While Luffy had predictably ordered an array of heavy meat dishes—tiger skin elbow, charcoal-grilled steak, and braised pig's trotters—Tezuka's selections represented the thoughtful balance of a disciplined athlete. His three choices were all simple, wholesome preparations that would provide proper nutrition without overwhelming his digestive system before potential training.
Gustave rolled up his sleeves and began with the stir-fried water spinach, a dish that exemplified the marriage of speed and technique. He selected the freshest stalks from his refrigeration unit, their leaves still glistening with morning dew from their last harvest. The stems were crisp and hollow, perfect for retaining their signature crunch.
His wok heated over the flame until a light haze rose from its seasoned surface. Using his electromagnetic abilities, Gustave maintained precise temperature control—hot enough for proper wok hei, but not so intense as to scorch the delicate aromatics. He added oil that shimmered with perfect heat distribution, the electromagnetic field ensuring even heating without dangerous hot spots that could ruin the dish.
The minced garlic and dried chili segments went in first, their aromatic compounds releasing instantly under the controlled heat. Gustave could feel the exact moment when the garlic reached optimal fragrance through minute electromagnetic feedback—a technique no ordinary chef could master. The chilies darkened to the perfect shade of red, releasing their capsaicin oils without burning.
"The key to proper water spinach," he explained to Tezuka while working, "is understanding the vegetable's cellular structure. The stems contain more water than the leaves, so they need slightly more heat exposure."
The thoroughly washed water spinach went into the wok in a controlled cascade, Gustave's enhanced reflexes allowing him to stir-fry with inhuman precision. The electromagnetic field helped seal the vegetable's natural moisture at the cellular level, preventing the wilting that plagued lesser cooks. Each piece retained its vibrant green color and characteristic snap.
"In French cuisine, we call this 'saisir'—to seize the ingredients at their peak moment," Gustave continued, adding salt, light soy sauce, and a hint of sugar with measured precision. "The wok must be hot enough to flash-steam the moisture without allowing it to escape."
The dish emerged bright green and perfectly tender-crisp, each stem retaining its hollow crunch while the leaves had just barely wilted—a testament to electromagnetic precision that no traditional cooking method could achieve.
The scallion-braised tofu demanded different techniques entirely. Gustave selected firm, aged tofu, its texture dense enough to withstand braising without disintegrating. As he cut it into precise squares, he explained his approach to Tezuka.
"Tofu is often misunderstood in Western cooking. It's not meant to replace meat—it has its own unique properties that must be respected."
His sauce preparation was meticulous: light soy sauce for base salinity, dark soy sauce for color and depth, oyster sauce for umami richness, chicken stock for body, and aromatics balanced with mathematical precision. The cornstarch slurry would provide just enough thickening without creating an unpleasant coating.
"The electromagnetic field allows me to heat the pan to exact specifications," Gustave noted as oil shimmered in his cooking vessel. "Too hot, and the tofu surface seizes immediately, trapping moisture that creates steam pockets. Too cool, and we lose the Maillard reaction that creates flavor complexity."
Each piece of tofu seared to golden perfection, the controlled heat creating an appetizing crust while maintaining silky interior texture. When the prepared sauce hit the hot pan, it bubbled and reduced beautifully, the cornstarch activating at precisely the right temperature to create a glossy glaze that coated each piece.
"The scallions provide both aromatic compounds and textural contrast," Gustave explained, garnishing the finished dish. "Their sulfur compounds complement the soy-based umami while adding visual appeal."
The crucian carp soup represented the pinnacle of delicate technique. Gustave had selected the freshest fish from his storage, their eyes still clear and gills bright red—signs of superior quality that would translate directly to flavor.
"Proper fish soup requires understanding protein coagulation and fat emulsification," he said while meticulously cleaning each fish. "Every trace of blood, membrane, and slime must be removed, or they'll cloud the broth and introduce off-flavors."
His knife work was precise, scoring the skin lightly to prevent curling without penetrating the flesh. The electromagnetic enhancement allowed him to maintain blade temperature slightly above ambient, preventing the fish proteins from adhering to the metal.
"Traditional Chinese cooking uses lard for fish soup," Gustave explained, heating the rendered fat in his pot. "The saturated fats create better emulsification than vegetable oils, and lard has superior flavor-masking properties for any residual fishiness."
The fish seared briefly on both sides, just long enough to develop color without cooking through. Then came the critical moment—boiling water added immediately over maximum heat, the rapid temperature change shocking the proteins into immediate emulsification.
"This is where electromagnetic control becomes essential," Gustave noted, his eyes focused intently on the bubbling liquid. "The combination of hot fat and boiling water must be maintained at exactly the right temperature. Too low, and you get clear broth. Too high, and the proteins denature incorrectly, creating an unpleasant texture."
The molecular emulsion that followed was spectacular—the broth transforming from clear to creamy white as fat and protein molecules formed stable suspensions. Ginger and scallion knots simmered away any remaining fishiness while the soup bubbled vigorously, the high heat essential for proper extraction of gelatin from the fish bones.
