Iron Chef (Onigashima)

Ulti and Page One featured in Sasaki's cooking show—Fry, Fright or Flight—week after week. People tuned in all over the nation. Civil or Lashing—the segment where viewers bet on how quickly Ulti's tongue would switch from randomly-refined to raucously-ribald—was popular.

Queen was never invited, Jack neither. The Calamities were known for the disasters they wrought. Plague, Wildfire and Drought. Especially in the kitchen.

Botulism: Queen's broth. Exsiccation: Jack's burnt-bottom pans (never got the water-level right). Not many were inspired by their cooking prowess.

Queen consoled himself with bowl after bowl of o-shiruko, and who cared about Sasaki anyway? Would probably poison the food if Queen didn't beat him to it.

King, however, was a crowd favourite. Two of the Calamities were known for disasters but King was the Master of Caramelisation, the Finesser of Flames. His crème brûlée crust was to die for. His steak Diane, flambé prawns, and cheese saganaki were a pyrotechnic dream. He cooked without flourish, but the stagecraft and primal draw of fire did the work for him.

Sasaki invited him back continually not only because he was popular, but many of the dishes needed alcohol to light. Brandy, rum, ouzo. The meals were doused in booze but there was enough left in the bottles for Sasaki to sneak a swig or more here and there.

King, having lived longer than a decade or two with Kaidou, tempered his own intake to keep an eye on their regularly soused-up commander. As if he could be controlled in any way shape of form.

Sasaki traipsed through the All Stars quarters occasionally, bottle of plonk tucked into the band of his pants (maybe one that King had brought to his show). Mail from fans wanting to strip the Pteranodon of his mask and leather filled the bags Sasaki hauled behind him. Perverts, one and all, King included.

King actually turning up to Sasaki's show after Bao Huang issued the most lackadaisical, passive-aggressive invitations in existence depended upon whether Kaidou needed him, and if the paint he was watching had dried. At times, Ulti dragged him into the studio, or under the stars if they were doing an outside shoot, and he was pretty skilful.

Jack was half Queen's age, and nineteen years younger than King and hadn't yet learnt how not to give a fuck. He craved a moment in the spotlight. King doubted Sasaki would ever stoop so low, but Jack was his brother and, even if his mammoth face never streamed into every living room in the nation, it'd be handy if more than one of the three could do better than burn down or contaminate the cooking area.

King was the only carnivore among two herbivores. Being the only predator and scavenger among gatherers didn't inspire his vegetarian brothers in his ability to cook and prepare across all fields, including pastures and grazing, even if he was the only one who knew how not to scorch a boiled egg into a blackened mess at the bottom of the pan.

Vegetables tasted better when lightly seared or roasted too. The two didn't have to eat everything raw. Just because Queen consumed ginkgo trees whole, didn't mean he couldn't enjoy lightly salted ginkgo nuts from their branches. True, King had to be careful of the way that Jack chewed his food. A forward backward movement of teeth and jaw. But he could accommodate. Had been doing so since Jack joined their crew and rubbed shoulders with a young Yamato. Jack was six days older than the young master and he never let Yamato forget it.

Now, at forty-seven, King was still a babysitter to brats of sorts even though the twenty-eight-year-old Jack towered over both himself and Queen. Bao Huang existed, but the taller and bigger prospered. Take a shrimp like Orochi as an example, or Doflamingo, or Yamato, or the even shorter Ulti and Page One. They had their weaknesses.

Okay, okay. Yamato was wily and despite being only two-metres-something, he was still Kaidou's son. Strength was expected.

If Jack was given a task he did it, and murmurs and grumblings knocked about that proboscidean skull, for sure, but he knew his place and didn't utter them too often. He didn't protest, and maybe even liked it when King had bought him a t-shirt (size: Mammuthus Columbi Sergio Delarosa XXXX) that read Vivisection is Torture.

Jack, despite his peaceful eating habits, freely amputated the limbs of the Kozuki clan-fraternisers—the Zou Mink leaders, retainers to Oden—and had released chemical warfare on the whole civilian population. He basically agreed with the sentiments and what of it? As a vegetarian, he was definitely more pacifista than pacifist.

Kaidou and Doflamingo's Beast Pirates were also a form of vivisection with no-one really knowing the outcome of the SMILE fruit on the humans who ate them, except that ninety percent would be unsuccessful. That ninety percent, the Pleasures, gained no new powers, couldn't swim, and laughter was their one expressed emotion. The Gifters, the ten percent that gained power, were freaks.

