Out in the dining hall, Don Krieg stared at the mountains of steaming food, enough for more than two thousand mouths, with a face so dark it could drip ink. Never in his nightmares had he imagined someone could actually cook two thousand portions of tasty dishes in half an hour.
He snapped his sleeve with a huff. "Tch. We're leaving." With that, Krieg turned on his heel and strode out with his two lieutenants.
The moment their backs vanished through the door, the Baratie crew exploded into cheers. Against the largest pirate crew in the East Blue, a brawl would've been dicey at best. More than that, business thrived on peace, and harmony brought profit. Whatever else could be said, Sanji had unquestionably earned merit today. The same cooks who used to look down on him now eyed him with newfound respect.
"Admiral, we're just walking away?" Out on the pier, Gin glanced at Krieg's thundercloud scowl and asked cautiously.
"Walk away? Since when?" Krieg's lips curled in a sly grin. A man like him didn't know the meaning of honor; why keep a promise?
"Then, Admiral…?" Gin couldn't follow the turn. They could have started a fight inside.
"Back." Krieg cut him off with a look and slipped back toward the restaurant, quiet as a shadow. He wanted to know how those brats had produced that much food so fast. There was a trick, and he would sniff it out.
Inside, the staff had hoisted Sanji onto their shoulders, tossing him up in celebration.
"Sanji, what's with these tools, and your cooking? How did you get so good all of a sudden?"
Zeff rubbed his thumb along the gleaming edge of one of the golden utensils, curiosity burning bright.
The others, hearing Zeff ask, all turned in unison. They were just as curious.
Seeing the stares, Sanji chuckled and gave a rough outline of his encounter with Amon.
"Seriously? You mean you can draw things out of jars?"
"How's that even possible?"
Disbelief rippled through the kitchen.
"Sanji, is this true?"
Zeff didn't scoff like the rest. He frowned, thoughtful instead. He'd seen enough of the world to know it held all kinds of wonders—Devil Fruit users, strange tech, weapons that could end eras. Pulling treasures from a jar didn't feel wholly impossible.
"Of course it's true, old man. Why would I lie? His ship is moored right outside. If you don't believe me, go take a look!"
Irritated by their doubt, Sanji jabbed a finger toward the little ship.
"All right, we'll go have a look."
Zeff's appetite for answers had been whetted. The dining room had emptied anyway after Krieg's entrance; no harm in stepping out. Leaving a few cooks to mind the shop, Zeff led a small group down to Amon's boat.
Aboard the ship, Amon lounged comfortably, sipping homemade juice as gulls traced lazy arcs across a sea of sapphire. Life was good.
A gull fluttered over and dropped a sheet of paper onto the deck. Amon picked it up for a casual glance—and nearly sprayed his drink. It was a bounty poster. His bounty poster.
The text was to the point: for laying hands on a "noble" Celestial Dragon and damaging a government warship, whoever delivered his head to Marineford would receive a bounty of 100,000,000 beli. The photo was a backshot of him on his ship as he departed.
Amon stared at it, wordless. He knew he'd been wanted, and according to Dragon, Admiral Kizaru was already en route to the East Blue. He just hadn't expected them to slap an immediate nine-figure bounty on him and scatter posters everywhere. At Sabaody, he could practically pass as a Supernova—an unprecedented one: a merchant with a nine-digit price tag for punching a Celestial Dragon.
Then again, what did it matter? With his current strength, unless the Marines sent multiple Admirals at once, they wouldn't box him in. And even if they did, as long as he stayed on his ship, he was untouchable. If the fight turned ugly, he could simply sail off. The World Government wasn't idiotic enough to mobilize everyone over one man… probably.
He couldn't help wondering how Kuina, Makino, and Luffy would react to his poster. The looks on their faces would be priceless. The thought made him chuckle.
"Mr. Amon! Mr. Amon, I'm back!"
A familiar voice snapped him from his reverie. He turned to see Sanji striding up again—this time with Zeff and a gaggle of cooks in tow.
"Sanji, huh? So, how are the things you drew from my jars?"
Amon could guess why they'd come, but he didn't spoil the fun. Instead, he greeted Sanji with a smile.