The door opened with a thud as Sengoku strode into the Admirals' conference chamber. Tsuru followed behind him silently, eyeing him with a faint squint. She knew him too well.
Akainu sat upright, arms crossed, an iron furnace simmering behind those grim eyes. Aokiji slouched in his chair, arms behind his head, yawning exaggeratedly. Kizaru, expression unreadable behind his sunglasses, flashed a casual salute.
"G'mornin', Fleet Admiral," Borsalino said lazily. "You're up earlier than usual."
"New day, new clarity," Sengoku said simply, seating himself. His voice didn't carry its usual irritation. Instead, it was composed, grounded. Commanding.
They noticed.
Sengoku steepled his fingers. "We're going to change the plan for the war."
That got their attention. Even Aokiji opened one eye.
Akainu's voice was first. "Change the plan? You mean reinforce our defensive formations?"
"No," Sengoku said. "I mean go on the offensive. Sever the head from the snake. Not just Whitebeard—his command structure, his alliances, his reputation. We crush it all."
A beat of silence.
"That sounds a bit... excessive, no?" Aokiji said, one brow arching.
"We can't afford a half-measure," Sengoku said, eyes boring into him. "You've all seen what happens when pirates are allowed to become legends. Roger. Whitebeard. Even Shiki. They don't just commit crimes—they inspire them. And now? Ace's execution won't just provoke retaliation—it'll inflame chaos."
He stood, pacing slowly.
"After this war, the world must be different. The Marines must be untouchable. The symbol of unshakable peace and control. No more 'rising stars' like the supernovas. No more pirate messiahs. Justice will not ask for stability—it will impose it."
Sakazuki nodded, quietly pleased. "You finally understand, then."
"I understand how to use you," Sengoku replied without flinching. "You'll be unleashed when the moment is right. But not before. You'll follow my strategy, not just your instincts."
Akainu's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue.
Sengoku turned toward Aokiji. "You'll serve as battlefield control. No more wandering into skirmishes. I want ice walls, environmental control, disruption tactics."
Aokiji gave a slow shrug. "If I must."
"And Borsalino." He paused, meeting the light-speed Admiral's gaze. "Hit-and-run. Keep them off balance. No dramatic finishes."
Kizaru tilted his head. "Ooooh~ sounds like I'll be dancing."
He unrolled a detailed map of Marineford and the surrounding waters across the conference table. Each Admiral leaned forward as Sengoku began marking positions with a steady hand.
"Whitebeard's standard formation puts Marco the Phoenix and his division here," he indicated a zone to the northwest. "We'll counter with Kizaru stationed on the southeast tower. When Marco commits to an attack run, Borsalino will engage—but only to distract. The real target will be Diamond Jozu."
Akainu frowned. "Jozu is a secondary commander at best."
"Jozu is Whitebeard's shield," Sengoku corrected. "Without him, the old man's blind spots become exposed. Take away his defense, and his offense becomes predictable."
He moved his finger to another position on the map. "Aokiji, you'll create an ice platform here, but not immediately. Wait until Whitebeard deploys his second wave. When Little Oars Jr. appears—and he will—that's when you freeze the bay. Not before."
"You seem awfully certain about their tactics," Kuzan observed.
Sengoku met his gaze steadily. "I've been studying Newgate for forty years. I know how he thinks."
The lie came easily. Better than revealing the truth—that he'd read this battle in manga form, watched it animated, debated its outcomes in forums. That in his world, this was all fiction. Here, it was destiny he intended to rewrite.
"What about the Warlords?" Akainu asked.
"They're wild cards," Sengoku replied. "But useful ones if properly managed."
He marked seven positions across the map. "I'll handle them personally."
Later that evening.
Sengoku sat alone in the observation dome that overlooked the plaza where Ace would soon kneel. Surveillance visuals from the New World played in quiet feeds along the crystal screens. Pacifista units were being quietly repositioned. Cipher Pol was on the move, hunting intel.
The War was no longer just about Ace. It was about precedent. Power.
But as he watched the world move, he also felt something new.
His Haki.
Where once it had been a blade he used when needed, now it was a presence. Constant. Alive. His Kenbunshoku extended farther than ever—brushing against every Marine in the base, even faintly touching the edges of the sea. He felt their hopes. Their fears. Their loyalty.
More than that—his Buddha Form had changed. He could feel it humming beneath his skin, divine power amplified by the soul merge. Not just size and strength anymore, but spiritual force. The form now had will. It wasn't just a transformation—it was an avatar of judgment.
And he intended to wield it without mercy.
The Den Den Mushi on his desk chirped. He answered it with a calm "Speak."
"Fleet Admiral," came the voice of Vice Admiral Momonga. "The prisoner transport has cleared Impel Down. Portgas D. Ace will arrive at Marineford by dawn."
"Acknowledged." He paused. "Any sign of disturbance at the prison?"
"None, sir. Security remains at maximum alert."
Sengoku nodded to himself. Luffy's prison break hadn't happened yet. That gave him time to prepare another countermeasure.
"Double the escort. Add two battleships and a Vice Admiral complement."
"Sir?" Momonga's voice carried confusion. "The current escort is already beyond standard protocol."
"Do it anyway," Sengoku ordered. "And deploy a Pacifista unit to shadow them from a distance."
After ending the call, he returned to the window. Stars glittered above the calm sea—the proverbial quiet before the storm.
He knew what was coming. Straw Hat Luffy would emerge from Impel Down with an unprecedented coalition of escaped prisoners. Whitebeard would attack from the bay with the full might of his fleet and allies. And somewhere in the shadows, Blackbeard was plotting his own insidious play for power.
In the original history, the Marines had won—Ace dead, Whitebeard dead, but at catastrophic cost. The balance of world power had been shattered, leading to the rise of even more dangerous elements.
Not this time.
This time, the victory would be absolute.