The LC-02 sailed smoothly across the Eastern Sea.
Sunlight poured over the deck, and the sea breeze blew gently, making everything seem so peaceful.
That is, until a shout erupted from the kitchen.
"Put that butter down!"
"You're not supposed to use it like that!"
Sanji's voice nearly shook the roof off the ship.
Potts trembled in the corner of the kitchen, holding a crookedly cut piece of butter. "I-I was just trying to help the Commodore make a sandwich…"
"A sandwich?"
Sanji snatched the butter from him, skillfully reshaping it.
"Making a sandwich is an art! The thickness of the bread, the temperature of the butter, the combination of fillings-"
"Every single detail affects the final taste! What you just did is sacrilege against the ingredients!"
Renzo lay sprawled on a deck chair, not even opening his eyes. "Potts, give up. Even Sea Kings would reject your sandwiches."
Potts pouted in grievance. "But Commodore, you've eaten my cooking before…"
"That was because you didn't give me a choice."
Renzo was merciless.
"Just like at the Marine Headquarters cafeteria, I choose the stew over Vice Admiral Tsuru's lectures-not because I like stew."
Sanji snorted proudly and began preparing lunch with practiced skill.
His movements were fluid as flowing clouds and water, knives dancing at his fingertips, ingredients seeming to arrange themselves automatically.
Soon, an aroma began to drift from the kitchen.
Potts watched Sanji's back and muttered softly, "What's the big deal? He just knows how to cook…"
"You think cooking is just cooking?"
Sanji's ears perked sharply as he spun around.
"Let me tell you, cooking is one of the greatest arts in the world! It concerns life, it concerns happiness, it concerns-"
"It concerns whether I can take a quiet nap."
Renzo interrupted him. "Is the food ready? I'm hungry."
Sanji's temples bulged with veins, but he turned back to continue cooking.
Potts secretly gave Renzo a thumbs-up, only to be sharply kicked back by Sanji.
Lunch was a perfect seafood risotto with special garlic bread.
Renzo ate contentedly, even giving rare praise: "Better than the Marine Headquarters cafeteria."
Sanji's expression was both offended and bemused. "'Better'? This is the finest seafood risotto in the Eastern Sea!"
"Mm-hmm," Renzo was already dozing again.
"Next time, make the rice softer. I'm too lazy to chew hard stuff."
Sanji nearly slammed the plate on his head in anger.
In the afternoon, the voyage continued.
Potts was at the helm, Sanji studied the treasure map, and Renzo continued his "deck paralysis syndrome."
"Based on the chart and currents, we should head northeast," Sanji said seriously. "Warmwave Island should be in that area."
Potts adjusted the course, but soon noticed the ship steering itself: "Huh? The wheel is turning on its own?"
Renzo didn't open his eyes. "That direction looks better."
Sanji frowned. "You can't navigate by what looks good. We need precise navigation!"
"Precise navigation is too troublesome."
Renzo rolled over. "My Observation Haki lets me sense which sea breeze is warmer, which fish are plumper. Just follow the feeling."
Sanji and Potts exchanged glances. This navigation method was unheard of.
Surprisingly, following Renzo's "intuition navigation," they avoided several reefs and whirlpools and even discovered a shortcut.
Once, when Sanji insisted on following the chart, they almost collided with migrating Sea Kings, only to be diverted by Renzo lazily saying, "Those fish are too big. Too troublesome to deal with."
"How do you do that?" Sanji asked.
Renzo yawned. "The sea gets tired too. It wants to slack off. It doesn't like staying in troublesome spots."
Sanji: "..."
He began to suspect he'd boarded a ship of thieves.
By evening, a sudden storm tested the small ship.
Waves surged, lightning flashed, and Potts nervously held the wheel while Sanji secured the kitchen equipment.
"Commodore! The storm is too strong! We need to find shelter!" Potts shouted.
Renzo lazily sat up from the deck chair, squinting at the sky. "Yeah, it's a bit noisy."
