It was the lunch rush, the restaurant packed with guests, when he arrived.
No one knew why it happened then—perhaps just the timing of his advance. What was certain was the shock his sudden appearance sent through the crowd.
Tall, clad in tattered clothes, a bandage wrapped around his head, he carried a frail, trembling demeanor, as if he might collapse at any moment. Yet many recognized him instantly. In the East Blue, he was infamous: Don Krieg, the "Chief," a pirate whose name struck fear.
His notoriety preceded him, and his presence exuded an overwhelming menace.
Guests panicked, rising from their seats, some screaming. A notorious pirate stood before them—calmness was impossible. Rumors of Krieg's treachery were widespread: a master of deception, wielding lies and ruthless acts without hesitation. Civilians, pirates, and Marines alike had fallen victim to his raids. The fear that he might strike here was palpable.
Some tried to flee, but the entrance was blocked, trapping them. Frozen in terror, the guests stood, swallowing hard, afraid that any noise might provoke him.
Sanji approached, unfazed, looking up at Krieg with calm resolve. "Welcome. Reservation?"
"Please, food…" Krieg rasped. "I have money—plenty. Just… food."
"No seats available, but I can get you food. For a price, of course—" Sanji began.
"Wait, Sanji!" a voice interrupted.
Sanji turned coolly. From the kitchen door emerged Patty, a burly, stern-faced cook, his expression darkening with anger. The air grew tense. Sanji met his gaze, unruffled.
"Sanji, you know who this is? Don Krieg, the scum who built his name on dirty tricks—a disgrace as a pirate and a man," Patty growled.
"So what?" Sanji replied.
"So what? We don't serve trash like him. Politely ask this scum to leave," Patty said.
"Being called scum by scum? That's rich," Sanji shot back.
"What'd you say?!" Patty roared.
"No one tells me what to do. Get back to work," Sanji said.
"You bastard… I've never liked you!" Patty snapped.
Patty's voice rose, his frustration spilling over—not just at Krieg but at Sanji. The two glared, neither willing to back down, their usual bickering escalating.
"I've always hated your attitude," Patty continued. "Feeding broke customers for free? Unthinkable!"
"Didn't hurt you, did it?" Sanji said.
"It's a huge problem! This is a restaurant—customers pay for food. They're gods, but deadbeats aren't. It's about dignity!"
"This guy's got money. By your logic, he's a god," Sanji countered.
"Not him! Don't you know his crimes? Escaped prison by posing as a Marine, killed scores to become a pirate, then flew a Navy flag to ambush others. He could be faking now, planning an attack. You'd risk the restaurant with your judgment?" Patty accused.
"Don't whine over small stuff. If he attacks, we'll deal," Sanji said.
"What?" Patty fumed.
Sanji's calm retort only sharpened Patty's glare, the tension now explosive. Yet Sanji stood firm. "How many have you turned away? I don't know if he's starving or lying, but are you so spineless you're scared of one guy? If so, you don't belong here. Leave."
"You didn't listen! He's a master of deceit. Even if he's weak now, food could revive him. He might have crew hiding! Think, damn it!" Patty shouted.
"Then we crush him if he tries," Sanji said.
"You don't care about protecting this place?!" Patty demanded.
"We just think differently," Sanji replied.
The air crackled. Other cooks emerged from the kitchen, lining up behind Patty. Nearby, Luffy and Zeff watched, unnoticed, their focus on Patty and Sanji. Sanji turned his back on Krieg, as if daring him to strike.
"If someone's starving at sea, money or not, I'll cook for them. That's what a cook does. I'm not callous enough to abandon the hungry," Sanji declared.
"Guh…!" Patty faltered.
"Scared of an attack? Run. I'll cook and feed him," Sanji said, heading for the kitchen.
Luffy noticed first, eyes widening as Krieg's demeanor shifted. No longer frail, his body tensed with power, his right fist clenched and raised.
"Sanji! Watch out!" Luffy shouted.
Sanji turned, but too late. Krieg's fist slammed into his stomach, sending him crashing into a table, flipping it. Plates flew, shattering. The blow's force was staggering, Sanji's body skidding from the impact.
Krieg didn't stop. As the cooks froze in shock, Luffy tackled Zeff to the floor, shielding him. Krieg's tattered clothes tore away, revealing gleaming golden armor. Guns appeared in his hands, and his armor shifted, exposing muzzles at his shoulders and sides.
A merciless barrage followed. In an instant, countless bullets tore through the air, giving guests no time to scream. The cooks, caught off guard, were hit, their bodies pierced, collapsing in pain. None died instantly, but the damage was severe, blood pooling on the floor.
The gunfire ceased. Krieg tilted his head skyward, a smirk curling his lips. In mere seconds, he'd claimed victory. The cooks groaned, unable to move, as guests paled, some in a daze.
Discarding his guns, Krieg's armor retracted. He scanned the room, speaking to no one in particular. "I heard this place had tough cooks. What a letdown. Playing house? Who do you think you can beat?"
Guests flinched, frozen like prey before a predator. Krieg's presence dominated, unchallenged.
"I'm Don Krieg, admiral of a pirate fleet. I came for 'Red-Leg' Zeff's logbook from his Grand Line days. And while I'm at it, I'll take this pathetic ship," he declared.
Screams erupted. Guests, unable to stay silent, scrambled to escape, but Krieg blocked the entrance. They huddled against the walls, trembling. Krieg, annoyed, strode to a nearby table and smashed it with his fist. Plates and food scattered, the wreckage silencing the crowd.
"Next one who makes a sound dies," he said.
