Shuma's Culinary Skills

Buggy slowly exhaled a breath tinged with a hint of red.

No, Mohji wasn't entirely correct; it wasn't just hot, it was spicy. He didn't know what kind of strange peppers Shuma had put in there. The color of the broth looked perfectly normal, but the moment it hit his tongue, that spiciness flooded his entire mouth.

However, once the broth was fully digested in his stomach, the heat slowly faded, leaving his whole body with a very comfortable sensation, much like the warmth of winter sunlight shining upon him.

All in all, the taste was quite excellent. Even though the broth left one feeling thirsty and feverish after drinking it, it made one want to take another sip involuntarily; it was addictive.

"It's burning me, it's burning me!" Mohji ran around to help with the digestion, blowing air from his mouth constantly. Finally, his white, red-tipped hair returned to its original state. He wiped the hot sweat from his forehead, let out a satisfied groan, and instantly changed his attitude, holding out his empty bowl and saying sincerely, "Please, you must give me another bowl!"

"No problem." Shuma shed his earlier hostility, rubbed his finger under his nose, and happily ladled out another bowl.

"Give us one too, by all means!" the surrounding pirates shouted loudly.

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

At the same time, several barrels of whiskey were opened, and at Buggy's signal, the pirates began their banquet in high spirits.

Mohji ladled some thick soup and meat slices to take back to the ship for Richie and Cabaji, who was lying in the lounge.

He placed the meat broth on the table. "Cabaji, this soup is delicious. I only brought it to you because you're a wounded man. Alright, no need to thank me." With that, he left the lounge.

Cabaji smelled the fragrance in the air and suddenly felt ravenous. He muttered to himself, I never expected that guy Mohji to have a reliable side. Did I misjudge him before?

He walked over carefully, picked up the bowl, and downed it in one gulp. His face instantly turned bright red. Because the terrifying peppers accelerated his blood flow, the wound on his chest that was about to scab over tore open again, and beads of blood seeped through his bandages.

He clutched his chest, slumped weakly to the floor, clenched his fists, and roared at the top of his lungs, "You white-haired bastard, I will definitely kill you!"

The sun set in the west, and bonfires rose on the beach. The gloom that had hung over the pirates lately was swept away. They danced various dances and performed all sorts of acrobatics, having clearly moved past their previous low spirits and the exhaustion of the day's hard work.

Buggy chewed on a slice of meat, downed a gulp of wine, pointed at the jubilant pirates around him, and said to Shuma, "Your cooking has been recognized by this gourmet and the masses. Let's set off to see Lord Bear Spirit tomorrow."

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

Buggy nodded and asked, "Do we go straight up the mountain?"

Shuma pointed in a direction within the jungle. "We have to go back first. Only after getting the Great Chief's permission are we allowed to go up the mountain."

Buggy indicated that was no problem. Mohji, drunk and tipsy, sidled over and affectionately draped his arm over Shuma's shoulder. "The meat soup you made is really not bad. For the sake of the soup, I won't hold today's events against you!"

"Oh, oh, oh." Shuma looked at his own hand, then quickly reached out, mimicking what he had just seen. "My name is Shuma."

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

Shuma: "Nice to meet you, Ingredient."

Mohji shook his finger, correcting him: "No, no, it's Mohji. And don't add 'ingredient'."

Shuma repeated after him: "Nice to meet you, Moshi Ingredient."

"It's Mohji..."

"Oh, it's Mohji Ingredient!"

Mohji couldn't take it anymore; he placed his hands on his head and rubbed them incessantly, messing up his hair. "You bastard, are you messing with me!!!"

The next morning.

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

The beast tamer had spent the entire night correcting Shuma's pronunciation, to the point where he was still muttering it in his sleep while drifting off in a daze.

Buggy instructed the ship's carpenters and the pirates who helped out to repair the cracks in the mainmast, while he and Shuma headed toward the village. Mohji, sporting two dark circles under his eyes, insisted on coming along as well.

After much consideration, Buggy agreed. This guy was a beast tamer and must have often communicated with wild animals in the past. Since the Bear Spirit Shuma spoke of was, in any case, a type of animal, perhaps Mohji could provide quite a bit of help.

The three of them trekked through the jungle, and an hour later, they arrived at the place where the Kumat tribe lived.

Before them was a small village consisting mainly of brick-style houses supplemented by camping tents. According to Shuma's explanation, the houses were used to store food, while the actual place for sleeping and resting was the cramped and narrow tents nearby. It was said that this was the only way to be closer to nature, and the tradition had continued to this day.

Several sturdy men walked out of the tents, their skin adorned with bear-paw patterns carved around their eye sockets and on the backs of their hands, and they were dressed in animal skins. Furthermore, each of them held a spear, standing slowly with a sense of being divine servants under a god in Western mythology.

One of the slightly chubby Kumat tribesmen said, "Shuma, I didn't expect you to bring back two upright ingredients. You truly are the strongest warrior."

Another thin and tall Kumat tribesman said, "Yeah, yeah, it seems like it's been a long time since we've eaten this kind of creature."

An older Kumat tribesman chuckled and, in an instant, pulled two kitchen knives from an unknown place. "Let's have a banquet today!"

The moment they spoke, the open and murderous atmosphere they carried was completely destroyed, becoming somewhat comical.

Buggy looked at them. As expected... are they truly cannibals?

"Wait a moment, everyone," Shuma said hurriedly. "They are my friends, Ingredient."

"What? So they're your friends."

"Guests are guests, haha."

"I didn't expect you to make two foreign friends, Shuma."

The surrounding tribesmen grinned, and the atmosphere suddenly became inexplicably harmonious.

It wasn't as impossible to communicate as he had imagined. Buggy felt much calmer inside and was just about to speak when several Kumat tribesmen walked up, unashamedly gesturing at them.

"I heard that friend-ingredients are even more delicious, and that guy with a cherry on his face looks like he would taste good."

"I still prefer that white-haired guy. I feel like he'd be more satisfying to chew on."

Buggy's face darkened as he gripped a dagger hidden within his sleeve between his fingers. As expected, cannibals were unreasonable; it was better to use force to show them exactly who they shouldn't mess with.

"Stop causing trouble, all of you. I'm here to see the Great Chieftain," Shuma said, blocking the others with his body.

"The Great Chieftain just finished eating a Prehistoric Lizard and is picking his teeth right now," a few Kumat tribesmen replied. Seeing Shuma protecting two upright ingredients, they looked displeased, but they didn't press forward.

According to the rules of their tribe, regardless of age, anyone whose cooking had not yet been recognized by the Bear Spirit was considered a minor. Therefore, even though one of the Kumat tribesmen already had gray hair, he belonged to the same generation as Shuma, so there was no need for honorifics or politeness in their conversation.

A petite old woman pushed through the crowd and stepped out. She wore a ring woven from feathers on her head and kept her hands clasped behind her back, revealing two large yellow teeth as she spoke: "That lizard was too old; it tasted like chewing on firewood. Shuma, have you brought me a dessert?"