Zeff's ultimatum hung in the air, as sharp and heavy as a butcher's cleaver. "If you want to go be a pirate and chase after some girl, then go. We don't need a lovesick sous chef here anyway."
Sanji's love-struck expression flickered, replaced by a look of deep, painful conflict. He looked at Nami, then back at the formidable, peg-legged old man who was both his mentor and his jailer. He took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face like a shroud.
The two chefs stood locked in a silent battle of wills, an argument that had clearly played out a hundred times before.
"I'm not leaving," Sanji finally said, his voice a low growl, "until you die, you shitty old geezer."
Zeff just let out a hearty, barking laugh. "Then you'll be washing dishes here for another hundred years, you little eggplant! Now get back to work!"
With the tense standoff broken, Sanji's demeanor shifted instantly back to that of a suave, professional host. He glided over to the Straw Hats' table, a fresh plate of exquisitely arranged fruit parfait in his hands.
He placed it gently in front of Nami, his eye once again a spinning heart. "For you, my lovely Nami-swan! A dessert as sweet as your smile, on the house, of course."
He then turned to the other three and unceremoniously slammed three glasses of water down on the table. "Here's your dessert. Drink up."
Usopp exploded. "HEY! WHAT IS THIS?! Where's our parfait?! This is blatant and unfair discrimination against the non-female clientele!"
Nami, however, saw her advantage and seized it with practiced ease. She gave Sanji a dazzling, innocent smile. "Oh, Sanji-san, you're too kind. But I'm feeling a little thirsty… Could I possibly trouble you for one of your special Sunset Cocktails?"
"But of course, my melody! Anything for you!" Sanji cooed, gliding away towards the bar.
Zoro just shook his head, a smirk on his face. "You're a tricky one, witch."
Nami took a delicate bite of her parfait. "In a world of pirates and monsters, a girl's got to use the weapons she has," she said with a wink. "You boys should be careful, too. You might learn something."
Two days passed. Luffy spent them working off his debt, a chaotic whirlwind of broken dishes, misplaced orders, and accidentally eating customers' food. He was, by all accounts, the worst chore-boy in the history of the Baratie.
On the third day, a shadow fell over the restaurant.
It was a ship, but to call it a ship was an understatement. It was a behemoth, a massive, intimidating galleon three times the size of the Baratie itself. Its prow was adorned with a fearsome, golden lion's head, and from its mast flew the terrifying jolly roger of the most powerful pirate armada in the East Blue.
The chefs and customers on the Baratie's decks froze, their faces draining of color.
"That… that flag…" one of the cooks stammered. "It can't be…"
"The Dreadnaught Sabre," Zeff growled from the upper deck, his single eye narrowed. "The flagship of the Krieg Pirate Armada."
"Don Krieg?!" the patrons cried, a wave of pure terror washing through the restaurant. "What is the ruler of the East Blue doing here?!"
But as the colossal ship drifted closer, it became apparent that something was terribly wrong. The sails were shredded and tattered. The hull was splintered and peppered with countless cannonball holes. Smoke billowed from its lower decks. It wasn't a conquering vessel; it was a ghost ship, a wounded beast that had crawled here to die.
The main entrance of the Baratie was lowered. A tense silence fell over the restaurant as everyone watched the wreck of a galleon.
A single figure appeared on its deck, half-carrying another, much larger man. It was Gin. He looked healthier than before, but his face was grim. The man he was supporting was a horrifying sight. Encased in battered, golden-spiked armor, his body was frail and emaciated. His face was gaunt, his eyes sunken, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. It was Don Krieg, but he was a shadow of his fearsome reputation.
Gin helped his captain into the restaurant. Krieg collapsed onto the floor, his voice a weak, desperate rasp.
"Water… Food… Please… We haven't eaten in days… We're starving…"
The dining hall erupted in a flurry of panicked whispers. The great Don Krieg, begging for food.
Patty, the fighting cook, saw an opportunity. "Don't give him anything!" he shouted. "This is our chance! Call the Marines! We can claim the massive bounty on his head while he's weak!"
But Sanji was already walking towards the kitchen.
"Sanji, wait!" Carne, another cook, grabbed his arm. "Are you crazy?! That's Don Krieg! He's a monster, a treacherous demon! He's famous for his foul play! He'll betray any kindness you show him! Giving him food is like handing a knife back to your own murderer!"
Sanji just shook his arm free, his expression unreadable behind a curtain of cigarette smoke.
"To a cook," he said, his voice quiet but firm, "anyone who is hungry is a customer. That is all."
He disappeared into the kitchen, ignoring the protests of his colleagues. A few moments later, he emerged with a plate of steaming fried rice and a pitcher of fresh water. He knelt down and placed it in front of the starving pirate admiral.
Don Krieg didn't hesitate. He devoured the food ravenously, like a wild animal, stuffing handfuls of rice into his mouth, gulping down water. Color began to return to his face. Strength visibly flowed back into his frail body. Gin watched, his eyes filled with a profound gratitude towards the blond cook.
Krieg finished the last grain of rice. He took a deep, steadying breath. He looked up at Sanji, who was standing over him, waiting patiently.
And then, he struck.
BAM!
With a burst of renewed strength, he slammed his armored fist into Sanji's gut, sending the unsuspecting cook flying across the room.
Gin stared, his face a mask of pure, disbelieving horror. "D-Don Krieg…?! What are you doing?! He saved your life!"
Don Krieg slowly rose to his feet, his full, imposing height returning. The weakness was gone, replaced by an arrogant, cruel power. He looked around the restaurant, at the terrified faces of the chefs and customers, at the fine woodwork and sturdy structure of the ship.
A wide, predatory smile spread across his face.
"Excellent food. This ship will suit my armada perfectly."
"I'm taking it."