The entrance to Baratie was impressive—ornate double doors with a fish motif carved into the wood, polished brass handles, and a doorman in a crisp suit who took one look at Luffy's eager face and immediately looked concerned.
"Welcome to Baratie," the doorman said cautiously. "Do you have a reservation?"
Luffy tilted his head. "What's a reservation?"
The doorman's concern deepened. "Sir, we're quite full today—"
Shiro stepped forward smoothly, pulling out a small pouch that jingled with coins. "We don't need a reservation. We need food. Lots of it. And we can pay."
The doorman's expression shifted immediately to professional courtesy. "Of course, sir. Right this way."
As they entered, the restaurant opened up into a grand dining hall—chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, tables covered in white cloth, well-dressed patrons enjoying elaborate meals. The smell of cooking food was intoxicating.
Luffy's stomach growled so loud it echoed.
"That's my cue," Luffy said, already moving toward a table.
They were seated near the window overlooking the ocean. A waiter appeared almost immediately—a tall man with impeccable posture and a severe expression.
"Good afternoon. I'm Patty, head waiter. What can I get you?"
Luffy didn't even look at the menu. "Everything."
Patty blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"Everything on the menu," Luffy clarified. "Twice."
Patty's professional mask cracked slightly. "Sir, that's over forty dishes."
"Better make it three times then," Luffy said cheerfully.
Nami grabbed Luffy's collar. "We are NOT ordering three of everything! We don't have that much money!"
Shiro leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed. "Order what you want, Luffy. We've got bounty money. Might as well use it."
Nami's eye twitched. "That's supposed to last us to the next island!"
"We'll get more bounties," Shiro said with a dismissive wave. "The Grand Line is full of pirates. It's basically a self-sustaining economy."
Zoro snorted. "I like how you think."
Patty cleared his throat. "Shall I... start with appetizers?"
They'd just placed their order when a commotion started outside. Shiro's awareness immediately picked it up—a Marine ship had docked nearby, and several officers were disembarking.
One of them—a man in a fancy coat with what looked like iron knuckles on his hands—was pointing at the Going Merry with a sneer.
"That's a pirate ship," the man said loudly. "Prep the cannons. We'll sink it."
Shiro's eyes narrowed.
The other patrons near the windows started murmuring nervously as they saw Marines preparing a deck cannon, aiming it directly at the Merry.
Nami's face went pale. "They're aiming at our ship!"
Usopp jumped up. "THE MERRY! THEY CAN'T!"
Zoro's hand moved to his swords. "Should we—"
"Sit," Shiro said calmly, not even looking at them.
He raised one hand lazily, his purple eyes glowing faintly.
Outside, the cannon fired.
The cannonball shot through the air, trailing smoke—
—and stopped.
Completely.
Frozen in mid-air, three meters from the Going Merry's hull, held by invisible force.
The Marines stared in shock.
The iron-knuckled man—Lieutenant Fullbody, according to the rank insignia—went pale. "What the—?!"
Shiro's mental voice echoed directly into Fullbody's head, and only his. That's my ship. Touch it, and the next cannonball goes somewhere very uncomfortable. Understood?
Fullbody stumbled backward, clutching his head, eyes wide with terror.
The cannonball slowly rotated in mid-air, turning to point back at the Marine ship.
Then it dropped harmlessly into the water with a splash.
Shiro lowered his hand and picked up his water glass, taking a sip. "Problem solved."
The entire restaurant was staring at him.
Luffy grinned. "That was cool!"
Nami looked between Shiro and the window, her mind racing. "You just... stopped a cannonball. While sitting down. Drinking water."
Shiro shrugged. "Multitasking is a valuable skill."
Zoro smirked. "Show-off."
"Always."
Enter the waiter-cook
A few minutes later, their food started arriving—and it was brought by someone different.
A young man, maybe nineteen or twenty, with blonde hair, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and a suit that somehow looked both elegant and ready for a fight. He carried a massive tray of dishes on one hand, balanced perfectly.
"Alright," the man said, setting plates down with practiced ease. "Seafood pasta, grilled fish, roast meat, vegetable medley—"
His eyes landed on Nami, and he froze mid-sentence.