Queen gathered and tabulated the numbers. He was hoping to publish a paper to rival the work of both Vinsmoke Judge and Vegapunk.

Wano was made up of villages of Pleasures that didn't directly serve the Beast Pirates except as pack horses. The control group lived in the privileged walls of the Flower Capital. King enjoyed watching the experiments unfold.

Long gloves hid the marks from the restraints when the Punk Hazard torturers prodded and poked him with syringes and scalpels. Punch biopsies, fine needle apertures, hollow needles, all thieved and grasped at his cellular make-up. Anaesthetic was recommended but rarely given.

Onigashima was an island of successes. The Waiters were not as annoying as the Pleasures, but both were expendable, but also necessary in the way that fodder was. They weren't often seen in the elevated living quarters and offices of Kaidou's executives. Their idiotic giggling upset the good-time vibes, so King interacted mostly with the Headliners and, even then, with the elite among them if they bothered to connect with him. Surly lot

The Gifters. Vivisection of human, or of the animal the artificial devil fruit combined them with, was the question. King guessed he could ask the same of all three ancient zoans, but he really didn't care. It wasn't likely that their form ever turned on them.

Queen loved that damn Germa cook so much, and King understood that learning to cook, in a strange way, was Jack's attempt to get into Queen's good books. No matter how much Jack tried, he never got a word of praise. But the culinary skills of the Vinsmoke-reject were rumoured to be so astronomical that they stopped Big Mom in the midst of a rampage, so Jack aimed low; a toasted cheese sandwich without burning it or something similar. Small steps.

King was fire and he cooked with the same. He loved crème brûlée because the light caramel crust—burnt delectably so—was reason for being. He'd made a huge serving for Big Mom but she, along with Queen, preferred the common o-shiruko the chefs whipped up, cauldron after cauldron. So King had shared that batch with his younger brother, Kaidou, Yamato and the members of the Tobi Roppo that ate sweets (Ulti, Page 1, Sasaki and Drake). Black Maria took some back to the cathouse.

King laid out marshmallows on one of Sakazuki's ceramic creations (Doflamingo brought it as a gift during one round of negotiations), and called Jack over.

"Transform."

Kaidou was huge. King was huge. Queen was huge. The kitchen was large enough for Jack to rest his trunk on the kitchen island surface.

Kaido had rid Wano of many of the traditional food and craftsmanship (bar o-shiruko) to free up workers for the factories, so the marshmallow was stabilised with gelatin, and the collagen in the gelatin was a mix of animal skin, tissues and bones. But, what sweet wasn't? Mammoths died out due to limited eating patterns. It'd do Jack good to learn how to diversify, and a tallow factory complemented Wano's general industrial vibe. No progress without sacrifice.

Pleasures who couldn't bear the failure and restriction of a life of laughter, Waiters who couldn't bide their time, and even some Gifters whose animals had a stronger will than the person they merged with all contributed towards the collagen component of the marshmallow.

Rabid Gifters in particular had to be put down for the good of everyone. Seastone bullets were a valuable resource. Water was cheaper and more efficient. All ranks were sent off to the knacker's if no-one claimed them. Townsfolk were restricted in travel and income, so there was a constant supply of tallow and collagen and gelatin and marshmallows. Fat and soaps and bleach.

King stuck a skewered lump of marshmallow or two or three into Jack's curled trunk.

"Don't keep them in the flames for too long." He turned his back.

It was a disaster. Jack burnt his trunk and dropped a skewer on the floor, squishing it underfoot, and the sweets in the fire melted into a gooey mess that stuck to his fur. Jack had attendants to keep that nice. Everyone avoided him until it could be combed, cut or pulled out.

Maybe it was better to concentrate on other types of finger food.

King was pretty good at throwing together shish kebabs with capsicum and pineapple and some fried tofu or tempeh, or little bits of fish or carcass for himself. Queen was difficult. The guy ate trees, and gingko trees didn't exist in the wild anymore. Almost as extinct as dinosaurs.

Municipal councils planted domesticated gingko for their autumn foliage and nuts, and cursed them for the stink of their squishy dropped fruit. Queen grazed the trimmed and pruned trees lining the verges of the capital when he felt like it. Plus, he'd adapted. Shiruko was packed with protein. As cowed or ignorant as the population was, even in the capital, a revolution would be likely if he started eating the gingko trees whole.

King set Jack to task on chopping the onions. Fuck but he hated cutting onions even if they didn't require much for the kebab. He told Jack it was one of the most crucial and respected roles, even more revered than peeling potatoes.