He walked to the bow, waved lazily toward the storm, and said, "Settle down, we're trying to sleep."
What happened next stunned everyone: the sea around the LC-02 within a hundred meters suddenly calmed, as if an invisible barrier had isolated the storm.
Outside, the world raged, but inside the ship, it was completely calm, not even the water in the cups stirred.
Sanji's jaw nearly dropped onto the deck. "Wh-what kind of power is this?"
Potts, already used to it, said: "Commodore just finds storms too troublesome."
Sanji's gaze toward Renzo changed completely.
This man was not only a foodie but also a hidden powerhouse, albeit in a rather unusual way.
At dinner, Sanji prepared a top-quality steak, trying to probe: "So, who exactly are you? A Marine officer? A Devil Fruit user? Or some hidden expert?"
Renzo focused on slicing the steak. "I'm just an ordinary person who wants to eat and sleep in peace."
"An ordinary person who can stop storms?"
"The storm got tired on its own. Not my business."
"An ordinary person who can scare off the entire Krieg fleet?"
"They left because it was too troublesome for them."
"An ordinary person who navigates by 'intuition'?"
"The sea chose the route itself."
Sanji gave up asking.
This person was either truly lazy to the extreme or a master of disguise.
Either way, he was headache-inducing.
At night, Sanji studied the stars alone on deck, trying to confirm their position.
Renzo strolled out, holding an apple.
"You're looking at Cassiopeia, off by 15 degrees," Renzo said, munching on the apple.
Sanji looked up in surprise. "You know astronomy?"
"Nope." Renzo pointed at the sky.
"The stars are arranged neatly there; it's pleasing to the eye. That cluster is too messy, too troublesome."
Sanji: "..."
He decided to trust his own navigation.
However, the next morning, when they discovered a small island not marked on the chart, Sanji had to respect Renzo's "trouble-free navigation method" again.
The island had rare spice plants, the exact ingredients urgently needed for cooking.
"How did you know there would be an island here?" Sanji asked while collecting spices.
Renzo lay on the beach, sunbathing. "I didn't. Just thought going straight all the time was boring, taking a turn seemed more interesting."
Sanji shook his head, deciding not to try to understand this man's way of thinking anymore.
By the third day, the LC-02's kitchen had fully become Sanji's territory. Potts was forbidden from stepping inside, unless washing vegetables, and even then, he had to follow Sanji's strict standards.
"Lettuce must soak for ten minutes, then rinse leaf by leaf. No scrubbing!" Sanji demonstrated.
Potts wanted to cry. "Just washing vegetables, does it need to be this complicated?"
"Complicated?" Sanji's gaze turned dangerous.
"The soul of great food lies in the details! You're-"
"Alright, alright, I'll do it…"
Potts quickly surrendered.
Renzo watched this scene and, for once, smiled. "You two are like an old married couple."
Sanji and Potts both glared at him. "Shut up!"
That evening, Sanji made a special dish.
Seafood soup cooked with spices collected from the island. Its taste was so exquisite that even Renzo sat up straight, savoring every bite.
"How is it?" Sanji asked expectantly.
"Not bad," Renzo said, finishing the entire dish.
Sanji almost flipped the table in anger, but seeing the empty pot, he couldn't help but feel a hint of pride.
At night, Potts quietly asked Renzo, "Commodore, can we really find Warmwave Island?"
Renzo looked at the stars. "We're almost there."
"How do you know?"
"Sanji started getting nervous. He added salt twice too many times today, and his knife skills were 0.3 seconds slower than usual. That's anticipation and anxiety."
Renzo yawned. "Also, the sea breeze smells like hot springs."
Potts sniffed but smelled nothing. "Really?"
"Not really."
Renzo closed his eyes. "Just a guess. Anyway, we'll see tomorrow."
The next morning, when an island shrouded in steam appeared in the distance, Potts's admiration for Renzo peaked.
Renzo merely glanced, muttered, "Oh, almost there," and went back to napping.
Sanji stood at the bow, gripping the railing excitedly. "Warmwave Island! It really exists!"
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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