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- Silent_stiele
*****
The air crackled with a furious energy as Sengoku's colossal form loomed over the battlefield. His once-stoic Daibutsu form had morphed into something far more menacing: a massive, towering Asura, cloaked in gold and crimson.
This was no longer the serene, benevolent Buddha of old but a wrathful, awakened form of his mythical Zoan fruit. Nearly a thousand muscular arms sprouted from his crimson-golden form, each one bristling with power, casting shadows over the island as they spiraled around him like a divine storm.
Red and gold sashes fluttered in the air, snaking around his body like the ribbons of a wrathful deity, each movement radiating destructive intent.
With a guttural roar that echoed through the heavens, Sengoku raised his multitude of arms, the earth trembling under the weight of his power. His golden visage bore a dark expression, his eyes blazing with an ancient fury, the lines of his face sharpened, conveying a divine but terrifying wrath.
"SENGOKU!" roared Garp, planting himself firmly on the battlefield below, his voice cutting through the chaos. His fists clenched, and his form crackled with sheer force as he met the barrage of strikes.
"Have you gone mad? Are you truly planning to die here, you crazy bastard…?"
But Sengoku's eyes betrayed no hesitation. He had long cast aside any reservations, and his fury poured forth in a storm of fists as his thousand arms descended like meteors, each strike carrying the power to decimate mountains.
"Garp… I've made my choice!" His voice thundered, low and resolute, each word marked by the devastating impact of a fist slamming into the earth around Garp.
With impossible speed, Garp countered each strike, his fists blurring in a whirlwind of defiance. Though he possessed only two arms, his raw strength and precision matched Sengoku's thousand, countering each powerful punch with devastating blows of his own.
The impact of their clash sent shockwaves through the ground, ripping fissures across the island, while debris soared into the air, caught in the relentless power of their battle.
Sengoku, unrelenting, unleashed a powerful shout, his arms drawing back as he prepared his ultimate attack.
"Buddha's Wrath!" From his mouth, a devastating beam of energy erupted, golden and searing, tearing through the air like a pillar of divine judgment, aimed directly at Garp. The island itself seemed to tremble as the beam carved its way toward him, obliterating anything in its path.
"Meteor Strike…!"
But Garp's indomitable will would not falter. With a bellow of his own, he raised his fist, every fiber of his being braced against the incoming devastation. Muscles taut, he met the beam head-on, his body seemingly cutting through the golden energy with sheer physical prowess. His silhouette glowed against the light as he pushed forward, carving a path through Sengoku's attack.
The two warriors locked eyes in that moment—Garp, steadfast and relentless, Sengoku, wrathful and determined. Even amidst his fury, Sengoku saw the resolute sorrow in his friend's face, and for a fleeting moment, his thousand-armed fury wavered.
"Damn it, Sengoku!" Garp's voice rang out, fierce yet pained, his fists flying with even greater ferocity. "Even now, you think I am the only one who can shoulder this weight?"
But Sengoku, his expression hardening, unleashed a final flurry of arms, each strike raining down with the fury of a tempest. "Garp… the world needs justice; the Marines need you. Even if it's at my expense."
With a mighty shout, Garp struck forward, shattering through the oncoming strikes. The force of his fist connected with Sengoku's massive chest, sending a reverberating shockwave across the island that split mountains and parted the sea. Sengoku was forcefully thrown back, the divine ribbons fluttering, dimmed in the wake of Garp's defiant blow.
"Garp," Sengoku's voice boomed as he picked himself from the newly formed crater, pushing aside the broken mountain, his voice echoing across the shattered island, as his thousand arms drew back, glistening with the ominous glow of the awakened Zoan.
"You're the only one who can truly understand. Don't you see? We need your strength—your conviction—to save this world!"
But Garp's only response was a resolute glare. He ground his fists together, the knuckles cracking as he prepared to face the onslaught head-on.
"You're a damn fool, Sengoku," he spat, barely able to keep his disappointment hidden behind his usual grin. "But I'm not letting you die trying to pull me back into that life."
Before Sengoku could answer, Garp charged forward, his figure a blur of speed and power. He leapt with an agility that defied his age, launching himself toward Sengoku's towering form with fists raised, ready to clash.