"—and an angel has descended upon this humble restaurant," he finished smoothly, his entire demeanor shifting. He took Nami's hand and dropped to one knee. "Mademoiselle, your beauty outshines the very stars. May I have the honor of knowing your name?"
Nami blinked. "Uh... Nami?"
The blonde man's eyes literally turned into hearts. "NAMI-SWAN! What a beautiful name for a beautiful lady!"
Zoro's eye twitched. "Who the hell is this guy?"
The blonde man straightened, suddenly all business again as he set down more plates. "Sanji. Sous chef. And you're the crew that stopped a cannonball, right?" His eyes flicked to Shiro. "That was you?"
Shiro nodded. "Guilty."
Sanji whistled low. "Impressive. Haven't seen many tricks like that in East Blue."
"It's not a trick," Shiro said mildly. "It's telekinesis."
"Even more impressive." Sanji set down the last plate—a massive roast in front of Luffy—and pulled out his order pad. "You guys aren't from around here, are you?"
Luffy, already eating, mumbled through a full mouth. "We're from East Blue! But we're going to the Grand Line!"
Sanji's eyebrow rose. "Grand Line? That's ambitious."
"We're gonna find the One Piece!" Luffy declared.
Sanji smiled, though there was something wistful in his expression. "One Piece, huh? Big dream."
"What about you?" Shiro asked, leaning back in his chair. "You seem like someone with dreams of your own."
Sanji's expression shifted—guarded, but with a flicker of something deeper. "Every cook has a dream."
"And yours?" Nami asked.
Sanji lit his cigarette, exhaling smoke slowly. "Doesn't matter. Dreams are for people who have time to chase them." He turned to head back to the kitchen. "Enjoy your meal. I'll bring more."
As he walked away, Shiro's awareness followed him briefly. Interesting. He's carrying something heavy. Not physically—emotionally.
Usopp watched Sanji go. "He's weird."
"He's a good cook, though," Luffy said, already halfway through the roast. "This meat is amazing!"
Zoro was quiet, his eyes tracking Sanji's movements. "He moves like a fighter."
Shiro nodded. "He is. Watch his footwork when he walks. That's not a waiter's gait. That's martial arts."
Nami glanced at Shiro. "You think he's strong?"
Shiro's smile was enigmatic. "Let's just say I wouldn't want to fight him in a kitchen."
As they ate, Sanji returned multiple times with more food—always greeting Nami with over-the-top compliments and ignoring the men almost entirely.
On his third trip, Luffy asked through a mouthful of food, "Hey, cook guy! You ever been to the other Blues?"
Sanji set down another tray. "North Blue, once. Escorted a merchant ship as security when I was younger."
"What's it like?" Usopp asked, genuinely curious.
Sanji leaned against the table, cigarette smoke curling upward. "Cold. Lots of conflict up there. North Blue's where a lot of the big powers recruit from—Marines, pirates, revolutionaries. Food's different too. Lots of preserved stuff. Pickled fish, cured meats."
"What about West Blue?" Nami asked.
"Never been," Sanji admitted. "But I've met traders from there. They say it's more... refined? Fancy restaurants, high culture. Lots of competition among chefs."
Shiro added casually, "South Blue's got the best fruit. Tropical climate means year-round harvests."
Everyone looked at him.
"How do you know that?" Nami asked.
Shiro shrugged. "Books. Lots of books."
Sanji studied him with new interest. "You're well-traveled for someone from East Blue."
"I read more than I travel," Shiro said smoothly. "But I retain everything."
Sanji's expression turned thoughtful. "You ever hear of the All Blue?"
The table went quiet.
"The what?" Luffy asked.
Sanji's voice took on a distant quality. "All Blue. A legendary sea where all four Blues meet. Every fish from every ocean, all in one place. It's a chef's paradise. The ultimate ingredient collection."
"Is it real?" Nami asked.
Sanji exhaled smoke. "Some people think it's a myth. But... I don't know. Maybe it's out there. Somewhere."
Shiro's eyes glinted. "The Grand Line's full of impossible things that turn out to be real. Who's to say All Blue isn't one of them?"
