Chapter 11: The Chef's Pride
"A kitchen? A knife? Are you insane?" I hissed. We were in the heart of an enemy fortress, our infiltration a success by the thinnest of margins, and this newly-freed man was making demands.
Vasco just shrugged, a painfully casual gesture for a man who was supposed to be dead in seven hours.
"First, I'm always hungry. Second, I'm always armed. My tools were confiscated. I'd like them back."
"Your 'tools'?" Riyon asked, his eyebrow raised.
"My knives," Vasco said, as if it were obvious. He flexed his long, calloused fingers.
"A chef is nothing without his blades. They took my personal roll. It's probably in their evidence locker, which is always near the kitchens. Two birds, one stone."
"We are not on a grocery run, cook," Riyon growled, his patience wearing thin.
"And I am not 'cook,'" Vasco snapped back, his voice dropping an octave, his fierce eyes locking with Riyon's.
"I am Chef Vasco. And I am not leaving this fortress without my blades. I'd rather face the executioner."
The sheer, unadulterated pride from him was a tangible thing. It was the same unbending, illogical, and absolute conviction that had made him defy a Celestial Dragon.
It was the same pride that fueled my Sunshine.
I understood him perfectly.
[Side Quest: The Chef's Pride] -> UPDATED!
Objective: Save Chef Vasco.
New Sub-Objective: A man's pride is in his tools. Retrieve Vasco's knives from the G-12 evidence locker.
Reward: (Unchanged)
"Fine," I said.
Riyon looked at me as if I'd grown a second head. "Captain? We are deep in enemy territory. The sun is hours from rising. We are at our weakest."
"And he is at his," I replied, nodding to Vasco. "We came here for him. We will leave with all of him. His pride included."
I looked at Vasco. "Where is the evidence locker?"
Vasco's sharp grin returned. "Follow me. I've heard the guards complaining for weeks. It's one floor up, adjacent to the main mess hall."
We moved. I was the point man, my Observation Haki the only thing keeping us alive. Vasco, despite his starvation, moved with a surprising, fluid grace, his long legs covering ground silently.
Riyon was our shadow, his hand a constant blur on his hilt, ready to end any life we encountered.
My mind was a razor's edge. [Glimpse of the Future: Patrol. 3 seconds.]
I'd pull the team into an alcove. [Glimpse of the Future: Cook pulling an all-nighter. 10 seconds.] I'd redirect us down a service ladder.
My new Haki was being pushed to its absolute limit, the strain giving me a pounding headache, but it worked.
We reached the mess hall. It was a huge, cavernous, and empty room.
"Locker is through there," Vasco whispered, pointing to a steel door marked 'Evidence & Larder.'
I checked. [Glimpse: Empty. Locked.]
Riyon stepped up, his Haki-coated blade already half-drawn. "Allow me."
"No," Vasco said, putting a hand on Riyon's chest. The swordsman tensed, and I saw a flash of killing intent from him.
But Vasco wasn't looking at him. He was sniffing the air. "Wait... do you smell that?"
I sniffed. Nothing but old grease and stale bread.
"That's... South Blue sea salt, double-cured ham, and... eight-year-aged Rofure cheese," Vasco breathed, his eyes wide with a religious reverence.
"They're wasting it. It's in the larder. The larder, Captain! It's a crime!"
Before I could stop him, he darted to the door. He didn't have a weapon, but he produced a thin metal shim from his boot.
"My last toothpick," he muttered. He slid it into the high-end lock. There was a click, click, shhhnk.
The heavy steel door swung open.
Riyon stared. "You... picked a Marine-grade lock."
"I was a chef on a luxury liner for ten years," Vasco said, walking into the dark room. "You learn to open things. Wine cellars, stubborn cabinets, the occasional locked pantry. Now... ah-ha!"
He strode past shelves of confiscated rum and illegal spices to a large wooden box. He broke the seal. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a leather roll.
He opened it, and I could feel the change in him. The tension left his shoulders, replaced by a craftsman's love.
He ran his fingers over a set of at least twenty blades, from a massive cleaver to a delicate, needle-thin paring knife. They were all beautiful, custom-made, with handles of polished cherry wood.
"My beauties," he whispered. Then his eyes went to the other side of the room.
"And... my dinner."
He crossed to the larder side, grabbing the ham, the cheese, and a loaf of bread. He was a whirlwind of silent motion. With a few deft cuts from one of his newly-retrieved knives, he'd assembled three thick, incredible-smelling sandwiches.
He handed one to me and one to Riyon. We both stared at him, dumbfounded.
"What?" he said, taking a massive bite of his own.
"We have a long night ahead. A lion, a wolf, and a fox... we should hunt on a full stomach, no?"
I looked at the sandwich. My Stamina: 13 body was screaming with hunger. I took a bite.
It was... divine. The flavors exploded in my mouth. It wasn't just food; it was a work of art. I felt a wave of warmth and energy spread through my body.
[Consumable Used: Vasco's Pride Sandwich (Masterwork)]
[Effect: [Well-Fed] buff. Stamina recovery +200% for 1 hour. Minor boost to all stats (+1).]
My Total Base Stats ticked up to 96/100.
I stared at Vasco, who was already wrapping more food "for the road."
"You... your food... just raised my stats," I said, my voice full of disbelief.
Vasco looked at me, his mouth full. "Of course it did. Food is life, Captain. Food is pride. Garbage in, garbage out. You eat the food of a master, your body responds." He grinned.
"Now I'm feeling much better. Shall we leave?"
"Yes," I said, a new, profound respect for this man settling in. He wasn't just a cook. He was a master of his craft, just as Riyon was a master of the sword.
We slipped back into the hallway, our bodies warm and energized.
"Which way out, Captain?" Riyon asked.
I closed my eyes, pushing my Observation Haki. [Glimpse: Alarm. Red lights. Soldiers. (Time: 1 minute.)]
My blood ran cold. "It's too late. Someone found the guards at the storm drain. The alarm is about to sound."
KLAAAXON! KLAAAXON! KLAAAXON!
The fortress exploded to life. Red lights painted the corridors, and the heavy thump of soldiers' boots echoed from every direction.
"So much for a quiet exit," Riyon sighed, drawing Nagasone Okisato.
"This way!" Elara's voice crackled over a Den Den Mushi she'd pressed into my hand earlier.
"I'm watching from the cliff! They're sealing the lower levels. You can't go back! You have to go up! Head for the parade ground! The execution platform!"
"That's the most heavily-guarded place in the fortress!" I yelled into the snail.
"It's also the most open! It's your only way out! I'll create a diversion on the east wall. You have five minutes! Go!"
Vasco tossed two of his gleaming knives into the air, catching them in a reverse grip. They were not kitchen tools. They were combat daggers.
"Parsley and Sage," he said with a deadly smile. "My two sharpest critics."
"Riyon," I ordered. "You're the vanguard. Clear a path. Vasco, you have my back. Let's move."
"A pleasure, Captain," Vasco grinned.
"Finally," Riyon breathed, his Haki coating his blade in a sheath of black energy.
The three of us, a pirate captain in his weakest form, a master swordsman, and a chef with a killer's eyes, charged the heart of the G-12 fortress.
(To be continued)