"Traditional technique demands patience," Gustave said, carefully monitoring the cooking process. "But my power allows me to maintain perfect conditions without the guesswork."
When the delicate fish meat reached perfect tenderness, he carefully removed the bones with tweezers, ensuring no fragments remained. The final cooking phase concentrated the flavors, creating a rich, nourishing broth that gleamed with natural oils. Fresh scallions provided the finishing touch—bright color and sharp flavor to balance the soup's richness.
Soon, all the dishes were ready and presented together on Gustave's finest serving plates. The visual presentation was impressive—vibrant colors, appealing textures, and aromatic steam rising from each preparation.
Luffy immediately claimed the meat dishes with characteristic enthusiasm. "Tiger skin elbow!" he declared, attacking the gelatinous pork with gusto. His eating style was, as always, spectacularly messy—sauce dripping down his chin, grease on his fingers, and satisfied grunts punctuating each bite.
Tezuka, by contrast, ate with his usual composed precision. He sampled each dish methodically, his expression remaining neutral but his body language indicating appreciation. The water spinach provided refreshing crunch, the tofu offered protein and complex flavors, and the soup delivered warming nourishment perfect for an athlete's recovery needs.
"These preparations show remarkable understanding of nutritional balance," Tezuka observed quietly. "The mineral content from the vegetables, complete proteins from the tofu and fish, and easily digestible carbohydrates from the accompanying rice. This is superior to most sports nutrition I've encountered."
"Thank you," Gustave replied, pleased by the thoughtful assessment. "Proper nutrition is foundational to peak performance, whether in cooking or athletics."
Po chose that moment to wake from his nap, stretching with a mighty yawn that caught Tezuka's attention.
"Good afternoon, new friend," Po said warmly, his gentle voice carrying genuine welcome. "I apologize for sleeping through your arrival. I'm Po."
"Tezuka Kunimitsu," the tennis player replied with a respectful bow. "I'm honored to meet you."
"Po here is one of the strongest martial artists in this world," Gustave explained. "His training regimen might interest you—he focuses on developing both physical and mental discipline."
"Mental discipline is crucial in tennis," Tezuka agreed. "The psychological aspects often determine match outcomes more than pure technique."
"Exactly!" Po beamed. "The mind and body must work in harmony. Perhaps we could discuss training methods sometime."
After the meal, Gustave pointedly assigned Luffy dishwashing duty. "Your table manners are absolutely atrocious," he scolded, noting the considerable mess surrounding the boy's seat. "I'm amazed Tezuka could maintain his appetite while watching your performance."
"Sorry, sorry!" Luffy laughed, gathering plates with his usual energy. "I was really hungry!"
Yang Chan giggled from her seat nearby. "Brother Luffy always eats like that. We're all used to it by now."
With the kitchen being restored to order, Gustave invited Tezuka to the deck's edge, where they could observe the ongoing training regimen and enjoy the sea breeze. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the water, creating a peaceful atmosphere perfect for conversation.
"That figure in the distance," Tezuka said, pointing to the beach, "is that normal training for this world?"
"That's Chu Zihang," Gustave explained, watching the young man struggle along the shoreline with an enormous boulder strapped to his back. "He's developing physical conditioning to complement his other supernatural abilities. In this world, human capabilities extend far beyond what you might consider normal."
Even with his typically stoic expression, Tezuka couldn't hide his reaction to the extraordinary sight. Though Gustave had described this as a world beyond normal limits, witnessing such training firsthand was genuinely startling.
"The physics involved..." Tezuka murmured, his analytical mind automatically calculating the forces involved. "That boulder must weigh several tons, yet he's maintaining forward momentum."
"You should consider some beach training yourself," Gustave suggested thoughtfully. "Obviously, you don't need to carry rocks like Chu Zihang, but running on sand provides significantly better training than flat surfaces. The unstable footing engages stabilizing muscles and builds functional strength that directly translates to improved athletic performance."
"The principles make sense," Tezuka agreed, already visualizing the applications. "Variable surface resistance, enhanced proprioceptive feedback, increased energy expenditure..."
The Moral Lord chose that moment to appear on deck, having emerged from his gaming session below. His ancient presence was immediately apparent to Tezuka, who straightened unconsciously.
"Ah, a new student of physical cultivation," the sage observed, studying Tezuka with interest. "Tennis, if I'm not mistaken. A sport requiring precision, timing, and mental fortitude."
"You're familiar with tennis, Master?" Gustave asked with surprise.
"I've been observing world's recreational activities through the internet," the Moral Lord replied with amusement. "Fascinating how humans develop competitive frameworks around physical skill demonstrations."
Tezuka bowed respectfully, recognizing something profound in the elderly figure despite not fully understanding his nature.
"The young man's discipline is admirable," the Moral Lord continued. "Perhaps some basic cultivation techniques could enhance his natural abilities without interfering with his chosen path."
"Cultivation techniques?" Tezuka asked with obvious interest.
