Word of the duels had spread through the base like wildfire, drawing Marines from every department and rank. Officers who hadn't spoken to each other in months found themselves standing side by side, united in their curiosity about the new Vice Admirals who would prove their worth through combat.
Sengoku stood on the elevated observation platform normally reserved for reviewing formal ceremonies, his golden eyes surveying the scene below with satisfaction.
"Quite the turnout," Vice Admiral Tsuru observed, joining him on the platform. "I haven't seen the men this energized since Marineford."
"Anticipation of worthy combat has always stirred the warrior's spirit," Sengoku replied. "Though I suspect many are here hoping to see the new appointments humbled."
Below in the arena, both pairs of combatants were making their final preparations. Doberman stood with practiced military precision, his hand resting comfortably on his sword hilt as he studied Aramaki with the calculating gaze of a veteran fighter. The scarred Vice Admiral had faced countless enemies over his decades of service, but Logia users were always dangerous.
Aramaki, by contrast, seemed almost bored by the proceedings. The towering figure stretched lazily, his wild green hair catching the afternoon breeze as he surveyed the crowd with predatory amusement. "Hope you're ready for this, scarface," he called out with casual arrogance. "I'd hate for this to be over too quickly."
"We'll see," Doberman replied curtly, drawing his blade in one smooth motion. The steel gleamed in the sunlight, its edge honed to perfection through years of meticulous care.
On the opposite side of the arena, Issho sat in quiet meditation, his sword resting across his knees. Despite being blind, he seemed perfectly aware of everything happening around him, the crowd's energy, his opponent's fidgeting, even the subtle shift in wind direction. His calm presence provided a stark contrast to the building tension.
"BEGIN!" Sengoku's voice boomed across the courtyard.
Doberman surged forward with explosive speed, his Haki-coated blade slashing toward Aramaki's throat, a strike meant to test the newcomer's reflexes. The ground beneath Aramaki shuddered as vines erupted from the stone, twisting upward to intercept the attack. Doberman vaulted into the air with Geppo, his sword carving through the tendrils in a shower of severed green.
Instead of simply becoming intangible, thick vines erupted from the ground beneath Doberman's feet, growing with impossible speed to entangle the Vice Admiral's legs. Simultaneously, Aramaki's entire body began to shift and change, his flesh taking on the appearance of bark while his hair literally became grass and leaves.
"I am the forest," he declared, his voice resonating as roots cracked the arena floor, birthing a dense jungle in seconds. Trees towered, vines lashed, and the air thickened with the scent of earth. Doberman wove through the chaos with Shave, his Observation Haki piercing the overgrowth to track his foe. He swung his blade, its edge glowing with Armament Haki, and cleaved a massive root in two. "A Marine's will doesn't bend," he shot back.
The crowd gasped as Aramaki's true power became apparent. This wasn't simply Devil Fruit manipulation, this was environmental domination on a scale that rivaled Admiral-level abilities. Thick branches whipped through the air like massive tentacles, while flowering vines released clouds of pollen that made breathing difficult for anyone without proper protection.
Doberman found himself fighting not just one opponent but an entire ecosystem. His swordsmanship was magnificent, precise cuts that severed attacking branches, defensive patterns that deflected thorn-covered whips, footwork that kept him mobile despite the constantly changing terrain. But for every plant he destroyed, Aramaki created three more.
"Impressive blade work," Aramaki acknowledged, his voice now coming from multiple directions as his consciousness seemed to spread throughout the growing forest. "But you're fighting nature itself. How long can flesh and steel endure against the endless cycle of growth and renewal?"
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Meanwhile, the match between Issho and Strawberry was proceeding in dramatically different fashion. Where Aramaki's battle was all chaos and overwhelming force, Issho's fight demonstrated the terrifying efficiency of perfect technique.
Strawberry had opened with his strongest combination, darting forward with Shave and unleashing a barrage of Haki-enhanced strikes designed to overwhelm his opponent before the blind swordsman could properly assess his fighting style. His blade work was solid, honed through decades of honest training and real combat experience. Against most opponents, the assault would have been decisive.
Issho hadn't moved from his seated position.
