Chapter 12


14th of February 1522
Sea, East Blue

Gecko Moria hummed the air. He had absorbed Buggy's shadow yesterday, but was a bit frustrated : the man with an SS-ranked Fate had not been to make his go from A to S. Maybe Fate was not about absorbing shadows with a hight Fate...But about doing stuff that improved it? His small caravelle drifted toward the Baratie, the famed floating restaurant. It was a marvel of the seas, shaped like a giant fish and adorned with vibrant decorations. Its enormous mast, proudly bearing the fork-and-knife emblem, stood as a beacon to all seafarers. The main deck of the Baratie buzzed with activity: merchants, and travelers mingled, filling the air with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of cutlery.

As Moria stepped onto the Baratie's deck, he noticed a Marine boat moored nearby. Probably a small fry, a lieutenant at most. Nothing to worry about : he had his small and handsome form. Following him were Zoro, with his hand resting casually on his sword, Isabella, and Selena. Nami had still not woken up, and she slept soundly, exhausted, in the Caravelle.. Moria had left a shadow soldier by her side.

They were met by an eccentric figure. Patty, one of the Baratie's chefs— a tall and broad shouldered fellow, with a shaved head. His uniform was pristine, but his face bore a comically exaggerated expression of suspicion and curiosity.

"Welcome to the Baratie!" Patty announced, his voice booming theatrically. "Do you have enough money to eat here? We don't serve freeloaders!"

Isabella stepped forward, her red eyes flashing with contempt. Her voice, cold and commanding, cut through the air like a blade. "How dare you question our means?" she began, her tone dripping with venom. "Do you possess the slightest comprehension of who stands before you? We are not mere commoners scrounging for sustenance. Show the proper respect, or you will find yourself at the mercy of forces far beyond your limited understanding."

Patty's eyes widened, and he stepped back, clearly taken aback by Isabella's fierce reprimand. Just then, a blonde chef appeared, striding confidently toward them. He had a lithe, athletic build and a cigarette hanging from his lips. With a swift motion, he smacked Patty on the back of his head. "Idiot! Is that how you greet our guests?"


14th of February 1522
Baratie, East Blue

Sanji stood near the kitchen, a cigarette dangling from his lips, listening to the sound of the sea lapping against the hull of the Baratie. The hum of the restaurant's lively atmosphere was suddenly pierced by Patty's voice, laced with urgency. Sanji couldn't make out the words, but he knew Patty was being addressed by someone. Four figures stepped into view. Two men, walked in first. Sanji's attention, however, was immediately drawn to the two women who followed. He was, after all, a pervert.

The first woman was a vision of beauty. Her long, white hair cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall, shimmering under the restaurant's lights. Her pale complexion seemed almost inhuman, and her red eyes glowed with an intense allure. She wore a stunning purple robe that clung to her every curve, accentuating her long legs and ample bosom. Sanji's eyes devoured her, lingering on the way the fabric hugged her hips and the gentle sway of her movements. He imagined the softness of her skin, the tantalizing proximity of her body, and the sweet scent of her perfume mingling with the faint aroma of the sea. Fuck. He had an erection. The second woman was equally captivating, though in a completely different way. She was tall and athletic, her lithe, muscular build exuding strength and grace. Her red hair flowed like a wild mane, framing her sharp, predatory features. She wore short jean shorts that showcased her toned legs, and an open white shirt that teased glimpses of her belly and the sides of her breasts. Sanji's eyes drank in every detail, from the firm swell of her buttocks to the tantalizing glimpse of sideboob visible through the gap in her shirt. He felt a flush of excitement at the sight, his heart racing as he imagined the softness of her skin against his fingers, the warmth of her breath against his neck.

Patty muttered an apology and scurried away as Sanji approached the newcomers. His expression softened into a charming smile as he focused on the two women, completely disregarding the men. "Ladies, forgive the rude welcome. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sanji, the sous chef here at Baratie. It's a pleasure to serve such lovely women."

Sanji's eyes sparkled as he gazed at the women, his voice becoming a melodic purr. "You must be weary from your travels. Let me personally ensure that you receive the finest cuisine the Baratie has to offer. Such beauty deserves nothing less than perfection."

