Luffy was the first to break the deafening silence.
"This… this is really meat?" he asked, eyes wide as he stared at the magnificent Leafy Sea Dragon hovering above Cry's fingertip.
Everyone turned to look at Cry. The goddess merely tilted her head, her crystal-blue eyes reflecting the shimmering fins and wing-like appendages of the creature. Then she slowly nodded.
The murmurs that had been stifled in everyone's chest suddenly felt justified in their minds. The impossible had happened. This ethereal, hovering Leafy Sea Dragon… was food.
Usopp's jaw practically hit the floor. "No… no… That thing… that's… that's meat?" he whispered, trembling. His usual exaggeration failed him—he couldn't make the words match the impossible reality before him.
Jonny and Yusaku were frozen, a mixture of awe and disbelief holding them in place. Jonny muttered, "…I… I can't even think… it's… a sea dragon… and she's going to let us eat it?"
Zoro smirked, his usual calm mask barely hiding the thrill in his eyes. "Hmph… well, I've always wanted to try something big… like that dragon." His hand tightened on his sword, not for battle this time, but for the sheer excitement of tasting the impossible.
Sanji's jaw slackened. He swallowed audibly, his hands trembling slightly. Even he, the man who had spent a lifetime lusting after beauty, felt a reverent awe. This… this was sacred. A creature worthy of a goddess, and now it was meat. He whispered to himself, "It… it can't be… a sin… but… I've never seen anything like it…"
Even Zeff, the gruff master chef of the Baratie, was momentarily speechless. His usually iron will and decades of culinary mastery faltered as he looked at the creature. "By the heavens…" he muttered, sweat forming on his brow. "I've cooked many fish before b-but… but this… this… is something else entirely."
The chefs in the kitchen stiffened, knives paused midair, spoons hovering. They had prepared exotic, rare seafood for the wealthiest clients, but this… a full-grown Leafy Sea Dragon? Something from legends? Their minds reeled. A dozen hearts pounded in unison, yet every hand wanted to obey the command implicit in Cry's gesture.
Zeff shook his head slightly, clearing it. "Alright," he finally said, voice steady but full of awe. "We will cook it for you… to enjoy."
The chefs nearly gasped as Zeff's words landed. Their eyes darted between the dragon and their master, fear and excitement mixing. The impossible task had been given: to prepare a meal worthy of a goddess.
A flurry of precise movements erupted in the kitchen. Knives danced through the air, cleavers sliced, pots clanged, and flames roared. Every chef moved with unerring focus, communicating without words, their minds fully in the moment. Ingredients were seasoned to perfection, oils heated to the perfect temperature, garnishes prepared with the precision of art.
Sanji's hands flew over the pans, his body trembling, not from fear, but from reverence. "I… I can't mess this up," he muttered, sweat rolling down his temple. He carefully guided the dragon's scales, preparing it without harming its sacred form until it was ready to be transformed into a dish worthy of Cry.
Zeff stood at the center, orchestrating each movement like a conductor. "Perfect timing… no mistakes… respect the creature, respect the goddess," he instructed. Each word carried weight, each motion precise.
Even Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Jonny, and Yusaku couldn't help but gape. Luffy's drool had started again. "Cook it, cook it, I wanna eat it!" he shouted, jumping slightly in his seat.
Zoro leaned back, smirking with excitement. "Hmph… I can't wait to taste this dragon." His hands flexed, ready to dig in the moment the food hit the table.
Usopp whispered, almost shaking, "It's… it's like a legend… and we're… we're about to eat it…"
Jonny and Yusaku simply nodded, awe-struck, their mouths dry. The impossible had become a reality: a goddess's food, a Leafy Sea Dragon turned meal.
And in the center of it all, Cry simply observed, tilting her head, her curious eyes following each movement. She didn't know the significance, the impossibility, or the reverence. She only knew they were doing something for her, and that was enough.
The chefs moved as one, transforming the mythical dragon into a culinary masterpiece, each movement respectful, precise, and full of reverence. Smoke curled, aromas danced, and even the air in the Baratie seemed to hold its breath.
When the final dish was prepared, it was not just a meal—it was a living tribute to the goddess, a perfection of culinary art that no mortal would dare dream of serving.
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To br continued.