83. The Golden Emperor's Coquettish Operation, The Astonished World's Government, Shura's Father, Here I Come!

Naval Headquarters, Marineford.

Within the chambers of the marshal.

The day was dawning.

Sengoku arose early, the weight of Marine affairs resting on his shoulders.

Three Admirals arrived punctually, ready to commence their duties.

The impending clash for supremacy loomed.

Even Kizaru, the formidable luminary, displayed diligence.

Ahead of the appointed hour, he took his station.

Seated on the settee were the Three Admirals.

Kizaru, his tone casual, inquired.

"Marshal Sengoku, what news from the seas today?"

"Yesterday, I, representing the Marines, disseminated reports regarding the G1 branch's initial engagement."

"Although a certain degree of distortion is present, it retains a certain audacity."

"Yet the morale of the Whitebeard Pirates has already sustained damage?"

A sincere smile curved upon Kizaru's lips.

In that moment, the Whitebeard Pirates would witness a reduction in their maritime arsenal.

Thus, some respite was to be gained.

A gesture of kindness.

Akainu, bearing a somber expression, emitted a wry chuckle.

"hehe."

"Whitebeard Pirates, they must be experiencing daylight by now, I assume?"

"A good number among his subordinate pirates dare not venture to our Naval Headquarters for this confrontation."

"Cursed be it, eradicating these malefactors in one sweeping strike is an elusive endeavor!"

Such was Akainu's observation.

Both Aokiji and Kizaru exchanged glances, their gazes conveying their unspoken sentiments.

Yet, Akainu paid no heed to their opinions.

From his perspective, what consequence lay in the art of truth-bending or the propagation of fabricated accounts?

So long as it dealt a blow to the morale of pirates and slanted the tide towards victory's grasp, it was a potent weapon against iniquity.

Except, perhaps, for those Marines who directly witnessed the clash.

Or so Akainu's conviction dictated.

Were circumstances different, he might have beseeched Sengoku to employ his influence for a direct amendment.

Substantiating that Garp nearly felled Senju and Shura in combat.

Akainu's demeanor and disposition remained unchanged.

Aokiji and Kizaru, through their perceptive eyes, perceived the unvoiced thoughts.

Both the ice-wielder and the radiant speedster exchanged discreet, internal nods.

They comprehended the underlying motive behind this stratagem.

While grappling with a modicum of self-reproach, their voices remained unheard.

Individuals treading the enigmatic path of existence often succumbed to involuntary circumstances.

They accepted this universal truth.

Nonetheless, they refrained from embracing it with the zeal displayed by Akainu.

Behind the expanse of the desk, Sengoku assumed his position.

His elation remained unmarred by trivialities.

His sentiments mirrored those of Aokiji and Kizaru.

Though it resonated with a modicum of shame, the necessity of this course was not lost on him.

Guided by his post, he could not harbor aspirations beyond pragmatic wisdom.

Thus, Sengoku's scrutiny grazed the morning dispatch.

Yet, his perusal was but a fleeting touch.

Frozen was Sengoku's smile, aghast at the content displayed before him.

The document held within his grasp held dire revelations.

Staring down at the information contained, his imposing hands clenched, a tremor coursing through his form.

Astonishing verity!

The world's governance displayed its unvarnished audacity!

Five Emperors!

Senju and Shura assumed divine prominence, their visages embodying frigidity.

Shock befell Sengoku.

The trio of Admirals, observing the marshal, mirrored his astonishment.

Kizaru, embodying light, transcended space to materialize before Sengoku.

Glistening motes of radiance converged.

He scrutinized the text adorning Sengoku's desk.

Fixated, Kizaru's pupils contracted, a foreboding creeping in.

Akainu and Aokiji, roused from their seated posts, congregated beside the desk.

Together, they perused the contents inscribed on the page.

Their eyes converged, the dynamic a strained equilibrium.

It diverged from their preconceptions.

What treachery was this? The reality exposed?

What manner of entity could traverse the line, thrusting revelation into the light?

Such intrigue!

A collective gasp resonated, reverberating through their surroundings.

The ramifications loomed vast, a cascade of cascading repercussions.

They envisaged the tumult this knowledge would sow within the heart of Marine.

A decline in morale, a wavering situation — an inauspicious trajectory.

Akainu, countenance aflame, cast off embers of molten intensity.

"Marshal Sengoku, what transpires?"

"How did the shroud of secrecy disintegrate?"

"Was it not I, as the embodiment of Marine, who upheld the sanctity of that record?"

"Only the Five Elders had glimpsed its contents."

As Akainu declaimed, Sengoku's hand struck the table, a resounding crack resuming decorum.

"Sakazuki, mind your tone!"

Aokiji and Kizaru, perplexed by the altercation, exchanged bemused glances.

They remained oblivious to the temerity required to assail the Five Elders' integrity.

How audacious, to cast doubt upon them!

Such was Sengoku's audacity, a reminder enough for Akainu.

He, however, retained his somber visage, his thoughts rife with the source of this leak.

Virgo?

A possibility remote.

Virgo was numbered among his Rear Admirals, a model steward of G1 branch.

During this tumultuous phase, he evinced diligence befitting the Marines and the cause of justice.

Hence, the conjecture lost footing.

So...

Akainu's contemplation shifted to the multitudes of Marines who bore witness to the battle.

Their collective mass precluded the pinpointing of a solitary culprit.

Within this chasm of secrecy, the elusive wielder of the video phone bug lay concealed.

Amidst these ruminations, Sengoku and his confidantes also pondered.

In the midst of these troubled ruminations...

The doors to the marshal's sanctum creaked ajar.

