"The portal you just passed through is called the Gate of All Worlds," Gustave explained as they descended the ship's stairwells, his voice carrying the practiced warmth of an experienced host. "It connects different dimensions across the multiverse. Our ship is the Bamboo Staff—officially a sea-going restaurant, though we're currently anchored near this lovely island."
The three newcomers absorbed their surroundings with varying degrees of wonder. Hot Wheels, being a pure native of the Robo-Troopers world, found every wooden beam and nautical rope fascinating beyond measure. His optical sensors swept constantly across details that most would consider mundane.
Luo Luo's curiosity was tempered by disappointment. This wasn't his original world, and the path home remained frustratingly unclear. Each step away from the Gate felt like another mile from everything familiar.
Jerry had finally released his death grip on Tom's chest, and now both cat and mouse glared at each other with their usual theatrical antipathy. At least they weren't actively destroying property—yet.
"Tom, Jerry," Gustave stopped mid-descent, fixing both animals with his most serious expression. "I'm establishing a house rule immediately: absolutely no fighting aboard the Bamboo Staff Ship. Anyone who damages my ship forfeits all future meals. Understood?"
The chef's protective instincts flared at the thought of repair costs. The Bamboo Staff represented a significant investment in Treasure Tree Adam wood—he'd weep genuine tears if cartoon physics reduced it to splinters.
Tom sniffed disdainfully, gesturing that he'd maintain peace provided Jerry didn't provoke him first. Jerry crossed his tiny arms indignantly, clearly feeling that Tom was usually the instigator in their eternal conflicts.
Both animals performed an elaborate ritual of crossing their arms, shooting venomous glances at each other, then pointedly turning away with theatrical huffiness.
Gustave shook his head in resignation. Life aboard the Bamboo Staff had just become significantly more chaotic with this legendary duo in residence.
Luo Luo watched the wordless exchange with growing confusion. How were these three communicating? Neither Tom nor Jerry had spoken, yet Gustave seemed to understand their gestures perfectly.
The group finally reached the main deck, where endless ocean stretched toward the horizon under brilliant blue skies.
"Incredible!" Luo Luo breathed, his eyes drinking in the pristine seascape. "It's so beautiful!"
"Definitely superior to our home dimension," Hot Wheels agreed, his mechanical voice carrying notes of genuine appreciation.
"Superior? It completely obliterates our world!" Luo Luo's pent-up frustration finally burst forth. "The Robo-Troopers world is nothing but wasteland—no oceans, barely any vegetation, just barren earth stretching forever. Everything's dead or dying!"
His complaints carried the weight of someone who'd witnessed paradise after enduring purgatory.
"Look, a motorcycle gained sentience!" Tu Shanyan's slurred voice interrupted from the direction of the ship's bar.
The fox spirit had clearly spent her afternoon sampling Makino's finest beverages, her cheeks flushed and her normally perfect posture slightly off-kilter. She rubbed her eyes dramatically, as if Hot Wheels might be an alcoholic hallucination.
"Tu Shanyan, you're completely drunk," Gustave said flatly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Motorcycles don't 'gain sentience'—they're born that way in some worlds."
"I am NOT a motorcycle spirit!" Hot Wheels protested with wounded dignity. "I'm a genuine member of the Vehicle Tribe—second-in-command of the entire Time City!"
"Vehicle Tribe? What's that supposed to mean?" Tu Shanyan blinked owlishly.
"Well, you see, motorcycle people are... they're just..." Hot Wheels floundered, clearly lacking the vocabulary to explain his own existence.
"The Vehicle Tribe and Beast Tribe are silicon-based life forms," Gustave intervened with the patience of a teacher addressing particularly slow students. "Unlike humans and fox spirits, who are carbon-based organisms—"
"Silicon-based? Carbon-based? What now?" Both Tu Shanyan and Hot Wheels stared at him with identical expressions of blank incomprehension.
The chef realized he was dealing with two individuals whose education had significant gaps in basic scientific knowledge.
"Tom, would you mind handling this lesson?" Gustave asked with resignation. "I think visual aids might help."
Tom's transformation was instantaneous and spectacular. His casual ship attire vanished, replaced by a professor's academic gown complete with mortarboard cap and wire-rimmed spectacles. A blackboard materialized on the nearby table as if conjured from thin air, along with a pointer that he wielded with professorial authority.
"Ahem! Professor Tom's chemistry class is now in session!" the cat announced with uncharacteristic dignity, rapping his pointer against the board with sharp precision.
While Tom launched into his impromptu lecture on the fundamental differences between silicon and carbon-based biology, Gustave turned his attention to their primary guest.
"Luo Luo, how long have you been in the Robo-Troopers world?"
The boy began counting on his fingers with careful precision, his face scrunched in concentration as he tallied days that must have felt like eternities.
"Eight days exactly," he finally announced. "I remember every single one."
"Eight days..." Gustave's chef instincts immediately activated. "What did you eat during that time?"
This question had puzzled him ever since remembering Luo Luo's lore. The boy had survived in a mechanized wasteland without any apparent sustenance—a biological impossibility that defied rational explanation.
"You know, I don't think I ate anything at all," Luo Luo replied with dawning realization. "No food, no water, but somehow I'm still alive. It's medically impossible!"
"Are you hungry now?" Gustave asked.
"Hungry?" Luo Luo considered the question carefully. "I don't really feel... anything. Maybe entering the Robo-Troopers World digitized my body somehow?"
"But if I offered you food right now, would you want it?"
The moment Gustave posed the question, Luo Luo's stomach responded with an audible rumble. His eyes widened with surprise as dormant hunger awakened with vengeance.
"I would love to eat something," he admitted, then his face fell. "But I don't have any money..."
"No problem—this meal is on the house," Gustave declared magnanimously. "Consider it a welcome gift to the Bamboo Staff."
He gestured toward the ship's well-stocked pantry and refrigeration units. "Anything you can name, I can prepare. What sounds appealing?"
Luo Luo studied the impressive array of ingredients, overwhelmed by choices after days of involuntary fasting. Finally, a specific memory surfaced—a family trip from happier times.
"Could you make oil-splashed noodles?" he asked tentatively. "I had them once during a family vacation, and they were incredible."
"Sure! Oil-splashed noodles are absolutely no problem," Gustave replied with genuine enthusiasm. The dish would be perfect—simple comfort food to welcome someone home.
He turned toward the other new arrivals. "Hot Wheels, Jerry—what about you two?"
Hot Wheels looked up from Tom's increasingly complex molecular diagrams with mechanical regret. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't process carbon-based nutrition. Silicon-based digestive systems operate completely differently."
Jerry, meanwhile, had abandoned his role as Tom's teaching assistant to point enthusiastically at a magnificent steak in the refrigerator's display case.
"Perfect, I understand completely."
Gustave glanced toward Tom, who was now deep in an animated explanation of atomic bonding structures using elaborate chalk drawings. The cat-professor was clearly enjoying his academic moment too much to interrupt.
"Po!" Gustave called toward the ship's bow, where the panda was supervising combat training. "Could you lend me a hand in the kitchen?"
"Of course!" Po's cheerful voice carried across the deck as he left Chu Zihang, Ace, and Luffy to continue their exercises independently.
The Bamboo Staff's kitchen was about to come alive with the sounds and aromas of interdimensional cuisine—oil-splashed noodles for a homesick boy, perfectly grilled steak for a tiny mouse, and the warm satisfaction that came from feeding hungry souls who'd found their way through the Gate of All Worlds.