The once lively atmosphere of Baratie was now thick with tension. The clinking of glasses and cheerful conversations had died down, replaced by the quiet hum of unease. A group of pirates had barged into the restaurant, their heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor as they stood near the entrance, eyes scanning the place with predatory intent. Their captain, a tall man with broad shoulders, a jagged scar running down his cheek, and a hooked nose, sneered as he glanced around at the patrons, sizing them up like livestock at a market.
Some of the diners tried to avoid eye contact, focusing on their plates or glancing nervously toward the restaurant staff. Others, mostly seasoned pirates themselves, eyed the newcomers with mild irritation, as if anticipating an inevitable fight. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
A slender waiter with slicked-back black hair and a neatly pressed uniform stepped forward, keeping his voice polite but firm. "Welcome to Baratie. We ask that all guests respect the rules of the establishment and—"
The pirate captain let out a loud scoff, cutting the waiter off mid-sentence. "Shut it. We ain't here for rules. We're here for food. This place is supposed to have the best cooks on the sea, right? Then we'll be eatin' for free."
The waiter's professional smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. All meals must be paid for upfront."
A thick silence stretched between them before the pirate suddenly grabbed the waiter by the collar, lifting him off his feet with one hand. The waiter's tray clattered to the ground, the sound echoing through the now silent restaurant.
"You deaf or somethin'?" the pirate growled, his breath reeking of cheap rum and dried fish. "I said, we're eatin' for free!"
Before the waiter could respond, a sharp metallic clang rang out as the pirate's wrist was struck with a lightning-fast kick. The force made him release his grip instantly, and he stumbled back, shaking his hand in pain.
Standing between him and the waiter was a tall, lean man with blond hair tied back neatly, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He wore a black double-breasted suit with golden buttons, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, but there was a dangerous gleam in his sharp blue eyes.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" he asked coolly, exhaling a puff of smoke before flicking some ashes onto the wooden floor.
Luffy, who had been stuffing his face with bread, perked up immediately. "Oi, he's strong!"
Nami, sipping from a glass of wine, raised an eyebrow. "A cook who can fight? This place really is different."
The pirate captain clenched his jaw, shaking out his sore wrist before glaring at the blond man. "Who the hell do you think you are?!"
The blond chef took another slow drag of his cigarette, his voice smooth but carrying a sharp edge. "Name's Sanji. And you're ruining the appetite of my customers."
Zoro smirked from his seat, watching with interest. "This might actually be fun to watch."
The pirate growled and lunged forward, throwing a heavy punch aimed straight for Sanji's face. But before the fist could connect, Sanji vanished from his spot, moving with an effortless speed that left the pirate swinging at air. In the blink of an eye, the blond chef was behind him, balancing effortlessly on one leg as his other foot struck the pirate's ribs with a bone-crunching force.
The pirate crashed into a nearby table, sending dishes, glasses, and silverware flying. Several patrons leapt from their seats to avoid the impact, gasping at the sheer force of the kick. The pirate groaned, clutching his side, struggling to regain his footing.
His crew immediately reacted, drawing cutlasses and pistols, but Sanji didn't even flinch. He exhaled another puff of smoke, tapping the ash off his cigarette before giving them a bored glance.
"Tch. You're filth," Sanji muttered, shifting his stance ever so slightly. "And filth doesn't belong in a place that serves fine cuisine."
Luffy grinned, his eyes practically sparkling with excitement. "I like this guy!"
The murmurs in the restaurant grew louder. The floating restaurant wasn't just known for its food—it was a place where the cooks themselves were trained fighters, capable of handling unruly customers with ease.
As the tension escalated, Luffy took one last bite of his bread, stood up, and stretched his arms behind his head. His grin widened.
"Welp, looks like things just got fun."
The fight at Baratie was about to begin.
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