Shuma's Cooking

Buggy slowly let out a breath that carried a hint of red.

No, Mohji wasn't entirely right. It wasn't hot—it was spicy. Who knew what kind of strange peppers Shuma had put in there? The broth looked perfectly normal, but the moment it entered his mouth, its spiciness filled his entire mouth.

However, once the broth had been fully digested, the burning sensation gradually faded, leaving his whole body feeling wonderfully comfortable, like basking in the winter sun.

All in all, it tasted quite good. Though drinking the broth left him parched and feverish, he couldn't help wanting another sip. It was addictive.

"It's scalding me to death! Scalding me to death!" Mohji ran around to cool off, blowing air through his mouth nonstop. At last, the red in his white hair returned to normal. He wiped the hot sweat from his forehead and let out a satisfied groan, his attitude changing in an instant. Holding out his empty bowl, he said earnestly, "Please give me another bowl!"

"Sure." Shuma's hostility vanished. He rubbed his fingers beneath his nose and happily ladled out another bowl for him.

"Please give us a bowl too!" the surrounding pirates called out loudly.

Shuma set a stack of large bowls on the ground, beaming as he filled them one by one. "Thanks for your patronage!"

At the same time, several barrels of whiskey were opened, and at Buggy's signal, the pirates eagerly started a feast.

Mohji ladled out some thick soup and meat slices, then took them aboard for Richie and Cabaji, who was lying in the lounge.

He set the meat soup on the table. "Cabaji, this soup is delicious. I brought you some because you're injured. All right, no need to thank me." With that, he left the lounge.

The aroma wafting through the air made Cabaji's stomach rumble. He muttered, "I never thought Mohji could be dependable. Was I wrong about him all this time...?"

He cautiously walked over, picked up the bowl, and gulped it down. His face immediately flushed red. The terrifying peppers sped up his blood flow, reopening the wound on his chest, which had nearly scabbed over. Fresh blood seeped through the bandages.

Clutching his chest, he slumped helplessly to the floor and clenched his fists. He roared hoarsely, "You white-haired bastard! I'll kill you!"

The sun sank in the west, and bonfires sprang up along the beach. The pirates' recent gloom lifted. They danced all sorts of dances and happily performed various acrobatic tricks, seeming to have shaken off their earlier dejection and the exhaustion of a hard day's work.

Buggy chewed on a slice of meat, then took a swig of liquor. Pointing at the jubilant pirates around them, he said to Shuma, "Your cooking has won the approval of me, a gourmet, and the people. Set off tomorrow to meet Lord Bear Spirit."

"Really?" Shuma danced with joy. "Then we'll leave tomorrow!"

Buggy nodded. "Are we going straight up the mountain?"

Shuma pointed toward a direction in the jungle. "We have to go back first. We can only go up the mountain after getting the Great Matriarch's permission."

Buggy said that was fine. Mohji, already drunk, came over and affectionately put an arm around Shuma's shoulder. "That meat soup you made was really good. I'll let you off the hook for what happened today, on account of the soup!"

"Oh, oh, oh." Shuma looked at his own hand, quickly held it out, and tried to copy Mohji. "My name is Shuma."

Mohji offered his hand. "My name is Mohji."

Shuma said, "Mickey ingredients, hello."

Mohji shook a finger to correct him. "No, no. It's Mohji. And don't add 'ingredients.'"

Shuma repeated after him, "Moses ingredients."

"It's Mohji..."

"Oh, so it's Moji ingredients!"

Unable to take it anymore, Mohji put his hand on his head and ruffled his hair until it was a mess. "You bastard, are you messing with me?!"

The next morning.

"It's Mohji, it's Mohji..."

The beast tamer had spent all night correcting Shuma's pronunciation. Even when he'd finally nodded off, he'd kept mumbling it in his sleep.

Buggy told the shipwright and the pirates who were helping him to repair the crack in the main mast. He went to the village with Shuma, while Mohji, sporting dark circles under his eyes, insisted on coming along too.

After thinking it over, Buggy agreed. Mohji was a beast tamer, so he'd probably spent a lot of time communicating with wild animals. And the Bear Spirit Shuma had mentioned was still an animal, after all. Mohji might be able to help.

The three of them passed through the jungle, reaching the Kumat Tribe's settlement an hour later.

Before them lay a small village consisting mostly of brick houses, with a few camping tents. Shuma explained that the houses were used to store food, while the actual sleeping and resting quarters were the cramped, crowded tents nearby. Apparently, living in them brought the tribe closer to nature, and the tradition had continued to this day.

Several burly men emerged from the tents. They wore animal hides and had bear-paw patterns tattooed around their eyes and on the backs of their hands. Each of them held a spear, standing in a row with an air that brought to mind servants of the gods in Western mythology.

One chubby Kumat Tribe member said, "Shuma, I never thought you'd bring back two upright ingredients. You truly are our strongest warrior."

Another Kumat Tribe member, lean and tall, said, "Yes, yes. It feels like ages since we last ate creatures like these."

A rather old Kumat Tribe member chuckled and suddenly pulled two cleavers out of nowhere. "Let's have a feast today!"

As soon as they spoke, the frank, solemn air about them vanished completely, replaced by something rather ridiculous.

Looking at them, Buggy thought, So they really are a tribe of cannibals...

"Hold on, everyone," Shuma hurriedly said. "They're my friends, the ingredients."

"What? They're your friends?"

"Guests are always welcome, haha."

"I can't believe you've made two friends from outside the tribe, Shuma."

The tribespeople grinned, and the atmosphere suddenly became oddly cordial.

They weren't as impossible to talk to as Buggy had imagined, which put his mind somewhat at ease. Just as he was about to speak, several Kumat Tribe members came over and openly scrutinized them, making faces at each other.

"I heard the meat of friend ingredients is even tastier. And that guy with cherries growing on his face looks delicious."

"I prefer that white-haired guy. I bet he'd be a lot more fun to chew."

Buggy's face darkened. He slipped the dagger hidden in his sleeve between his fingers. The cannibals really were unreasonable. He'd just have to use force to show them who they shouldn't mess with.

"Stop bothering them. I'm here to see the Great Matriarch," Shuma said, stepping in front of the others.

"The Great Matriarch just ate a Prehistoric Lizard and is picking her teeth," several Kumat Tribe members said. They were displeased to see Shuma protecting the two upright ingredients, but they didn't press forward and answered honestly.

According to their tribe's rules, anyone whose cooking hadn't been approved by Lord Bear Spirit was considered underage, regardless of age. So even though one Kumat Tribe member already had white hair, he was still of the same generation as Shuma. That was why they spoke among themselves without honorifics or formalities.

A petite old woman pushed through the crowd and stepped forward. She wore a wreath woven from feathers on her head and held her hands behind her back. Two large yellow teeth showed in her mouth. "That lizard was too old. It tasted like chewing on firewood. Shuma, did you bring me a dessert?"