Before long Wayne saw the peg-legged Zeff stride in, Sanji and the rest of the kitchen brigade at his back.
"Wayne, why drag an old man out here?"
Wayne chuckled at the full turnout. "Nothing sinister. I have heard for years that Baratie's chefs are second to none, and I happen to cook a little myself. Thought I'd ask for a friendly contest."
Zeff froze, then burst out laughing. "You might beat us at singing or swordplay, but cooking? You are in our waters now."
Wayne only smiled and gestured politely. "The stove will decide."
"How do we judge the winner?"
Wayne glanced at the hungry guests. "Diners make the best critics. Let them vote with their taste buds."
Led by Zeff, they entered the gleaming galley. Racks of specialized knives lined the walls; crates of fresh produce filled the rear hatch.
Wayne hefted a cleaver clearly forged for carving Sea Kings. "Impressive kit, old man."
With a harrumph Zeff turned. "Sanji, you handle our side."
Wayne blinked. In the manga Sanji's peak was two years away, yet Zeff had just nominated him without hesitation. The other cooks showed no surprise clearly Sanji already eclipsed his mentor.
"Let's begin," Zeff said.
"After you."
They claimed adjacent ranges. Sanji chose a giant bullfrog-type Sea King, a monstrous whitefish, and assorted meats. Wayne selected a five-hundred-pound sea turtle, a long-sky duck, an old yellow steer, standard seasonings and, after a thought, a sack of Vitality Rice from his system. "A little boost never hurt," he mused.
Speed matters at sea: crews must be fed before battle or storm. A great pirate chef, therefore, must cook lightning-fast.
Sanji's style was power. He pounded meat again and again, breaking down fibers and locking in juices.
Wayne blended Earth techniques. The steer still chewed cud, tied near the door. Drawing a twenty-centimeter boning knife of his own forging, he pressed the tip to one horn and, in one breath, traced a line down horn, spine, belly, and tail. Ten seconds later he wiped the blade. The cow continued chewing then collapsed into neatly fanned layers of hide, flesh, bone, and offal. No pain, no waste: the ancient craft of Butcher Ding's Technique, perfected through a Great Swordsman's sense for muscle and edge.
An hour passed. Wayne exhaled first, plating his dishes; Sanji finished not half a minute later.
[System] Fifty-eight minutes of cooking completed.
• Culinary EXP +10 → Master 3 910 / 5 000.
• Life Points +10 → 2 350.
Wayne's menu:
Steamed Long-Sky Duck
Crystal-clear Beef-Bone Consommé
Old-Turtle Slow-broth
Braised Yellow-Steer Brisket
Bamboo-leaf Vitality Rice
Sanji's spread:
Char-grilled Bull-Frog Steaks
Buddha Jumps over the Wall
Dragon-and-Phoenix Supreme
Servers carried the platters to the dining room, where dozens of waiting patrons dug in. Diners were not told which chef prepared which dish; each simply marked favorite plates. One point per vote.
From the window Wayne and Sanji watched people devour their work a chef's proudest sight. Wayne lit a cigarette; Sanji patted empty pockets until Wayne offered him one.
"Didn't peg you for a master chef," Sanji admitted after a long drag.
"You are hardly shabby, and at your age."
"Quit talking like an old man," Sanji grumbled. "Tell me, do ladies really flock to you all the time?"
Wayne shrugged. "More tiring than you think."
Sanji exploded. "You ungrateful fiend!"
They bantered while tallies formed. With most cards counted the score stood at 128 for Wayne, 126 for Sanji razor-thin. Only two guests had not yet voted.