"Methods for developing internal energy and mental focus," Gustave translated. "Nothing supernatural—just enhanced versions of meditation and breathing exercises that could improve your concentration during matches."
As they discussed possibilities, Tezuka found his mind racing with strategic calculations. The regional tournaments were approaching rapidly, and what he'd seen today had opened his eyes to training possibilities he'd never imagined. With the Gate's time differential allowing extended training periods without missing school, and comfortable accommodations available on the ship...
"Gustave," he said slowly, his decision crystallizing, "you mentioned I can bring up to five people here?"
"That's correct," Gustave confirmed. "Every guest selected by the Gate can invite up to five companions. The third floor has sufficient guest rooms, and our training facilities can accommodate small groups."
"I'd like to bring some of my teammates for intensive preparation before the tournaments. Would that be acceptable?"
"Of course," Gustave replied matter-of-factly. "Though I'll need to charge reasonable rates for room and board—this is a business establishment, after all. If funds are an issue, work-study arrangements can be made. The ship always needs maintenance, and Po could use training partners."
"I understand completely," Tezuka nodded. "I'll arrange payment and bring my teammates within the next two days."
With that decided, he shouldered his tennis bag and headed back toward the third floor, where the Gate of All Worlds awaited his return.
Returning to his own world, Tezuka checked his watch and confirmed what Gustave had told him about the temporal differential—barely a minute had passed since his departure. This time advantage would be crucial for their training schedule.
Without delay, he began making phone calls to his closest teammates.
"Fuji, I need to speak with you about a training opportunity..."
"Oishi, can you meet me at the courts near school in an hour?"
"Eiji, this is Tezuka. I have something important to discuss..."
"Inui, I require your analytical input on a strategic matter..."
"Kawamura, could you join us for a team meeting tonight?"
An hour later, all five had gathered at a tennis court near Seishun Academy. The evening air was crisp, and the court lights cast sharp shadows as they formed a rough circle near the net. These were his most trusted teammates, the core of what should have been Seishun's golden generation—if not for the institutional obstacles that had held them back for so long.
"The regional qualifiers begin in less than two weeks," Tezuka began without preamble, his voice carrying the weight of their shared frustrations. "I've discovered a location for intensive training that can dramatically improve our abilities in ways conventional methods cannot achieve. However, there will be costs involved, and the training itself will be unlike anything we've experienced. I wanted your opinions before proceeding."
Fuji's usually sleepy eyes opened with sharp, calculating interest. "A secret training facility, Tezuka? That sounds... highly irregular. What kind of methods are we discussing?"
"I've confirmed it personally," Tezuka replied with characteristic directness. "The results speak for themselves, but the explanation would strain credibility. I'm asking for your trust based on our history together."
"This is our first real chance to compete at the level we're capable of," Oishi said, his voice carrying the accumulated pain of their shared experience. "If we have an opportunity to advance beyond regionals to the metropolitan tournament, the Kanto competition, even nationals... we have to consider it seriously."
The frustration was evident in every word. Coach Sumire Ryuzaki's conservative policies had kept their entire generation on the bench throughout their first year, watching as older, demonstrably less talented players occupied the regular positions they should have earned on merit. Only now, in their second year, had they finally secured spots in the main lineup—immediately displacing every third-year regular in the process.
Even then, despite former captain Yamato's strong recommendation and obvious leadership qualities, Sumire Ryuzaki had blocked Tezuka's promotion to captain, citing "insufficient experience" and "the importance of seniority." The irony was particularly bitter—their suppression had cost them crucial development time and competitive experience, allowing rivals from other schools to build reputations while Seishun's most talented players sat unused on the bench.
"The other schools have had two years to develop their core players," Inui added, his analytical mind automatically processing the strategic implications. "Hyōtei, Rikkaidai, Shitenhōji—they've all been building their tournament experience while we were benched. The statistical disadvantage is significant."
"Which is exactly why we need this opportunity," Tezuka said firmly. "Conventional training won't close the gap quickly enough."
"If Oishi's going, then I'm definitely in!" Eiji declared with his typical boundless energy, bouncing slightly on his toes. "We're the golden combination, after all! Plus, secret training sounds exciting!"
"An opportunity for improvement based on scientifically advanced training principles," Inui mused, already calculating possibilities. "If you've verified the effectiveness personally, Tezuka, then I'm interested in analyzing these methods."
"It sounds like it could be worthwhile," Fuji agreed, returning to his characteristic serene expression. "Though I admit curiosity about what kind of training would require secrecy."
"If everyone else is participating, count me in too," Kawamura added bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. "I want to help the team succeed, and if there's a chance to get stronger..."
"There is one more consideration," Tezuka said carefully. "The training location is... unique. You'll need to prepare yourselves for experiences that challenge your understanding of what's possible."
"More mysterious than your personal verification?" Fuji asked with a slight smile. "Now I'm truly intrigued."
"Okay, since everyone has decided, I will go to the captain and the coach tomorrow to apply for some funds, so that everyone can be less stressed."
Seeing that everyone agreed, Tezuka decided to do something for everyone.