While Gustave didn't possess a traditional copper pot specifically designed for hot pot service, the cooking vessels in his kitchen were crafted from the same high-quality copper. Though there were subtle differences in design, both served the fundamental purpose of excellent heat conductivity and temperature control.
The authentic soup base for copper pot shabu-shabu was deceptively simple—just water enhanced with wolfberries, jujube dates, and ginger slices. However, Gustave couldn't resist applying his culinary expertise to elevate the experience. Instead of plain water, he prepared a rich bone broth that would infuse even the vegetarian ingredients with deep, satisfying flavor.
The success of copper pot dining depended entirely on premium ingredients and masterful knife work—fortunately, both were specialties of the Bamboo Staff.
Every morning, Gustave made his rounds through various worlds, visiting the finest slaughterhouses and markets to source the freshest possible proteins. His storage systems preserved everything at peak quality, ensuring that each slice of beef and mutton retained perfect texture and flavor.
As for his blade skills, they had reached levels that bordered on the supernatural. The meat he carved was so precisely cut that individual slices could be inverted on the serving plate without a single piece falling away—a feat impossible without both exceptional technique and premium ingredients working in harmony.
Beyond the signature beef and mutton, the Yamabuki players had enthusiastically ordered an extensive selection: tender beef tripe, hand-rolled meatballs, delicate abalone slices, silky frozen tofu, crisp Chinese cabbage, creamy tofu skin, and fresh pea tips. While these accompaniments added variety and texture, the star attractions remained the perfectly marbled proteins.
The dipping sauce represented an art form unto itself. Copper pot tradition demanded a precise "2-8 sauce"—twenty percent smooth peanut butter blended with eighty percent rich sesame paste. This thick mixture required careful thinning with clean water to achieve the proper consistency, transforming into the beloved sesame sauce that made each bite extraordinary.
Gustave personally prepared each individual serving, starting with the thinned sesame base before adding his signature touches: aromatic chili oil made from hot-pressed peppers, fresh chive flower sauce, salt, sugar, and a hint of oyster sauce for umami depth. Those who enjoyed fresh herbs could customize further with chopped scallions and cilantro.
The copper pot's exceptional thermal conductivity meant the charcoal fire beneath quickly heated the bone broth to a vigorous bubble. Steam rose in fragrant clouds as the team gathered around the table, their celebration mood infectious.
Traditional copper pot etiquette demanded cooking meat before vegetables—in plain water bases, this allowed animal fats to render and season the broth for enhanced vegetable flavor. But with Gustave's pre-prepared bone stock, such restrictions became unnecessary. Everyone could simply enjoy their preferred ingredients in whatever order appealed to them.
The technique was beautifully simple: grasp paper-thin meat slices with chopsticks, swirl them through the bubbling broth for exactly two turns, withdraw them the moment they changed color, then dip into the waiting sesame sauce. The result was transcendent—perfectly cooked protein enhanced by complex, nutty flavors.
Whether Guangdong-style hot pot, Sichuan mala varieties, or this Beijing copper pot tradition, communal dining thrived on energy and companionship. The more people gathered around the bubbling vessel, the more lively the atmosphere became, and the better everything tasted.
The young Yamabuki players embodied this principle perfectly. Their enthusiastic chatter, friendly competition over choice ingredients, and genuine camaraderie filled the dining space with warmth that no amount of charcoal could match. When the last morsel was consumed and the final stories shared, the celebration felt complete in every sense.
Since their previous visit, Daigo and Camearra had become increasingly frequent guests aboard the Bamboo Staff. Daigo demanding schedules with the GUTS Defense Team left precious little time for romance, making the dimensional restaurant an perfect escape for quality time together.
More practically, the visits allowed Daigo to train in power control under Camearra's expert guidance—something impossible in their home dimension without raising uncomfortable questions from teammates.
As for Darramb and Hudra, the other two dark giants who remained sealed? Camearra's newfound happiness in love had temporarily relegated their fate to the back of her mind. Romance had a way of reshuffling priorities.
