Don Krieg ate like a man returned from death.
The entire restaurant watched in silence as the golden-armored pirate captain devoured plate after plate, his hands shaking from weakness but moving with desperate speed.
Sanji stood nearby, arms crossed, cigarette dangling from his lips. He'd prepared the food himself—simple, nutritious dishes designed to restore strength without overwhelming a starving body.
When Krieg finally stopped, his plate empty, he sat back and let out a long breath.
Then his eyes opened—cold, calculating, and completely devoid of gratitude.
"Where's the owner?" Krieg's voice was rough but commanding.
Zeff stepped forward, his peg leg clicking against the wooden floor. "That'd be me."
Krieg stood, and even weakened, he was massive—easily over seven feet tall, his golden armor dented and scorched but still imposing.
"I need your logbook," Krieg said flatly. "And this ship. Hand them over."
The restaurant erupted in protests.
"You've got some nerve!" Patty shouted. "We just fed you!"
Krieg's eyes swept across the room, and his smile was cruel. "I'm Don Krieg. Commander of the largest pirate fleet in East Blue. You fed me, so I'll give you a choice—hand over what I want peacefully, or I'll take it by force."
Shiro, still sitting at their table, took a sip of his coffee and spoke without looking up. "You had the largest fleet. Past tense."
Krieg's head snapped toward him. "What did you say?"
Shiro finally looked up, his purple eyes calm and unbothered. "I said had. You came in here with one ship and a handful of men. That's not a fleet. That's survivors."
Krieg's jaw tightened. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Grand Line," Shiro said simply. "You went there, didn't you? And something destroyed your fleet. Something so far beyond you that fifty ships meant nothing."
The color drained from Gin's face.
Krieg's expression turned murderous. "How do you—"
"I'm observant," Shiro interrupted, his tone still infuriatingly casual. "And you're standing in a restaurant threatening people who just saved your life. That tells me you're desperate, scared, and not thinking clearly."
Krieg's hand moved to his weapon—a massive spiked shoulder pad that doubled as a shield. "I'll kill you for that."
"No," Luffy said, standing up. "You won't."
Everyone turned to look at the straw-hatted captain.
Luffy's expression was serious, his usual grin completely gone. "You said you'd take this ship by force. That means you're gonna hurt the people who fed you. I can't let that happen."
Krieg laughed—a harsh, bitter sound. "And what's a brat like you going to do about it?"
Luffy cracked his knuckles. "I am going to beat you up."
The tension in the restaurant was suffocating.
Then Krieg raised his arm, and a dozen men burst through the doors—his remaining crew, armed and ready.
"Kill them all," Krieg ordered. "Take the ship."
Chaos erupted.
Krieg's pirates flooded into the restaurant, weapons drawn, shouting threats.
The Baratie cooks immediately grabbed whatever was nearby—knives, pans, ladles—and charged into battle with the practiced efficiency of people who'd done this before.
Patty swung a massive frying pan like a club, sending two pirates flying. "You think you can trash our restaurant?! Think again! You pirate scum."
Sanji kicked a pirate in the face, his leg moving so fast it was almost invisible. "Get out of my kitchen, trash."
Zoro drew his swords with a grin. "Finally. Some action."
"Wait," Shiro said, still sitting at the table.
Zoro paused. "What?"
Shiro gestured lazily at the chaos. "Let the cooks handle the small fry. Krieg's the real problem. And—" His eyes flicked toward the door. "—we have bigger concerns incoming."
Zoro frowned. "What concerns?"
Shiro's smile was enigmatic. "You'll see. Just... don't do anything stupid when it arrives."
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
Shiro took another sip of coffee. "You'll know when you see it."
Zoro's eye twitched with irritation, but before he could respond, one of Krieg's pirates charged at their table.
Shiro didn't even look. He just raised one finger, and the pirate froze mid-swing, suspended in the air by invisible force.
"Excuse me," Shiro said politely. "We're having a conversation."
He flicked his finger, and the pirate flew backward, crashing into three others.
Usopp, who'd been hiding under the table, poked his head out. "That was so cool!"
"Stay down," Shiro advised. "Things are about to get messy."
Nami had drawn her staff, her eyes sharp and alert. "Should we help?"
"In a minute," Shiro said. "First, let's see what Sanji can do."
In the center of the restaurant, Sanji stood across from Gin, who'd drawn twin tonfa and was breathing hard.
"I don't want to fight you," Gin said quietly. "You saved my life."
Sanji lit a fresh cigarette. "Then don't. Walk away."
Gin's hands tightened on his weapons. "I can't. Captain's orders are absolute."
Sanji sighed. "Then I guess I'm kicking your ass."
Gin charged.
