"Ah... I feel even hungrier." Shanks lay sprawled on the deck, completely drained, while his crew kept far away from him.
There was no helping it. For some reason, the Sea King Shanks had killed gave off a strange, foul stench from every part of its body.
And it had not been that strong at first. The longer it was exposed to the air, the more intense the stench became.
Shanks, covered in blood, had washed himself several times, and the entire deck had been scrubbed over a dozen times. Yet the foul smell still lingered.
Shanks had also thrown up several times, emptying out everything in his stomach. By the end, all he was vomiting was acidic fluid, so naturally, he felt even hungrier.
"Who told you, idiot, to hook a Sea King like that?" Beckman complained from far away as he smoked.
"A hopeless Captain. Even the Sea Kings he catches are different from everyone else's."
"Hey, that's discrimination!" Shanks retorted. "Being unreliable has nothing to do with my fishing skills."
"So you admit you're unreliable? What an idiot Captain."
As the two bickered as usual, Yasopp suddenly looked up at the sky.
"What a huge bird!"
"Where? Where's the roast chicken?" Lucky Roux raised his head and looked around.
"No, I think it would be better stewed!" Shanks suddenly cut in.
Beckman covered his forehead. They had not even shot it down yet, and they were already deciding how to eat it?
"Ha! I think any way would work. If not, we can roast half and stew the other half." Yasopp raised his beloved rifle. With a bang, the giant bird came plummeting down.
"Hahaha, whoever grabs it first gets it!" Shanks, who had been lying around like a corpse on the deck, leaped up and lunged