Everyone returned to the Bamboo Staff with their arms full of hard-won prizes, creating a veritable mountain of fresh game on the ship's main deck. Gustave surveyed their abundant harvest with the calculating eye of a master chef, his mind already working through preparation strategies for the evening's feast.
The massive wild boar demanded immediate attention—its sheer size requiring careful planning to avoid waste. Half would be cut into substantial chunks for slow-cooking methods that would break down the tough muscle fibers, while the other half would be sliced thin for direct grilling over open flames. The organ meat presented its own opportunities: intestines and kidneys could be grilled as delicacies, the stomach would make an excellent cold dish after proper preparation, and the liver could be transformed into traditional blown liver for later consumption.
The deer that he and Po had struggled so mightily to transport would become the centerpiece—a whole roasted deer that would serve as the visual highlight of their celebration.
Among the smaller game, Gustave spotted several plump pheasants that immediately caught his professional interest.
"Chu Zihang, Tu Shanyan—these pheasants are your catch?" Gustave called out to the pair.
"Actually, brother Chu Zihang wanted to hunt bigger prey," Tu Shanyan replied with shameless honesty, "but when I saw these beautiful birds, I absolutely had to have them! I made such a fuss that poor Zihang had no choice but to give in to my demands."
Gustave shook his head with amusement. Sometimes he wondered if Tu Shanyan was truly fox clan or actually part weasel, given her single-minded focus on immediate gratification.
The pheasants would pair perfectly with the wild mushrooms that Uta and Yang Chan had gathered during their return journey—a modified version of the classic chicken and mushroom stew, elevated by the game birds' richer flavor profile.
Several other pieces of smaller game rounded out their collection, each requiring its own preparation approach.
"Shanks! Stop lounging around and come help!" Gustave's voice carried across the deck with unmistakable authority. "We're feeding a small army tonight, especially with you pirates and your legendary appetites. If you leave everything to Po, Tom, and me, we'll collapse from exhaustion before the first course is ready!"
"But Gustave, we don't know the first thing about cooking!" Shanks protested from his comfortable position against the ship's railing, picking his nose with characteristic nonchalance. "Lucky Roux, go lend them a hand!"
The Red Hair Pirates' cook started to rise, but Gustave cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"Who says you need cooking skills to help? Shanks, take that Griffin of yours and start removing the boar's bristles. After that's done, butcher the meat—half cut into large chunks for stewing, the other half sliced thin for tonight's grilling. Leave the organ work to me."
Gustave turned to begin processing their deer, but after two steps he realized Shanks hadn't moved an inch.
"Shanks! Don't pretend you can't hear me!"
The Emperor of the Sea continued his statue impression, apparently hoping selective deafness would exempt him from kitchen duty.
"Gustave," Shanks finally replied with mock indignation, drawing Griffin from its sheath with theatrical flourish, "do you understand what this blade represents? This is a Supreme Grade sword! Countless have dreamed of wielding such a weapon, and you want me to use it for... pig butchery?"
"I don't care if it's a Supreme Grade sword or a rusty butter knife," Gustave shot back without missing a beat. "If you want to eat tonight, you'll process that boar!"
"Shanks, for the sake of dinner, you should listen to Gustave," Beckman interjected with diplomatic firmness. "I haven't tasted his cooking in far too long—I'm practically drooling with anticipation."
"Beckman!" Shanks stared at his first mate in betrayal. "You're supposed to support your captain!"
"I agree with Beckman completely," Yasopp added with cheerful treachery. "Sorry, Captain, but my stomach outranks my loyalty right now."
"Count me in too!" Lucky Roux called out, followed by enthusiastic agreement from the rest of the Red Hair Pirates.
Shanks looked around at his mutinous crew with growing horror. A captain's authority meant nothing when faced with the promise of Gustave's legendary cuisine.
"Shanks, you should listen to Uncle Gustave," Uta said softly, tugging at her adoptive father's sleeve with enormous eyes. "I don't want to go hungry tonight either."
That innocent plea delivered the killing blow. Shanks clutched his chest as if physically wounded, staring down at Uta with theatrical devastation. His own beloved daughter had joined the rebellion—all for the promise of a good meal.
"Stop being so dramatic and deal with that pig," Gustave commanded, punctuating his words with a solid kick to Shanks' posterior.