Sengoku snarled, his massive arms descending like a hailstorm, each fist the size of a cannonball, hurtling toward Garp with enough force to shatter entire islands. But Garp countered, weaving between the massive fists, each swing of his own countering Sengoku's blows with precision and unyielding power.
His fists flew faster than lightning, blurring with each punch as he broke through the onslaught. Blood spattered as some fists connected, cutting across Garp's knuckles and face; however, Sengoku's condition only worsened as the fight dragged on, yet he didn't flinch—every wound only seemed to steel his resolve further.
Sengoku let out a roar of frustration, his massive fists coming down like meteors, slamming into the earth with enough force to send shockwaves through the island.
The ground beneath them cracked and fissured, whole sections of the cliffside crumbling into the sea as their punches clashed, each impact echoing like thunder. Garp leapt between the strikes, dodging some, meeting others head-on, his own fists colliding with Sengoku's in bursts of brutal, raw power. The air grew thick with dust and the metallic scent of blood, as each blow struck bone and muscle with punishing force.
The two old friends, once comrades, fought now as titans, each punch carrying with it a lifetime of regrets, frustrations, and stubborn loyalty.
Garp gritted his teeth, his face twisted in fury and sorrow, his fists landing on Sengoku's golden chest with relentless, calculated strikes. Despite his towering size, Sengoku stumbled with each blow, forced to take a step back, his thousand arms regrouping, readying another barrage.
"Stop this madness, Sengoku!" Garp shouted, his voice raw with emotion, yet holding back just enough to not bring his full might to bear. "I can't go back—don't make me knock sense into that thick skull of yours!"
Sengoku's eyes narrowed, the resolve in his golden gaze steeling even further. He summoned his energy once more, a fierce golden glow radiating from his body as he thrust all his hands forward, unleashing a powerful blast.
"Buddha's Judgement!" The shockwave erupted from his closed fists, a golden wave that shot forth with blinding speed, ripping through the ground as it hurtled toward Garp.
Garp barely had time to brace himself, planting his feet into the ground as he crossed his arms to shield against the blast. The impact was overwhelming, sending shockwaves through his body, the raw power enough to tear flesh from bone.
Blood spurted from wounds on his arms and torso despite being coated with advanced armament haki, but he gritted his teeth, muscles straining as he resisted the force, his fists still ready as he faced down his friend's relentless power.
Before the energy faded, Garp burst forward, defying the pain, the blood on his body only serving to fuel his resolve. He closed the distance between them, moving like a coiled beast, leaping toward Sengoku's chest. His fist connected with the golden plating, sending a deep, resounding crack through Sengoku's torso, causing the monstrous figure to lurch back.
"Sengoku, you damned idiot!" Garp shouted, his voice hoarse but unyielding. "You really think I'd just come back because you beat it into me?" His fists landed again and again, with each strike shattering the armor-like golden sheen on Sengoku's body, cracking it, until blood sprayed from beneath the fractured shell. "Some things are worth more than duty!"
But Sengoku only roared, his fists closing in, attacking with the fury of a berserk god. Each arm shot forward, slamming into Garp's frame, unrelenting and merciless. Blood flew from Garp's mouth as he was driven to the ground, a barrage of blows raining down upon him. His fists could counter only so many before he began to stagger, sinking under the ceaseless onslaught, yet refusing to fall.
Still, Garp held back, not wanting to harm his friend with his boundless might, his own fists blurring as they countered each strike, his iron will unwavering even as his body threatened to unleash its true strength.
"Enough, Sengoku!" He roared, and with a primal surge, he drove his fist into Sengoku's central core, sending a shockwave of energy through the thousand-armed titan. Sengoku stumbled back, his monstrous form wavering as he felt the power drain from his body, his arms retracting, faltering under the sheer force of Garp's blow.
Without warning, Garp lunged, his entire body coiling with the ferocity of a beast uncaged. The ground cracked beneath him as he closed the distance in an instant, his fist swinging forward with raw, unrestrained power.
The punch connected squarely with Sengoku's massive chest, the force shattering the golden sheen of his armor, cracking it with a deafening snap. Sengoku staggered back, his massive form reeling as if struck by a cannon.
"Still think you can bring me back, Sengoku?" Garp roared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a battle cry. "You're a damn fool if you do!"
Before Sengoku could recover, Garp was on him again, his fists a blur of pure, brutal force. Each punch landed like a sledgehammer, tearing through Sengoku's defenses, pounding into his torso with relentless precision.
