The Baratie rocked on restless waves, its fish-shaped hull glowing like a defiant star under the lantern light. Inside, the floating restaurant roared with life—glasses clinked like tiny bells, sailors bellowed with laughter, and pans hissed and popped from the busy kitchen. The air hung thick with the scent of grilled fish and salt-tinged dreams.
Waiters spun through the chaos with practiced grace, dodging rowdy patrons while balancing trays loaded with steaming lobster and frothy ale. The memory of yesterday's lightning-fast takedown still lingered in the air—the red-haired stranger's display had become legend overnight.
Outside, the sea snarled with the promise of an approaching storm.
At the Straw Hats' table, chaos reigned supreme. Luffy devoured crab legs like a man possessed, his straw hat bouncing with each enthusiastic bite. "MEAT! MORE MEAT! THIS IS PARADISE!" he shouted, bits of shell flying like confetti.
Zoro nursed his sake, green hair catching the light as his scowl deepened with every loud exclamation. "Louder than a Sea King in heat," he muttered.
Nami clutched her purse protectively, orange hair blazing as she calculated their growing tab. "Luffy, slow down or you'll be washing dishes until we reach the Grand Line!"
Usopp waved his spoon like a conductor's baton, spinning tales for anyone willing to listen: "And then Captain Usopp wrestled a sea serpent with one hand tied behind his back!" A grizzled sailor snorted in disbelief, but a wide-eyed kid at the next table gasped in amazement.
In his shadowed corner, Silas sat alone with his cold coffee, crimson hair flickering in the lantern light like dying embers. His sabre and flintlock rested against the table—quiet but deadly, like a predator at rest.
Diners continued to whisper and steal glances, drawn to his dangerous charm like moths to a flame that might consume them. His sharp eyes drifted toward the Straw Hats occasionally, particularly lingering on Luffy's infectious laughter.
*That laugh...* It cut through the noise like a lighthouse beam, tugging at something he'd buried deep beneath years of cynicism. *I don't trust legends,* he told himself. *But I trust what I see.*
A memory surfaced, vivid as yesterday:
"Mother, what makes the Warrior of Liberation so special?" young Silas had asked, eyes wide with wonder as he swung a stick at imaginary enemies.
His mother laughed, the sound warm as summer rain. "He has a very special power, my little warrior."
"Really?! Tell me!" he'd squealed, bouncing on his toes.
"He has the power to make people believe again. To fill their hearts with hope when all seems lost."
The words burned now, sharp as a blade across his heart. Silas glanced at Luffy, who was currently trying to stuff an entire fish into his mouth while grinning. *That's impossible. The moment I'm near him, hear his laugh, see that ridiculous smile... something stirs that I thought was dead.*
He pushed the thought away, anchoring himself with the coffee's bitter taste. Heroes were fairy tales. His sabre and pistol were the only truth he needed.
The restaurant doors flew open with a bang, and a voice boomed with self-importance: "Behold! Lieutenant Ironfist Fullbody of the Marines, terror of the East Blue!"
A Marine strutted in, uniform gleaming like polished gold, blond hair slicked back with military precision. A nervous young woman clung to his arm, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else in the world. Fullbody's chest puffed out like a peacock in full display.
Luffy's head snapped up, a piece of shrimp dangling from his mouth. "Whoa! Shiny guy! Is he a pirate?"
Zoro barely glanced over, sake pausing at his lips. "Marine. All flash, no substance."
Nami's eyes lit up with predatory interest. *An ego with a wallet. Perfect.*
Usopp immediately dove halfway under the table. "I bet Gunblade Guy takes him out before dessert!"
Fullbody claimed a prominent table and snapped his fingers like royalty commanding servants. "Waiter! Your finest wine, befitting a Marine lieutenant!" He turned to his date with a booming voice that carried across the restaurant. "I've sunk pirate ships from here to Loguetown, my dear! None command respect like Ironfist Fullbody!"
Sanji sauntered over with his signature swagger, cigarette glowing like a tiny star. He poured wine with a flourish, smirking like a fox in a henhouse. "Micqueot red, vintage 1519. Fine enough for... discerning tastes."
The jab hit its mark perfectly, and the restaurant rippled with barely contained laughter.
Fullbody's face twitched, a vein pulsing at his temple. "DISCERNING?! This is clearly a 1517 northern vintage, you insolent cook!" He swirled his glass with exaggerated expertise while his date nodded awkwardly.
Sanji leaned in with a razor-sharp grin. "South side, 1519. I know wine, and I know posers when I smell them."
The restaurant exploded with laughter, diners pounding tables as Fullbody's cheeks turned beet red. His date giggled despite herself, quickly covering her mouth in embarrassment.
Luffy nudged Zoro excitedly. "That cook's amazing! He's definitely joining my crew!"
Zoro's lips twitched with what might have been amusement. "Cocky bastard. Might be worth crossing swords with."
Nami rubbed her temples dramatically. "Why is it always a circus with you people?"
Usopp peeked out nervously. "That Marine's going to sink us all!"
Silas watched with faint amusement. *Small man, big mouth.* Fullbody's type was as common as seagulls—desperate for respect they'd never earn.
But Luffy's grin tugged at that spark again, that impossible light that refused to die. *Damn brat...*
Under the table, Fullbody's hand moved with practiced deception, producing a small fly and dropping it into his soup. He shoved the bowl forward theatrically.
"WHAT IS THIS?!" he roared, pointing at the insect floating in the broth. "A filthy bug! This establishment is a disgrace!" His date looked mortified, shrinking into her seat.
Sanji approached with mock seriousness, cigarette smoke curling like a dragon's breath. "Ah, Batchee's having trouble swimming. Just fish him out—the soup's still perfect."
The tension ratcheted up another notch as Fullbody's face purpled with rage and humiliation.
Then Silas moved.
He glided across the floor in three silent steps, his presence cutting through the noise like a cold wind. Looming over Fullbody's table, he held up the crushed fly between his fingers.
"Dropped something," he drawled, voice low and bored but carrying unmistakable menace. "Sloppy trick."
The room held its breath. Fullbody froze, sweat beading on his forehead as his bravado crumbled like a house of cards. His hand slowly clenched into a trembling fist, face twisting with a cocktail of rage and fear.
*Would he swing? Would he crack under pressure?*
The storm outside echoed the tension within, as if the very sea was waiting to see what would happen next.