A figure clad in the mantle of justice entered deliberately.

Startled gazes converged, drawn towards this unexpected guest.

Clad in bandages, Garp strode in, countenance still marred by traces of recent confrontation.

The G1 branch had borne the brunt of a harrowing battle, its facilities rendered asunder.

In its wake, an entire division lay in ruins, forsaken and discarded.

Thus, Garp, as the enigmatic figure he was, marshaled the survivors to the shelter of their home port.

In the wake of his arrival, the admiring gazes fell upon Garp.

Sengoku, moved by the veteran's sacrifice, voiced his sentiments.

"Garp, no measure of strength could have deterred those two forces. This clash shall not be held against you."

Aokiji and Kizaru, united in camaraderie, concurred in their solace.

Akainu, however, maintained his rigid demeanor, his lips sealed in silence.

Garp, however, met these well-wishes with nonchalance, impervious to their sentiments.

Seated upon the settee, he indulged in the savory delight of senbei.

With an offhand wave, he dispelled the anxiety latent in the room.

"Old age does not cradle such fragile hearts."

"Moreover, this perturbation is not the marrow of my current concerns."

Garp's gaze met Sengoku's, their gazes locking.

The previous day's tumultuous events at sea reached Garp's ears.

The concealed truth of the G1 branch's warfare had unfurled before him.

Though the originator of this revelation remained shrouded, Garp held no qualms over its source.

The imperative resided elsewhere.

How might Sengoku stabilize Marine's morale?

What stratagem would secure their position atop the forthcoming struggle?

Moreover, what manner of confrontation awaited the ethereal godlings, Senju and Shura?

Were they poised to partake in the imminent summit upon the water?

Enmity etched deeply within their souls, a visceral repulsion towards Marine and its sovereign fabric.

If these dueling spirits plunged into the maelstrom of battle...

Indeed, Marine faced an unparalleled conundrum.

While Garp may yet lend his brawny hand to the struggle, he acknowledged the shadow cast by another force.

Natallia, harbinger of heat, whispered in the winds of his contemplation.

Lost within this labyrinthine cascade of thought, Garp's eyes narrowed, a glint of revelation sparking within.

He mulled the stance and resolve of Madara and Hashirama.

"Mayhaps, the path I tread has diverged from truth."

Garp shook his head, casting aside these deliberations.

Surveying Sengoku, he waved his hand in farewell.

"Sengoku, Impel Down calls my name."

Thus, Garp declared his intention.

And, devoid of reticence, he departed.

Sengoku, entranced by Garp's departure, contemplated intervention.

In the end, restraint prevailed.

A champion of Marine, Garp strode resolutely toward Impel Down.

Not one could impede his resolve.

Indeed, why bar his passage?

Garp's sacrifice, a legacy woven into the annals of Marine's history, moved beyond the superficial.

His pursuit of a grandson astray — who could sever such a bond?

It would be a grievous coldness to visit upon such a lion-hearted warrior.

As Garp left, Sengoku grappled with the task of mending the turbulent sea.

Alas, before he could unravel the skein of a solution...

A buzz, emanating from the Five Elders' transmission device, echoed through the room.

Sengoku hastened to answer, greeted by a torrent of invectives.

"Sengoku, do Marine's ranks subsist on air?"

"Such sensitive intelligence, and yet it escapes your grip?"

"Are you inept, or are all Marines this ineffectual?"

Abruptly, the connection was severed.

The Five Elders had vented their frustrations upon Sengoku.

A routine comfort, each rebuke an elixir for their anxieties.

Thus, the tale unfolded...

A new call materialized, this time from the Emperor Gilder Tezzolo.

He, aware of the might commanded by Senju and Shura, sought solace beneath the world government's mantle.

The Five Elders, faced with this inquiry, voiced their agreement.

After all, Tezzolo's mastery of the golden fruit's power merited their support.

For Tezzolo's role in maintaining the seas' equilibrium, leniency would be extended.

Thus, the call's inception took place.

Little did they anticipate the upheaval that followed...

In answering Tezzolo's call, the Five Elders braced for what they believed to be a predictable dialogue.

Yet, the words that greeted them defied all anticipation.

Tezzolo, Emperor of the Golden City, enunciated a declaration of rupture.

The ties to the world government, frayed and fragile, now lay sundered.

Moreover, an open call for conflict reverberated.

The audacity of it!

The Five Elders exclaimed their disbelief, their collective fury manifesting in their facial contortions.

An unswerving loyalty now veered in the opposite direction.

The supposedly docile Tezzolo, the embodiment of acquiescence, had unveiled an audacious scheme.

Did the Five Elders waver?

Was their omnipotent stance challenged?

"It is the world that is inverted!"

"It is they who stray!"

Amidst their discordant voices, Tezzolo's audacity persisted, unbeknownst to him.

On the shores of the Golden City, Tezzolo reveled in his audacious proclamation.

This truth, long harbored within him, found liberation in that instant.

The urge to express it had long roiled within him.

And, upon a whim, he chose to unshackle it.

This freedom, unparalleled, coursed through him, leaving him emancipated.

Yet, his solace proved to be ephemeral.

Another voice, detached and unaffected, pierced the air.

"Indeed?"

"Tezzolo, your expedition falls short of its destination?"

Tezzolo's gaze shifted upwards, and there stood Madara, unflinching.

Beside him, the frigid sentinel, Shura.

Tezzolo's composure shattered, his regal demeanor crumbling.

He tumbled from his ornate throne, prostrating before Madara.

A tremor gripped his form, his voice trembling.

"Dad, Father Shura, I have erred!"

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