Don Krieg stared at the old chef, his mind reeling. The name was a ghost from a bygone era, a legend whispered in the darkest corners of the pirate world. "Red-Leg… Zeff?" he repeated, the name tasting like ash in his mouth. "You're supposed to be dead!"
Zeff just let out a gruff snort, completely unfazed. "Whether I'm dead or alive is none of your damn business. That name died a long time ago. I'm just a cook now."
A slow, cruel smile spread across Krieg's face. "A cook?" he mocked, his confidence returning. "Don't be so modest. You're not a cook by choice. You're a cook because you're a crippled has-been who can no longer fight! It's the only thing you can do."
Zeff's single eye narrowed, but he remained silent.
Krieg's voice boomed through the restaurant, recounting the legend for everyone to hear. "For those of you who are ignorant, let me tell you the story of Red-Leg Zeff! He was a fearsome pirate captain who sailed the Grand Line! He was also a masterful cook, and he held a sacred rule: he never used his hands in battle. They were for cooking only!"
He paused, letting the drama build. "Instead, he fought only with his legs! His kicks were like cannonballs, powerful enough to pulverize bedrock and leave a clear footprint indented in solid steel! He earned his epithet, 'Red-Leg,' because after every battle, his right leg would be dyed completely red in the blood of his enemies!"
He then pointed a golden-armored finger at Zeff's wooden peg leg. "The rumors said you went down with your ship in a storm. But you survived, didn't you? You only managed to survive by sacrificing that famous, powerful leg of yours! And without it, you're nothing! A toothless old lion, forced to retire and run this floating diner!"
Zeff just shrugged, his expression indifferent. "I still have my hands. That's all a cook needs."
"What are you getting at, Krieg?" Zeff asked, his voice sharp.
"It's simple," Krieg said, his eyes glinting with avarice. "You've been to the Grand Line. You conquered it and came back alive. That means you have a logbook. A complete record of that entire voyage. I want it."
Luffy's eyes lit up. "Whoa! You've been to the Grand Line, old man?!"
"I have the logbook," Zeff confirmed, ignoring Luffy. "But it's not for sale. It's a memento of the men who died under my command on that voyage. It's the only treasure I have left from that life. I'd rather die than give it to scum like you."
"Then I'll just have to take it by force!" Krieg declared. "Along with this ship! I admit, I came back from the Grand Line defeated! But that was only due to a lack of information! With your logbook, I will reassemble my fleet, I will conquer that sea, I will find the One Piece, and I will become the King of the Pirates!"
The fighting cooks of the Baratie, enraged by his arrogance, charged him, but were swatted away like flies.
The declaration, however, had awakened another dragon in the room.
Luffy stood up, his expression suddenly serious. "No," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I'm going to be the King of the Pirates."
The entire restaurant stared at the boy in the straw hat making such an insane claim. Zoro, sitting at a table with Usopp, just smirked. "Need a hand, Captain?"
"Nah, I can handle this myself," Luffy replied.
Krieg burst out laughing. "You? With this tiny, pathetic crew? Don't make me laugh, brat! Do you have any idea what you're up against? My fleet of fifty ships, a crew of over five thousand men, was wiped out in just seven days! Seven days! And you think your little band of misfits can conquer a sea like that?"
The number was staggering. Usopp's face turned white with terror. Zoro, however, leaned forward, his interest piqued.
Krieg, his monologue finished, turned his attention back to the cooks. "Now, food for my men!"
Krieg snatched the bag. He walked to the exit, then turned back. "I am a generous man. I will give you one hour. Hand over the logbook and this ship, or my men and I will return, and we will kill every last one of you." With that, he left.
The chefs immediately turned on Zeff, shouting in betrayal. But Zeff silenced them with a single, powerful question.
"Have any of you," he asked, his voice a low, heavy growl, "ever been truly starving, adrift on the sea with no hope of survival?"
The kitchen fell silent.
"Sanji understands," Zeff continued, justifying his sous chef's earlier actions. "To a man who is starving, it doesn't matter if you are a pirate or a marine. You are just a person in need of food. It is a cook's duty to feed the hungry. That is the code of the sea."
The chefs stood in stunned silence, their anger replaced by a grudging respect. They were faced with an ultimatum. Fight or flee. One by one, they picked up their cleavers, their pans, their weapons. They would fight for their home.
Gin, who had stood by silently, approached Sanji. "I'm sorry for this…"
"Don't be," Sanji said, lighting a cigarette. "I fed a hungry man. That's all. But now, the enemies of this restaurant are already fed. If you stand against us, I won't hesitate."
Luffy sat down at the table with his crew. "So, you guys approve of him now, right? He's gonna be our cook."
Usopp was too terrified by the 5,000-man army story to reply.
Luffy then turned to Gin. "Hey, you. What happened to you guys in the Grand Line?"
Gin trembled, the memory still fresh and terrifying. "It was… hell. A storm of blood. Our entire armada… fifty ships… was almost completely annihilated… by just one man."
The restaurant erupted in a commotion. One man?! One man took down the entire Krieg armada?
"Who was it?" Zoro asked, his voice suddenly sharp and intense.
Gin looked at him, his eyes wide with a terror that seemed to be carved into his very soul. He spoke the name as if it were a curse, a name known and feared by every swordsman in the world.
"The man who destroyed our fleet… was the one they call 'Hawk-Eye'…"
"…Dracule Mihawk."
Zoro froze. The world seemed to stop. His hand went instinctively to the hilt of his white sword. A look of shock, of disbelief, and of a terrifying, burning ambition flared in his single eye.
The man he had set out to sea to find, his life's ultimate goal.