Zeff was quiet for a long moment, his weathered hands clasped behind his back as he studied me with those sharp eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured and careful.
"Fifty million berries," he said slowly. "That's... a considerable sum. More than considerable." He paused, glancing around at his restaurant, his staff, the life he'd built here. "But if I'm going to hand over something as precious as that log, especially in a circumstance like this one, I'll need more than just money."
'Ugg... I have a bad feeling about this?' I felt my eye twitch. "What kind of 'more'?"
"Protection," Zeff said simply.
"Even if I have the money to replace it, I don't want to lose this ship. They may be tough cooks, but they're not warriors. If you want that log badly enough to offer fifty million berries for it, then you can help defend this place when Krieg returns."
I stared at him, processing the request. It wasn't unreasonable—Krieg had made his intentions clear, and the Baratie would definitely be a target when he came back with his full crew.
'But getting involved in someone else's fight, especially when I could just take what I want and leave quickly...'
"You're asking me to risk my life for a bunch of strangers," I said flatly.
"I'm asking you to earn what you're trying to buy," Zeff replied without missing a beat. "Moreover, if you don't help, Krieg would just take it. Not to mention, you are his target too."
'And there's the real reason.'
I couldn't help but appreciate the old man's straightforward approach. No appeals to morality or justice, no emotional manipulation—just a simple statement of fact.
'Well, looks like there is no other way.'
"All right, I accept…" I said, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice.
"But this still won't be an easy feat. Armored or not, one man is easier than a hundred and one. This whole situation could have been avoided if you hadn't decided to play the charitable saint with a notorious pirate."
The words hung in the air like an accusation. Around us, the other cooks began shifting uncomfortably, their eyes darting between Zeff and Sanji—who'd been responsible for the initial act of 'kindness' that had started this whole mess.
"He is right owner, how can you side with Sanji on this?" Patty was the first to voice what everyone was thinking. "The kid fed Krieg in the first place, and now we're all paying for it!"
"That's right!" Another cook with sunglasses chimed in, his voice rising with indignation. "Why should we risk our lives because Sanji couldn't tell the difference between charity and stupidity? We could have just let that pirate starve!"
'Finally, some rational thinking.' I found myself nodding in agreement as more voices joined the chorus of complaints. 'At least some people in this world understand cause and effect. Actions have consequences, and pretending otherwise is just willful ignorance.'
The complaints grew louder, more accusatory. I could see the way the cooks were looking at Sanji—not with hatred, exactly, but with the kind of resentment that comes from being forced to pay for someone else's principles.
It was a familiar dynamic. When idealism collides with reality, it's always the pragmatists who end up cleaning up the mess.
But Zeff's response caught them completely off guard.
"SILENCE YOU NUMBSKULLS!" he said loudly, each word cutting through the air like a blade. "You don't know what it's like to be so hungry that you'd die. Do any of you know just how terrifying and painful it is? To be stuck in this ocean, deprived of food and water!?"
The silence that followed was deafening. The complaining cooks fell silent, looking at their boss with a mixture of confusion and unease. His tone spoke of personal experience rather than philosophical idealism.
"If you've got time to be crying over spilled milk," Zeff continued, his voice gaining strength as he addressed his staff. "Then just leave this place using the back door if you're so concerned about your safety."
I expected the cooks to take his advice. After all, self-preservation was a perfectly rational response to an impossible situation. Why risk their lives for a principle they clearly didn't share? It would be the smart thing to do, the logical choice.
But instead, they exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from fear to something resembling determination.
"We're not leaving," Patty said, his chin jutting out stubbornly. "This isn't just our workplace—it's our home. We're not abandoning it to some has-been pirate with delusions of grandeur."
'Interesting.' I studied their faces, looking for signs of false bravado or peer pressure. But what I saw was genuine resolve, the kind that came from having something worth protecting.
'So even the pragmatists have their breaking point. Who would have thought?'
It was a reminder that people were more complex than they appeared on the surface. These men might grumble about their boss's idealism and might resent being put in danger for someone else's principles, but when push came to shove, they weren't willing to abandon the place that had given them purpose and belonging.