The blunt threat worked. Guests covered their mouths, breathing shakily through their noses. The wounded cooks groaned, but Krieg ignored them. With the restaurant's defenders down, the guests believed no one could stop him.
Krieg straightened, eyeing the fallen cooks coldly, as if they were insects. "Bring me Zeff. He's a former pirate—his Grand Line logbook is mine. Hand it over, leave the ship quietly, and I'll spare you. Refuse, and everyone here sinks to the sea's bottom."
A stifled scream escaped someone, but it was untraceable. Krieg's glare alone intensified the guests' trembling. Silence deafened the room, his voice the only sound.
"Who's answering? Who's bringing it? If no one moves, I'll kill you one by one. Obey or die. Move!" he barked.
His frail act was gone, replaced by commanding power. His strategy—deception to exploit weakness—had earned him the moniker "Foul Play." In minutes, including his ruse, he'd seized control of Baratie.
But one man refused to bow. Lighting a cigarette, Sanji exhaled slowly, rising despite the blood dripping from his head, staining half his face. Ignoring Krieg's glare, he walked not toward him but to a female guest cowering in a corner. Kneeling, he offered a gentle smile. "Are you alright, miss? My apologies for earlier. Any injuries?"
"Uh, no… I'm fine," she stammered.
"No stains on your dress? We're a rough bunch, no spares to offer, but we can cover cleaning," Sanji said.
"No, it's fine, really…" she replied, flustered.
Sanji apologized again, likely for scaring her, then stood. Turning, he faced Krieg through the cigarette smoke, his voice steady but laced with anger. "You've pissed me off twice. First, you nearly hurt a lovely lady and made her cry. That alone deserves death."
"Hmph, what's this nonsense?" Krieg scoffed.
"Second, you disrespected food in front of me. Sure, these lousy cooks aren't masters, but they pour their hearts into feeding customers. You trashed their efforts and wasted precious ingredients—irreplaceable at sea," Sanji said.
"Get to the point," Krieg growled.
"The point—" Sanji tensed, crouching low.
He lunged, his speed inhuman. Krieg froze, stunned by the sudden shift. Sanji halted before him, left foot planted, right foot swinging in a powerful kick. It struck Krieg's armored stomach, sending the larger man flying through the door, crashing into the railing outside. The wood groaned but held.
Krieg glared, rising, as Sanji lowered his foot, his eyes fierce. "Don't screw around, bastard," Sanji said.
He didn't look like a mere cook. His poise could rival a pirate's. Leaning against the battered railing, Krieg laughed—not with joy, but with malicious intent. "You must want to die."
"Try it. This place isn't weak enough to fall to you," Sanji retorted.
"You'll regret that soon," Krieg said, nodding toward the horizon.
Visible through the entrance, a fleet of ships lined the sea—fifty vessels, a force of five thousand men. Don Krieg, the "Admiral," had built this armada swiftly, crushing towns and rival crews with overwhelming might. In the East Blue, many called him the strongest.
Baratie stood no chance against such numbers. Yet Sanji's expression didn't waver, his gaze cold.
"That's my strength," Krieg said. "You're just a cook. No skill or luck will save you from a pirate fleet."
"Is that so?" Sanji replied.
"You're confident, but it's futile. Hand over the ship and logbook, and I'll spare your lives," Krieg said.
"Thanks for the offer. As sous-chef, here's my answer: get lost, small fry. We've got work to do," Sanji shot back.
Guests gasped, horrified, as Krieg's face twisted with rage. Neither would yield, their standoff ending with Krieg resolved to attack and Sanji to fight to the end.
Krieg turned to leave, having arrived disguised as a merchant to avoid detection. Now, he'd return as a pirate. "Fine. Don't regret your choice. I'll give you time—anyone who doesn't want to die, flee now! When we return, anyone left will be crucified and torn apart, regretting defying us!"
"Talk's cheap," Sanji said.
As Krieg left, the guests fled in a frenzy, boarding their ships, food and bills forgotten in their desperation to live. Within minutes, the restaurant emptied, leaving only the wounded cooks. Sanji exhaled smoke quietly.
Patty rose, seething—not at Sanji, but at Krieg's attempt to seize Baratie. "See? Should've kicked him out sooner."
"He'd have come anyway," Sanji said.
"Tch, damn him. This is our place—our paradise! Cooking, fighting, freedom! No other place like it!" Patty roared.
"Then fight like hell to protect it," Sanji said.
United, the cooks rose, shouting defiantly, ready to risk their lives for their haven.
The kitchen door burst open. A cook in sunglasses—Carne—stormed out, yelling, oblivious to the situation. "What's going on?! It's been noisy forever! Didn't we fend off the attack? Why'd all the guests run? My special roast beef—what happens to it now?!"
"Carne, you were finishing that?" Patty asked.
"While we were in chaos?" another cook said.
"It took months to perfect that menu!" Carne snapped.
"Why're you mad?" Patty said.
"What's the point of food no one eats?" Carne lamented, slumping.
A hand patted his shoulder. Turning, Carne saw Luffy grinning. "I'll eat your roast beef," Luffy said.
The restaurant erupted in noise as the cooks grabbed weapons, preparing for battle. Zeff approached Sanji. "Hey, Sanji."
"What, shitty old man? You were here?" Sanji said.
"Thanks to you, half the guests dined and dashed," Zeff grumbled.
"Better than handing the ship to pirates," Sanji replied.
"Don't lose, then. Show those idiots what cooks can do," Zeff said.
"Who're you talking to?" Sanji smirked.
Gazing at the horizon, they stood unafraid. A pirate fleet of fifty ships faced a single restaurant and its cooks. With no intention of losing or fleeing, they awaited the enemy's return.
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