The next day, at the sea restaurant Baratie.
The shadow of the Krieg Pirates had already faded away, and the sea had returned to its usual blue calm.
Seagulls circled above the masts, letting out crisp cries.
Yet the Going Merry still hadn't set sail.
Inside the restaurant's spacious lounge, Ronan, Zoro, Nami, and Usopp sat around idly.
Usopp lay sprawled over the table, poking at the ice cubes in his cup with a finger as he sighed.
"When are we finally setting sail? Is that cook really going to come with us or what?"
Ronan leaned against the window, gazing at the shimmering waves outside, a confident smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"Relax. Once Luffy finishes dealing with Sanji, we'll be on our way."
"Some knots need a bit of… 'special treatment' to untie."
...
Baratie rooftop.
The sea wind howled, snapping the hems of their clothes.
Sanji leaned against the white wooden railing, a lit cigarette between his fingers.
Amid the drifting smoke, his eyes held a deep yearning—yet it was weighed down by an even heavier sense of responsibility.
"I can't leave…"
Sanji stared at the endless line where sea met sky, his voice low and hoarse.
"None of the guys here are reliable. If I leave… what's that old bastard supposed to do?"
"But one day, I'll go. I'll go to the Grand Line."
Beside him, Luffy sat cross-legged on the railing, pressing down his straw hat, speaking with matter-of-fact excitement.
"Then go now! If you want to go, why wait?"
"It's not time yet!" Sanji snapped, irritably crushing the cigarette under his heel.
He suddenly turned his head. In those deep eyes burned two blazing flames as he looked straight at Luffy, his tone turning almost sacred.
"Hey. Do you know about ALL BLUE?"
Luffy tilted his head, completely confused.
"ALL BLUE? What's that? Is it tasty?"
"What kind of answer is that?! You really don't know?"
The moment he spoke those words, Sanji seemed to transform.
"That's the sea of miracles!"
"In that ocean, fish from the East Blue, West Blue, North Blue, and South Blue—all of them exist together!"
Sanji gestured animatedly, as if that dreamlike sea were right in front of him.
"For us cooks, that place is heaven! A paradise of dreams!"
"It's somewhere in the Grand Line! Pretty amazing, right?!"
Luffy watched the animated Sanji.
He didn't understand the fish names—but he understood that look in his eyes.
It was the exact same look he had when he talked about becoming Pirate King.
Above them, within the shadow of the massive fish-fin-shaped roof.
"Red-Leg" Zeff stood with his arms crossed, silently listening to the lofty dream being shouted by that "idiot son" of his.
The sea breeze tugged at his braided mustache.
On his usually stern, rigid face, a deeply complicated smile appeared.
"Look how happy he is… what a fool."
Lunchtime, main dining hall.
The bell rang—it was time for the cooks' meal.
"Want to eat together?" Sanji returned to his usual self and called out to Luffy.
"Really? More food!" Luffy immediately followed him.
But the moment they stepped into the hall, something felt off.
All the cooks were seated around a long table. When Sanji entered, the noise abruptly died.
Every one of them wore stiff expressions, as if Sanji owed them millions of Beli.
"Hey, where do we sit?" Sanji asked casually, not noticing anything wrong.
A cook gnawing on bread didn't even look up.
"There's no seat for you."
Another cook pointed straight at the floor.
"If you wanna eat, eat down there."
Sanji froze, his brow instantly furrowing.
"No seat for me? What kind of joke is that?!"
Just then, Patty—who argued with Sanji the most, yet clashed with him constantly—stood up.
He walked over to the soup pot, ladled out a bowl, and took a sip.
"PFF—!!"
Patty spat it out exaggeratedly, shouting in disgust.
"Who made the soup this morning?!"
Sanji immediately waved his hand.
"I did! I did! It's good, right?! I got up early and used the best ingredients—this is a special masterpiece!"
"Good?"
Patty slammed the bowl onto the table, spat twice, and wiped his mouth.
"Who could drink something this awful?! It's pig slop!"
"What did you say?!"
Veins bulged on Sanji's forehead as he stormed up to Patty, roaring.
"So human food doesn't suit your taste?! You palate-dead gorilla!"
Patty wasn't backing down, glaring right back.
"Making something this bad takes talent! I almost threw up!"
Sanji was shaking with rage as he stepped closer, eyes turning icy.
"Sorry, but today's soup is my specialty. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it!"
"It's your rotten tongue that's the problem!"
But to his shock, the other cooks began putting down their spoons and chiming in.
"It really is terrible."
"I can't drink this."
"Way too salty! It's like seawater!"
"This soup's garbage. Just dump it!"
Criticism flooded in like a tidal wave.
The same companions who usually just bickered with him now looked twisted and hostile, as if he'd committed some unforgivable crime.
Sanji stood in the center of the hall, staring around in disbelief and fury.
"What… what the hell are you all trying to do?!"
Patty sneered, finally revealing his true intent.
"You're just a fake sous-chef anyway—a washed-up freeloader hanging around here! We've had enough of you!"
"What did you say?!"
Just as Sanji was about to explode, a commanding figure stepped forward.
Zeff was holding a bowl of soup. Expressionless, he took a sip.
Then—
"CRASH—!!"
Zeff smashed the empty bowl onto the floor, shards flying everywhere.
"What is this mud-tasting garbage?!"
His voice was icy cold, utterly devoid of emotion.
"If you served this to customers, the restaurant would shut down!!"
That sentence shattered Sanji's final line of defense.
He could endure Patty's insults.
He could endure being ostracized by the others.
But he could not endure Zeff denying his cooking—
Cooking that Zeff himself had taught him.
"Don't screw with me, you old bastard!!"
Sanji lunged forward, grabbing Zeff by the collar, eyes bloodshot, voice hoarse.
"How is this any different from the soup you make?! It tastes exactly the same!!"
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