Shirou's Thirty Million Avatars

Minezaki Yaeko fell silent for a moment, the dish she'd tasted yesterday and the seven years of experience flooding her mind.

A single victory or defeat didn't matter much, and a ten-year contract was nothing either. But maybe, just maybe, Boss might change because of this...

"Fine."

"Is it worth it?"

"Yeah."

"Is that so?" Sakurai Shirou let out a sneer, staring coldly at Yukihira Soma. "Kid, then let's begin. But there's no dish in this world that can move me."

"You never know!"

Yukihira Soma let out a long breath, silently thanking Minezaki Yaeko in his heart, then returned to the kitchen to start cooking.

This guy's too fat. He must be used to rich food every day. I'll make something vegetable-based.

After busying himself in the kitchen for over ten minutes, Yukihira Soma carried a plate of vegetable rolls and walked confidently toward the front hall.

Today's dish was his masterpiece, surpassing his usual level. He was sure it could move this arrogant, annoying fat bastard just like it had moved Minezaki-san yesterday.

"Please, enjoy!"

Sakurai Shirou glanced at him, picked up a vegetable roll with his chopsticks, and took a small bite.

"Ptooey..."

After chewing, he spat it on the floor, his face twisted in disgust.

"Terrible. This is your cooking? Shut down your restaurant and go back to school."

Sakurai Shirou stood up and left. When he reached the door, he looked back and sneered:

"Don't forget to lock up and clear out, kid."

Yukihira Soma stared blankly at the spring rolls on the table, frozen like a wooden chicken.

After a long moment, as if remembering something, he reached out with trembling hands, picked up a spring roll, and put it in his mouth.

Why?

It's clearly better than my usual cooking. Why did he act like he'd eaten something inedible?

Sitting in the car heading back to the company, Minezaki Yaeko pressed herself against Sakurai Shirou and asked cautiously:

"Boss, I tried that vegetable roll earlier. It was delicious, far better than anything on the market. So why...?"

Sakurai Shirou glanced at her and spoke slowly:

"Do you remember the scar under my tongue?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I cut it myself."

"Huh...?! Why would you do that?"

"There are too many unreasonable chefs in this world. Their cooking is like magic—it can make people hallucinate and blurt out truths they'll regret later."

A trace of disdain flickered across Sakurai Shirou's face as he continued:

"So I cut my tongue and severed my taste nerves."

"That way, I can decide for myself whether a dish is good or bad."

"And as it happens, every famous chef in this world has that particular arrogance—they think if they can't move someone's tongue with their cooking, it must mean their skill isn't good enough."

"Hah... naive. They deserve to go out of business."

Minezaki Yaeko clung tightly to his arm, suddenly feeling a chill as if she were trapped in the dead of winter.

Just when did this man become so cold-blooded?

Pirate World.

Having crossed the Calm Belt, the luxurious ship carrying the Celestial Dragons smoothly entered the first stop of the Four Seas Pilgrimage—the East Blue.

Meanwhile, on a desolate island somewhere.

Two people who had been starving for a long time sat back-to-back, leaning against each other.

Hunger had reduced them to skin and bones, and they stared weakly at the sea.

"Old bastard, I think I see a ship."

"Really? Call for help!"

"But... but I see Marines on the bow."

"Is this the time to worry about that? As long as we survive, even if we spend the rest of our lives in prison, it doesn't matter."

"Fine."

The child struggled to his feet and waved both arms frantically.

"The ship's coming this way!"

"Good..."

With those words, the dying man passed out.

After an unknown stretch of time, he opened his eyes again, and the first thing he saw was a monkey.

No—it was a middle-aged man with a monkey-like face, wearing a navy coat.

"How are you feeling? Are you alright, Red-Legged Zeff?"

The sudden childish voice made Zeff instinctively turn toward its source.

On the deck, about a meter away from him, stood a young child in ornate clothing. Flanking the child was a group of people wrapped up tight from head to toe.

Having traveled the Grand Line, Zeff was a man of considerable experience. After a moment's thought, he quickly guessed their identity.

Anyone who could have a Vice Admiral and that many CP Agents as guards could only be a World Noble.

He glanced to the side at the sleeping Sanji and breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

As long as they were alive, that was enough.

"Thank you for saving us."

"No need to thank us. It was just a small favor," Shirou said with a smile. "How long did you stay on that island? With no food, how did you survive?"

