After the Giant Axe Pirates were subdued like a pile of scrap waiting to be hauled away, the atmosphere aboard the Rock became… delicate.
The Marines, while cleaning up the battlefield and imprisoning the pirates, subconsciously moved more softly and slower, occasionally stealing nervous glances toward the direction of Renzo's cabin.
Vice Admiral Gummir stood on the bridge, watching his men work with incredible efficiency and eerie quiet. His feelings were hard to describe. He picked up a Den Den Mushi and began reporting this bizarre victory to headquarters.
"Moshi moshi, this is Gummir…"
Just as the call connected, a sluggish figure appeared at the bridge doorway; it was Renzo.
He looked half-asleep, as if that world-shaking display earlier, or rather, that single sentence had drained him of all energy.
Though everyone knew he'd only gone to take a nap.
"…That's the situation. The targets are all subdued. Zero casualties."
After finishing his report, Gummir looked toward Renzo. "Captain Renzo, what is it?"
Renzo yawned, squeezing out a tear from the corner of his eye, and asked slowly, "...Vice Admiral… didn't you say… once the mission's done… we could go to Dessert Island… and have something to eat?"
His gaze carried a subtle glimmer of anticipation, like a large cat waiting to be fed.
Gummir froze for a moment, then remembered that, before departure, Kizaru had lured this man into joining the mission with the promise of Dessert Island's famous cakes.
A glance at the sea chart confirmed Dessert Island was nearby; it wouldn't even delay their return.
"…Fine." Gummir nodded, then added to the Den Den Mushi,
"Fleet Admiral, we'll make a brief stop at Dessert Island to resupply on fresh water, then immediately return."
There was a few seconds of silence, followed by Sengoku's weary voice.
"…Approved. Keep an eye on him. Don't let him cause any… 'trouble.'"
"Understood."
The Rock adjusted course, heading toward the sugary-scented island.
The closer they got, the thicker the air became with sweetness, a blend of cream, sugar glaze, baked flour, and fermented fruit.
For once, Renzo didn't stay curled up in his cabin. He stepped out onto the deck, his nose twitching slightly, and for the first time, there was a faint light in his sleepy eyes.
"Hmm… cream… strawberry… chocolate… and… caramel…"
He muttered to himself, as if deciphering a code hidden in the air.
Gummir couldn't help but shake his head. Only first-rate desserts could motivate this "god of laziness" to move on his own.
When the ship docked, Dessert Island lived up to its name; even the street lamps by the harbor were shaped like giant lollipops. The air was so sweet it could almost make one feel full.
"Two hours of free time. Resupply water. No drinking or causing trouble!" Gummir ordered.
The Marines cheered quietly and scattered in small groups, eager to soothe their nerves with confections.
Renzo, accompanied by his orderly Potts, walked with purpose toward the island's most famous dessert shop, "Frosting Heaven."
His pace was even a bit faster than usual.
The shop wasn't big, but it was packed with dessert lovers from all over the seas.
Cakes, puddings, and pies, each one was an edible work of art, dazzling and aromatic.
Renzo looked at the long queue and immediately frowned.
"…So many people… such a hassle…"
A strong 'I don't want to line up' thought began to ripple through the air.
Then, something curious happened.
The people in front of him suddenly yawned, almost in unison.
"Ugh, suddenly I feel so tired…"
"Yeah, my legs are sore…"
"Maybe we should go sit down for a coffee first?
"Good idea…"
They left the line, just like that.
The same pattern repeated again and again. The queue in front of Renzo mysteriously shortened at an impossible rate.
Potts watched this unfold with wide eyes, barely daring to breathe.
Before long, Renzo reached the counter.
The clerk, seeing this drowsy yet oddly intimidating young man, instinctively smiled her brightest smile.
"W-welcome! What would you like to order?"
Renzo's eyes lazily scanned the display, and without hesitation, he began listing items:
"…That strawberry mille-feuille… the biggest one…"
"…Two of that chocolate lava cake…"
"…That matcha mousse… doesn't look too sweet… I'll try it…"
"…That one too, the berry-covered cheesecake…"
"…Hmm… the rainbow macarons… one of each color…"
He spoke slowly, but the quantity was staggering, almost as if he was ordering the entire signature menu.
Potts's arms were soon full of boxes of every shape and size.
The clerk packed hurriedly, inwardly stunned; she had never seen anyone buy this many desserts at once.
Finally, Renzo well, Potts carried out what looked like a small mountain of sweets.
They found a sunny bench by the seaside. Ignoring the tourists and gulls, Renzo waved Potts off.
"Go ahead… take a walk…"
Then, unable to wait any longer, he opened the first box.
Potts escaped like a freed man.
Renzo dug his spoon into a generous bite of strawberry mille-feuille.
The crisp layers cracked pleasantly; the fresh strawberry and smooth cream melted together, a moment of pure bliss.
He closed his eyes, smiling faintly, like a cat basking in sunlight.
Next came the chocolate lava cake, the warm, flowing center, rich and bittersweet, perfectly balancing the sweetness.
The matcha mousse followed, smooth, earthy, and refreshing.
Then the cheesecake, dense, tangy, heavenly.
The macarons, crisp shells, soft filling, each color a burst of flavor.
He ate slowly, with reverence, as if each dessert was part of a sacred ritual.
The world's noise faded. It was just him and the sweets.
The sunlight was warm, the sea breeze gentle, and the sugar in the air wrapped him in bliss… and drowsiness.
When Potts returned at the appointed time, he found Renzo asleep on the bench.
Empty dessert boxes were scattered before him, and a smudge of cream lingered on his lip.
His face was peaceful and content, breathing steady, as if lost in a dream made of sugar.
The sun, sea, and the sleeping young man surrounded by desserts formed a strangely harmonious scene.
Potts hesitated, unsure if he should wake him.
Finally, he whispered softly, "M-Mr. Renzo? It's about time to head back to the ship…"
Renzo smacked his lips in his sleep and mumbled, "…Mmm… cheesecake… next time…"
Clearly, his mind and taste buds were still enjoying the feast.
On the way back, Renzo slept soundly, a faint smile on his face.
For him, the true goal of this mission, tasting the desserts, had been perfectly achieved.
As for catching pirates? That was just a small, bothersome chore he happened to take care of along the way.
The Rock sailed steadily home, carrying one blissfully sleeping "special consultant" and a crew full of puzzled marines.
Meanwhile, the staff of Frosting Heaven would spend days afterward wondering why the line outside their store had, for some reason, kept mysteriously vanishing that afternoon…