The tension in the plaza was thick enough to cut with a blade. Garp's grip on Akainu's wrist remained unbreakable, while the Admiral's free hand continued to bubble with increasingly dangerous levels of heat.
"Last warning, Garp," Akainu said, his voice carrying the cold finality of absolute conviction. "Stand aside, or be moved aside."
Something shifted in Garp's expression then, a flicker of the legendary rage that had once made even the Pirate King himself wary. His free hand began to clench into a fist, the air around it distorting with barely contained power.
"You want to move me?" Garp's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Then try."
The Hero of the Marines drew back his fist, and for a moment it seemed like the world itself held its breath. This was the man who had fought Gol D. Roger to standstills, who had single-handedly shaped the Marines image into what they were today. His fist carried the weight of legend behind it.
Akainu's eyes widened slightly, perhaps the first crack in his composed facade as he recognized the killing intent in Garp's movement. The Admiral might be confident in his abilities, but even he understood what it meant to face Monkey D. Garp's full wrath.
But before the fist could complete its arc, another figure appeared between them.
Sengoku materialized in a flash of golden light, his Buddha form partially activated as he caught Garp's legendary fist in his palm. The impact created a shockwave that rippled across the entire plaza, sending weaker Marines stumbling and cracking the execution platform's foundation.
"Enough!" Sengoku's voice boomed with the authority of absolute command. "Both of you, stand down immediately!"
The Fleet Admiral's expression was not one of emotional turmoil, but of cold calculation. He understood exactly what was happening, not just the personal drama, but the strategic implications for the Marines as an institution.
Garp's eyes blazed as he found himself face-to-face with his oldest friend and greatest rival. "Get out of my way, Sengoku."
"Garp," he said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute authority. "Think about what you're doing. Not to me, not to him, but to the Marines themselves."
His golden eyes met Garp's furious gaze, reading the determination there. Sengoku's processed dozens of scenarios in seconds, the political fallout, the effect on troop morale, the precedent this would set for future conflicts between duty and personal loyalty.
"The men look up to you," Sengoku continued, his voice steady despite the legendary fist poised inches from his face. "If you break here, publicly, in front of the entire world... what happens to their faith in justice itself?"
For a moment, it seemed like the appeal might work. Garp's fist trembled, caught between duty and family, between the institution he'd helped build and the grandson he'd helped raise.
Sengoku replied, his voice heavy with the weight of command decisions. "This is war, Garp. There's no room for sentiment."
"Sentiment?" Garp's voice cracked like a whip. "That's my grandson, Sengoku! My blood!"
Behind them, Luffy struggled to his feet, staring at the three legendary figures locked in their philosophical and physical deadlock. He had never seen his grandfather like this, not angry at some pirate or criminal, but genuinely furious at his own comrades.
**************************************
Across the battlefield, the high-ranking Marines who witnessed or heard about the confrontation reacted with varying degrees of shock and calculation.
Vice Admiral Tsuru, coordinating the eastern flank's pursuit of fleeing pirates, paused mid-command as reports reached her through her Den Den Mushi. Her weathered face remained impassive, but her fingers tightened on the transponder snail.
"Garp," she murmured, understanding immediately the impossible position her old comrade had been placed in. Her tactical mind was already working through the ramifications, not just for this battle, but for the Marines' entire command structure.
Several sectors away, Vice Admiral Doberman was locked in combat with a Whitebeard division commander when the news reached him. His scarred face twisted with confusion and something approaching betrayal. "Garp-san would never..." But even as he said it, doubt crept into his voice.
Vice Admiral Onigumo, his spider-leg arms pinning down multiple pirates simultaneously, felt no such conflict. "Emotional weakness," he spat into his own Den Den Mushi. "This is what happens when sentiment corrupts justice."
But not all shared his certainty. Vice Admiral Strawberry, directing artillery strikes from the western ramparts, found himself hesitating mid-order. Thirty years of serving under these legends, and now... His subordinates looked to him for direction, but for the first time in decades, he wasn't sure which orders to follow.
Near the bay, Vice Admiral Momonga cut down a fleeing pirate with mechanical precision, but his mind was elsewhere. "If Garp-san breaks with the Marines..." he whispered to himself, understanding that such a defection could shatter the morale of countless soldiers who saw the Hero as the embodiment of Marine ideals.
**************************************
On the main battlefield, Admiral Kuzan stood frozen in place, ice crystals unconsciously forming around his feet as he watched the confrontation unfold. His usually lazy demeanor had been replaced by visible internal conflict.
"Ara ara..." he muttered, his breath misting in the suddenly cold air around him. "This is troublesome."
Kuzan had served under Garp during his early years, had learned about justice from the man who was now threatening to tear the Marines apart. The ice Admiral understood better than most the complexity of Garp's position, the impossible choice between duty and family.
His hands twitched toward his pockets, but he made no move to intervene. Not yet. But his hesitation was telling, and several nearby Marines noticed their Admiral's unusual indecision.
"Admiral Kuzan?" a Captain asked uncertainly. "Should we...?"
"Wait," Kuzan said quietly, his eyes never leaving the three figures locked in their standoff. "Just... wait."
**************************************
In stark contrast to Kuzan's hesitation, Akainu remained utterly unmoved by the drama unfolding around him. Even with Sengoku blocking Garp's attack and the entire Marine command structure teetering on the edge of collapse, the Admiral's expression remained coldly detached.
"Fascinating theater," he said, his voice carrying easily despite the tension. "But ultimately irrelevant. Justice doesn't bend to family bonds, Garp. It never has."
His magma began to bubble more aggressively, heat waves distorting the air around his position. "When this emotional display ends, the boy still dies. Today."
The casual certainty in his voice seemed to be the breaking point for Garp. The Hero of the Marines had faced down emperors and monsters, had weathered decades of impossible decisions and moral compromises. But hearing his grandson's death discussed like a routine administrative task finally shattered his legendary composure.
"You bastard," Garp snarled, his free hand clenching into another fist. "You think your magma makes you untouchable? You think your 'justice' makes you right?"
Sengoku felt the shift immediately, the change in his old friend's stance that preceded every legendary battle Garp had ever fought. "Garp, don't, "
"Get out of my way, Sengoku," Garp repeated, but this time his voice carried a finality that made even the Fleet Admiral hesitate. "I'm done taking orders that contradict everything we once stood for."
"I can't do that," Sengoku replied, "You know I can't."
Garp's eyes met his oldest friend's gaze, and for a moment something passed between them, decades of shared battles, mutual respect, and the bitter understanding that they had finally reached a point where their paths could no longer align.
"Then I'm sorry, old friend," Garp said quietly.
And Garp punched him in the face.