"Seventy-five days. We were on that island for seventy-five days. No food, no water—we just gritted our teeth and endured."

As he spoke, Zeff unconsciously looked down at the leg he'd lost.

The other party was a World Noble. If he told the truth—that he'd used that leg as food—it might scare him.

"Impressive."

Shirou paused, then asked curiously, "But I'm a bit puzzled. Why didn't you catch fish or seabirds for food? The island might have been barren, but the sea is full of food."

"You overestimate me. I'm just a small-time pirate. How could I possibly do something that extreme?"

"Is that extreme?"

Shirou instinctively looked at Borsalino, seeking his opinion.

"He's not wrong. Seabirds fly fast, and the sea is full of Sea Kings. Even among the navy, only a few can subsist on those," Borsalino said, then added, "Besides, this is the East Blue—the weakest of the Four Seas."

"I see."

Shirou nodded thoughtfully. It seemed he'd made the mistake of taking things for granted.

Still, Zeff had managed to travel the Grand Line for a year, so he must have had some skill. He was probably held back by Sanji.

Chapter 55: That's Not Too Much to Ask

Section 55, Chapter 55: That's Not Too Much to Ask

"What are you going to do with me?" Zeff couldn't help asking.

Seeing his tense expression, Shirou thought for a moment and smiled. "Before we leave the East Blue, would you mind working as my chef?"

"You're not going to arrest me?"

"There's no need for that. You're just a small-time pirate no one's heard of. You might have a fierce face and not look very likable, but I can tell you're a good person."

"Me... a good person?"

"As your savior, I'm asking you to cook for me for a while. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

"No, it's not. I agree."

Zeff sighed inwardly. Wasn't this just a refusal that wasn't an option?

With a Vice Admiral nearby and a pack of CP Agents watching him like hawks, if he said no, he'd probably be thrown into the sea right away.

Still, if they left the East Blue later and he came out of this unscathed, this experience might become a legend.

After all, not everyone gets saved by a World Noble.

"Can I borrow the bathroom and kitchen?"

"No need to rush into work. You've been starving for so long—rest for a couple of days first."

"I..."

Zeff was about to ask for some food when he suddenly realized he wasn't all that hungry. Surprised, he asked, "Did you feed me something while I was unconscious?"

"We gave you some Recovery Potion and juice. If you're hungry..."

Before he could finish, Shirou realized he was stating the obvious and changed tack. "Hyman, take him to the kitchen. Also, once he starts working, have the ship's chefs assist him and learn as much as they can from his cooking."

"This... Young Master, forgive my bluntness, but can a small-time pirate like him really match those carefully selected master chefs?" Hyman hesitated.

"Fame doesn't equal skill. As a pirate, Zeff might be mediocre. But as a chef, he's at least world-class."

Though it had been a long time since he last cooked with his own hands, several versions of himself in other worlds cooked every day—they were seasoned veterans.

From the perspective of an old hand like Shirou, the chefs on his own ship were about on par with him—at best second-rate in the world.

Seeing the seriousness in Shirou's tone, Butler Hyman bowed his head and said, "Yes," offering no further words.

Zepp was momentarily stunned. He truly couldn't understand why this young World Noble thought so highly of him.

He was confident in himself, sure, but that was a far cry from being valued by others.

Still, the feeling wasn't unpleasant.

Having his culinary skill recognized as world-class by a World Noble—for a chef, that was the highest praise imaginable.

"In that case, allow me to go bathe and change at once. I'll soon present you with my finest dish."

"Ohh... now that's something to look forward to." Shirou said with a smile. "But are you sure you're alright? A Recovery Potion can only heal injuries—it won't restore your stamina."

"No problem! I feel perfectly healthy right now."

Zepp raised his arm, flexed it a few times, then followed Butler Hyman toward the cabin.

After a few steps, he suddenly seemed to remember something. He quickly turned back, scooped up the sleeping Sanji from the deck, and only then left.

Watching him go, Borsalino remarked leisurely:

"He's not cut out to be a pirate."

"There are quite a few like him out at sea." Shirou paused, a note of emotion in his voice. "They set sail not for murder and plunder, but for adventure and treasure. People like that shouldn't be lumped together with the scoundrels who commit every evil under the sun."

"Perhaps. But those who can hold fast to their ideals have always been the minority," Borsalino said slowly.

That night, in the White Mist Space.

"Come on, come on... shake, shake."