The Shimotsuki family really was full of talent—even woodworking like this?
Shanu was impressed. He bent down, wanting to tap Zeff's wooden leg to test the feel, and happened to lock eyes with a little blond, curly-browed brat.
"Sha… Shanu-aniki!"
Sanji looked a bit nervous, stammering. "Th-thank you! That old geezer already told me everything. If you hadn't come when you did, we both would've starved to death on that island!"
Such a cute voice… is there a Chopper hiding inside?
"I didn't do that much." Shanu chuckled, ruffling his hair. "If you're alive, you should really thank Uncle Zeff."
"I know."
Sanji nodded hard.
He had only figured everything out this morning, when he woke up in the clinic. The moment he realized, he clung to Zeff's severed leg and bawled his eyes out.
Zeff, of course, had just laughed and comforted him, saying he couldn't possibly let a kid with the same dream starve to death. That only made Sanji cry harder, until he finally calmed down before leaving.
"Uncle Zeff."
Shanu tapped the wooden leg, looking up. "Seems like daily movement isn't a problem anymore. But in a fight—can you still use those kicks of yours?"
"Eh?" Zeff froze. "Benefactor, you… you know who I used to be?"
"Of course." Shanu clapped his hands and stood. "The captain of the Cook Pirates—'Red Leg' Zeff. You're famous all across East Blue."
Famous was an understatement. To survive a year on the Grand Line and return whole—that was hidden boss level.
He'd even seen the bounty in the papers: 50 million berries. In East Blue, that was a league of its own.
"And you're so calm about it? I'm a pirate. Shouldn't you be afraid?"
"You the kind of man who forgets kindness?" Shanu gave him a strange look. "If not, then why would I be afraid?"
Sure, pirates had a bad reputation among civilians.
But Shanu was a transmigrator who knew the story. He wasn't stupid enough to lump everyone into one box.
In this Great Age of Pirates, he couldn't judge people by his old world's morality. He remembered both good marines and good pirates. And Zeff was, without doubt, one of them.
"This…" Zeff blinked, realizing this boy who saved his life wasn't simple either.
Glancing around, he saw Kōshirō still smiling as if nothing had been said.
So they were all extraordinary. Zeff burst out laughing. That faint restraint he'd been holding onto vanished completely.
"As for my kicks—well, I can still use them, but the power's way down!"
Zeff said heartily, "With what little strength I have left, I can't cut it on the Grand Line anymore. No way I can go back to piracy. But that's fine—an old man like me should be resting anyway."
Still, Shanu caught a flicker of sadness in his eyes. He hesitated, then asked: "So, any plans now?"
"That's… I'm not sure."
Zeff looked toward the dojo, where the kids were training with loud shouts. Suddenly he called out: "Hey, Kōshirō. You need a cook for this dojo?"
"Hm?"
Kōshirō was a little surprised, then shook his head. "Where would we find the money to hire a cook? Until now it's just been me and Kuina taking turns. Only in recent years, with more kids joining, we've had the old lady next door come help."
"Then how about letting me try?"
Zeff grinned. "Perfect timing anyway—no one's had breakfast yet. Let me show you what I can do!"
"You're still recovering. That's not right…"
Kōshirō tried to stop him, but Zeff waved him off and strode toward the kitchen. His booming voice echoed from inside: "Curly-brow brat! Get over here and help!"
"Coming!"
Sanji's eyes lit up and he rushed after him.
What kind of situation was this—letting an injured guest cook breakfast? Kōshirō sighed, pressing his forehead. He turned toward the dojo.
"Kuina, Zoro—you two go help as well."
"Yes, Father."
Kuina nodded, set down her bamboo sword, and with a blank face grabbed the ear of a certain green-haired boy who was loudly yelling, "I don't wanna!" Dragging him straight toward the kitchen.
…
Inside the kitchen.
Zoro hacked angrily at onions with a kitchen knife, scowling like someone owed him five million berries.
What the hell!
Interrupting his training, just to make him do chores like this!
"You're Zoro, right?"
A blond head popped up beside him, cheerful and friendly. "Nice to meet you. I'm Sanji. I've worked as a proper chef in a passenger ship's galley. If you don't know how to do something, you can ask me."
"'If you don't know, ask me~~'"
Zoro mimicked him sarcastically. "I don't know plenty, sure. But not everyone wants to spend their whole life stuck in a place like this."
"I like it, though." Sanji scratched his head, smiling like sunshine. "Cooking's one of the best things in the world, don't you think? Oh, by the way—"
He pointed at the massacred onion on Zoro's board.
"There's a trick to cutting onions. First chop off the ends, then slice it in half and turn it—much easier that way…"
"Shut up!"
Zoro spun, shouting. "I don't wanna hear this crap! And why is it that every time you talk, I feel like crying?!"
"That's because of the onion, not me…"
Sanji stared, deadpan, at the tears streaming down his face. "Look, you can just breathe through your mouth slowly, or put a bowl of water by the board…"
"Still don't wanna hear it!"
Zoro bared his sharp teeth. "Are you even a man? Or just a girl with a fresh haircut? What kind of guy knows so much about kitchen crap instead of training his sword arm?"
"Hah?"
Sanji's eyes bulged. He snapped back, "Who are you calling a girl? If you can't even cut an onion, aren't you afraid you'll lop your own head off when you swing a sword?"
"And you're proud of cutting onions? Onions suck! All rings and circles—just like your eyebrows, makes me wanna puke!"
"What did you say! You moss-headed plant freak who can't even tell salt from sugar!"
"Pretty-boy pansy who swings a spatula ten times slower than my sword!"
"Muscle-brained single-cell organism!"
The two brats were nose-to-nose, too busy screaming insults to notice the dangerous figure creeping up behind them.
"You little punks…"
Zeff growled, grabbing an ear in each hand. "Fight again in my kitchen and I'll chop you up for today's stew! You hear me?!"
Thud!
A minute later—
Zoro and Sanji knelt in front of the sink in full dogeza, obediently washing vegetables. Their heads were covered in huge lumps, little curls of smoke rising from each.