Each of Strawberry's strikes met empty air, not because Issho dodged but because space itself seemed to bend around the blind swordsman. Gravity warped and twisted, creating invisible barriers that deflected attacks while simultaneously pulling Strawberry's balance off-center in ways that defied comprehension.
"Your technique is admirable," Issho said calmly, his voice carrying no hint of strain or effort. "but speed alone won't reach me."
He finally stood, drawing his blade in one fluid motion. The moment the sword cleared its sheath, every person in the courtyard felt the change. The very air seemed to thicken, pressing down on them with invisible weight that made breathing difficult.
"Experience cannot be rushed, and some lessons can only be learned through time."
What happened next was less a sword technique than a demonstration of physics-defying power. Issho's blade moved in a single, perfect arc, not toward Strawberry, but toward the empty air above the arena. The effect was immediate and overwhelming.
Strawberry crashed to his knees as gravity suddenly intensified around him. His sword, which had felt light as a feather moments before, now seemed to weigh as much as an anchor. The reinforced stone beneath his feet cracked and groaned under the artificial gravitational pressure.
"I yield," Strawberry gasped, recognizing the futility of continuing. Even breathing was becoming difficult under the crushing weight.
Issho immediately released his power, allowing gravity to return to normal. "Your dedication to justice honors the Marine uniform," he said, offering his hand to help Strawberry stand. "I hope we can learn from each other in the days ahead."
The crowd erupted in amazed murmurs. Strawberry was a respected Vice Admiral with a solid reputation, yet Issho had defeated him without breaking a sweat or even appearing to take the fight seriously.
**************************************
Back in the forest section of the arena, Doberman's battle with Aramaki was reaching its climax.
But adaptation had limits. Doberman was breathing heavily now, sweat beading on his scarred forehead as he fought against an opponent who seemed to have unlimited resources. Every breath brought more of Aramaki's pollen into his lungs, slowly sapping his strength and coordination.
Aramaki's voice now seeming to come from the very trees around them. "Stronger than most pirates I've hunted. But that is not enough."
The final exchange came suddenly. Doberman launched himself into the air, using a technique that combined swordsmanship with shave to strike from an unexpected angle. His blade, now coated with Armament Haki, cut through Aramaki's plant defenses like they were paper.
For a moment, it seemed the Vice Admiral might achieve victory through sheer skill and determination. His sword reached Aramaki's transformed body, the Haki-enhanced edge capable of harming even a Logia user's true form.
But Aramaki's counter was already in motion. The moment Doberman committed to his attack, massive roots erupted from beneath, wrapping around the Vice Admiral's limbs with crushing force. Simultaneously, thorned vines whipped toward his exposed back.
Doberman's blade found its target, cutting deep into Aramaki's bark-like skin. But the wound was already healing, plant matter flowing like liquid to seal the damage while the Vice Admiral found himself completely immobilized.
"I surrender," Doberman said through gritted teeth, recognizing that Aramaki's regenerative abilities and environmental control made victory impossible.
"Smart man," Aramaki said, releasing his hold and allowing the forest to recede back into the arena floor. "You've got real skill, better than most of the pirates I've killed."
The crowd's reaction was thunderous. Both new Vice Admirals had demonstrated power that clearly exceeded normal expectations for the rank. Issho's casual dominance and Aramaki's environmental control were displays of capability that belonged at the Admiral level.
Sengoku stepped forward, his voice carrying across the now-silent courtyard. "Let no one question the qualifications of our newest Vice Admirals. They have proven their strength, and they have shown the restraint and honor that mark true Marines."
As the crowd began to disperse, Sengoku made his way back to his office, knowing that Tsuru would want to discuss the implications of what they had just witnessed.
**************************************
Thirty minutes later, Sengoku sat behind his desk while Tsuru occupied her usual chair across from him. The afternoon's events had confirmed what both of them already suspected, but seeing the demonstrations of power firsthand added weight to their strategic considerations.
"They're both strong enough to be Admirals," Tsuru said without preamble, her sharp eyes studying Sengoku's reaction. "Issho's gravitational manipulation and Aramaki's Logia powers combined with his environmental control make both of them forces of nature."
