"Arrogant!" Akainu lunged forward. The stones beneath his feet were scorched black by lava, magma surged around him, and his fists clenched until his knuckles cracked.
"A mere pirate dares say that to the Marines? The Marines have defended order on these seas with our blood and lives! What gives you the right?"
Fugaku glanced at him.
The patterns in his Mangekyō Sharingan slowly turned, and the pressure of his gaze settled silently on Akainu.
Akainu's voice seemed to strike something in the air. It abruptly lost half its force.
Fugaku did not strike back, mock him, or argue.
He simply looked at Akainu as though the answer had long been obvious.
Then he turned his head and gave Uchiha Kei a slight nod.
Kei understood and took a step forward.
He raised his right hand, palm up, and slowly spread his fingers.
The sea breeze lifted his gray-white sleeve, exposing a forearm covered in old scars.
His Mangekyō Sharingan—those eyes of Itsumade—glowed quietly. His left eye governed disease, his right controlled death, and their uncanny patterns shone with a cold, faint light beneath the dim sky.
"Five years have passed since the Summit War."
Kei's gaze swept across the Marine ranks, the battered survivors struggling amid the wreckage, Garp's cracked arms, and Akainu's face, etched with anger and exhaustion.
"What have the Marines done in those five years? Held one recruitment drive, expanded your ranks once, withdrawn from the West Blue once, and stationed yourselves on Sabaody for a few months.
Five years ago, you couldn't stop Lord Natsu. Five years later, you couldn't stop Lord Madara.
Five years ago, you couldn't protect Marineford. Five years later, you couldn't protect Sabaody."
His tone was level, as though he were reading out a record written long ago.
"You can't hold