The fight was fast and brutal. Gin was skilled—his tonfas moving in precise arcs, blocking and striking with efficiency born from years of combat.
But Sanji was on another level.
Every kick was placed perfectly—not to kill, but to disable. Strike the joints. Target the pressure points. Keep the enemy off-balance.
Gin swung his tonfa at Sanji's head. Sanji ducked, spun, and his leg swept up in a devastating arc that caught Gin under the chin.
Gin stumbled back, blood dripping from his mouth.
"You're good," Sanji said, exhaling smoke. "But you're fighting with hesitation. That'll get you killed."
Gin wiped the blood away. "I owe you my life. How can I fight without hesitation?"
Sanji's expression softened for just a moment. "Then surrender. I won't think less of you."
Gin stood there, conflicted, his weapons trembling.
Then Krieg's voice cut through the chaos. "Gin! Kill him, or I'll kill you myself!"
Gin's eyes went wide, and he charged again—faster, more desperate.
Sanji met him head-on.
The exchange was rapid-fire—tonfa strikes met with spinning kicks, each impact echoing through the restaurant like thunder.
Finally, Sanji saw his opening.
"Collier Shoot!"
His leg shot upward, catching Gin directly in the neck. The impact was devastating.
Gin collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Sanji stood over him, breathing hard, then crouched down and closed Gin's eyes gently. "Sleep it off. You're a good guy stuck with a bad captain."
With Gin defeated, Krieg's attention turned fully to Luffy.
"You've got guts, brat," Krieg said, drawing a massive spiked club from his armor. "But guts won't save you from the strongest man in East Blue."
Luffy tilted his head and adjusted his Straw-hat. "Strongest? I don't think so."
Krieg's smile was vicious. "Then let me show you."
He swung his club with devastating force. Luffy dodged easily, his Observation Haki reading the attack before it came.
Krieg followed up with a barrage of punches, each one backed by his armor's mechanical enhancements.
Luffy weaved through them like water, his movements effortless.
"You're slow," Luffy said, his tone almost disappointed.
Krieg's face turned red with rage. "SLOW?!"
He activated something on his armor, and suddenly spikes shot out from his shoulders, his chest, his arms—turning him into a walking pincushion of death.
"Mighty Battle Spear!" Krieg roared, charging forward.
Luffy's eyes sharpened. "Gear Second."
Pink steam erupted from his body, and he vanished.
Krieg's eyes went wide. "What—?!"
Luffy reappeared behind him. "Too slow."
"Gomu Gomu no—Jet Pistol!"
The punch connected with Krieg's back, sending him crashing through three tables and into a wall.
Krieg struggled to stand, coughing blood. "Impossible... I'm Don Krieg... the strongest..."
Luffy walked toward him, steam still rising. "You're not the strongest. Not even close. A guy who relies on fake protection will never be the strongest."
Krieg's eyes filled with rage and desperation. He reached into his armor and pulled out a small, round bomb. "If I can't win... then we all die together!"
He hurled the bomb.
It exploded mid-air—not from hitting anything, but from Shiro catching it telekinetically and detonating it safely above the restaurant.
The shockwave rattled the windows but hurt no one.
Shiro stood up from his table, finally joining the fight properly. "That's enough property damage for one day."
Luffy grinned. "Thanks, Shiro!"
Krieg stared in disbelief. "What... what are you people?!"
Luffy's final punch—a simple, non-Gear Second strike—caught Krieg in the jaw and sent him flying out of the restaurant entirely, crashing into the ocean with a massive splash.
Silence fell.
Then the cooks erupted into cheers.
During the chaos, Nami and Usopp had been dealing with the stragglers—pirates trying to flank or escape.
Nami moved like a dancer, her staff cracking against skulls and knees, always staying out of reach. But several pirates had guns, and bullets started flying.
One headed straight for her head—
—and stopped.
A faint purple shimmer appeared in the air, a psychic barrier absorbing the bullet harmlessly.
Nami glanced back at Shiro, who gave her a lazy salute from across the room.
You're welcome, his mental voice echoed.
Nami smiled despite herself. Show-off.
Always.
Meanwhile, Usopp had climbed onto a chandelier, raining down pellets from above.
"BEHOLD!" Usopp shouted. "THE GREAT CAPTAIN USOPP'S ULTIMATE ATTACK!"
He fired a pellet that exploded in a cloud of what looked like smoke—but smelled absolutely horrific.
The pirates caught in the cloud immediately started gagging and vomiting.
"WHAT IS THAT?!" one of them screamed.
Usopp grinned maniacally. "Rotten eggs, spoiled fish, and my secret ingredient—three-day-old chum!"
Another pirate tried to charge through the cloud, only to slip on something slick Usopp had spread on the floor earlier.