Sanji looked at Shiro sharply, something unreadable in his expression. "You really think so?"
"I think," Shiro said carefully, "that dreams are only impossible until someone proves otherwise."
Sanji was quiet for a moment, then smiled—genuine this time, not the flirtatious mask. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."
He straightened. "Anyway, I've got other tables. Enjoy the food."
As he walked away, Luffy turned to Shiro. "What's All Blue really?"
Shiro's voice was low. "A dream. And maybe, if we're lucky, a destination."
They'd just finished their main courses when the restaurant doors burst open.
A man stumbled in—gaunt, filthy, clearly starving. His clothes were torn, his skin sunburned and dehydrated. He collapsed near the entrance.
"Please..." the man rasped. "Food. Just... a little food."
Patty, the head waiter, immediately walked over, his expression cold. "We don't serve beggars. Get out."
The man tried to reach for a nearby table. "Please, I'm—"
Patty grabbed him by the collar and threw him outside. "No money, no food. That's the rule."
The doors slammed shut.
The restaurant went back to normal, but Shiro's awareness was still tracking the man outside. Starving. Desperate. Dying.
Luffy stood up abruptly.
"Luffy?" Nami asked.
Luffy walked toward the door without a word.
Shiro smiled faintly. Here we go.
Outside, they could hear voices—Luffy's, and someone else's.
Then Patty stormed back in, furious. "That idiot straw hat kid is out there giving our food to a pirate!"
Zeff—the head chef and owner, a massive man with a peg leg and chef's hat—looked up from the kitchen. "A pirate?"
"Demon Gin," Patty spat. "From Don Krieg's crew."
The entire restaurant went silent.
Even Shiro's attention sharpened. Don Krieg. That's... earlier than expected.
Zeff hobbled toward the door. "Let me see."
Outside, Luffy sat across from Gin, who was eating a simple rice ball with tears streaming down his face.
"Thank you," Gin whispered. "Thank you."
Sanji stood nearby, having brought the food out himself despite Patty's protests.
Zeff observed this quietly, then turned to Patty. "Leave them."
"But boss—"
"I said leave them." Zeff's voice carried absolute authority. "A starving man is just a man. Pirate or not, we feed people here."
Patty backed down, grumbling.
Shiro watched through the window, his expression thoughtful. So that's Zeff. The man who taught Sanji everything. Interesting.
Gin finished eating and stood, bowing deeply to Sanji. "I won't forget this. I owe you my life."
Then he left, disappearing into the docks.
Luffy came back inside, grinning. "He was really hungry!"
Zeff looked at Luffy for a long moment, then chuckled. "You're an interesting brat."
Luffy tilted his head. "Thanks! You're a cool old guy!"
Zeff's laugh boomed through the restaurant.
After the meal—and after Nami nearly fainted at the bill—they worked out an arrangement.
Shiro pulled out the wanted posters for Jango and the Nyaban Brothers, along with the official bounty collection receipts.
"We took these in a few days ago," Shiro explained to Zeff. "Combined bounty of fifteen million beli. We haven't collected yet. We'll sign them over to you as payment for food and lodging."
Zeff examined the papers, his eyes sharp. "You took down Jango the Hypnotist?"
"And his captain," Zoro added. "They are weak."
Zeff smiled. "Alright. Deal. You can stay here for a week, eat what you want. After that, we're even."
Nami nearly cried with relief. "A week of free food!"
Luffy cheered. "MEAT EVERY DAY!"
Sanji raised an eyebrow at Shiro. "You're one looking after this crew, aren't you?"
Shiro's smile was lazy. "Someone has to make sure we don't starve or go broke. Usually both."
Over the next few days, the crew settled into a rhythm at Baratie.
Luffy ate enough food to feed a small army, charming the cooks with his enthusiasm despite driving them crazy with his appetite.
Zoro trained on the deck of the Merry, occasionally sparring with Shiro, who continued to refine his form and build his endurance.
Usopp explored the docks, collecting materials and chatting with sailors, gathering stories and rumors about the Grand Line.
Nami studied sea charts in Baratie's library (yes, they had one), cross-referencing weather patterns and plotting future courses.
And Shiro... observed.