Sengoku's arms flailed in a desperate attempt to retaliate, but Garp moved like a hurricane, every punch landing with bone-shattering intensity. The mythical zoan awakened Asura form, terrifying as it was, couldn't keep pace with Garp's overwhelming onslaught.
Sengoku tried to regroup, his numerous fists descending in a violent storm. But Garp's fists cut through them with terrifying ease, his raw power bulldozing through Sengoku's attacks as though they were nothing more than smoke.
With each strike, more of Sengoku's golden armor fractured, blood seeping through the cracks as his form buckled under the force of Garp's relentless barrage.
"Why, Sengoku?" Garp bellowed, driving his fist into Sengoku's jaw with a crack that echoed across the island. "Why would you throw yourself into this fight, knowing you can't win?"
But Sengoku's voice was strained, desperate, barely a whisper through bloodied lips. "Because… the world needs men like you, Garp… I can't let you throw it all away."
Garp's eyes blazed with fury as he wound up his next punch, his fist swinging forward with the speed of a bullet, slamming into Sengoku's ribcage with enough power to lift the colossal figure off the ground.
Sengoku's thousand arms scrambled for balance, but Garp was unrelenting, not allowing even a second for recovery. His fists were relentless, each one driving Sengoku further into submission, grinding down his spirit and resolve with each devastating blow.
Garp's fists came faster and harder, like a series of explosive cannon blasts aimed at Sengoku's core.
"Damn it, Sengoku!" Garp roared, his voice choked with emotion as his fists pummeled into Sengoku's massive frame. "You think the world needs men like us? You think dragging me back into the Marines will fix anything?"
Sengoku tried to speak, but Garp's fist connected with his jaw, sending a spray of blood into the air, silencing him. The blow left Sengoku stumbling, his towering form shuddering under the unyielding assault. Garp took a step back, his breathing ragged, blood dripping from his own knuckles, but his resolve was unwavering.
"Sengoku," Garp's voice was a low, ominous growl, "I've made my choice. You need to understand that."
But Sengoku, bloodied and battered, could only shake his head. With the last dregs of his strength, he raised his thousand fists, determined to keep fighting, his eyes filled with a mix of desperation and sorrow. "I won't… let you… walk away…"
Garp's eyes narrowed, a final glint of determination flashing in his gaze. "Then I'll beat that foolishness out of you, Sengoku!"
With a fierce bellow that echoed across the battlefield, Garp lunged into the sky, a primal, unstoppable force coiled in his arm as he prepared to unleash his most devastating technique. His fist cocked back, glowing with an intense, radiant energy that seemed to warp the very air around him, a blinding light that outshone the rising sun.
This was no ordinary strike—it was a move Garp had perfected over decades, reserved for only the direst of battles. His muscles rippled with unrestrained power as he hurled his fist forward with every ounce of his being.
Sengoku, feeling the sheer devastation barreling toward him using his observation haki, raised his thousand arms, each one forming a dense barrier of defense as he braced for the onslaught.
His face was etched with grim determination, a last stand against his friend's overwhelming might. Every arm glowed with golden energy, forming a shimmering wall of divine strength intended to block even the mightiest of blows.
But as the initial shockwave of Garp's attack collided with Sengoku's defense, the sheer force behind Galaxy Annihilation tore through the thousand-armed barrier as if it were paper. One by one, the arms shattered under the relentless impact, the golden light splintering and scattering like shards of glass in a hurricane.
Sengoku's defenses crumbled in a matter of moments, his arms disintegrating as they met the unyielding might of Garp's strike. Blood sprayed into the air as each arm broke under the pressure, the strain ripping through Sengoku's body, his colossal form buckling.
Desperation flickered in Sengoku's eyes, but Garp was unrelenting, his attack pressing forward with the unstoppable force of a meteor. He dug deeper, his fist glowing brighter as he poured every ounce of his power, every piece of his fighting spirit, into this one final strike.
"Galaxy Annihilation!" Garp roared, his voice a thunderous boom that resonated through the island. His fist broke through the last of Sengoku's defenses and struck his friend directly in the chest with a sickening, echoing crunch.
The impact sent fissures splintering through Sengoku's torso, golden cracks spidering across his body as blood poured from the wounds, each crack a testament to Garp's overwhelming strength.