"And that's my special 'banana peel oil'!" Usopp cackled. "You can't defeat Captain Usopp's eight thousand strategies!"
Sanji, watching from the kitchen entrance, shook his head but was smiling. These guys are insane. But... they're not bad.
Just as the last of Krieg's men were being tied up, the entire restaurant went dark.
Not from night—from a shadow.
Everyone looked toward the entrance.
A single figure stood silhouetted on a coffin like boat, backlit by sunlight. He was tall, lean, wearing a wide-brimmed hat with a feather, and carrying something on his back.
A sword. A massive, ornate sword.
The air itself seemed to grow heavy.
Zoro's eyes went wide, his hand instinctively moving to his swords. "That presence..."
Shiro was already standing, his expression serious for the first time since the fight began. "Zoro. Don't."
Zoro ignored him, stepping forward. "That's..."
The figure entered the restaurant's view fully, and his face came into view—sharp features, golden eyes like a hawk, and an aura of absolute, terrifying power.
Dracule Mihawk. The greatest swordsman in the world.
"I followed a pirate ship here," Mihawk said, his voice cold and disinterested. "Don Krieg's flagship. I was bored."(Shiro giggled thinking, maybe he just saw you poop in the sea while entering the grandline. Unlucky guy. Why would you chase him for so long otherwise?)
Krieg, still floating in the water outside, paled. "It was you... you destroyed my fleet for loo..."
Mihawk glanced at him with mild disdain cutting him off. "You were in my way."
Zoro drew his swords, his entire body trembling—not with fear, but with excitement. "Dracule Mihawk. I've been looking for you."
Mihawk's golden eyes settled on Zoro. "Oh? And why would a swordsman of your level seek me out?"
Zoro's grin was feral. "To beat you. To become the greatest."
Mihawk's expression didn't change. "Ambitious. And foolish."
Zoro started walking toward the door—
—and stopped.
He couldn't move.
Not frozen completely, but every step forward felt like wading through tar. Invisible resistance pushed against him from all sides.
"What the—" Zoro turned, glaring. "Shiro! Let me go!"
Shiro stood with one hand raised, his expression calm but firm. "No."
Zoro's eye blazed. "I said LET ME GO!"
"And I said no," Shiro repeated, his tone infuriatingly level. "Not yet."
"Why?!"
Shiro's smile was enigmatic. "Because I said so."
Zoro's entire body shook with frustration. "THAT'S NOT A REASON!"
"It's the only reason you're getting."
Mihawk watched this exchange with mild interest. "Your crewmate is stopping you."
Zoro growled. "He won't for long."
Shiro tilted his head. "Wanna bet?"
Zoro tried to push forward again, but the psychic resistance increased. It felt like trying to walk through a wall.
"This is ridiculous!" Zoro shouted. "I need to fight him! This is my dream!"
Shiro's expression finally grew serious. "I know. And you will. But not right now."
"WHY NOT?!"
Shiro's voice dropped, quiet but firm. "Because you're not ready."
Zoro froze, his eyes wide with shock.
"You're strong," Shiro continued. "Stronger than most. But Mihawk is the peak. The absolute ceiling of what a swordsman can be. If you fight him now, you won't just lose. You'll understand the gap between you and the top. And that understanding will either break you or forge you."
Zoro's jaw tightened. "I won't break."
"I know." Shiro's smile returned, but it was softer now. "That's why I'm going to let you fight him. In about thirty seconds."
Zoro blinked. "What?"
Shiro lowered his hand, and the psychic pressure vanished.
Zoro stumbled forward, catching himself. "You... you were messing with me?!"
Shiro's grin was infuriating. "I wanted to see how long it took for you to figure it out."
Zoro's eye twitched violently. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"
"Later," Shiro said, waving him off. "You've got a Warlord to fight."
Mihawk, who'd watched this entire exchange, spoke for the first time in minutes. "Your crew is entertaining."
Luffy bounced grinning at the appreciation and nodded. "They're the best!"
Mihawk's eyes returned to Zoro. "Very well. If you wish to challenge me, I'll allow it. But know this—I don't hold back for those who seek death."
Zoro's smile was sharp as a blade. "Good. Neither do I."
They moved the fight outside to avoid destroying Baratie entirely.
Krieg's ship—what was left of it—floated nearby, half-sunk and battered.
Mihawk stood on the deck of a small boat, his massive sword—Yoru—still strapped to his back.
Zoro stood across from him on a floating piece of debris, all three swords drawn.
The entire crew, the cooks, and even the remaining conscious pirates gathered at the railing to watch.
Sanji stood beside Luffy, arms crossed, cigarette smoke curling upward. "Is he serious? That's Dracule Mihawk. One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea."