He watched Sanji work—the way he moved through the kitchen like a dance, the precision of his cuts, the timing of his cooking. But more than that, he watched how Sanji treated people. Reverence for women. Indifference to men. Absolute devotion to food and those who needed it.
He's got a code, Shiro thought. Rigid, but strong. That'll make him reliable.
Sanji, for his part, was watching the crew too.
That first night, he stood at the kitchen window, smoking and observing them eat together.
The captain—Luffy—was an idiot, but there was something about him. A magnetism. The kind that made people want to follow.
The swordsman—Zoro—was serious, disciplined, but with a wild edge underneath. Dangerous. Ambitious. and Looking at him make me feel irritated like he is my lifelong enemy.
The sniper—Usopp—was a coward, but his hands were steady when it mattered. A contradiction.
The navigator—Nami-swan—was brilliant, sharp, and clearly the brains when it came to practical matters. And beautiful. So beautiful.
And then there was Shiro.
Sanji couldn't figure him out.
The white-haired man moved through the restaurant like he owned it, but without arrogance. He was polite to the staff, tipped generously, and never raised his voice. But there was something underneath—a quiet, absolute confidence that suggested he could end any threat before it began.
And he was strong. Sanji had seen him stop that cannonball without even standing up.
What kind of crew is this? Sanji thought, exhaling smoke. They're heading to the Grand Line like it's a vacation.
But what really stuck with Sanji was something Shiro had said: "Dreams are only impossible until someone proves otherwise."
Sanji's hand drifted to his chest, where he kept an old, faded photograph of a man who'd once told him the same thing.
All Blue.
Could it really be out there?
On the third day, a beautiful woman in an elegant dress entered Baratie—a regular customer, apparently, because the staff greeted her warmly.
Sanji's eyes immediately locked onto her.
"Nami-swan, I must apologize," Sanji said dramatically, abandoning Nami mid-conversation. "But duty calls."
He glided over to the new woman, dropping to one knee. "Mademoiselle, your radiance blinds me. Might I prepare something special for you today?"
Nami's eye twitched. "He just... left. Mid-sentence."
Zoro snorted. "Told you. He's weird."
Shiro, watching with amusement, shook his head. "He's consistent, at least."
Nami crossed her arms. "Consistent at being annoying."
But Shiro noticed the faint smile on her face. She wasn't actually upset. Just... bemused.
She's getting used to this crew, Shiro thought.
By the end of the week, the crew had become fixtures at Baratie. The cooks knew their orders by heart. The patrons recognized them. Even Zeff seemed fond of Luffy, in his own gruff way.
But Shiro's awareness had been picking up something troubling.
Ships. Multiple ships. Heading this way.
And one presence in particular—weak, dying, but familiar.
Gin.
Shiro stood at the railing of the Merry that evening, staring at the horizon.
Zoro approached, crossing his arms. "You've been tense all day. What's wrong?"
Shiro's voice was quiet. "Something's coming. Something big."
Zoro's hand moved to his swords. "Pirates?"
"Worse." Shiro's purple eyes glowed faintly in the fading light. "A fleet."
The next morning
The crew was having breakfast when the doors to Baratie burst open.
Gin stumbled in, bloodied and barely conscious, dragging someone behind him—a massive man in golden armor, barely alive.
"Please," Gin gasped. "Food. My captain... he's dying."
The entire restaurant went silent.
Patty stepped forward. "That's Don Krieg."
The name rippled through the room like a curse.
Don Krieg. The most powerful pirate in East Blue. Commander of fifty ships and five thousand men.
And he was here.
Starving.
Defeated.
Zeff stared at the broken man, then sighed. "Bring him in. We'll feed him."
Sanji's eyes widened. "Old man, you can't—"
"We feed people here," Zeff said firmly. "That's the rule."
Shiro's awareness was already spreading outward, tracking the fleet approaching in the distance.
Here it comes. The real test.
He glanced at Luffy, who was watching Gin with that unreadable expression he got sometimes—serious, focused.
This is where it starts, Shiro thought. This is where Sanji decides.
And outside, on the distant horizon, a shadow was growing.
A fleet of ships. Battered. Broken. But still dangerous.
The storm was coming.