Since Daigo had entrusted the ramen selection to him, Gustave naturally chose to prepare classic beef ramen—a hearty dish perfect for someone recovering from cosmic-level injuries.
However, authentic beef ramen required hours of careful soup preparation, time they didn't have in the normal flow of events. Fortunately, the Gate of All Worlds offered a solution. Using Chu Zihang as an anchor point, Gustave traveled to the Dragon Raja world where time moved differently, allowing him to craft the perfect broth without keeping his guests waiting.
The foundation of exceptional beef ramen lay in the soup, and that began with proper preparation of the beef bones and meat. In the Dragon Raja world's modern kitchen he'd established, Gustave started by soaking both in cold water for two hours, allowing the blood and impurities to leach out naturally—a crucial step that many amateur cooks skipped, resulting in cloudy, off-flavored broth.
But here, Gustave could employ techniques impossible for ordinary chefs.
Once the soaking was complete, he arranged the beef bones in his largest stockpot, layering the meat on top. Instead of simply adding water and hoping for the best, Gustave placed his hands on either side of the pot and generated a subtle electromagnetic field. The field penetrated deep into the bones, using controlled microcurrents to break down the collagen and marrow more efficiently than heat alone ever could.
"Attendrissement électrique," he murmured—electrical tenderizing, a technique he'd developed through months of experimentation with his Devil Fruit powers.
The electromagnetic pulses worked at the molecular level, disrupting the tough connective tissues while leaving the meat's essential proteins intact. What would normally require six hours of slow cooking could now be achieved in two, with superior results.
As the mixture came to a boil, Gustave demonstrated another innovation. Rather than manually skimming foam with a ladle, he generated a weak electromagnetic field across the pot's surface. The proteins and impurities, many of which contained trace metals, were gently drawn toward one side where he could remove them in a single, efficient motion.
"Much more precise than the old method," he noted with satisfaction, watching the broth maintain perfect clarity.
While beef bone broth alone could serve as a ramen base, Gustave's version required the complexity that only proper spicing could provide. From his carefully curated collection, he selected dried ginger, cumin, black pepper, cardamom, star anise, cinnamon, galangal, nutmeg, lemongrass, and Sichuan peppercorns.
But rather than simply bundling them in cheesecloth, Gustave employed his most delicate technique. Holding each spice between his fingers, he generated minute electrical charges—not enough to damage the delicate oils, but sufficient to fracture the cellular walls and release flavor compounds that would normally remain locked away.
The star anise, in particular, benefited from this treatment. Under careful electrical stimulation, its essential oils transformed, developing a deeper, more complex licorice note that would elevate the entire broth. The Sichuan peppercorns crackled softly as their numbing compounds activated, promising a subtle tingling finish.
He bundled the enhanced spices in fine cheesecloth before adding them to the pot, ensuring easy removal while maximizing flavor extraction.
The secret to transcendent broth lay not just in patient simmering, but in maintaining the perfect thermal gradient. Here, Gustave's powers truly shone. Instead of relying on the stove's uneven heat distribution, he created a controlled electromagnetic field around the entire pot.
The field generated heat from within the liquid itself, maintaining precise temperatures throughout the vessel. The bottom remained at a gentle 185°F—hot enough to extract flavor without violent boiling—while the surface held steady at 180°F to prevent excessive evaporation. Most remarkably, he could adjust the temperature in different zones: slightly hotter near the bones to maximize collagen extraction, cooler around the spices to prevent their delicate oils from turning bitter.
"Contrôle thermique parfait," he whispered, watching the broth maintain that magical state where it barely moved, allowing the bones to release their essence while preventing the violent agitation that would cloud his soup.
During the controlled simmer, he turned his attention to the noodles themselves—another area where his powers could elevate traditional technique.
Hand-pulled ramen was as much art as technique, requiring the kind of muscle memory that came only from years of practice. Gustave combined flour, water, and a pinch of salt, but his mixing method was uniquely his own.
As he worked the dough, he generated a low-frequency electromagnetic field that aligned the gluten proteins more efficiently than mechanical kneading alone. The invisible force guided the protein chains into optimal formations, creating the internal structure that would give his noodles their characteristic bounce.
The electromagnetic massage also warmed the dough slightly, activating the gluten development without the harsh friction that could toughen the final product. What normally required twenty minutes of aggressive kneading was accomplished in ten, with superior results.
The dough had to rest after initial mixing, but even here Gustave found improvement. By maintaining a gentle electromagnetic field around the covered dough, he created the ideal environment for gluten relaxation—perfectly even temperature distribution without the hot spots that traditional warming methods produced.