'How annoyingly noble of them.' I thought, though I had to admit I felt a grudging respect for their decision. 'It would be so much easier if everyone just acted according to pure self-interest. At least then their behavior would be predictable.'
"How can you still think of fighting?" The voice came from behind me, tinged with desperation and disbelief. I turned to see Gin, Krieg's first mate, staring at the assembled cooks with wide eyes. "You saw what Captain Krieg can do! You saw his power! How can you possibly—"
"Right back at you, why are You still here?" I interrupted, my voice cutting through his protestations like a blade.
The question had been nagging at me since Krieg left, and I was tired of pretending politeness. "Your captain is gone. What exactly are you accomplishing by staying?"
Gin's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. I could see the wheels turning in his head.
I took a step closer, letting my voice drop to a more dangerous tone. "I mean, you wouldn't happen to be staying here to make sure I don't run away, would you? Because that would be very unfortunate for both of us."
"No!" Gin practically shouted, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "It's not like that at all! I'm not—I don't want any of this to happen!"
The genuine anguish in his voice gave me pause. This wasn't the calculated deception I'd expected from a pirate, but rather the desperate pleading of someone caught between impossible choices.
"They saved my life," he continued, his voice breaking slightly as he gestured toward Sanji and the restaurant around us. "This place, these people—they gave me food when I was dying, showed me kindness when I deserved nothing. And now I…I…I'm bringing disaster down on them like some kind of curse. I never wanted this to happen."
'So it was really guilt.' I recognized the emotion immediately—I'd been intimate with it for most of my life, though for different reasons.
'The poor bastard is genuinely torn between loyalty to his captain and gratitude to his saviors.'
Though I did remember reading about it in the manga, I didn't exactly expect anything to be the same in real life.
Because, right now, these are real pirates, not characters from a manga. And real pirates don't tend to question morality, they only have questionable ones.
Sanji chose that moment to make his interjection, executing one of those flashy leg moves that seemed to be his trademark.
He flipped a table upright with a casual kick, then perched on it with the kind of practiced ease that spoke of countless hours of showing off.
"Listen up, Gin," he said, lighting a cigarette with a theatrical flourish that would have made any drama club proud.
"It's a cook's principle to feed anyone who's hungry, no matter who they are. But now that they're well-fed, if they want to attack this restaurant, I won't hesitate to kill them—even you, Gin."
'And there it is.' I couldn't help but shake my head.
'The complete inability to see the logical inconsistency in his own position. He'll feed his enemies out of principle, then act surprised when they try to kill him afterward. It's like watching someone stick their hand in a fire and then complaining about getting burned.'
"You're insane," Patty muttered, voicing what I was thinking. "You go from feeding them to threatening to kill them in the same breath. Make up your mind!"
"Exactly," I said, finally finding someone who shared my exasperation. "The complete lack of logical consistency is staggering. Either stick to your principles completely or abandon them when they become inconvenient—but don't pretend you can have it both ways."
'It's the kind of thinking that drives me absolutely crazy.' I felt my frustration building as I watched Sanji's confident expression. 'People who want to have their cake and eat it too, who refuse to acknowledge that their actions have consequences beyond their immediate intentions.'
I was about to elaborate on this point when I felt an arm drop casually across my shoulders. The unexpected contact made me tense up immediately—I'd never been comfortable with casual physical contact, and two years in a world where anyone could be an enemy had only made that worse.
"Relax, Hikigaya!" Luffy's cheerful voice grated against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. "There's no need to be so stiff. Gin's a good guy!"
'A good guy.' I resisted the urge to laugh bitterly. 'Right, because pirates are known for their sterling moral character and reliability. This is exactly the kind of naive thinking that gets people killed in this world.'
I shrugged his arm off my shoulders, taking a deliberate step away from him.
"Easy for you to say," I replied, my voice flat and unimpressed. "You're not the one who's volunteered to fight for this restaurant's survival."
