Then Lister turned to a familiar face. "Michelin, from now on you're the head chef of the Money Pirates. The galley is yours."
Michelin's cooking was excellent, but his fighting wasn't. His standing in the kitchen hadn't been high, with two men over him. Lister making him head chef was also a way of granting favor. Food that goes into the mouth must be handled with care. With this promotion, the other two cooks would surely grow jealous. If Michelin wanted to advance and run the kitchen as first among equals, he would have to lean on Lister and borrow his authority. Otherwise, those two would be hard to handle.
"Thank you for the promotion, Captain," Michelin said in surprise, bowing in gratitude.
Lister nodded, then looked to the man who oversaw the storeroom. "Your name?"
"Captain, I'm Afu."
"Afu, return to the combat ranks. The treasury will be managed by Nami from now on."
A silence followed. While cleaning the corridor and the captain's cabin, they had heard commotion from next door, the vice-captain's quarters, and knew a woman had somehow appeared on board. That woman was now the boss's lady. No one dared object. Afu could only answer, helpless, "Aye."
"All right, I won't say much more. Today marks the founding of my Money Pirates. Forget the unpleasantness. Keep eating and drinking. No one stops until we're drunk."
A roar went up.
Follow whom you will—as long as the feast continued, nothing else mattered.
"Michelin, later make something good and send it to the vice-captain's quarters," Lister added.
"Aye."
The banquet began. Lister joined in for a while, then, sensing the men were stiff in his presence, found an excuse to slip away. He hadn't truly bonded with them anyway. For now they were just stepping stones on his climb. Maybe later, if they showed enough potential, he would think about opening his heart.
He pushed into the vice-captain's quarters and found Nami happily devouring the dishes Michelin had sent.
"Aren't you holding a banquet outside? Why'd you come back?" Nami glanced up as Lister entered, but kept eating. She hadn't chosen to run when he left. She had wagered the most important thing in a woman's life as her bargaining chip. Leaving now would be a loss.
"I don't quite loosen up out there, so I came back," Lister said, sitting and tearing into a skewer of meat.
"I see." Nami knew all too well how rare crews like the Straw Hats were, with no strict hierarchy and everyone playing together. Crews with clear ranks were the norm.
"What's your plan next?" she asked.
"No need to rush?" Lister teased.
"Of course I'm rushing," Nami shot back.
"Do you have the money yet?"
"Just a little short."
"Then the plan is simple. Make money and train. In at most three months, maybe as fast as one, I'll not only help you finish the money, I'll raise my strength enough to cut down Arlong."
"Sounds like a plan," Nami nodded.
They chatted idly as the food on the table disappeared.
Lister pulled Nami into his arms.
"What are you doing?" she asked, blushing and pushing at him.
He didn't answer, holding her as he walked toward the bed.
I will not translate the following scene because it depicts sexual assault.
Night.
In the deep of night, in the calm that follows, Lister took out training notes he had collected from Bloodhammer Henry and Madman Andre, records of those who had gone before. He studied them carefully, then wrote out his cultivation plan for the coming months and his hypotheses for developing his Devil Fruit.
Was the Quick-Quick Fruit only good for speeding up movement? No. When using it, he could hasten not just his body but also his neural response. By the same conceptual logic used to develop Devil Fruits, could he use the fruit to accelerate recovery and self-healing? Could he speed up his thinking?
Decided. Starting tomorrow, he would test each hypothesis in turn.
He closed the notebook, walked to the bed, took a look at the sleeping Nami, lay down, wrapped his arms around her, and drifted into a sweet sleep.