When ready for pulling, he began the ancient dance of ramen-making, but with subtle electrical assistance. As he stretched each strand, microscopic currents helped align the gluten fibers in perfect parallel formation. The result was noodles with unmatched uniformity and texture—each strand possessing identical thickness and exactly the same cooking characteristics.
Since Daigo hadn't specified a preference, Gustave opted for "cheveux fins"—angel hair thickness that would cook quickly while maintaining substantial chew. His electromagnetic guidance allowed him to achieve this delicate gauge without the years of practice traditional masters required.
By the time the noodles were ready, his broth had achieved perfection. The liquid glowed with a pale amber color that seemed to emit its own gentle light—an effect of the electromagnetic enhancement that had activated trace minerals in the bones. A thin layer of golden fat floated on the surface like liquid silk, while aromatic steam carried promises of deep, satisfying flavor.
The beef, now fork-tender after its electrically-assisted simmer, sliced cleanly into paper-thin pieces. Here too, Gustave employed his powers: by generating a weak current through his knife blade, he could cut through the meat with virtually no pressure, preserving the fibers' delicate structure and ensuring each slice would warm through instantly in the hot soup.
He prepared garnishes with equal innovation. The green garlic received a split-second electrical pulse that awakened its sulfur compounds without triggering harshness. Fresh cilantro was briefly exposed to a controlled electromagnetic field that enhanced its brightness while eliminating any soapy notes that some palates found objectionable.
The white radish slices were perhaps his most impressive innovation. By running a gentle current through each piece, he altered their cellular structure just enough to reduce cooking time while intensifying their natural sweetness. They would reach perfect tender-crisp texture in exactly the same time as his noodles.
Assembly required choreographed precision enhanced by supernatural control. Fresh noodles went into boiling water—maintained at precisely 212°F through electromagnetic heating—along with the enhanced radish slices. Gustave could sense the exact moment of doneness through minute electrical readings from the cooking pasta.
Into heated bowls went the perfectly cooked noodles and radish, their placement guided by subtle magnetic manipulation of his metal utensils. Generous ladlefuls of that precious broth followed, its temperature held at the ideal 160°F for optimal flavor release and safe consumption.
The sliced beef responded to a brief electromagnetic pulse, warming through without cooking further. Green garlic and cilantro crowned each bowl in artfully arranged patterns that would have impressed the most demanding French master. A small dish of chili oil—its capsaicin enhanced through brief electrical stimulation for deeper heat—was offered separately.
"Ramen de Bœuf du Bambou Staff, prepared with the finest techniques of both East and West," Gustave announced, carrying both bowls on a large tray. The electromagnetic enhancements were invisible to casual observation, but the results spoke for themselves: broth that glowed with inner warmth, noodles with impossible texture uniformity, and flavors that achieved perfect harmony.
As he set them down, he found himself watching Camearra nervously, half-expecting her to declare some dietary restriction that would render his hours of electroculinary work useless. Fortunately, she remained silent while Daigo dove in with obvious enthusiasm.
"Amazing, Mr. Gustave!" Daigo exclaimed between slurps, his formal politeness giving way to genuine amazement. "This ramen is incredible! The broth tastes like it's been simmering for days, and these noodles have the most perfect texture I've ever experienced! It's so much better than anything in the TPC cafeteria!"
Had the TPC cafeteria chef heard that comparison, they probably would have banned Daigo from the facility permanently—but Gustave accepted the compliment with quiet pride. His Rumble-Rumble Fruit had elevated traditional ramen-making into something approaching culinary artistry.
Even Camearra, after her first tentative sip, looked up with something approaching surprise. "This is... remarkably good," she admitted, her voice carrying a note of respect that hadn't been there before.
Gustave smiled. In the One Piece world, Devil Fruit powers could enhance any profession—from combat to construction to, apparently, the noble art of cooking. His electromagnetic mastery had given him capabilities no conventional chef could match, allowing him to control every aspect of the cooking process with scientific precision.
In the days that followed, Daigo settled into life aboard the Bamboo Staff with surprising ease. His injuries provided a convenient excuse for extended recovery, while the time differential between worlds meant his absence from GUTS would go unnoticed. Part medical necessity, part secret vacation—a combination that suited everyone involved.
Though Camearra had clearly hoped they'd share quarters, Daigo politely requested his own room. The decision earned him one of Camearra's more murderous glares, but she refrained from violent objection—a remarkable display of self-control that impressed everyone aboard.
