Several months later, in the Land of Iron.
"Hashirama, what's wrong?"
Uchiha Madara looked in confusion at Hashirama, who suddenly stopped walking.
The so-called God of Shinobi was standing frozen in place as if under a paralysis jutsu, staring intently at something by the street. Even the ice cream in his hand had melted completely without him noticing.
Madara followed his gaze—
It was a luxuriously decorated casino, with a grand signboard reading "Fortune in a Single Throw." A stream of gamblers in all kinds of attire bustled in and out of the entrance.
The situation was obvious—Hashirama's gambling addiction had flared up again.
Every time he gambled, he lost everything, a classic case of a weak player with a strong addiction—a fat sheep ripe for slaughter.
Renya, following behind them, sighed helplessly at the sight.
"Hashirama-san is about to play the role of a lucky mascot again…"
At that moment, Hashirama looked like a stray cat that hadn't eaten in three days suddenly spotting dried fish—his entire being radiated yearning.
In simpler terms, his gambling instincts had taken over.
With a grandpa like that, no wonder Tsunade would grow up to become the fat sheep of the Shinobi world.
"Madara!"
Hashirama suddenly turned around, clasped his hands together, and pleaded earnestly,
"Let me go in and play for a bit…"
"No." Madara refused flatly. "Every time you go in, you lose money."
After months of traveling together, every time Hashirama came across a casino, he had to play a few rounds. Without exception, he always lost—by now, his total losses amounted to nearly two million ryō.
Madara absolutely refused to let this jinx go throw more money away at the gambling tables.
Even if Renya had money, this kind of waste was intolerable!
Yes, all the expenses along the journey had been covered by Renya—including Hashirama's gambling money.
After all, he'd earned a fortune recently.
And honestly, there was no way Madara would be the one footing the bill.
"Trust me, I'll win this time!" Hashirama said seriously. "I have a feeling I'll make a fortune—maybe even recover all my losses!"
Madara gave a disdainful snort, clearly not believing a word.
Everyone knew gamblers' promises were never to be trusted—especially those from hopeless addicts like Hashirama.
Seeing Madara's expression, Hashirama's face fell, and he drooped his head pitifully, his whole demeanor radiating dejection.
"Please, Madara…" He tugged on Madara's sleeve and shook it back and forth. "I really have a good feeling this time…"
Renya watched the scene, dumbfounded. Hashirama-san was actually using the "adorable pleading" technique again!
If things went as usual, Madara-sama would cave any moment now!
Sure enough, a faint hint of hesitation appeared on Madara's perpetually stoic face.
"...Lose it all, and we're leaving," Madara finally relented, unable to resist Hashirama-san's pitiful act.
He turned to Renya. "Kid, give him a hundred thousand ryō."
"Got it, Madara-sama."
Renya handed over the cash he'd already prepared.
How did Renya know?
Because this exact scene had played out countless times along the journey…
Every time Hashirama-san acted pitiful, Madara-sama would give in. Then he'd tell Renya to give Hashirama some money, Hashirama would promptly lose it all, and they'd leave the casino in shame.
Next time they ran into another casino, the same thing would happen all over again.
Maybe this was what they called the brotherly bond of the older generation.
He didn't understand it—but he respected it.
If Danzo tried to act cute at him like that, Renya would've cut him down on the spot.
The chakra of Indra and Asura truly was something else. Even after thousands of years, their reincarnations still managed to influence each other like this.
No wonder Black Zetsu could tell who the reincarnations were—he just had to see which Senju and Uchiha showed signs of weird "chemistry."
Normally, when a Senju and an Uchiha met, they wanted to slaughter each other's entire clan.
Just look at Tobirama Senju and Izuna Uchiha for reference.
But Madara and Hashirama? One glance and you knew—they were Indra and Asura's reincarnations.
...
"Hehehe, don't worry!" Hashirama, fully revived the instant he got the money, rubbed his hands excitedly. "Once I win big, I'll treat you both to a feast!"
No gambler loses every time—today, he'd clear his name!
Hashirama rushed into the casino eagerly, with Madara and Renya following behind.
"Next time, I really won't give in again," Madara muttered under his breath.
Renya made no comment—he'd heard the exact same words last time…
Inside, the casino was thick with smoke, filled with shouts and the clatter of dice.
"Big, big, big!"
Hashirama slammed Renya's bills onto the gambling table with gusto, eyes gleaming.
He could feel it—today, he'd win back everything he'd ever lost!
But to Madara and Renya, he just looked like a walking good-luck charm—for everyone else.
Madara glanced at Renya, who immediately understood and placed his bet on "small."
"No more bets!" the dealer shouted, then lifted the cup. "One, two, three—small!"
Hashirama's grin froze on his face.
Renya cheerfully collected his winnings.
Hashirama, just like Tsunade, had an uncanny ability—whoever bet against him always profited.
Luckily, no one else besides Madara and Renya had figured out this pattern yet. Renya could take advantage of it to make some extra money.
Many other gamblers had bet on "big" along with Hashirama.
Madara's expression said it all: as expected. Gamblers' words really couldn't be trusted.
Unbelievable—this was the same Hashirama who once dominated the shinobi world, now utterly humiliated at the gambling table.
"How pathetic, Hashirama."
Hearing his friend's scorn, Hashirama's face turned red with embarrassment. He hastily explained,
"Don't worry, I'll win it back in no time! Believe me!"
Madara: "…"
Renya: "…"
...
Ten minutes later—
"One more time! I'll win this one for sure!" Hashirama, still unwilling to give up, pushed all his remaining money forward. "All in!"
The cup lifted—"Double sixes! Triples! House wins!"
Madara: "…"
Renya: "…"
Five minutes later—
A pile of cash sat in front of Renya, while Hashirama had absolutely nothing left.
"Madara…" Hashirama turned to him pitifully.
"Can I borrow a little more…"
Madara's face was blank. "No."
Losing hundreds of thousands of ryō in just fifteen minutes… other than Hashirama, probably only his granddaughter Tsunade could achieve such a feat.
The two of them were truly the fat sheep of the shinobi gambling world!
As long as you understood their "pattern," making money was as easy as breathing. In just a short while, Renya had already made a sizable profit.
"But I was so close to winning!" Hashirama still refused to give up.
Madara sneered. "That's exactly what you said last time."
Renya silently watched as Hashirama's fiery determination faded into utter despair.
"Hashirama-san, call it a day. Cut your losses while you can…"
He couldn't not say it—after all, it was his money Hashirama kept losing.
"I get it, Renya…"
Hashirama, now penniless, drooped his shoulders and trudged out of the casino, dejected.
Under the setting sun, the three of them slowly disappeared into the distance, leaving the casino owner wiping sweat at the entrance.
"Didn't they say those two were supposed to be dead already?"
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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