"Oh, but I am!" Luffy's grin widened, hands on his waist and chest buffed. Somehow managing to become even more irritatingly cheerful. "I'm going to help fight too! I've got a debt to pay to this place."
'Of course he does.' I found myself grinding my teeth in frustration. 'The walking embodiment of Shounen protagonist syndrome, complete with the inability to consider consequences and the unshakeable belief that everything will work out because he's the good guy.'
It was the kind of optimism that would have been endearing in a manga, but in real life, it was genuinely terrifying.
People like this changed the world—usually by accident, and often in ways that created more problems than they solved.
Before I could respond to this latest development, Luffy had already turned away from me—completely dismissing my presence as if I were just another piece of background scenery. The casual disregard stung more than I cared to admit.
'Oi! Don't jump away from a conversation like that.' I thought, watching him with a mixture of annoyance and grudging irritation.
"Hey, Gin!" Luffy called out, his voice carrying that perpetual note of curiosity that seemed to define him. "If you guys were at the Grand Line, how come you don't know anything about it?"
Gin's reaction to the question was immediate and visceral. He grabbed his head with both hands, his face contorting in pain as if the mere memory was physically harmful.
When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, filled with the kind of terror that comes from witnessing something beyond human comprehension.
"What I don't know is the truth... I just can't believe it... I just don't know if those 7 days we spent in Grand Line were real or just a nightmare... I'm still wrestling with it in my mind... he just appeared all of a sudden…" he said, his words coming out in what looked scary memories.
"To think all 50 ships of the Krieg pirate fleet…were destroyed by a single man…!!!"
Shrieks of shock were all over the restaurant. I could hear the collective intake of breath and see the way everyone's eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
Even I, who knew this story from the manga, felt a chill run down my spine at the raw terror in Gin's voice.
"One man?" Sanji's cigarette had gone out, forgotten in his shock. "You're telling me that one person destroyed an entire fleet?"
"I know how it sounds," Gin continued, his voice gaining strength as he forced himself to relive the memory. "I can barely believe it myself. I didn't even see him clearly—all I remember is that he had eyes like a hawk. Sharp like a blade, like he could kill a man with his glare alone."
I saw Roronoa's head snap up from where he'd been resting, his usual stoic expression replaced by something approaching excitement.
'And there's the hook that's going to drag him into this mess. Funny how fate works—even when you know what's coming, you can't help but get swept along by the current.'
The mention of those distinctive eyes had clearly struck a chord with the swordsman. I could see the way his hand unconsciously moved to rest on his swords' hilts, the subtle shift in his posture that spoke of sudden alertness.
"Haw-Hawk-Eyes?!" Luffy repeated, his voice filled with awe. Then, to my absolute horror, he turned to look at ME!! with that same stupid, innocent expression. "That's You?!"
'What.' I felt my brain short-circuit for a moment, trying to process the sheer illogical leap he'd just made.
'How does this moron's mind even work? Just because I have a reputation for sharp eyes, he thinks I'm capable of single-handedly destroying a fleet? The level of logical disconnect is genuinely impressive.'
"ARE YOU INSANE?!" I shouted, my carefully maintained composure finally cracking under the weight of his stupidity. "How could you possibly think that's me? Do I look like I could destroy fifty ships by myself?"
The question hung in the air, and I realized that several people were actually considering it seriously. The way they were looking at me—not with the dismissive amusement I'd expected, but with genuine uncertainty—was deeply unsettling.
Luffy tilted his head to one side, considering my outburst with the kind of intense concentration usually reserved for solving complex mathematical equations. "But you know, you are pretty mysterious, and you do have those dead eyes..."
"Those are normal eyes!" I protested, feeling my frustration reach new heights. "Just because I don't walk around with a permanent smile doesn't mean I'm some legendary monster!"
'How do I even begin to explain that having a cynical worldview doesn't make someone a world-class destroyer of fleets? The correlation between emotional detachment and combat ability is exactly zero.'
