The impact cracked the platform.
His fist, the same legendary weapon that had once made the Pirate King himself retreat, crashed into Sengoku's face with the full force of a man who had finally chosen family over duty.
But Sengoku had allowed it. Had seen it coming and chosen not to fully defend, taking the blow with only partial Buddha form protection. The Fleet Admiral understood that this moment needed to happen.
He was sent flying backward into the execution platform with carefully calculated force, enough to make the impact look devastating without causing permanent damage to either himself or the structure. His enhanced durability absorbed most of the real damage, but the visual effect was exactly what the moment required.
But even as Sengoku absorbed the blow, his mind was already working three steps ahead. This wasn't unexpected, he had planned for this exact scenario.
**************************************
After his transmigration, Sengoku had sat alone in his office, staring at intelligence reports that painted a disturbing picture. The war was coming, and with it, impossible choices that would test every foundation the Marines had built.
"The Garp problem," he had muttered to himself, fingers drumming against his desk. It was perhaps the most delicate variable in the entire equation.
His enhanced analytical abilities, a gift of his transmigration, allowed him to process scenarios at superhuman speed. In every simulation he ran, every strategic model he constructed, Garp represented both the Marines' greatest asset and their most dangerous liability.
If Garp broke with the Marines publicly, the ramifications would be catastrophic. Half the officer corps looked up to him as the embodiment of Marine ideals. His defection could trigger a cascade of resignations, desertions, even open rebellion within the ranks.
But killing Garp? Even with Sengoku's enhanced abilities, it wouldn't be quick. The Hero of the Marines was still one of the strongest individuals alive, and a protracted battle between them would devastate Marineford and everything it represented.
More importantly, Garp's death at Sengoku's hands would create a martyr. The political fallout alone would cripple the Marines for decades.
No, this required a different approach. If Garp was going to break, it had to be on Sengoku's terms, in a way that could be managed, controlled, and ultimately turned to the Marines' advantage.
"Let him make his stand," Sengoku had decided. "But make sure it serves our purpose."
**************************************
Now, as Sengoku rose from the rubble, wiping blood from his lip, those months of planning crystallized into action.
"That's your one," he said quietly, looking at his oldest friend with carefully modulated disappointment. "You've made your statement, Garp. The world has seen it. Now what?"
The words were chosen precisely. To the watching world, this would look like Sengoku giving Garp a chance to back down, showing restraint and wisdom even after being assaulted. It painted the Fleet Admiral as the reasonable authority figure, while casting Garp as the emotional loose cannon.
His form began to expand, golden light erupting from his body as he activated his Buddha transformation. But he held back, using only enough power to create an impressive visual display while keeping his true strength in reserve.
"This is the price of legacy, old friend," Sengoku said, his voice carrying across the battlefield. Every Marine, every pirate, every observer would hear these words and understand: even legends must face consequences.
He swung his massive golden arm, but the strike was calculated. Powerful enough to send Garp flying dramatically, but restrained enough to avoid permanent damage. The visual impact was what mattered, the world needed to see that defiance of Marine authority carried consequences, even for heroes.
Garp caught the blow but was launched backward through the air, crashing into a Marine battalion with spectacular force. Blood trailed from his mouth as he struck the ground, and for a moment, the Hero of the Marines lay still.
Around the battlefield, Marines watched in shocked silence. This was exactly what Sengoku needed, a clear demonstration that no one, not even Garp, was above Marine justice.
Then Garp rose, wiping blood from his chin with defiant determination.
"Sengoku," he called across the plaza, his voice carrying the weight of decades of friendship now turned to opposition. "You're making a mistake."
"The mistake was mine decades ago," Sengoku replied, "when I let sentiment cloud my judgment of Roger's legacy."
Garp spat blood onto the cracked stone. "And now you'll correct it by killing both my grandsons?"
"If that's what justice demands," Sengoku answered.
But even as they exchanged these public declarations, both men understood they were performing a careful dance of restraint. Garp's fists blackened with haki, but his strikes carried an edge of hesitation. He could feel Sengoku holding back, surely out of their decades of friendship, and guilt gnawed at him for forcing this confrontation. His old friend was showing mercy even now, even after Garp had struck him in front of the entire world.
Garp launched forward, the ground cracking beneath his feet, but his attack pulled back at the crucial moment. He couldn't bring himself to truly hurt Sengoku, not when he believed his friend was restraining himself out of sentiment for their shared past. His fist connected with Sengoku's golden palm in a thunderclap that shattered windows across Marineford, impressive, but neither man was truly trying to destroy the other.
They understood each other too well for that.
As they grappled, locked in their carefully modulated battle, a subtle shift was occurring elsewhere on the battlefield. While every eye was fixed on the legendary confrontation between Fleet Admiral and Hero, one of the executioners moved with quiet purpose along the platform's edge.
Galdino, his wax powers having perfectly replicated the appearance and uniform of a Marine executioner, caught Luffy's eye and gestured toward a section of the platform that had been weakened by the ongoing battle. No words were spoken, but the message was clear: There. Now.
Luffy, battered and desperate, didn't question the unexpected assistance. He gathered his remaining strength, activated Gear Second, and launched himself toward the indicated breach in the platform's defenses.
Steam poured from his rubber body as he flew through the air, his skin glowing pink with accelerated blood flow. He landed hard on the execution platform, skidding across the stone and slamming into the base of the execution stand.
"Ace!" he cried, reaching up with bleeding hands toward his brother.
Ace stared down at him, eyes wide with a mixture of hope and despair. "Luffy..."
But the moment of reunion was interrupted as Sengoku's attention snapped back to the platform. His enhanced awareness had caught Luffy's breakthrough, and the choreographed nature of his fight with Garp became irrelevant.
"Enough," Sengoku declared, his voice booming across the battlefield.
His massive golden fist rose, not in the measured strikes he had been trading with Garp, but with the full weight of his Buddha form behind it. This was no longer about controlling narratives, this was about preventing the collapse of everything he had worked to build.
The fist descended toward Luffy with enough force to crater the platform.
But Garp was faster.
The Hero of the Marines appeared between Sengoku's strike and his grandson, arms outstretched in desperate protection. The carefully orchestrated battle was over; this was raw, parental instinct overriding decades of strategic thinking.
Sengoku's golden palm slammed into Garp with the full force of his transformed state. The impact was catastrophic, blood sprayed in a crimson arc across the stone platform.
The Hero of the Marines was launched through the air like a broken doll, crashing into the far tower with enough force to crater the reinforced stone. He slumped to the ground, consciousness fuzzy, yet his eyes remained fixed on his grandsons.
Silence fell across the battlefield like a shroud.
Sengoku lowered his massive arm, his expression hidden beneath the golden glow of his Buddha form. But inside, his enhanced mind was already calculating the ramifications, the fallout that would emerge from this moment.
He had gotten what he needed, Garp's defiance publicly displayed and publicly punished. The Marines' authority had been maintained, even strengthened by the demonstration that not even legends were beyond justice.
"He made his choice," Sengoku said finally, his voice carrying across the stunned battlefield.
The words were meant for the world to hear. But as he looked at his oldest friend's broken form, Sengoku wondered if some prices were too high to pay, even for the greater good.