The Baratie Sea Restaurant—its name meaning "battle"—was the most famous restaurant in the East Blue.
It operated under one iron rule: absolutely no wasting food.
Because of that, it employed a large number of fully armed "combat chefs." The restaurant itself was shaped like a gigantic ship, with fish-shaped figureheads mounted at the bow and stern.
To prevent fights from destroying the interior, the entire vessel could shift into a combat configuration—its hull unfolding into movable platforms from the bottom to the sides. That battlefield layout was known as the Fish Fins.
—
In the kitchen.
A young Sanji was carefully peeling potatoes, his mouth still running the whole time.
"Damn that old bastard… why won't he let me take the stove? What am I lacking? Even Patty and Carne can't cook better than me!"
"Shut it, brat."
The head chef, Zeff—nicknamed "Red-Leg"—owner and head chef of the Baratie, and formerly the captain of the Cook Pirates, stood over him with arms crossed.
His right lower leg was missing, replaced by a wooden peg leg. He looked down at the little runt like a mountain.
"Tch—old bastard! I'm not wrong! It's true!" Sanji yelled back.
"You little snot who still reeks of milk, and you want to take the stove?" Zeff sneered. "You're a hundred years too early!"
He lifted his peg leg.
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP—!
"AAAH—!!"
Sanji's screams echoed through the kitchen while the other chefs laughed their heads off, delighted to watch.
"Old bastard!" Sanji clutched his head, several fresh bumps swelling up, his face full of stubborn refusal.
"Hmph. Milk-breathing brat. Do your work—fetching and chopping is all you're good for." Zeff spoke like he didn't care, but there were flashes of approval in his eyes.
He knew exactly how hard his kicks were.
Yet when they landed on this kid, it was just a few bumps that would disappear in no time.
If he kicked anyone else like that, they'd be bedridden for days.
And this kid Zeff had saved back then—his heart was good, and he genuinely loved cooking.
Zeff had already made up his mind: he would pass down both his cooking and his leg techniques to this kid.
But first, he had to temper his personality.
At that age, the brat was already so lecherous—if he saw a pretty woman, he'd freeze on the spot.
Sanji kept yapping.
Zeff snapped back to himself. "Shut up. You talk too much."
He kicked Sanji over.
The kitchen erupted in laughter again as the little guy sprawled on the floor.
"Sanji got beat up by the boss again!"
"Go on, boss—kick him a few more times!"
"Shut up, you bastards." Zeff turned and glared.
The chefs immediately went quiet and returned to work like nothing happened.
Zeff sighed.
Thank god he could keep these troublemakers in line. Otherwise, this place would be fighting nonstop. The waiters would've been scared off ages ago—then the chefs would have to serve food themselves.
—
In the dining hall, a huge, vicious-looking man was rubbing his hands together with a polite smile as he stood at a table.
"Hello, valued guests. Your total comes to four hundred thousand berries," Patty said. "Will that be cash, or… another method?"
His face looked terrifying, but his expression was honest and almost simple.
A group of men who'd just finished eating looked at him sideways.
"Pfft."
The one who seemed like the leader spat out his toothpick and stood up. "Hey, cook. You know who I am?"
Patty kept smiling and shook his head sincerely. "Sir, I don't. So… cash, or—"
Click.
A pistol pressed to Patty's temple.
"Hehehe!"
A lackey grinned nastily. "Listen up, big guy. Our boss is a famous criminal around here. 'Little King Tyrant'—a three-million-berry bounty on his head."
"Listen carefully."
The lackey jabbed the gun harder. "Our boss has never paid for a meal in his life. Being allowed to cook for him is your honor."
At first, the customers looked frightened when they saw the gun.
But the moment they heard "eating without paying"—
They began backing away, making room, eyes wide with anticipation.
They were waiting.
Because Baratie's chefs were notorious for being impossible to mess with.
"Yeah!" one customer whispered excitedly. "I come here just to watch the cooks fight!"
Patty's smile finally faded. His face sank.
"So… you're saying you don't have money?"
"Bastard, didn't you hear what I said? Our boss never pays—"
Before the lackey could finish—
Patty's fist smashed into his head.
"AAAH—!"
The gunman flew out of the restaurant in a screaming arc.
The so-called "Little King Tyrant" hadn't even processed what happened before Patty dropped him with another punch.
"Damn you—how dare you hit us!" The remaining small-fry drew their swords and hacked at Patty.
"Go, Patty!" the customers cheered like lunatics, as if they were the ones fighting. "You're the strongest!"
"Hah!"
BAM BAM—!
In a few breaths, Patty knocked them all down. Then he rummaged through their pockets.
"Tch."
Patty looked at the bodies on the floor with disgust. "A bunch of broke trash trying to freeload. You've got ten thousand berries total."
He grinned. "Fine. I'll drag you to a Marine base and cash in your bounties. That'll cover the meal! Hahahaha!"
"Patty's amazing!" the customers swarmed him, cheering wildly. Free entertainment was always popular.
Patty put on that honest smile again and played along. "Don't worry, everyone—if you've got money to pay, the Baratie would never treat you like this!"
Zeff emerged from the kitchen after hearing the commotion. The moment he heard that, his face went dark.
"Patty," Zeff growled, "you broke another table."
The customers instantly returned to their seats and went back to eating quietly—as if nothing at all had happened.
Patty saw Zeff and immediately shrank. "Hehe… Boss, it's not my fault. Those scum were causing trouble and refusing to pay!"
Zeff sighed. The cooks here were all hot-tempered troublemakers.
He waved his hand. "Take them to the nearest Marine base and cash them in."
"Yes! Yes, Boss!" Patty hurriedly hoisted the unconscious men and rushed out.
No way he was sticking around longer—when the boss got mad, it was terrifying. He couldn't take many kicks.
Zeff was just about to order someone to clean up when—
Patty suddenly burst back in, face glowing with excitement.
"Boss Zeff—big customers are here!"
"Big customers?" Zeff blinked. "What big customers?"
"Come look, Boss! This is definitely big customers!" Patty grabbed Zeff and dragged him outside. "The kind who can actually pay!"
Zeff stepped out—and saw a massive ship gliding over the sea toward them.
A golden, ferocious dragon head at the bow gleamed brilliantly, so lifelike it seemed ready to roar.
The ship itself looked lavish and imposing.
That dragon head had been custom-forged by White Ghost out of pure gold.
Patty's eyes shone. "See, Boss? I told you! That dragon head looks like it's made of gold!"
Zeff's brow furrowed. A memory surfaced—something he'd seen in the newspaper not long ago.
"That's… the Dragon Emperor."
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