The Baratie was alive with the scent of roasted meat, garlic butter, and sizzling seafood. The interior of the floating restaurant dazzled with golden trim, red velvet booths, and busy waiters who danced between swinging kitchen doors and drunken customers.
Luffy had just finished devouring his fifth helping of meat, juice dripping down his chin, eyes practically glowing with delight. He leaned back in his chair, completely at home.
"Man… this place is the best!" he groaned.
Vihaan sat across from him, sipping spiced wine with Nami beside him, her legs crossed, playfully brushing against his shin under the table now and then. Zoro napped upright, sword leaning beside him, and Usopp was in awe over a fish platter he couldn't pronounce.
Then the doors opened—and he walked in.
Sanji.
A thin cloud of smoke trailed from his lips as he strutted with calm arrogance, wearing a crisp black suit, blonde hair covering one eye. His presence was impossible to ignore.
Vihaan narrowed his eyes, leaning toward Nami. "Well, someone brought swagger to the soup."
Sanji stopped at their table, bowing slightly to Nami and kissing her hand. "Mademoiselle, what beauty. Would you do me the honor of—"
Nami raised an eyebrow. "Of not fainting from your cologne? Sure."
Vihaan grinned. "Welcome to the circus."
Luffy, still licking his fingers, pointed dramatically. "Hey, you! You're cool. Join my crew!"
Everyone froze.
Sanji blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I said join my crew!" Luffy beamed. "We're pirates. You're awesome. It's perfect!"
Sanji blew out smoke and tilted his head. "I respectfully reject your offer."
Luffy crossed his arms. "And I reject your rejection."
Nami let her head fall into her hand. "Oh god."
Vihaan mirrored her, sighing. "We need a new scriptwriter."
Zoro didn't even wake up. "Mmm... rejection sounds like a drink."
Sanji looked around the table like he had just stepped into a madhouse. "You people are insane."
"Yup," Vihaan said casually. "But we tip well."
Just as things were cooling down, the air shifted. A strange, heavy tension fell across the room like mist. The floor seemed to still. The waves outside calmed.
A waiter burst in, pale. "A ship... no—a man… He cut a galleon in half."
"What?" Nami stood up.
Vihaan narrowed his eyes. "You don't mean—"
Then, the doors opened.
And in walked Dracule Mihawk.
Eyes like a hawk, cross necklace, black hat. He carried the most elegant yet terrifying blade anyone had ever seen. Murmurs swept across the room like a tidal wave.
Zoro stood.
His sleep was gone in an instant.
He walked past the table, sword slung over his back.
"I've been waiting for you," he said.
Mihawk tilted his head slightly. "You know me?"
"You're the world's greatest swordsman. And I'm going to surpass you."
Mihawk unsheathed the tiniest dagger.
Zoro gritted his teeth. "Mock me if you want. But fight me seriously."
And then—they clashed.
Zoro's swords whirled, crashing against the dagger that should've shattered. But Mihawk didn't flinch. He parried every strike with casual ease.
In less than a minute, Zoro was disarmed.
Then Mihawk plunged his dagger into Zoro's chest—but not deeply.
Zoro fell to his knees, chest heaving.
"Why…"
"You have courage," Mihawk said. "But not strength."
Zoro gritted his teeth and turned his back.
"Strike me down," he whispered. "A scar on the back… is a swordsman's greatest shame."
Mihawk's eyes sharpened. "You have pride too. Good." He stepped back.
Zoro collapsed—but still conscious.
Mihawk sheathed his dagger and turned to leave.
Then Vihaan stepped forward.
"Wait."
Mihawk stopped.
Vihaan's eyes were calm but unblinking. "You came all this way to test one rookie. What are you really watching for?"
Mihawk glanced at him. "You carry no sword. Are you another dreamer?"
Vihaan smiled faintly. "Dreamer, yes. But not blind. You don't kill unless necessary. Even now, you left him alive."
"He has the eyes of a challenger," Mihawk said.
Vihaan looked down at Zoro, then back at Mihawk. "We'll meet again, I think. And next time, it won't be one-on-one."
Mihawk paused, then said, "Grow. Until then."
He vanished like a shadow in moonlight.
Zoro lay bleeding, but alive. Luffy stood beside him.
Vihaan watched silently, then crouched, placing a hand gently over Zoro's chest.
"You didn't lose," he whispered. "You just saw the summit."
Zoro didn't answer—but the tears that leaked from his eyes said everything.
Later that evening, Luffy caught Sanji smoking alone at the ship's edge.
"Hey, you cook guy. Why won't you join us?"
Sanji didn't turn. "Because I have something here. A debt I'll never repay."
"To Zeff?" Luffy asked.
Sanji turned, eyes wide.
Luffy just grinned. "You look at him like a father. That's all."
Silence passed between them.
Vihaan and Nami stood at a distance, watching. Even Nami didn't speak.
Then came Zeff.
"You idiot." His voice was gruff.
Sanji stood straighter.
"You think you're doing me a favor by staying here? You've got dreams, don't you?"
Sanji clenched his fists.
Zeff limped closer. "Then go. Chase the All Blue. And when you find it, tell them it's real… for both of us."
Sanji's cigarette trembled in his fingers. He turned away.
"I owe you everything."
Zeff smirked. "Then live like it."
Sanji dropped to his knees, head bowed. "Thank you, Zeff. For everything."
They didn't hug. Didn't need to.
Sanji stood, turned, and walked toward the Straw Hat crew. "Alright. I'll join."
Luffy laughed. "Knew you would."
As the emotional wave passed, a cannonball struck the Baratie's side.
Don Krieg's armada had arrived.
The man himself stood aboard a massive spiked ship, covered in armor, eyes filled with conquest.
"Give us your food—or die!" he roared.
Luffy stepped forward. "No way."
Sanji prepared to fight. Zoro was still healing below deck.
Vihaan walked calmly to the edge of the Baratie, his reflection rippling on the sea's surface.
He raised a hand, forming a sharp glass-like panel between his fingers.
"Mirror Mirror: Shard Storm."
Tiny reflective blades burst forth, dancing like a swarm of wasps, piercing Krieg's men.
Panic.
Vihaan moved, shimmering and duplicating with mirror images.
Don Krieg roared, firing spikes from his shoulder cannon—but Vihaan dodged them, moving like light.
With one hard blow to the chest—mirror-covered fists slamming into Krieg's armor—he cracked it.
Krieg stumbled.
Vihaan touched the cracked plate. "Reflect."
The armor exploded outward as if the pressure reversed.
Don Krieg fell, unconscious.
Silence.
Then cheers.
Sanji whistled. "Damn, you're flashier than me."
Vihaan grinned. "But you cook better."