Sengoku stood no chance, his towering form shuddering under the brutal force of the blow. The ground quaked as he stumbled, his body barely able to hold itself together.
The moment of impact was cataclysmic. Garp's fist connected with the force of an star, driving into Sengoku's massive form with enough power to send shockwaves tearing through the very island and space alike.
The earth trembled, vast fissures opening beneath their feet as the raw energy of the blow shattered the entire island, resonating like the fury of a thousand storms.
Sengoku's towering form crumpled beneath the might of Garp's fist. His golden form, once so imposing and mighty, shattered and shrank as he was driven to his knees his body crumbling into a massive crater.
Blood streamed from his wounds, his strength finally exhausted, his once-invincible form brought low. His thousand arms fell limp, broken remnants of his once-fearsome power.
As the dust began to settle, Garp stood over his fallen friend, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his own knuckles. His eyes were fierce, but beneath the battle-worn exterior, a flicker of sorrow and regret shone in his gaze. Sengoku, bruised, broken, and defeated, looked up at Garp, his face a mix of resignation and a quiet, weary respect.
His thousand arms slumped to his sides, lifeless, defeated, his colossal figure shrinking as he finally surrendered to Garp's strength.
Sengoku looked up, blood streaming down his face, his voice barely a whisper. "Why… why did you leave, Garp?"
Garp's gaze softened, his face shadowed with pain and regret. He knelt down beside Sengoku, his voice quiet but firm. "Because some things are worth more than duty. You just don't see it yet."
With that, Garp turned and walked away, leaving Sengoku to stare after him, broken, bloody, and alone amidst the ruins of their brutal clash.
****
The Foosha Village tavern was quiet, an unusual hush hanging over the small, cozy room as Garp sat alone at the bar counter. His massive frame hunched over, his broad shoulders seemed weighed down, as if carrying the weight of an entire lifetime's worth of sorrow.
A dozen empty bottles lay scattered across the counter before him, silent witnesses to the rare, unguarded pain he was allowing himself to feel. He was a man used to laughing in the face of danger, unbreakable, untouchable. But tonight, Garp's walls had cracked, and the familiar gleam in his eyes was nowhere to be seen.
Makino stood behind the bar, still a little girl who didn't understand the situation, looking at him with quiet concern, her hands wringing a cloth nervously as she waited for him to speak. She had never seen Garp like this—never seen the legendary Marine reduced to a shadow of himself.
His face was etched with lines of regret and exhaustion, a faint tremor in his hand as he lifted the last empty bottle, staring into it as though he could somehow drown his guilt in the dregs left at the bottom.
He barely looked at Agatha, who stood in the kitchen, his voice a low rumble, raw and hoarse. "Get me more…"
Makino hesitated, biting her lip as she took in the sight of him, a man whose strength had always been a source of comfort, now stripped down to a bitter shell. "Garp-san," she said softly, "you've… had a lot already."
"Doesn't matter," he muttered, his voice thick and unsteady. "I need… more. Just… bring it."
Reluctantly, Agatha poured him another drink, setting the glass in front of him with gentle hands. He gripped it tightly, staring into the amber liquid as if he could lose himself in it, as if it might hold some answer to the turmoil tearing him apart.
His knuckles were still bruised, raw from the fight, the blood barely washed from them. The image of Sengoku, broken and beaten, lingered in his mind, a painful reminder of the battle he could never bring himself to avoid. Every bruise, every crack in Sengoku's golden armor, every drop of blood—he had caused it, had put his friend through hell.
"I should've been able to talk him down," he whispered, barely audible, the words catching in his throat.
"But he… he wouldn't listen." He clenched his fist around the glass, the tremor in his hand betraying the anger and sadness clawing at him.
"Damn it, Sengoku… why did you have to be so stubborn?"
Makino watched him, her heart aching at the sight. She had always known Garp as a boisterous man, full of laughter and boundless energy. Seeing him like this, worn down and broken, was something she never expected.
She wanted to say something comforting, to reach out and ease the burden weighing down his spirit, but she didn't know how. What words could possibly touch the depth of pain he was feeling?
"I sent for Bogard," Garp continued, his voice rough, as if he were confessing a sin.
"Told him to get Sengoku out of there, take him somewhere safe. Can't… can't just leave him to die, not like that. After everything…" His voice trailed off, his gaze distant and haunted. He downed the glass in a single gulp, wincing as the burn hit him, though it couldn't even begin to match the ache in his chest.
