━───Sabo leaned toward Ace, eyeing Thatch with mild disbelief. "Is he always like that?" he asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.
Ace, caught between amusement and exasperation, only sighed.
The only one truly captivated by Thatch's rambling was Sanji. His face lit up, a grin spreading as he unconsciously edged closer, practically vibrating with excitement. "Wow, you immediately got it!" he exclaimed, admiration shining in his eyes.
Thatch, fueled by Sanji's enthusiasm, beamed. "Of course! Using the fish shell stock ties everything together, layering flavors straight from the sea!" His hands moved animatedly. "Every bite's gonna have depth! And those burdock roots and potato skins? Grounded yet refreshing. I'd roast them—bring out more flavor."
Sanji perked up. "Now that you mention it, I should've done that. Maybe add herbed salt?" He leaned in, brow furrowed.
"Or Water Seven's salt," Thatch offered, eyes glinting.
Sanji's head snapped up. "Oh, you know that too? Took me running all over the city just to learn that," he said, pride creeping into his voice.
"Ahaha, you too?" Thatch laughed, the camaraderie evident in the air.
"Wait, you too?" Sanji's eyes widened, his excitement infectious.
The others watched from the sidelines, amusement flickering across their faces as Thatch and Sanji exchanged excited chatter, their energy almost childlike. It was like watching kids rave about their favorite toys, pure and unfiltered joy.
Marco smirked, shaking his head. "Look at him go."
Whitebeard chuckled, eyes warm with approval. "Seems like he finally found a match for that cooking talk."
Jozu, arms crossed, leaned back slightly. "Rare to see him this into something," he mused.
Marco huffed. "What do you expect? It's cooking. We ain't chefs."
But some were. Fourth Division members drifted closer, eager and attentive, scribbling notes as the impromptu chef study came to life. No one paid attention to the scattered cookbooks, the real lesson was in the two animated figures, lost in their culinary world.
【Silence blanketed the battlefield like a thick fog. Navarone's cooks stood frozen at the edge, wide-eyed, while marines stared in a daze, struggling to process the scene.
Sanji pulled his cigarette from his lips, flicking the ash with practiced ease. Straightening, he let his voice cut through the hush. "This is a battlefield, right? It's always best if the food tastes good, but wouldn't it be the worst if you ran out of food?"
