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None of the chefs at the Baratie were undeserving of their fearsome reputations. Through their combined mastery of the culinary arts, they produced a series of exquisite dishes—perfect in color, aroma, and taste—which were quickly brought to Kennard's table.
"Please enjoy, sir! These are our restaurant's signature dishes!" Patty announced loudly, a professional grin plastered across his face.
Kennard glanced at the spread, picked up his chopsticks, and sampled each one with practiced deliberation.
"How is it, sir? Our signature dishes never disappoint. It's just that their prices are a bit on the high side. I don't suppose you forgot to bring enough money?" Patty asked, his smile widening with a hint of suspicion.
"Not bad. They are indeed excellent and delicious," Kennard said, setting down his chopsticks and wiping his mouth. He leaned back, revealing an amused, predatory smile. "As for bringing money? Why on earth would I do that?"
Swish!
In an instant, Patty's expression shifted from hospitality to hostility. Showing no fear of the vicious pirate before him, he snapped fiercely, "No money? What are you doing here then? Don't you know this establishment doesn't welcome paupers!"
For wealthy patrons, Patty could be all smiles, providing the finest service in the East Blue. But for those without a single Berry to their name, he wouldn't offer a second glance. If the man before him weren't a notorious pirate captain, Patty would have already grabbed a broom and beaten him out the front door.
"How dare you speak to the Captain like that, you scoundrel! Do you want to die?"
At that moment, the pirates who had been guarding the perimeter swarmed into the dining hall. They glared menacingly at Patty, looking ready to draw blood if he uttered another disrespectful word.
Crash!
Seeing the escalation, the chefs on the upper floors grabbed their specialized cooking tools and rushed downstairs. They rallied beside Patty, forming a wall of steel and white linens to confront the pirates.
Throughout the chaos, Kennard remained seated, looking entirely composed and unhurried. Only after the two sides had reached a tense standstill did he finally speak.
"The dishes you make are very much to my liking. Truly, they are quite good. Since that's the case, I declare that from now on, all of you—including this ship and everything on it—belong to me." He scanned Patty and the others with a playful, arrogant smirk.
"What? What are you talking about?" The chefs' faces paled with rage as they gripped their weapons tighter.
"Hey, hey, hey. Before you go making claims like that, shouldn't you ask for my opinion first?"
A voice drifted down from the second-floor balcony. Kennard looked up, his pupils constricting slightly as he recognized the figure leaning against the railing.
"You are... 'Red-Leg' Zeff?"
He seemed genuinely surprised. To a man of Kennard's age, Zeff was a legend of the previous generation—a man who had once roamed the Grand Line and possessed terrifying strength.
"I didn't expect anyone to still recognize me," Zeff admitted, his voice gruff and steady. "Since you know who I am, put away those foolish thoughts and leave my restaurant. This meal is on the house."
Kennard narrowed his eyes, carefully observing the old veteran. After a few silent seconds, he let out a mocking sneer. "I wondered why the famous Red-Leg Zeff would stoop to being a mere restaurant owner out here. I see it now—your proud right leg is gone. Without it, are you still the man who once struck fear into the hearts of pirates?"
Zeff's expression remained stoic. He stroked his long, braided mustache and replied, "You're welcome to try your luck. But before that, I want to know: what is your true purpose in demanding my ship and my crew?"
It wasn't unusual for pirates to cause trouble at the Baratie. Most wanted to eat for free or steal the day's earnings, but no one had ever tried to claim the staff as property.
Kennard stood up, spreading his arms wide as if embracing a grand vision. "Purpose? It's simple! I intend to monopolize the best restaurant in the East Blue. From now on, you will cook only for the Blood Demon Pirates. No one else is worthy of such delicacies!"
The Blood Demon Pirates lacked the ambition to conquer the Grand Line; they were content to rule the East Blue as local emperors. To them, being an emperor meant having the finest women, the best wine, and the most exquisite food the sea had to offer.
"So that's your plan. Unfortunately, I won't be agreeing to it," Zeff said, his gaze unwavering. "As chefs, everyone is a potential customer. We do not cook for specific groups or flags."
Patty and the other chefs roared in agreement. "That's right! We'll never work for you! Get out of here right now! If you want to eat our food, pay the bill in Berries, or get lost!"
Kennard's face darkened, his playful demeanor vanishing. "It seems I've been too kind, and you've forgotten the might of the Blood Demon Pirates. Kalun!"
"Captain, I'm here!"
From the ranks of the pirates, a burly giant emerged. He carried a short-handled hammer with a head as wide as three men—a truly frightening weapon that looked heavy enough to crush a hull.
"Teach them a lesson. Let them feel the power of our crew!"
"Yes, Captain!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
As Kalun stepped forward, the floorboards of the Baratie groaned, and everyone felt a slight tremor under their feet.
"Hey, can we really beat a guy like that?" One chef wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, staring up at Kalun's massive physique.
"What are you afraid of? There are dozens of us! We won't lose to one big oaf!" Patty shouted, though his own heart hammered against his ribs. He stood his ground, ready to fight to the death.
Just as the chefs prepared to charge, a black figure flipped gracefully down from the second floor, landing between the two groups.
"Leave this to me. As the Sous-chef, I won't allow outsiders to lay a hand on this kitchen." Sanji lit a cigarette with a crisp snap of his lighter. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his eyes cool and focused.
"A change of opponent? Fine by me. I'll treat you just the same." Kalun stepped toward Sanji with a sinister grin, looming over him like a mountain.
Without warning, the giant swung the massive sledgehammer downward.
Boom!
A deafening crash echoed through the dining room. Sanji had jumped aside just in time, but he stared at the crater left in the floorboards with a tightened expression.
"Incredible strength. But..." A fierce glint ignited in Sanji's eyes. His legs, moving like black iron whips, lashed out toward Kalun's vital points. "Who gave you permission to destroy this restaurant?!"
"Thigh meat!"
"Chest meat!"
"Shoulder meat!"
"Neck meat!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
In the span of a few seconds, Kalun was struck in the knees, chest, shoulders, and neck. The giant's momentum was shattered by the precision of the kicks, and he fell backward with a heavy thud.
"He's actually pretty strong," Satori remarked. Having finished his own meal, he was sprawled in a chair like a spectator at a show.
Nami leaned in, whispering urgently, "Is that so? Do you think he can beat Kennard?"
"I'm not sure. Kennard hasn't made a move yet, so I can't gauge his power," Satori said, scratching his cheek. At this stage, without the ability to sense Ki or spiritual pressure clearly, he had to rely on his eyes to judge an opponent's true capability.
"You hateful brat! You hit me hard!" Kalun roared, scrambling back to his feet. His face was flushed with uncontrollable rage.
"Captain, can I smash him to smithereens?" he barked, looking to Kennard for approval.
Kennard crossed his arms, his smirk returning. "Of course. We have plenty of chefs here; losing one or two won't hurt the menu."
"Hehe, thank you, Captain." Kalun turned back to Sanji, his eyes narrowing into slits amidst his fleshy face, radiating pure killing intent.
Sanji, still biting his cigarette, looked at the damaged floor and then at Patty. "Raise the outside platform. I don't want this place ruined any further."
He then gestured toward the pirate giant. "Hey, big guy. If you want a real fight, let's take it outside."