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The silence in the Moby Dick's map room was a deafening, comical thing. For a full ten seconds after Big Mom's voice had faded from the Den Den Mushi, no one moved. No one breathed. The commanders, the legendary former Admiral, and the ghost of God Valley all stared at the snail as if it had just started singing opera.
Then, the dam broke.
"A COOKING COMPETITION?!" Jozu roared, his voice a thunderclap of pure, unadulterated disbelief. "She wants to decide the fate of a kingdom with a BAKE-OFF?!"
"We're doomed," Vista said, his hand on his face, his usual cool demeanor completely gone. "Who do we even have? Thatch was our best cook, and he's..." His voice trailed off, the grim reality settling back in.
"I can make a mean bowl of ramen!" one of the division commanders offered weakly from the back.
"This is not a time for ramen!" Marco snapped, a frantic, wild look in his eyes. He spun on Ace. "She played you, Ace! She played you perfectly! She knew we had no one! She's going to take the girl, and there's not a damn thing we can do about it!"
The crew was in a state of sheer, unadulterated panic. But Ace was not. He just stood there, his expression calm, and then he did something that made everyone freeze. He started to laugh. It was a low, sharp, and deeply amused chuckle.
"You're right, Marco," he said with a grin returning to his face. "It was a perfect move. A checkmate." He looked around at his panicked family. "If we were playing by her rules."
He walked to the map, his movements calm and purposeful. "She thinks we're a crew of brawlers who can't tell a whisk from a sword. She's not wrong. But she's forgotten one thing." He tapped a finger on a map of the weakest sea in the world. The East Blue. "The sea is a very, very big place. And it is full of hidden monsters."
He looked up, his eyes glinting with a magnificent, idea born from Kenji's memories. "We're not going to find a chef in the New World. We're going to get a legend."
"What are you talking about?" Marco asked.
"I'm talking about a floating restaurant, a fortress of cuisine that was once the jewel of the East Blue," Ace explained. "I'm talking about the man who taught 'Black Leg' Sanji one of my brother crew mate everything he knows. The former captain of the Cook Pirates. 'Red Leg' Zeff."
The name meant nothing to most of the New World veterans, but Kuzan let out a low whistle of recognition. "Ara ra... a old man from the old days. I remember the reports. The man ate his own leg to save a child. He's got guts, I'll give him that."
"He's got more than guts," Ace said. "He's got the one skill we need to win this ridiculous game."
"Are you insane?!" Marco burst out. "The East Blue is on the other side of the world! We'd have to cross the Red Line! It would take months! We don't have that kind of time!"
"You don't," Ace corrected, his grin widening. "But I do." He pointed to himself and then to the laziest man in the room. "Kuzan and I. My Phoenix Wings and his 'Aokiji Chariot'. We can make the trip in a matter of days if we don't stop."
The sheer, insane audacity of the plan left the commanders speechless. A high-speed, round-the-world stealth mission to kidnap a retired chef.
It was in that moment of stunned silence that a new, irritated voice cut through the air.
"Are you all complete and utter MORONS?!"
All eyes turned to Jewelry Bonney. She stood there, her hands on her hips, a half-eaten chicken leg in one hand, her face a mask of pure, condescending disgust.
"So your plan is to fly halfway across the world to drag some one-legged old man into a fight with a Yonko? What if he says no? What if he's a terrible pastry chef? Did you even think of that, you flaming idiot?!" she snapped, pointing the chicken leg accusingly at Ace.
"Do you have a better idea?" Ace shot back, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.
"Of course I do!" she declared. She took a massive, angry bite of the chicken. "You don't need some old fossil! You have me!"
The room was silent again.
"You?" Jozu rumbled. "You're going to bake a cake?"
"Don't be stupid!" Bonney scoffed. "I'm not a cook. I'm a critic! I've eaten at every Michelin-star restaurant and every back-alley food stall from here to the West Blue! My palate is a finely tuned weapon! This Zeff guy might be a legend, but he's been cooking in the weakest sea for twenty years! His flavors are probably bland and outdated! He needs a director. A producer. Someone who knows what a Yonko-level cake is supposed to taste like!"
She puffed out her chest, a look of absolute, unshakeable confidence on her face. "I'll be the taste-tester. The quality control. I'll use my power to age the ingredients to their absolute peak flavor. I will guide this old man's hand and forge a dessert that will make that old hag weep!"
Ace just stared at her, his mind reeling. The prize Big Mom wanted to steal was the one person in the world who could act as the perfect counter to her own competition. The irony was so thick it was delicious.
A slow, genuine smile spread across his face. "Alright," he said, a new plan forming, a fusion of his own idea and her chaotic genius. "New plan. I'm still going to get the chef. Marco, you and the main fleet will head towards Elbaf. Take Bonney with you. You're our secret weapon. When I get back with Zeff, you're going to be his worst nightmare and our only hope."
He looked at the small, fierce girl who was now, impossibly, a key player in their gambit. "Can you handle that?"
Bonney's face flushed a brilliant red, but her eyes were burning with a fierce, competitive fire. "Just you watch!" she declared. "I'm going to produce the greatest cake the world has ever seen!"
The decision was made. Ace looked at Kuzan. "Ready for a trip?"
The former Admiral just grinned, a cloud of frost billowing from his lips. "Ara ra... a high-speed stealth mission across the world to kidnap a grumpy old chef for a bake-off against a Yonko? How could I possibly say no?"
Ace turned and his expression now serious. "Marco, get the party ready."
He looked out at the sea, a wild, impossible grin on his face.
"I'm going to go get the caterer."
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