ceramic teacups and various casualty reports to make ample room on the low wooden table. With a sharp flick of his wrists, he completely unrolled the massive, heavy parchment, flattening the stubbornly curling edges with his palms.
The sharp, distinct, and metallic smell of fresh, high-quality ink instantly filled the small space between the three powerful men.
It was a brand-new planning blueprint for Wano Country, with Onigashima at its core.
The map was incredibly detailed, showcasing the vast, varied topography of the isolated nation. However, large sections of the beautiful land—specifically the formerly snowy regions of Ringo and the vast plains of Udon—were heavily shaded in dark, ugly black ink, representing the horrific, widespread devastation caused by decades of unregulated, toxic heavy industry.
"As everyone has seen, factories pollute the land, turning fertile fields into wastelands. Therefore, they must be removed from the mainland of Wano Country."
Suzaku traced the path of the heavily polluted, poisoned rivers with his index finger, illustrating how the toxic chemical runoff from Kaido's massive weapon forges had completely choked the life out of the soil, making it absolutely impossible for the starving citizens to grow even a single, miserable blade of edible grass.
"For this country to actually survive and feed itself naturally in the future, every single one of those smoke-spewing, toxic nightmares must be completely and permanently eradicated from the six main regions."
He paused, allowing the sheer, staggering logistical nightmare of dismantling hundreds of heavy industrial complexes to fully sink into their minds.
"But... Hashirama, do you remember Onigashima?"
Suzaku slowly dragged his finger across the painted, swirling blue sea on the map, stopping squarely on the massive, imposing drawing of the horned skull dome.
Hashirama leaned over the table, his eyes tracing the intricate, careful lines of the blueprint. He blinked rapidly, his brow furrowing in deep, intense concentration as the brilliant, scattered pieces of Suzaku's grand strategy finally began to click together in his mind.
Hashirama's eyes flickered. "Could it be?"
"Exactly!" Suzaku's eyes sparkled with a light called 'ambition.'
It was a burning, intense fire that promised to completely reshape the entire geopolitical and economic landscape of the New World.
"Onigashima is surrounded by the sea and has an excellent geographical location. It is a massive natural fortress in itself."
Suzaku slapped his hand flat against the drawing of the skull, the sharp sound echoing loudly in the quiet, tense room.
"We are not going to simply destroy Kaido's incredibly valuable infrastructure! We will systematically, meticulously dismantle every single forge and conveyor belt, piece by massive piece."
He looked at the two Shinobi, his visionary fervor blazing in his expression.
"We will move all the factories onto Onigashima!"
He slammed a fist into his open palm, outlining the supreme economic engine of his newly claimed empire.
"We will hollow out the rest of that giant skull and reinforce the caverns! We will turn it into the world's one and only... industrial heart!"
He pointed at the blueprint, his voice full of inflammatory passion.
"This way, the factories are concentrated, making them easier to manage and convenient for the people to work in one place."
Suzaku rapidly tapped the different sections of the isolated island, illustrating where the residential zones for the workers would be built safely away from the smog, and where the heavily armored ports would be established for massive trading vessels.
"By placing all the heavy, toxic industry entirely offshore, the fragile ecosystem of the mainland is completely protected from any further chemical damage."
He traced a wide, sweeping circle around the mainland regions of Wano.
"Once the mainland of Wano Country is free of pollution, in time, it can become a land of fish and rice once again, with thousands of miles of fertile fields!"
"Workers will produce weapons and process Sea Stone on the island. We will sell these products to the whole world in exchange for the resources we need!"
Suzaku grinned, his mind effortlessly calculating the absolutely astronomical, mind-boggling wealth this monopoly would generate. Sea Stone was the ultimate hard currency on this ocean, incredibly vital to the World Government for crossing the Calm Belt and restraining Devil Fruit users.
By holding the absolute monopoly on its extraction and meticulous refinement, the Suzaku Pirates would literally hold the world's economy by the throat.
"We will exchange those highly sought-after, premium goods for billions upon billions of Berries, along with all the advanced medicine, warm clothing, and external building materials we could ever possibly need to elevate this society!"
He spread his arms wide, encompassing the entire, grand blueprint.
"And the restored agriculture on the mainland will completely solve the food problem!"
Suzaku's voice reached a highly triumphant, undeniable crescendo.
"The money from the island's weapons buys the infrastructure, the infrastructure supports the mainland's farms, and the farms feed the workers! A perfect, self-sufficient... positive cycle!"
Suzaku looked up, glancing at the two powerful yet incredibly naive shinobi.
He had successfully bridged the massive gap between Hashirama's desire for peaceful prosperity and Madara's demand for harsh, earned survival.
"By then, the people will never lack work," Suzaku concluded softly, his tone ringing with absolute, unshakeable confidence in his design.
"And this country will have the capital to truly stand its ground in the world!"
Listening to this grand blueprint, the confusion in Hashirama Senju's eyes was swept away, replaced by total shock and admiration.
He stared at the young, black-haired captain, utterly astounded by the sheer, terrifying brilliance of the mind that could effortlessly weave together military conquest, environmental restoration, and global economic domination into one flawless, elegant strategy.
Meanwhile, Uchiha Madara recalled the scenes he had just witnessed during his patrol.
He slowly closed his dark eyes, his sharp mind flashing back to the incredibly vivid, unforgettable sights he had personally observed while walking through the ruined, dusty streets of the Flower Capital just hours prior.
He remembered walking past the completely collapsed, smoking stone buildings and the shattered wooden storefronts. He remembered seeing the skeletal, dirt-covered citizens.
He had stopped to watch an elderly, crippled former samurai, a man missing half his left arm, violently struggling to lift a massive, heavy wooden support beam alongside a young, severely starved orphan boy.
Their hands were raw and bleeding profusely, their muscles trembling violently under the intense physical strain. They were absolutely exhausted, sweating profusely under the harsh afternoon sun.
Yet, instead of weeping or begging for the passing pirates to help them, the old man and the boy had gritted their teeth and loudly, proudly sang a traditional, rhythmic Wano work song to keep their momentum going.
Though those people were dressed in rags, their faces were filled with a vitality and hope that this country hadn't seen in decades.
That heartfelt passion for striving toward a new life was something that couldn't be faked.
They were immensely proud to be rebuilding their own destroyed homes with their own two bleeding hands. They were reclaiming their stolen dignity, exactly as Suzaku had predicted. The psychological healing of the nation had already begun the very moment they realized their sweat directly equaled their survival.
"Hmph."
Madara snorted coldly again, but this time, there was an undetectable trace of approval in the sound.
It was a very faint, almost imperceptible softening of his usually harsh, abrasive tone. Hidden deep within that rough, dismissive grunt was an entirely genuine, profound feeling of deep respect for the young captain's ruthless, yet highly effective wisdom.
"Kid, your plan... is decent enough."
He turned around, leaving Suzaku with a haughty view of his back.
"Hashirama and I will help you watch over this country."
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