The old man Zeff cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention with the kind of authoritative presence that comes from decades of command. "If someone really did destroy the entire Krieg fleet single-handedly, then it was most likely Dracule Mihawk—the man they call Hawk-Eyes."
'Finally, someone with sense.' I shot Luffy a look that I hoped conveyed my complete exasperation with his thought processes. 'Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. This is the same person who thought a good way to make friends was to shoot himself out of a barrel.'
"Luffy, it is not him," Roronoa's voice was barely controlled, tension radiating from his frame like heat from a fire. The name had clearly struck him like a physical blow, awakening something that had been dormant. "Dead-Eyes Hikigaya and Hawk-Eyes are completely different people."
"You know him?" Luffy asked, his attention already shifting to this new development with the attention span of a particularly distractible goldfish.
"He's the man I'm looking for," Roronoa replied, his hand unconsciously moving to rest on his sword hilts. "The man I have to defeat to become the world's greatest swordsman."
I watched the interplay of emotions across Zoro's face—anticipation, fear, determination, and something that might have been hunger. The single-minded pursuit of a goal is so impossible that it borders on suicidal.
'How familiar…'
Sanji, who'd been quietly processing this information while smoking his cigarette, suddenly spoke up. "But why would someone like that attack the Krieg fleet? Did you have some kind of grudge against each other?"
Gin shook his head slowly, his expression still haunted by the memory. "I don't remember anything like that! He just attacked us all of a sudden!"
'Talk about bad luck.' I decided to chime in with my own interpretation, based on what I knew of Mihawk's character from the Manga. "He probably just felt like cutting something, and thought your fleet looked like good practice targets."
The silence that followed my comment was even more pronounced than I thought. I could see the horror dawning on their faces as they processed the implications of what I'd just said—that someone could casually destroy an entire armada out of mild boredom.
"You mean he destroyed fifty ships just for fun?" Usopp's voice cracked slightly on the last word, his usual bravado completely absent.
I shrugged, noting how the simple gesture seemed to unnerve them further. "The Grand Line is full of people like that. Monsters who've transcended normal human limitations and operate on completely different scales of power and morality. Dracule Mihawk is just one of them—there are at least a dozen others who could do the same thing without breaking a sweat."
'Might as well prepare them for the reality of what they're getting into.' I thought, watching their expressions shift from shock to something approaching existential dread. 'Better they understand now what kind of world they're planning to enter than find out the hard way later.'
The silence stretched on as they absorbed this information. I could see the way it was affecting each of them differently—Luffy with barely contained excitement, Roronoa with grim determination, Usopp with poorly concealed terror, and Sanji with a mixture of skepticism and concern.
"How do you know all this?" Luffy asked, his curiosity finally overriding his shock. "You haven't been to the Grand Line either, have you?"
"I read newspapers," I replied dryly, enjoying the way such a simple answer seemed to confuse him. "You should try it sometime. Amazing what you can learn about the world when you pay attention to current events."
'While it was mostly true, it's more like I have meta-knowledge from reading the manga. But there's no way I can explain that without sounding completely insane—assuming anyone would even believe such an outlandish story.'
"Eh? You actually read those hoax papers?"
"Wait, you mean that all of those tall tales the papers spoke of are actually true?!" the cooks questioned with dawning horror.
"Sigh…Yeah, while not all of the things they talk about are true, the Grand Line is that kind of place." I replied reluctantly, exasperation clear in my tone.
"A place where even the abnormal is normal, huh."
"Hee Hee! That sounds like such a thrill! We definitely gotta go there!"
Roronoa and Luffy exchanged glances, and I could see the excitement building in their eyes. The prospect of facing such overwhelming odds, of testing themselves against impossible challenges, seemed to energize them rather than intimidate them.
'Typical.' I shook my head in amazement. 'Most rational people would hear about the Grand Line and decide to find a nice, quiet island to settle down on. But not these two—they're practically salivating at the thought of rushing headfirst into certain death.'
"Bunch of idiots," Sanji muttered, lighting another cigarette with movements that were perhaps a little too casual. "You're talking about rushing to your deaths like it's some kind of adventure."