Her emotional stability had improved dramatically since their arrival, perhaps due to simply having Daigo within reach after thirty million years of separation.
A week later, Jinbe's distinctive ship emerged from the depths near their anchorage.
"Jinbe! Over here!" Luffy waved enthusiastically from the deck, his excitement at seeing the whale shark fishman again evident to everyone within shouting distance.
The Knight of the Sea guided his ship alongside the Bamboo Staff, greeting the crew with his characteristic warm dignity.
"It's been too long, my friends," Jinbe said as he came aboard.
"Welcome back, Jinbe," Gustave replied, though his expression carried the weight of unpleasant business. "Thank you for coming so quickly."
"You mentioned capturing Arlong in your message," Jinbe said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. His tone remained carefully neutral, but tension showed in the set of his shoulders.
"That's correct. He invaded Cocoyasi Village with his crew, intending to establish a reign of terror," Gustave explained grimly. "According to his own words, he's killed countless innocent humans over the years—men, women, children, entire families. He seemed quite proud of the body count."
After his defeat by Chu Zihang, Arlong had spent days ranting about his crimes, apparently hoping to provoke Gustave into killing him rather than face whatever judgment Jinbe might deliver. The fishman pirate's descriptions of murdered families and destroyed villages had been disturbingly detailed.
Jinbe's expression darkened with each word, the philosophical divide that had separated him from his former subordinate taking on sharper, bloodier dimensions.
Their fundamental disagreement had always been clear: Jinbe supported Queen Otohime's vision of peaceful coexistence with humans, while Arlong embraced fishman supremacy with genocidal enthusiasm. But hearing the specific extent of Arlong's atrocities made abstract ideological differences terrifyingly concrete.
"Where is he?" Jinbe asked after a long silence. "I need to see him."
"This way," Gustave replied, leading the way to their improvised prison.
"Kill me! Kill me if you have the courage!" Arlong's voice carried through the hull before they even opened the door.
When the lock turned, the imprisoned fishman launched into his usual tirade: "Come to hear more stories about how I slaughtered your pathetic kind, human? Shall I describe how they begged for mercy? How beautifully they screamed?"
But his taunts died when he saw who'd actually entered.
"Jinbe?" Shock replaced malice in Arlong's voice.
"Arlong." Jinbe's fist clenched involuntarily as he spoke his former comrade's name.
"Come to gloat over my capture?" Arlong recovered his sneer quickly, crossing his arms in defiant mockery. "Enjoying the sight of your old friend in chains?"
"I was hoping Gustave had exaggerated," Jinbe said quietly. "Tell me honestly—did you really kill innocent humans? Children? Elderly people who'd never harmed a fishman in their lives?"
For a moment, something like hope flickered in Jinbe's expression—the desperate wish that somehow, despite everything, Arlong might still possess some fragment of the honor they'd once shared.
That hope died quickly.
"Of course I killed them!" Arlong's laughter turned genuinely maniacal, his eyes bloodshot with remembered violence. "I massacred entire human villages! You should have seen how they groveled, how they offered their daughters and wives to spare their miserable lives! The sound my blade made cutting through their soft skin was music itself! Hahaha!"
His description grew increasingly graphic, each detail delivered with sadistic pleasure designed to wound Jinbe as deeply as possible.
Jinbe listened in silence until the mad laughter finally stopped.
Without another word, he grabbed Arlong by the throat and carried him outside, where Gustave waited with carefully neutral expression.
"Gustave," Jinbe said with quiet finality, "Arlong's crimes are unforgivable. You don't need to consider my feelings."
With a single, precise motion, he twisted his grip. Arlong's neck snapped with a sound like breaking wood, his body going instantly limp.
Justice, delivered by a former friend's hand.
"I also captured several of his crew members," Gustave said gently after a respectful pause. "The worst offenders have already been dealt with, but there are a few survivors—fishmen with no blood on their hands."
"Thank you," Jinbe replied eventually, his voice thick with grief and gratitude in equal measure.
Among those survivors was Hachi the octopus fishman, who broke into tears the moment he saw Jinbe arrive. The reunion between them and the other innocent crew members was both heartbreaking and healing—a reminder that even in Arlong's organization, not everyone had chosen to become a monster.
Jinbe embraced each survivor personally, his own tears flowing freely as he realized how close they'd all come to sharing Arlong's fate.
In the end, the Knight of the Sea didn't linger aboard the Bamboo Staff. After a brief meal and expressions of gratitude, he departed for Fish-Man Island with the surviving fishmen in tow—carrying both the living and the weight of necessary justice back to the depths where they belonged.