Saiyan Reborn

A series of violent tremors had already plunged Marineford into chaos.

Tension gripped the air like a taut wire. Every soldier was on edge, their nerves fraying by the second. When one random Marine shouted, "The Whitebeard Pirates are attacking!"—panic exploded like wildfire.

At first, it was just the foot soldiers. But the alarm spread like a virus—from enlisted men to officers, and eventually even to the captains of the warships. Colonels. Rear Admirals. Vice Admirals. All of them braced for battle, convinced that the worst had arrived.

After all… he was Whitebeard.

And for the man known as Sengoku the Buddha, this wasn't just a war.

This was personal.

In his youth—just as Garp had pursued Roger across the seas—Sengoku had once relentlessly hunted down Whitebeard. Old rivals. A clash of legends.

"Let's see how much of your former strength you still carry," Sengoku muttered, his voice deep with old resolve, "and why these kids think you're still the 'Strongest Man in the World.'"

With a grunt, Sengoku tore open his naval uniform, revealing a body that—though aged—remained powerful and defined. His muscles flexed, and a burst of golden light—Buddha's radiance—gleamed across his back. He crouched slightly, ready to leap skyward and rush toward the coast to organize their defenses.

But—

"Oi, Fleet Admiral Sengoku. Even if you were welcoming me, did you really have to strip? No offense, but I'm so not into old men. Heck, I'm not into men at all."

A completely unfamiliar voice echoed in his ear.

Sengoku froze mid-motion.

He turned his head stiffly.

Two figures stood calmly in front of him. One was Vice Admiral Tsuru. The other… was someone he didn't recognize.

Sengoku's entire body stiffened, like he'd just been sucker-punched by reality.

Tsuru lifted a hand over her eyes with a weary sigh.

"Oh come on, Sengoku. Cover yourself. You're embarrassing me in front of the new guy," she said dryly.

"…Tsuru? And this young man is…?"

The older admiral squinted suspiciously, recalling that he had just ordered Tsuru to bring Aokiji to the harbor to greet the incoming Warlords—and to show them who's boss.

But if she was here, with some unfamiliar brat standing confidently beside her…

Sengoku, sharp as ever, quickly realized something wasn't right. Something had gone wrong.

"Forget it," Tsuru waved him off. "Go change. You're making us all look bad."

"…Hmph." Sengoku scowled, but with his pride wounded, he quickly retreated.

A few minutes later, he returned—freshly dressed, composed, and once again radiating the dignity of a Fleet Admiral.

Born in the South Blue, Sengoku was a legend of the Navy. He hadn't stepped down from his position just yet, so he still carried an intimidating authority wherever he walked.

Thick-framed glasses rested on his nose. A tightly braided goatee hung from his chin. His navy cap—emblazoned with the Marine seagull crest—sat atop his wild, afro-like black hair.

The admiral's office was simple but stern. A single calligraphy scroll hung on the wall behind his desk:

"Justice Reigning Over the World."

Each of the Navy's top brass—Fleet Admiral and the three Admirals—had their own personalized motto. Sengoku's revealed much about his stance.

In truth, he leaned toward the hardline "hawk" faction—much like Akainu. Though he often stayed behind the scenes, Sengoku's ideals were clear: eliminate all pirates so that justice could reign, unchallenged.

Akainu's "Absolute Justice" took that a step further—more extreme, more unforgiving.

But to the Five Elders at the top of the World Government, these hawkish ideals were perfect. What they needed wasn't a loyal puppy wagging its tail.

They needed a dog that would bite.

That's why Sengoku had risen above the older generation of admirals to become Fleet Admiral in the first place.

And why, after the war atop the summit, his successor would be none other than Akainu.

People liked to say Aokiji lost their duel for the title. But who actually believes something like that was decided by a fistfight?

Anyone who did was far too naïve.

Perhaps Aokiji understood this himself. That's likely why he left the Navy after losing—and later aligned himself with the Blackbeard Pirates, of all people.

It took Aokiji personally stepping in to calm things down and reassure the panicking soldiers.

Just a false alarm, he explained.

Well… one of several.

If anyone else had said it, no one would've believed them. But Aokiji? The man commanded trust.

Inside the Fleet Admiral's Office

Sengoku slammed his hand on the desk and grabbed the nearest Den Den Mushi.

Without pause, he began dialing numbers, barking orders one after another:

"Sakazuki! Drop whatever you're doing! Whitebeard is at our doorstep—get back to HQ immediately!"

"Borsalino! Let Sentomaru handle the Pacifistas. You flash your lazy butt back here now—move!!"

"Garp! You old bastard! Quit screwing around and come back!!"

He didn't wait for replies. Just hung up each time and grabbed the next line.

Without even bothering to throw on his admiral's cloak, Sengoku burst out the door.

Like everyone else, he had assumed the tremors had been caused by Whitebeard's infamous Gura Gura no Mi—the Earthquake Fruit.

His face was dark. Very dark.

Because right now, Marineford was… vulnerable.

It looked secure from the outside—ten thousand elite soldiers gathered from all over the world, civilians evacuated, full lockdown in effect.

But in terms of top-tier combat power?

They were severely lacking.

Of the three Admirals, only Aokiji was present.

Akainu had left yesterday. He'd been preparing for war, then mentioned he'd found something "interesting" to investigate. He left a report behind and disappeared, saying he'd return quickly.

Kizaru had gone to Egghead Island. The World Government had requisitioned several Pacifistas from the island's science division for the war effort—Kizaru was in charge of retrieving them.

The last update said he'd just passed Mary Geoise around noon. Best-case scenario, he'd arrive by morning.

Thankfully, with Sengoku's call, Kizaru could probably race back using his Pika Pika no Mi—the Light Fruit—power.

Then there was Garp…

The idiot had run off to Impel Down.

His adoptive grandson, Portgas D. Ace, was scheduled for execution. Garp went to see him one last time—and to personally escort him to Marineford.

Sengoku understood. Garp was his old comrade, and his heart had to be in knots.

But right now? Sengoku didn't need sentiment.

He needed firepower.

Marineford needed Garp.

At least the Vice Admirals were assembling. Dozens had already gathered, aside from those required to guard key locations.

While most Vice Admirals could only match the weaker commanders in Whitebeard's fleet, their combined presence shored up Marineford's mid-level strength.

But Whitebeard himself…

Sengoku's eyes narrowed.

They called them monsters of the old era. And he was one of them.

And if the old man was finally making his move…

Then so would Sengoku the Buddha.

He clenched his fists.

He wouldn't let the title of Fleet Admiral be just for show.