On this particular morning, the Bamboo Staff rested at anchor near Windmill Village's peaceful harbor. Brilliant sunshine painted the scene in golden hues, with only a few wispy clouds decorating the azure sky. The East Blue's consistently pleasant weather made it an ideal location for extended stays.
The beach had become an impromptu training ground for two very different students. Chu Zihang continued his own regimen of Haki development and physical conditioning, while Daigo underwent a far more brutal education in combat fundamentals under Camearra's watchful supervision.
"The seaside environment enhances focus and natural energy flow," Camearra had explained during their first session. "If you can maintain control while surrounded by such vast, dynamic forces, indoor situations will seem simple by comparison."
Her reasoning went deeper than environmental benefits, though. Thirty million years ago, the original Tiga had effortlessly defeated and sealed all three dark giants—Camearra included. But in Daigo's inexperienced hands, that same power struggled against opponents he should have dominated. During their recent confrontation, Camearra had even managed to completely overwhelm him despite his theoretical advantages.
The disparity suggested that raw power meant nothing without the skill and mental discipline to channel it effectively. Thus, the punishing training regimen.
Daigo's human physiology, while enhanced by his connection to the Light of Tiga, remained fundamentally mortal. Chu Zihang, by contrast, possessed the supernatural constitution of a dragon-blooded mixed-race—even without his One Piece world martial arts training, his basic physical capabilities far exceeded normal human limitations.
The sparring sessions were, to put it mildly, completely one-sided.
Under normal circumstances, such mismatched combat would have resulted in serious injury or unconsciousness within minutes. But Daigo's semi-transcendent condition meant he remained stubbornly conscious throughout every beating, experiencing the full intensity of each impact without the mercy of oblivion.
For the first two weeks, Daigo returned to his quarters each evening resembling a walking bruise—swollen features, blackened eyes, and limping gait that made Camearra's heart ache with sympathetic pain. Yet she forced herself to maintain the harsh regimen, understanding that temporary suffering might prevent permanent tragedy.
Even Gustave felt uncomfortable witnessing the daily abuse, though he respected the underlying logic.
Gradually, however, the training began yielding unexpected benefits. While Daigo's fighting techniques remained rudimentary, his body's adaptation to the Light of Tiga accelerated dramatically under such extreme stress. Recovery times shortened from three days to two, then from two days to just overnight healing.
By the third week, Chu Zihang no longer needed to hold back during their sessions—Daigo's enhanced physiology could absorb the punishment and bounce back by morning.
"Hiss..." Daigo touched his swollen cheek gingerly as he limped toward the ship's interior. Training had concluded for the day, and he'd requested permission from Camearra to visit the restroom—though "visit" was a generous description of his current shuffling pace.
"Zihang really doesn't pull his punches anymore," he muttered to himself, simultaneously grateful for the accelerated recovery and resentful of its necessity.
Movement near the Gate of All Worlds caught his attention, interrupting his self-pity. A human figure lay motionless before the dimensional door, clearly unconscious but breathing steadily.
"Sir? Sir, can you hear me?" Daigo hurried over as quickly as his battered condition allowed, kneeling beside the stranger to check for injuries.
The man appeared to be in his thirties, with weathered skin and sharp, determined features. Even in unconsciousness, his expression carried traces of profound sadness—grief so deep it had etched permanent lines around his eyes and mouth. His clothing suggested either a working-class background or someone who preferred practical attire: dark brown leather jacket, sturdy jeans, and well-worn boots that spoke of long travels.
After confirming the stranger still breathed, Daigo carefully lifted him to carry him downstairs for Tom's medical attention. As he adjusted his grip, a strange object tumbled from the man's jacket pocket.
Daigo caught it reflexively with his free hand, immediately gasping as the item began pulsing with brilliant light. A rhythmic sound accompanied the illumination—steady and strong, like a powerful heartbeat responding to his touch.
"This is...!" Recognition struck him like lightning.
The power emanating from the object was unmistakably familiar—the same fundamental energy that flowed through his own Spark Lens, though with subtle differences that suggested a different origin or evolution. Whatever this device was, it contained genuine Light power, marking its bearer as someone far more significant than a random traveler.