He was so engrossed in his attempt to charm the women that he completely ignored the presence of Moria, a grave oversight. Isabella's eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a disdainful smile. She stepped forward, her voice icy. "Sanji, was it?"

Sanji nodded, his smile unwavering. "Yes, my dear. And you are?"

"I am Isabella, and you have just made a grave error," she replied, her tone sharp. "You stand in the presence of our esteemed leader. To ignore him is not only disrespectful to us but dangerously foolish."

Sanji's smile faltered as he turned to look at Moria, who stood with an amused expression. Isabella continued, her voice unwavering. "Your flowery words might charm simple minds, but they hold no sway here. A true chef would recognize the importance of respect and hierarchy. Apologize to him!"

Sanji's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and jealousy. He glanced at the dark-haired man, his mind racing. Was he the boss of these two stunning women? Was he also their lover? Why couldn't it be him? The thought gnawed at him as he bowed slightly, swallowing his pride.

"My apologies," Sanji said, his voice subdued but wanting to please the woman. "Welcome to the Baratie. I hope you enjoy your time here."

The coldness of Isabella's rebuke stung, and Sanji couldn't shake the bitterness of jealousy that welled up inside him. He forced a smile, vowing silently to win their favor, no matter what it took. He would cook for them, and they would fall for him ! Sanji retreated to the kitchen. He poured all his energy into crafting the perfect dishes, each ingredient meticulously chosen, every step performed with the precision of a master artist. For Isabella, he envisioned a dish as ethereal as she appeared: a delicate fillet of sole, lightly seared and paired with a white wine and lemon butter sauce, garnished with finely chopped herbs and a sprinkling of edible flowers. The dish was light and elegant, a reflection of her. For the athletic red-haired woman, he prepared a hearty, robust dish that mirrored her strength and vitality. A massive, perfectly grilled T-bone steak, seasoned with a blend of spices to enhance its natural flavors, was accompanied by a rich red wine reduction. On the side, he placed roasted vegetables, caramelized to perfection, and a mountain of golden, crispy potato wedges. The dish exuded an aroma so tantalizing that Sanji could hardly wait to see her reaction.

When the dishes were ready, Sanji carefully arranged them on trays and carried them out to the table of four himself. He approached the table with a flourish, his smile charming and confident once more. Gently, he placed the fillet of sole in front of Isabella, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he spoke.

"For the lady of elegance," he said smoothly, "a delicate fillet of sole, seared to perfection and bathed in a white wine and lemon butter sauce. I hope it pleases your refined palate."

He then turned to the red-haired woman, setting the T-bone steak before her with a touch of reverence. "And for the lady of strength, a T-bone steak, grilled to your liking and served with a rich red wine reduction. Accompanied by roasted vegetables and crispy potato wedges. A meal befitting your vigor and grace."

Sanji deliberately avoided addressing the men directly, simply placing their plates in front of them with a nod, his attention clearly focused on the women.

The green-haired man's face contorted with anger at the perceived slight. He banged a fist on the table, making the cutlery jump. "Oï, shitty chef!" he barked, his voice a harsh interruption in the otherwise elegant setting.

Sanji turned slowly, his smile fading as he locked eyes with the green-haired man.

"Is there a problem with your meal, mosshead?" he asked, not even masking his irritation.

The green-haired man glared at him, his jaw tight. "Yeah, there's a problem. You think you can just ignore us and only pamper the ladies? Where's the alcohol?"

Sanji's composure remained unshaken, a practiced calmness in his eyes. "If you don't like the service, feel free to take it up with someone who cares," he said coolly, turning on his heel.

Before the tension could escalate, the restaurant door burst open with a force that rattled the walls. All heads turned as Gin and Don Krieg entered, the latter's presence commanding immediate fear, even in his sorry state. "It's….It's…."

Don Krieg, draped in golden armor that gleamed despite its battle-worn state, staggered forward, a desperate hunger etched into his hardened features. His armor was cracked and dented, blood oozing from fresh wounds and dried in rivulets down his limbs.