"Remove the skin. Cut the top and the bottom off, slice the same way, then cut those slices into quarters."

Like King, Jack was adept at flensing and flaying living beings, but the kitchen was not his domain. The knife shook in his hand. King sighed but let him get on with it as he peeled, chopped and minced a few cloves of garlic, and grated some ginger and mixed up the ingredients for the marinade.

Tempeh was easy enough to slice, but by the time Jack had finished with the onion the tempeh could've been absorbing the flavours of tamari, rice vinegar, and roasted sesame. So, King made quick work of it and threw the squares into a bowl, covered them with the marinating ingredients, mixed in the garlic and ginger then helped Jack with the capsicum, portabello, zucchini and squash. No fish nor pineapple this time.

Jack managed the zucchini, King did the rest. Twenty minutes passed.

King pulled out the skewers and slid pieces of capsicum, onion, zucchini, tempeh, squash and mushroom along it. "Mix the colours up, right? For effect," he said. Jack nodded and followed suit.

Jack's crucifixions were dramatic, and skewering was a hobby all three Calamities undertook on a regular basis. King should've figured that King was a natural at display. Marshmallows had the fluffy unease of one of Big Mom's homies. No wonder they didn't work. Tempeh aligned with Jack's ancient herbivore instincts and all was right.

King swept the floor, pooling the dust to the side, then lay down, stomach-first. He instructed Jack to place a wire rack over him, and to slide a tray under it to catch any excess from ingredients. He didn't know if he'd cook kebabs this way for beef or chicken. "Put a pan on the grill." All pans were non-stick, and excess and burning would be unlikely, but you never knew.

Jack obeyed. King's flames flickered at a low heat, and he had enough control over them that they burnt without harm. Once the pan rested on the grill, King fired up a medium heat.

"Black pepper."

Jack fumbled with the grinder.

"Quickly. You've only got five minutes."

Without fat in the pan, the only juices hissing were released from the more succulent vegetables.

"Done?"

"Yeah." Jack thumped the pepper back on the counter.

"Marinade, once I say. Spread it all over the individual kebabs, then turn them."

Jack squatted by King, the bowl in his hands, the smell of the onions wafting through the room.

"Now."

Jack spooned the marinade on one skewer and then the other.

"Faster."

The bowl and spoon tipped forward, and Queen had devised a spray that repelled most blood and gore from their outfits, but anything with garlic and ginger in it could be a bitch.

"Careful."

Jack righted and covered the remaining vegetables.

"Turn them, and make sure the sauce covers both sides. Then just turn them every now and then."

Jack did. They were looking good. Maybe he could do this by himself, except he didn't know how to make the marinade, and where did you even get tempeh from? A minion'd know. Tofu was about all the locals could afford to eat after all. Soy beans were one semi-regular constant. The kebabs sizzling in the pan looked better than a toasted cheese sandwich.

"Five minutes or until they've browned."

Queen flicked through old notices from the flower capital for images of Komurasaki. His heart bled whenever he thought of her. He stretched a leg over the arm of the throne he lounged on. It sure wasn't the most comfortable of seats, but damn if he didn't like its gilded patterns. Added to his excitement for the day. Cigar smoke filled the room. He looked up at a knock on the door.

"Yo!"

Could do with a distraction.

Jack the stooge entered, bearing what? Wearing what?

"Vivisection is torture," Queen read. He'd been on Punk Hazard when both King and Kaidou were test subjects, the Numbers as well. "You got that right. What of it?"

"That's what I said."

Queen's eyes dropped to Jack's hands.

"What's that?"

"Herbivore kebabs." Jack pushed the plate his brother's way.

Queen nodded in approval but he also was the man who refused crème brûlée.

Jack placed the dish on a table near Queen, and the older man's gaze zoomed in on the skewered ginnan nuts on the side, lightly salted. O-shiruko sated his human side but sometimes the brachiosaurus within cried out for gingko trees and cypress pines.

He shooed Jack out of the room. "Leave the plate."

The serving boy brought back the serving dish as instructed. King and Jack sat around the kitchen's workbench, clean-picked skewers in front of them.

"All gone." The plate clinked on the tiles of the kitchen-island surface.

"D'ya think he liked it?" Jack asked the boy. King narrowed his eyes. The boy shrank a little—such a harsh colour—but nodded.

"He didn't even want his afternoon o-shiruko."

Both King and Jack now nodded, only Jack's mouth visible in a downward curve of whaddya know?

"Not food poisoning?"

"Nah. Was tinkering away on his arm and experiments like usual. Rapping with Apoo."

Jack allowed himself a tiny smile.