"Gustave, mark my words—I'll remember this insult and someday I'll have my revenge..." Shanks began with wounded dignity.
His threat was cut short as a floral apron and matching sleeve guards hit him squarely in the face.
"What nonsense are you spouting? I've never seen a man make such a fuss over basic food preparation," Gustave grumbled, walking away while still muttering complaints. "All this drama over butchering a pig..."
Shanks stood alone in the sea breeze, apron draped over his head like a surrender flag, his legendary status reduced to kitchen help by the irresistible force of collective hunger.
After a long moment of acceptance, he raised Griffin toward the sky with solemn ceremony.
"Forgive me, old friend," he whispered as twin tears rolled down his cheeks.
With resignation worthy of a tragic hero, Shanks donned the floral apron and matching sleeves, then walked toward his porcine destiny with the sword that had carved through countless battles.
Proper pig preparation required specific technique—the carcass needed to be scalded with boiling water to soften the bristles for complete removal. Attempting to scrape raw pig hair would not only prove nearly impossible but would likely remove patches of valuable skin in the process.
"Shanks! Uncle Gustave said someone would come help us—I never expected it to be you!" Luffy's cheerful voice greeted the approaching Emperor as he tended to a large iron pot suspended over crackling flames.
Since Luffy's group had discovered and lured the wild boar, Gustave had assigned them bristle-removal duty. Tom's kitchen obligations meant Ace had replaced him in the work detail, leaving Luffy, Ace, and Jerry to manage the scalding water preparation.
"Shanks, your equipment looks so professional!" Ace commented with barely concealed amusement at the sight of the legendary pirate in his domestic costume.
"Heh... heh..." Shanks' smile twitched with forced cheerfulness. Even compliments felt like mockery in his current situation.
Luffy continued feeding wood into the fire with enthusiastic dedication, the flames growing higher and more intense as the water approached boiling temperature.
"Perfect!" Ace lifted the pot's lid and confirmed the water had reached proper temperature. "Luffy, grab the ladles! Jerry, keep feeding that fire!"
Despite his youth, Ace's organizational skills showed the influence of his time helping at the original Bamboo Staff restaurant. He'd witnessed Gustave's butchering process many times and understood the proper sequence.
"Shanks, I'll pour the scalding water while you scrape immediately," Ace instructed with surprising authority. "If you wait too long, the bristles will harden again and become impossible to remove!"
"Understood," Shanks replied, his professional tone indicating he'd finally accepted his fate.
Luffy brought over two large ladles, handing one to Ace while keeping the other for himself. Working in coordination, they scooped generous portions of bubbling water and poured them strategically across the wild boar's hide. The moment the hot water made contact, Shanks began scraping with Griffin's razor-sharp edge, his movements surprisingly skilled for someone claiming kitchen inexperience.
After marinating the deer with carefully selected seasonings, Gustave collected two large basins and headed toward the wild boar processing station. The whole deer roasting could be trusted to Tom's capable paws, but the organ preparation required his personal attention.
"Well, well—I didn't expect you to have such natural talent, Shanks!" Gustave observed with genuine surprise.
The 2,500-pound wild boar was nearly finished, its hide scraped smooth and clean under Shanks' methodical attention. Despite his earlier protests, the Emperor wielded his legendary blade with impressive domestic efficiency.
"Hmph!" Shanks pointedly ignored the chef who'd forced him into this humiliating situation.
"Very thorough job—not a bristle missed," Gustave continued his inspection, running his hand across the processed surface. "If piracy ever loses its appeal, you could make a decent living as a village butcher with skills like these!"
Shanks maintained his stoic silence, focusing entirely on his work while studiously avoiding eye contact.
Recognizing the futility of conversation, Gustave simply instructed Shanks to begin the butchering process before departing with his basins full of organ meat.
"Oh, and Shanks!" he called over his shoulder, "remember—half cut into chunks for stewing, half sliced for grilling tonight!"
As Gustave disappeared into the ship's interior, Shanks continued his work with Griffin, the legendary blade that had clashed with Mihawk now reduced to kitchen duty. Sometimes the greatest warriors faced their most challenging battles not on the high seas, but in the humble pursuit of feeding their friends and family.
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