Gin, looking equally ragged with a gaunt face and sunken eyes, stepped forward, his voice strained but pleading. "Please, we need food. We're starving."

A murmur rippled through the restaurant, and the patrons shifted uneasily in their seats. Some of the cooks hesitated, their eyes darting towards the imposing figures of the pirates, weighing the danger against their moral compass.

Sanji's expression softened, a flicker of empathy crossing his face. "They're hungry. We can't just turn them away, you don't know what it is to starve…" he said firmly, stepping towards the kitchen.

"But it's dangerous, Sanji!" one of the cooks hissed, glancing nervously at Don Krieg, who stood silently, his eyes a storm of barely controlled rage and desperation.

"We help those in need," Sanji retorted, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Zeff, the head chef and owner of the Baratie, appeared from the back, his eyes assessing the situation. After a moment, he gave a curt nod. "Do what you must."

With Zeff's permission, Sanji moved swiftly, preparing a feast with his usual finesse. Plates of steaming food were soon placed before Krieg, who devoured the meal with an intensity born of starvation. Gos eating was ravenous, bits of food flying and sounds of gnashing teeth filling the air. Bones cracked as they chewed through meat, their hunger so primal it was unsettling. Sanji also gave them bag of steamed rice for the crew. As the last scraps were consumed, Gin looked up, his eyes brimming with gratitude. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice cracking.

Don Krieg, however, remained silent, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the walls of the restaurant, lost in his thoughts. Without another word, Krieg and his crew left the restaurant, the heavy door closing behind them. As the tension dissipated, the atmosphere in the restaurant began to lighten. The cooks, visibly relieved, exchanged nervous jokes and laughter, the weight of danger momentarily lifted. The clinking of dishes and the hum of conversation slowly returned, and for a brief moment, it felt like a normal day at the Baratie.

However, about an hour later, the door slammed open once more, and Krieg stormed back in, his men revitalized and weapons drawn. Their eyes gleamed with renewed ferocity, the earlier desperation replaced by cold menace. "We're taking this ship, I like it quite a lot," Krieg declared, his voice a thunderous roar that echoed through the room, silencing the diners instantly.

The cooks, now incensed, shouted insults at him, their faces red with anger. "You hypocrite! We fed you when you were starving!" one of them yelled, his voice shaking with both fear and fury, while Lieutenant Fullbody tried to make himself very small.

Unfazed, Krieg sneered, his lips curling into a malicious grin. "I've taken a liking to this boat," he replied, his tone dripping with contempt. "It will be quite useful to me! And, the Chef is Zeff? Bring him to me!", he ordered his men.

Sanji stepped forward, his eyes blazing with defiance. "Over my dead body."

Without sommation, Krieg unleashed his arsenal, bullets whizzing through the air. Sanji dodged with fluid grace, each movement precise. He rolled and spun, narrowly avoiding the deadly projectiles. One bullet grazed his cheek, leaving a thin line of blood. Krieg's men were relentless, and Sanji fought back fiercely, his kicks breaking bones and sending men crashing into tables. A net was flung by Krieg, and Sanji sliced through it effortlessly, only to be met with the heat of flamethrowers which he narrowly evaded. The flames licked at his heels, singeing his clothes and leaving the scent of burning fabric in the air.

Krieg's hand went to his ultimate weapon, the MH5 poison gas bomb. With a swift, decisive move, Sanji disarmed him, sending the bomb clattering harmlessly to the floor. But Krieg was relentless, pulling out the Daisenso explosive spear, his face twisted with murderous intent. The Marine lieutenant cowered behind a table, his fear palpable as the spear was launched. The explosion rocked the restaurant, the blast wave throwing Sanji across the room. He crashed into the wall, his body crumpling, mangled and broken from the impact. Blood splattered against the walls, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles.

Silence fell over the Baratie. Don Krieg, victorious, stepped forward to claim his prize, his breath heavy with exertion and malice. But a loud sound, a horrible cracking, was heard from outside. One of Krieg's crew members suddenly screamed, his voice filled with terror. "He... He is back... The Sword Monster from the Grand Line is back! It…It followed us!"