"You're one to talk," I shot back, unable to resist the opportunity. "You're the one who feeds people who are planning to kill you. At least their stupidity is consistent."
The barb hit its mark, judging by the way the blond cook clicked his tongue. But before he could respond, Usopp decided to insert himself into the conversation.
"You're just as insane as the rest of them!" Usopp said, pointing an accusing finger at me. "You know how dangerous the Grand Line is, but you're still planning to go there anyway!"
'Ouch!' I had to admit that from an outside perspective, my decision to venture into the Grand Line probably did look suicidal.
'Though my reasons are somewhat more pragmatic than theirs. I need to get home, and that requires crossing the most dangerous stretch of ocean in the world.'
'Not to mention, I am also going to increase my precautions more, there is no way I am going to jump straight and hope for the best like an idiot.'
Roronoa's response was exactly what I expected from someone who'd dedicated his life to an impossible dream. "I threw away my attachment to life the day I decided to become the world's greatest swordsman. If I die before achieving that goal, I'll have no regrets."
"Same here!" Luffy added cheerfully as if they were discussing the weather rather than their potential deaths. "I'm going to be the Pirate King, no matter what!"
"Yeah, me too!" Usopp chimed in, though his violent shaking rather undermined his brave words. "I'm the same as them, I'm not scared or anything!"
"Liar," Roronoa said flatly, pocking Usopp to deflate slightly.
'What is it with these people and their complete inability to process fear in a healthy way?' I wondered, watching this display of suicidal determination. 'It's like they've all collectively decided that survival instincts are for weaklings. No wonder the mortality rate in this world is so high.'
"All of this is nonsense," Sanji declared, exhaling smoke through his nose in what was probably meant to be a dismissive gesture.
'And yet you'll probably end up going with them anyway.' I thought, recognizing the pattern from the manga. 'This whole conversation is just posturing—everyone here knows they're going to end up fighting together, but they need to go through the motions of being reluctant first.'
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Zeff watching our little group with an expression of pure amusement. His weathered face had taken on the look of someone who'd just seen the trailer of an epic adventure movie—like he was witnessing the formation of something legendary.
'Great.' I made a mental note to keep an eye on the old man. 'That's the look of someone who thinks they're watching destiny unfold. In my experience, when people start getting that starry-eyed about "fate" and "adventure," it usually means they're about to volunteer you for something extremely dangerous.'
Patty, who'd been growing increasingly agitated during our philosophical discussion about death and destiny, finally exploded.
"Hey, Retards! Haven't you realized the situation we're in right now!? The gigantic galleon that's parked right in front of our restaurant belongs to the pirate fleet admiral Don Krieg! The ship of the strongest pirate in all of East Blue! You got that!? So you can continue your little conversation after we've gotten ourselves out of this mess!"
'Finally, someone with priorities.' I turned to face the assembled cooks, mentally shifting gears from observer to "Part of the mess" gear. 'If we're going to survive this, we need to approach it strategically rather than just hoping for the best.'
"He's right," I said, my voice taking on a more authoritative tone than I'd intended. "We need to prepare ourselves properly. Now, where are your weapons?"
The cooks exchanged glances, then held up their huge cooking utensils—ladles, cleavers, oversized forks, and other kitchen implements that looked more suited for food preparation than combat.
I stared at them for a long moment, trying to process what I was seeing. The silence stretched on as I attempted to reconcile their apparent confidence with the completely inadequate tools they were brandishing.
"…You're planning to fight pirates with…cooking tools," I said finally, my voice carefully neutral.
"We're cooks," Patty said defensively as if this explained everything. "These are our weapons."
'I'm surrounded by idiots.' I felt a familiar headache building behind my eyes. 'How have these people survived this long in a world where pirates regularly attack them? It's genuinely miraculous that they haven't all been killed years ago.'
The sheer optimism required to think that kitchen utensils would be effective against an armed pirate platoon was staggering. It was like watching someone prepare for a gunfight with a butter knife and complete confidence in their abilities.