The boy held a transparent rubbish bag. No food waste in there.

"Skewers? Weren't the skewers in the bin?"

The boy turned the bag so that both All Stars could see the contents. Mostly the packaging from electronics and components that constantly made the way to Queen's lab.

"He eats trees," King shrugged.

"Jack, Sir," the helper ventured. Jack's plaits lifted as he breathed out. "May I make an observation?"

"You may," Jack said, "But I may not like it."

"Don't kill him today," King said. "He's helped you out." He smoothed the wrinkles from his gloves.

Jack was in a good mood. Queen had eaten his food. Things were looking up. King was right.

"Go ahead." He might get rid of the boy for that full body shake, but it was right to be scared of the All Stars. He guessed he was a Gifter waiting for his powers to kick in.

"You really don't want Queen to fall in love with your cooking."

Jack turned to King, puzzled.

"Yeah, let's hope it's a passing phase, deadweight."

"It would mean more o-shiruko for Big Mom." The minion wiped his brow. "That's a plus. We're run ragged delivering cauldrons of adzuki to Queen's quarters or the pleasure quarters. You guys don't have appetites that are easy to keep up with."

"That's what the Gomphotheres said."

King and the boy shot Jack a look. "Stop talking about your long extinct cousins." Jack could be so cryptic.

"Sore point?" Jack countered, but stared at the tabletop.

"It's not like you're any less endangered."

"In my zoan form."

King's wings spread to their six-metre-plus span but he pulled them in when the kid swayed on his feet. Workers could clear him out of the room if he fainted, but he wasn't pissed off enough to wipe him off the earth just because he couldn't rid it of Jack.

"You don't wanna be Queen's lackey, and I don't wanna be a portable grill. So let's say we cook it up for Sasaki. If he loves it, Queen'll hate it, you can go back to pining and I'll keep the ginnan out of sight so that we don't enamour Queen to your culinary efforts too much."

"You want me to cook again?"

"Can you do it without my flames?"

"The gas will be reconnected tomorrow," the boy added.

"Thank god." It'd been a right royal pain in the shoulder blades trying to get everyone fed. King was over it.

And so, Jack won the heart of Queen through his stomach for a fleeting moment before realising it wasn't the best way to get his attention. There was no way he'd fit into a raid suit though.

Orochi's advisors had drawn up sustainable development goals as a whitewash. Kaidou's factories continued to pollute the land. But the PR departments pushed the ruling bodies of Wano to be seen to implement them (in an effort to keep the populous and other countries appeased). As a result, Jack finally had a cameo on Sasaki's programme, filmed a few days before the Fire Festival.

"Once mammoths roamed the earth but then humans came, and along with humans came the flint." Sasaki spoke directly to the camera.

"It warmed up too. Forests spread everywhere. There wasn't as much grass," Jack added. People should have all the facts.

Sasaki popped the stopper on his bottle. "The twin blades of over-hunting and climate change chased the mammoth to its death." He gazed sadly into the camera, took a swig, stoppered his bottle and tucked it back into his waistband.

"It is beyond my apprehension," Ulti pushed in. She didn't like it when the camera focused elsewhere. "I know that human beings and fishmen can coexist peacefully, but I hear that they are the most debatable seared over an open fire." They filmed in the castle grounds, flames in front of them.

"Can you even hear yourself?" Page One pushed his sister and she pushed right back, growling.

"We at Beast Pirate Inc. are committed to preserving the lives of the few remaining pterosaurs, dinosaurs and mammoths so we hope that Wanokuni's loyal citizens take this grim lesson of extinction to heart, and that it acts as a warning to all."

Sasaki stirred up the fire with a poker. They'd roast marshmallows later. It was a shame that King had both turned his back to them, and that he wouldn't turn his back to them. He really was a handy source of heat. Had a temper on him, but when he wanted to regulate his flames, he really could. Great for all purposes.

Black Maria leant down and in, and the lens filled with the side of her cheek and a turn of her red lips.

"We're happy to fulfil our duty as role models to the conscientious citizens of Wano country. Jack here is the only ancient zoan driven to extinction from human actions."

Sasaki stood in front of Black Maria, and she lowered her head further. A giant eye winking in the rooms of the houses lucky enough to have Den Den monitors and streaming.

"So no persecution, right folks? And we'll all get along."

The Headliners and All Star looked at one another and Jack strode away. Sasaki opened a packet of Marshmallows. They had a number of them. The tallow factory had dropped them off early that afternoon.

Some ginnan (ginko nuts) skewered and grilled.