"You're the owner of this floating restaurant? Red-Leg Zeff?" Don Krieg's eyes fell on Zeff's ruined leg with open disdain. At his peak, Zeff would have been trouble, but a cripple held no fear for him.
"Yes, I'm Zeff, the owner of this ship. Gentlemen, what would you like to eat? Our house will do its best to serve you."
Zeff met Krieg's gaze, calm and neither humble nor overbearing.
"Zeff, they're pirates. How can you still sell food to that lot?"
Sanji had not expected Zeff to be so yielding, offering to feed men like these. He tried to wrench free, anger flaring.
Zeff did not scold him. He ruffled Sanji's hair and said softly, "Sanji, no matter what kind of villain or escaped criminal walks through our door, if someone truly wants to eat, we serve them. Have you forgotten the pain of having no food?"
Sanji fell quiet. He looked back at Zeff's gentle face and nodded. "I understand. From now on, as long as someone comes to the restaurant, we welcome them. If they really want to eat, I will make sure they do."
"Heh. Nice speech. In that case, cook two thousand portions for my men." Krieg's smile turned predatory. "Do it in half an hour and we walk away without trouble. Fail, and do not blame us for what comes next."
"Two thousand servings in thirty minutes? You're here to make trouble."
The cooks bristled, eyes blazing as they stared at Krieg.
"Heh. Your boss just said he serves anyone who asks. Going back on your word already?"
Krieg's trio traded low, mocking laughs.
"You…" Patty surged forward, but Sanji threw an arm out and stopped him.
"Two thousand, half an hour? Fine. I accept."
With the Legendary Noritake Kitchenware and a head full of new techniques, Sanji knew it was not impossible.
"Sanji, are you crazy…"
The crew panicked, but Sanji pressed them back. "Trust me. I can do it. Believe me."
Zeff studied Sanji's confident face, hesitated, then nodded firmly. He did not know where this confidence came from, but his instincts told him to trust it.
"Yo hoo," Krieg chuckled. "All right, brat, I'll give you thirty minutes. If I don't see two thousand plates by then, I tear this restaurant apart."
He had not expected them to accept such terms. With no excuse to strike first, he decided to toy with them instead. A cat plays with a mouse before the bite. With a dozen ships surrounding the Baratie, he feared no tricks.
In the back kitchen, the cooks watched Sanji move, knives flashing, hands flying, and every jaw went slack. Since when was Sanji this good?
No one was more stunned than Zeff. He had just chewed the boy out for clumsy hands, sent him packing, and now, not even half an hour later, Sanji worked like a seasoned master. Had he always been hiding it? That made no sense. Why pretend? Which meant something had changed within the last half hour.
Had he met a master? Even then, no master could pour such skill into someone all at once.
Useful or not, it still seemed impossible to cook two thousand portions in thirty minutes. Zeff could not imagine any method that would make that volume in that time.
"Old man, stop spacing out. Help me load these into the cauldrons."
"What kind of tools are these… they are unbelievable."
Zeff gaped as the kettle automatically minced and shredded ingredients. In all his years as a chef, he had never seen such wonders.
"Automatic stock, and the taste is this rich?"
He sipped a spoonful from the Brazier and doubted reality all over again.
"Sanji, where did you get this magical equipment?"
"I'll tell you after we finish."
Sanji hid a grin at Zeff's shock and the staff's dazed faces, but time was short. Explanations could wait. He set everyone to work.
"Right."
Hope rekindled and the crew moved with purpose. With the kitchen in full swing and the Gold Kitchenware roaring, two thousand portions were plated within the half hour.