The Baratie floated on the sea like a majestic beast — part ship, part fortress, part five-star restaurant. Golden fish-shaped ornaments stretched across its sides, the upper deck glittered in the sun, and laughter and music spilled out from the dining hall windows.
Luffy pressed his face to the railing. "FOOD! REAL FOOD!!"
Usopp blinked, eyes wide. "It's… a giant restaurant ship?!"
Zoro shrugged. "Smells better than the last tavern."
Rex stood at the edge of the deck, hands in his coat pockets, eyes narrowed as the Baratie came closer. The wind was wrong here. Not dangerous. Just… off.
Too much life.
Too many people.
Too many eyes.
[…Combat trace in proximity: close-range burst type. Target exhibits passive leg-based stance. Combat muscle density detected: refined.]
"Someone strong's working the kitchen," Rex muttered.
Nami glanced at him. "You already sensed that?"
He didn't answer.
He was already staring at the Baratie's entrance.
Inside the Baratie – Main Dining Hall
It was loud.
Full.
Alive.
Guests from all corners of the sea laughed over meat and wine. A jazz band played in the corner, and chefs shouted over sizzling flames behind the swinging kitchen doors.
Then—
CRASH!!!
A sailor flew backward through the double doors, landing face-first on a serving cart, groaning.
"GET OUTTA MY KITCHEN IF YOU DON'T KNOW HOW TO COOK SALT!"
The voice was low. Rough. Blunt.
And then he walked out.
Sanji.
Blond hair covering one eye. Cigarette in his mouth. Hands in his pockets.
He looked like he didn't care about anyone.
Until his eyes landed on Nami.
"Oh…"
His voice lowered into a purr.
"…An angel walks into my dining room?"
Nami blinked. "Huh?"
Rex stepped in behind her, and Sanji's eyes briefly shifted.
From charming…
To sharp.
And they locked with Rex's.
For a second, nothing moved.
[…High-level leg-based combat stance detected. Passive control of kinetic momentum: confirmed. Subject specializes in low-to-mid aerial bursts. Fighting style matches Black-Leg lineage. Caution advised.]
Rex didn't break eye contact.
Sanji took a slow drag of his cigarette.
"You don't look like a customer."
"I'm not," Rex said evenly.
"You a pirate?"
"Yes."
"Captain?"
"No."
Sanji's eyes narrowed. "Strange. You carry yourself like one."
"I don't follow flags," Rex said. "Only purpose."
Nami cleared her throat. "Okay, boys, let's dial down the testosterone and maybe eat?"
Luffy had already sat down at a table and started ordering the entire menu.
"MEAT! MEAT! FISH! MORE MEAT!"
Sanji exhaled smoke. "Fine. I'll cook. But don't make trouble in my galley."
He turned.
Rex's voice stopped him.
"You kick everyone who talks back to you?"
Sanji paused. "Only the ones who talk too loud."
"Then I'll whisper next time I knock you down."
The dining room went silent.
Chairs scraped back.
Zoro chuckled under his breath. "Here we go…"
Sanji turned back, slowly. "You want to try it now, pretty boy?"
Rex stepped forward.
"Outside."
Behind the Baratie – Upper Deck
The sun dipped low, casting golden streaks across the sea.
The restaurant staff gathered around the rails, eager for the brawl.
Zeff, the head chef, leaned on his cane with a sigh. "These damn kids again…"
Sanji stood tall, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his cigarette.
"I don't pull punches, pal."
Rex rolled his shoulders, loose and precise.
"Neither do I."
[…Phantom Drift engaged. Combat rhythm aligned. Style deployed: Michaeler Form – Flowing Wind.]
They both vanished.
Then—
CLASH!
Sanji's foot came in high — swift, elegant.
Rex ducked under it, spun, and threw a low sweep.
Sanji leapt, twisted mid-air, and brought his heel down like an axe.
Rex stepped to the side, floating off the ground with Grav-Shift, letting the kick crash into the deck with a loud CRACK.
The impact made the railing rattle.
Then Rex came in close — a blur of elbows and knees.
Sanji blocked with his forearm, leaned in, and spun — delivering a flaming roundhouse that skimmed inches from Rex's chin.
Rex smirked.
"You use fire in your kicks?"
Sanji grinned. "You haven't seen fire yet."
He lunged again — faster.
Rex dodged every blow like water bending around stone, his eyes locked on Sanji's shoulders, reading every twitch, every angle.
A strike came in from above —
Rex stepped forward instead of back, caught Sanji's leg in the crook of his arm, and slammed his shoulder into the chef's ribs.
Sanji hit the deck but flipped to his feet instantly, panting.
"…You're not just fast."
"I've been trained," Rex said softly. "By ghosts this world tried to forget."
Sanji stood, cigarette now cracked in half.
"…Michaelers," he whispered.
The crowd stirred.
Rex's eyes narrowed. "You've heard of them?"
Sanji nodded slowly. "Legends. Some say they vanished before the World Government could name them. Others say they were never real to begin with."
"They were real," Rex said. "I'm standing here."
Sanji chuckled. "Well then…"
He dropped into stance again.
"…Let's see how real you are."
Thirty seconds later
BOOM—!!
The deck split under the shockwave of the final clash.
Sanji lay flat on the ground, hair messy, lip bleeding, laughing.
Rex stood over him, calm, breathing slow, coat barely rustled.
"You win," Sanji said, coughing smoke.
"You're good," Rex said. "But you fight to defend something."
"…A kitchen. A dream."
Rex offered him a hand.
Sanji took it.
They clasped arms.
"Join us," Rex said. "We'll need someone who can cook. And kick."
Sanji looked at him.
Then at Nami.
"…I'll think about it."