Sengoku nodded thoughtfully. "Strength has never been the limiting factor for Admiral appointments, as you well know. The political considerations, the balance of power within our hierarchy, the need for candidates who can represent Marine justice on the world stage, these are the true challenges."
"Particularly with our current slots filled," Tsuru agreed. "Akainu, Aokiji, and Kizaru represent the current generation of Admiral leadership. Creating new positions would require World Government approval, and after Marineford..."
"After Marineford, the Five Elders are more concerned about my growing independence than they are about Marine efficiency," Sengoku finished. "Adding Admiral-level officers who might be personally loyal to me rather than the World Government system would make them nervous."
Tsuru sipped her tea, organizing her thoughts. "There's another consideration. The traditional factional balance within our leadership has been... interesting to observe recently. Issho's philosophy clearly aligns with the dove faction, justice through protection and measured response. Aramaki is obviously a hawk through and through, justice through overwhelming force and complete victory."
"You're suggesting that their appointments represent a gain for both major factions?" Sengoku asked, though his tone indicated he had already reached the same conclusion.
"Exactly. Under normal circumstances, that would create tension as each side tried to claim greater influence. But something unusual has been happening lately." Tsuru paused, studying Sengoku with the analytical gaze that had made her one of the Marines' finest strategic minds. "The factional divisions that have defined Marine politics for decades seem to be... softening."
Sengoku set down his teacup, giving Tsuru his full attention. This was exactly the kind of insight he had hoped she would provide, observations that only someone with her experience and perspective could make.
"The integration between factions has been remarkable," she continued. "Officers who used to barely tolerate each other are now working together with unprecedented cooperation."
"A more unified approach to Marine justice?" Sengoku asked, though internally he knew the real cause of the changes Tsuru was describing.
"I'm observing it, not just suggesting it," Tsuru replied. "Traditional Marine doctrine has always recognized the value of both approaches, sometimes justice requires protection and mercy, sometimes it demands swift and absolute action."
Sengoku leaned back in his chair, considering how much to reveal. His transformation had brought changes beyond mere physical enhancement, there was something about his presence now that seemed to naturally inspire unity and purpose in those around him. The Marines who served under him were beginning to see justice not as competing philosophies but as different aspects of a single, greater truth.
The previous Fleet Admiral Sengoku was clearly aligned with the dove faction, he thought carefully. "Recent events have required... adaptation."
"That's certainly one way to put it," Tsuru said with the dry humor that had characterized their relationship for decades. "Though I'd say your transformation has been more dramatic than simple adaptation."
If only you knew how true that statement is, Sengoku thought. His divine nature seemed to naturally project an aura that encouraged others to rise above petty divisions and focus on their shared commitment to justice.
"Perhaps," he said aloud, "the distinction between hawks and doves has always been less important than we believed. True justice requires both strength and mercy, both decisive action and careful consideration. The real question is knowing when each approach serves the greater good."
She paused, studying his face. "The question is whether this change will survive contact with external pressures. The World Government, the Five Elders, even other Marine bases that haven't been exposed to... whatever is causing this transformation."
"Change is never easy," Sengoku acknowledged. "But sometimes it's necessary for growth. Our Marines are becoming more effective, more committed to true justice rather than political positioning. If that concerns some people, perhaps they should examine whether their concerns serve justice or merely serve power."
The implications of his words hung in the air between them. Tsuru was far too intelligent not to understand what he was really saying, that his vision of Marine justice might not align perfectly with World Government expectations.
"Interesting times ahead," she said finally, finishing her tea. "For what it's worth, the changes I'm seeing in our people are positive ones."
"Indeed," Sengoku replied. "And with officers like Issho and Aramaki joining our ranks, we'll have the strength necessary to pursue that vision, regardless of who might oppose it."
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As Tsuru left his office, Sengoku allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The afternoon's duels had achieved multiple objectives, legitimizing his new appointments, demonstrating Marine strength to any observers, and providing valuable intelligence about his new officers' capabilities.
More importantly, they had shown that his vision of unified Marine justice was taking root throughout the organization. The passive aura of his divine transformation was creating exactly the kind of institutional change he needed to pursue true justice, free from the political constraints that had limited previous Fleet Admirals.