The silence hung heavy between them, a silence filled with words unsaid, regrets and memories that neither of them could erase. Garp's eyes grew glassy, the usual spark replaced with a weary, haunted look.
He had faced monsters, warlords, and every unimaginable foe the world could throw at him, but this… this was something he couldn't fight, couldn't punch into submission. The pain of knowing he had hurt someone he once called a brother was a wound too deep, too raw.
"They always told me… told me I was the strongest," Garp muttered, bitterness creeping into his voice. "But what good is strength if it only brings more pain?"
Agatha, who understood Garp's pain, reached out hesitantly, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Garp-san… He knew you did what you had to. He would never hold it against you."
Garp's lips twisted in a bitter smile, his eyes still fixed on the empty bottles before him. "Doesn't matter. He wanted to save me. And I… I just beat him down." He swallowed, the weight of his words pressing down on him like an anchor. "I never wanted this… I never wanted to hurt him."
He took the glass, his fingers trembling slightly as he raised it. He held it there, staring into the amber liquid, and for a moment, his face softened, the lines of sorrow deepening. "Sengoku…" he whispered, his voice barely a breath, a lifetime of regret filling that single word.
Makino suddenly remembered as she fumbled nervously behind the counter; her hand brushed against something—a plain envelope, slightly worn, lying inconspicuously among the bottles.
She remembered that Sengoku had left it there before he and Garp departed. At the time, she'd thought he'd simply forgotten it, but now she wondered if he had meant for it to be found. She turned back to Garp, the envelope in her hands, a worried crease in her brow.
"Garp-san…" she said quietly, breaking the silence. "I think… Sengoku-san left this for you."
At her words, Garp's glassy eyes sharpened, his head tilting slightly as he looked at her, as if barely believing what he'd heard. "Makino-chan… are you sure?" His voice was low, almost a growl, tinged with something raw.
She nodded, her expression earnest. "Yes… I think he left it here on purpose, Garp-san."
With an urgency Makino hadn't seen in him all night, Garp snatched the envelope from her hands, tearing it open. As his eyes scanned the contents, his face twisted, each line he read igniting a mixture of frustration, anger, and an almost unbearable sense of betrayal. It was Sengoku's resignation letter.
The words sank in like a lead weight: Sengoku had resigned from the Marines.
And worse—he'd left Garp, his oldest friend, to deliver it.
Garp's hands clenched around the letter, his knuckles white as he struggled to contain the fury rising within him. It was dawning on him, the full extent of Sengoku's scheme. The battle, the words they'd exchanged, the challenge Sengoku had thrown down—all of it had been part of a calculated, final play.
Sengoku had manipulated the situation so Garp would be forced to make a choice: either he would have to return to the Marines himself, or watch his closest friend walk away from the institution they had given their lives to.
The resignation was a trap. A gamble, Sengoku's last hand in their battle of wills. Sengoku had chosen the one path that would corner Garp, a way to make him face the very choice he'd been avoiding for years.
Sengoku knew Garp better than anyone; he knew Garp's loyalty ran deep, and that if forced, he'd rather bear the pain of coming back to the Marines himself than live with the guilt of pushing his friend to resign.
"That bastard…" Garp muttered under his breath, voice trembling with barely controlled anger.
"That sneaky, damned bastard…" He clenched his jaw, the betrayal slicing through him like a fresh wound. Sengoku had placed him in an impossible situation. If he refused to deliver the resignation, he'd be accepting his friend's will and returning to the Marines, invalidating his own decision and denying him his pride.
But if he did deliver it, he'd have to live with the guilt of knowing that Sengoku's departure from the Marines was a consequence of his own stubborn refusal to return.
The realization made his fists tighten around the letter, crumpling it slightly in his grip. Sengoku had cornered him, and Garp had never seen it coming. He'd been so focused on their ideals clashing, on the anger and resentment that had driven their fight, that he hadn't realized Sengoku was maneuvering him into a decision.
Sengoku had always been cunning, a strategist. But this… this was a blow lower than any punch, more painful than any wound.
Garp felt trapped, a powerful man shackled by his own loyalty and friendship. "After everything… after all we went through," he murmured, his voice breaking, "he went and pulled this on me."
"Damn you….Sengoku…..!"