Luffy nodded. "Yep."
"And your swordsman is just... going to fight him?"
"Yep. He is just following his dream."
Sanji stared at Luffy. "Your crew is insane."
Luffy's grin widened. "I know!"
Shiro stood at the railing, his awareness fully extended, tracking every detail of the fight about to unfold.
Nami grabbed his arm. "Shiro, he's going to get killed! Stop him!"
Shiro's voice was quiet. "I can't. This is his fight. His dream."
"But—"
"He knows the risk," Shiro interrupted gently. "And he chose it anyway. All we can do is watch and be ready to catch him when he falls."
Usopp was trembling. "This is bad. This is really, really bad."
Shiro smiled faintly. "Maybe. Or maybe this is exactly what Zoro needs."
Zoro attacked first.
"Oni Giri!"
His swords flashed, three simultaneous strikes aimed at vital points.
Mihawk didn't move.
He simply raised one hand—and pulled a tiny crucifix-shaped knife from his necklace.
Zoro's eyes went wide. "A knife?!"
Mihawk's voice was cold. "A sword is wasted on the weak. This is sufficient."
The insult hit harder than any blade.
Zoro roared and attacked again—faster, stronger, pouring everything into each strike.
Mihawk blocked every single one with the tiny knife, moving with minimal effort, his expression unchanged.
"Is this all?" Mihawk asked.
Zoro's jaw clenched. "Not even close."
He sheathed his swords briefly, taking a stance. "Tora Gari!"
The attack was devastating—precise, powerful, designed to cut through armor.
Mihawk blocked it with the knife.
Zoro's swords vibrated from the impact, and he stumbled back, breathing hard.
Mihawk finally spoke, his tone almost... educational, impressed by his observation haki and wild instincts. "You have potential. But you lack refinement. Your strength is raw. Your technique is visible. Against a true master, that's fatal."
Zoro's eyes blazed. "Then I'll just have to hit you harder!"
"Three Sword Style Secret Technique—" Zoro crossed his blades. "—Sanzen Sekai!"
He spun, all three swords creating a vortex of cutting force.
Mihawk sighed and finally drew Yoru.
The massive black blade gleamed in the sunlight.
And with one casual swing—
—Zoro's attack shattered.
The force of Mihawk's counter sent Zoro flying backward, crashing onto the deck of Krieg's ruined ship.
Blood splattered across the wood.
"ZORO!" Luffy shouted starting to move towards Zoro to check on him.
Shiro's hand shot out, stopping Luffy from jumping in. "Wait."
Zoro struggled to stand, his chest bleeding from a deep cut, his breathing ragged.
But his eyes—his eyes were still burning.
"Why do you continue?" Mihawk asked. "You know you cannot win."
Zoro raised his hands widely showing his open torso with Wado Ichimonji alone in his hand. "Because... scars on the back are a swordsman's shame."
Mihawk's expression shifted—just slightly. Respect.
"Excellent" Mihawk said. Zoro rushed for a Iai strike.
Mihawk's blade moved like cutting through matter itself—a single, perfect strike.
Yoru cut through Zoro's sword, through his defense, across his chest in a massive X-shaped wound.
Zoro collapsed.
But before he fell, he forced himself upright, arms spread wide, offering his chest.
Mihawk stared at him, then lowered Yoru. "State your name."
"Roronoa Zoro."
"I will remember it." Mihawk sheathed his sword. " Learn your opponents, Travel and challenge opponents, Find your path and grow strong enough to challenge me at the summit. I will be waiting for you."
And with that, Mihawk turned and walked back to his boat.
Zoro rasped, blood pouring down his body. "I solemnly swear, from this moment forward, that I will never lose again! Until the day comes when I defeat him and take his title!" Tears falling from his eyes. Luffy accepted the vow with calm determination.
Shiro took a picture of Zoro crying for future memories.
Zoro finally fell backward, unconscious.
The entire restaurant was silent.
Then Luffy moved—faster than anyone had ever seen him move, catching Zoro before he hit the deck.
"ZORO!"
Shiro was already there, his hands glowing with psychic energy, slowing the bleeding, stabilizing Zoro's vital signs.
"He's alive," Shiro said, his voice tension filled. "But we need a doctor."
Sanji stared at the scene—at the crew that had faced a Warlord without hesitation, at the swordsman who'd rather die than retreat, at the captain who looked ready to fight the world for his crew.
They're insane, Sanji thought.
But...
He looked at the unconscious Zoro, at Luffy's desperate face, at Shiro working calmly to save his crewmate.
They're real. They believe in their dreams. And they'll die for each other.
Sanji took a long drag of his cigarette.
Maybe... maybe I want to sail with people like that