Garp: Is There Really No Way?!

Garp remained silent.

His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and his nails dug into the flesh of his palms, drawing a trickle of blood.

He recalled that many years ago, when he brought that swaddled baby to the Dadan, Sengoku had warned him—this child must not be kept; he should hand him over to the navy.

He wouldn't listen.

He patted his chest and said, "I will train him to be the strongest marine."

Then Ace grew up, went to sea, became Whitebeard's son, and became a pirate.

He gave Ace freedom, but failed to protect him.

"We should have just taken him straight to Marine Headquarters back then." Garp's voice was squeezed out from deep in his throat, hoarse like sandpaper rubbing against iron, every word dripping with blood. "The One Piece's son became a Marine, so even if his identity was exposed, I could protect him openly and honestly."

After saying that, he turned around and walked towards the door.

His steps were slow, his military boots making a dull thud on the floor. He paused at the door but didn't turn around.

"Sengoku"

"Um."

"I'll resign after this battle is over."

The door closed very softly, as softly as a sigh.

Sengoku sat alone at his desk, the defense markings on the nautical chart slightly fluttering in the sea breeze blowing in from the window.

He reached out and flattened the map, picked up his pen, and continued marking the defensive lines.

The scratching sound of the pen gliding across the paper echoed in the empty office. Outside the window, the Marineford naval port was still brightly lit, the silhouettes of warships resembling rows of silent behemoths in the night.

After writing the last annotation, he put the pen back in the ink bottle, took off his glasses, rested his hands on his forehead, and closed his eyes.

When He pushed open the door to the Fleet Admiral's Office, Sengoku was sitting behind his desk with his hands supporting his forehead and his eyes closed.

A defense map lay spread out on the table, the ink in the ink bottle was half dry, and the fountain pen was still resting beside the paper, the ink from the nib spreading into a small black dot on the paper.

"Garp is gone?" Sengoku didn't open his eyes.

"I'm leaving." He sat down in the chair opposite him, without pouring himself any tea or taking out his knitting supplies.

She simply sat there quietly, her hands folded on her knees, her expression as calm as a still pond.

But Sengoku had known her for most of his life and knew that the calmer she appeared, the heavier her thoughts were.

"You've come at the right time." Sengoku looked up, about to say something, but Tsuru raised her hand to stop him.

"Sengoku, don't worry about Garp for now. He's been wanting to resign for a while now. Let's wait until this war is over." Her tone was as calm as ever, but her next sentence made Sengoku's brows furrow again. "I'm not worried about Garp, I'm worried about the Uchiha."

A few seconds of silence filled the office.

This name is like a stone thrown into a calm lake; it doesn't create splashes, but rather a chill.

"I know what you're thinking." Sengoku slowly leaned back in his chair, his voice carrying an inexplicable weariness. "You're worried that the Uchiha Clan has connections with Ace."

However, there is no public record of any interaction between the Whitebeard Pirates and the Uchiha, and Ace's stay in the West Blue was short, so they might not be—"

"Sengoku." Tsuru interrupted him again, her tone still calm, but it made Sengoku's words catch in his throat, "Tell me, what is the personality of the Uchiha Clan?"

The Sengoku did not answer.

Because they both knew the answer, there was no need to say it.

The Navy and the World Government sacrificed four thousand lives and a CP0 infiltration to bring about the deaths of four Uchiha clan members.

Then, Uchiha Natsu crushing the head of a Celestial Dragons in the Sabaody Archipelago, right in front of the whole world.

It wasn't an assassination, it wasn't a sneak attack, it was a public execution.

This is an unprecedented humiliation in eight hundred years, one that even World Government cannot suppress.

"Four clansmen." Tsuru's voice was soft, as if repeating an undeniable formula. "What did he say to Borsalino? 'Tell the Five Elders that if they want the Uchiha to give up, they should send four Celestial Dragons to pay with their lives.'"

He wasn't negotiating, he was setting a price. With this kind of person, you'll remember every single thing, and he won't shortchange you a single penny.

She paused, tapping her fingers lightly on the table with a dull thud. "If—I mean, if— Ace had any dealings with the Uchiha Clan while chasing Blackbeard, even if it was just a small favor, given Uchiha Natsu's vengeful nature, what do you think he would have done?"

The Sengoku fell silent.

"Even if he and Ace really had a relationship, it was a favor he owed himself. He can't possibly bring his entire clan to Marineford to die." Sengoku's tone was firm when he said this, but Tsuru could hear a barely perceptible wavering beneath that firmness.

"He doesn't need to bring his entire clan." Tsuru's voice remained calm, as calm as if dissecting a fact. "Kizaru fought him twice, and both times he made him disappear right under his nose."

We've both seen Borsalino's report—'Suspected spatial movement ability, the specific mechanism is unknown'.

The intelligence department didn't even give him a formal title in his skills file.

The range is unknown, the cooldown time is unknown, and the only known trigger condition is that it "likely requires a specific marker."

She pulled the page with Uchiha Natsu from the stack of files on the table, her fingertip pointing to the brief note in the ability section. "You know better than I what this means—he can jump onto this island from anywhere, at any time."

Every defensive line you set up around the square, every warship at the head of the bay, every artillery position beneath the execution platform—none of it mattered to him."

The Sengoku did not refute this.

Crane stood up and walked to the window. One after another, the warships in the harbor were lighting up their navigation lights, and the searchlights on their masts swept across the dark sea, with fine mist swirling in the beams of light.

Marineford was brightly lit and seemed impenetrable, but she knew that this defense line was nothing to that person.

"I'm not worried about Whitebeard." Tsuru turned around, her back to the bustling naval port outside the window, and looked at Sengoku. Her eyes held worry, but even more so, an extremely calm and discerning judgment.

"Whitebeard is a remnant of the old era. He will come, he will fight, he will die. He has resources, a fleet, and forty-three pirate crews; we know all the details. But Uchiha Natsu different." She paused.

"He has no hostages, no fleet, no assets to protect. He only has one ability—one we can't even name—that allows him to jump onto the execution platform right under our noses and take Ace away. Tell me, how are we supposed to defend ourselves?"

Sengoku sat behind his desk for an entire night.

The markings on the deployment map were changed again and again, and the ink bottle was refilled twice.