"…How," I asked slowly, trying—and failing—to keep the disbelief out of my voice, "have you managed to survive this long in the ocean?"
"He-Hey! This is the first time we had an attack of such a large scale, okay?!" one of them countered.
'Right. Of course.' I reached into my dimensional bag—which to them appeared as if I were pulling things from under my cloak—and withdrew a large wooden crate. The sound of metal clanking against metal immediately caught everyone's attention.
The crate hit the floor with a satisfying thud, and I opened it to reveal an assortment of firearms I had for times like this. Pistols, rifles, and even a few more higher power weapons. All from the advanced models with higher fire rates and larger magazine capacity.
"Guns," I said simply, gesturing to the contents. "Start distributing these among yourselves. And someone needs to contact the Marines."
The sight of actual weapons seemed to drive home the reality of what we were facing. I could see the way their expressions shifted from casual confidence to genuine concern as they realized the seriousness of our situation.
"The Marines won't come," Patty protested, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. "Those corrupted dickheads are too scared of Don Krieg."
"Then don't tell them it's Don Krieg," I said, enjoying the way such a simple suggestion seemed to surprise them. "Tell them it's just some random pirates who are already wounded and desperate. Those corrupt bastards will come running for the easy merit points."
"And if we are lucky, we maybe could get a galleon that is nearby in time."
The suggestion seemed to catch them off guard—apparently, they hadn't considered the possibility of strategic deception.
I, again, found myself wondering how these people had managed to survive in the service industry, much less the pirate-infested waters of the East Blue.
'Simple minds, simple solutions.' I began laying out a basic defensive strategy, using the restaurant's layout to create chokepoints and ambush positions in case we were surrounded from every direction. 'The key is to funnel them into areas where our individual strength can compensate for their superior numbers.'
"We'll set up the main defense line here," I continued, pointing to the main front of the restaurant that offered good cover and multiple escape routes.
"Crossfire positions will mainly be here and here, with fallback points in case we get overrun. Also, we will need to make a supply point here and a field hospital there."
The transformation in their demeanor was remarkable. What had started as a group of panicked cooks was slowly becoming something resembling an organized defensive force.
They hung on my words with unusual attention, eager to have someone take charge of the seemingly impossible situation.
"Overlapping fields of fire are crucial," I explained, moving around the restaurant to demonstrate optimal positioning. "You want to make sure that anyone who gets past the first line of defense is immediately engaged by the second line. No safe spaces, no blind spots."
Even Luffy, who had the attention span of a hyperactive goldfish, seemed to be following along with genuine interest.
"Wait, wait, we also have our own measures of defense in the restaurant." One of the cooks said.
"Yeah, we have a detachable battleship with installed cannons."
"The ship also has fins to be used as a platform for an air restaurant, we could use it as a foothold for fighting."
"Those could be used for some tactics in the middle of the battle, but we need the right timing, or it would be a disaster for us," I replied calmly as a few ideas began to form in my mind on how we could use those.
"How do you know all this?" One of the cooks asked, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and suspicion. "You look so adept at battle tactics."
"With a few books and many experiences for grinding."
Which was true, in a way. I had been put into a few situations like this where I had to improvise war plans.
"Ah, like the battle of South Wall Island! I read about it in the newspaper?"
"I read about it too, isn't it when the Crimson-Tar pirate alliance attacked the South Wall Town but were defeated there?"
"They said in the newspapers that you led the battle. I thought they were just trying to glaze you, but looks like they weren't lying!"
"Can you forget about that for now and focus on survival?" Damn it, do these guys want to live or not?
It was while I was in the middle of explaining how to set up proper fields of fire that I heard the sound of running footsteps on the deck outside. The rapid, panicked rhythm was unmistakable—someone was in a serious hurry.
The door burst open with a crash that made everyone jump, revealing a familiar figure.
"Master!" Delgado stumbled into the restaurant with panic written across his face and sweat dripping from his brow. "Your treasure! Someone stole your treasure from the ship!"
…
A/N: Whew! Another long chapter.
Well, That's it for now.
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