Garp looked from one face to the next.
He saw the young lieutenant who always fought over the meat soup in the mess hall. Now he leaned against a broken cannon barrel, his left arm wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, his right hand still clutching a chipped sword.
He saw the old sergeant major who trained recruits on the parade ground. Now he crouched beside a pile of rubble, his head in his hands, his shoulders trembling.
He saw more faces he couldn't name but had passed in the corridors. Now they lay or sat among the ruins, wounded or maimed. Tens of thousands huddled in the wreckage like sparrows drenched by a storm.
Garp slowly drew his gaze back to Uchiha Fugaku.
An ugly smile tugged at his mouth. His voice rasped like sandpaper against metal.
"You've got to be kidding me."
He raised a hand and clenched his fist. Armament Haki poured between his fingers and coated his entire arm. His knuckles cracked with dull pops.
His arm trembled slightly, an instinctive response to utter exhaustion, but he forced it still.
"I'm a Marine too."
He stepped forward, sending gravel scattering beneath his foot.
"You've hurt so many Marines who fought in the name of justice! What gives you the right to say you'll take over this sea?"
As his words fell, Garp pitched forward. Power surged through his legs, and the broken masonry beneath him burst apart. He shot toward Uchiha Fugaku like an arrow loosed from a fully drawn bow.
The next instant, two hands seized his wrists almost simultaneously.
Garp jerked to a halt. With both arms pinned, his Armament Haki surged on instinct as he tried to break free.
But those hands held too tightly. Their knuckles had gone white, and Garp could clearly