Renzo's private kitchen.
The thick glass windows effectively filtered out most of the noise from outside, leaving only soft sunlight spilling through.
Inside, the air was rich with the aromas of grilled meat, hearty stew, and a faint fruity sweetness, forming a kind of "barrier of flavor" that kept all the world's chaos outside.
Sanji stood at the stove, completely focused.
His knife glided precisely through a beautifully marbled cut of South Blue wagyu, each stroke ringing out in a rhythmical, satisfying sound. Beside him, a pot of sauce made from Sky Island cloudberries and a touch of local wild honey bubbled gently, releasing an irresistible sweet-and-sour scent.
Potts was working beside him, carefully preparing side dishes, his movements softer than usual, as if afraid to disturb the kitchen's serene atmosphere.
His eyes still held traces of unease, the lingering shock from that morning's newspaper headlines.
Renzo lounged in his personal recliner, dressed in casual, comfortable clothes rather than his sharp Rear Admiral's uniform.
On the small table before him sat several freshly baked pastries and a glass of chilled volcano-orange juice beaded with condensation.
He was half-dozing, looking as though he was either unaware of the turmoil outside, or knew and simply didn't care.
"So," Sanji said, plating the seared beef and drizzling it with the carefully prepared cloudberry sauce, his tone calm as if he were discussing the weather, "that Whitebeard guy, he's really coming?"
"That's what the papers say."
Potts answered quietly, hands still moving. "A lot of warships have arrived at the harbor. Everyone's saying it's going to be an all-out war between Headquarters and one of the Four Emperors…"
"War, huh…"
Sanji set the dish down in front of Renzo and shot him a look. "That means supply lines might get cut off. Fresh ingredients could run out. Some picky people might have to live off ration biscuits for a while."
Renzo finally opened his eyes, picked up his knife and fork, and carefully cut into the beef.
The meat was tender and juicy, the sweet-tart berry sauce perfectly balancing the richness of the fat.
"Mm. So what?"
He took a bite, nodded in satisfaction, then lazily replied to Sanji's so-called warning.
"So what?" Sanji repeated, voice rising. "So maybe you should have some sense of crisis! I don't know, push logistics to stock up, or at least plan how to protect this kitchen if a cannonball lands nearby?"
"Logistics is Potts' job. He went there this morning."
Renzo took another sip of juice. "Protecting the kitchen's up to Engineering and the Defense Division. As for cannonballs…"
He paused, seeming to give it serious thought, then concluded, "What kind of cannonball would bother to hit something this good-smelling? The odds are too low to waste energy worrying about."
Sanji was speechless, choked by Renzo's "lazy risk assessment theory." With a huff, he turned to check the lava cake in the oven.
Potts, meanwhile, tried to digest his commanding officer's logic. It didn't make sense, and yet, somehow, it made him feel strangely reassured.
As long as the Rear Admiral was this calm, maybe the sky really wouldn't fall.
Just then, the kitchen door opened, and Kizaru strolled in, fanning himself lazily.
"Yo~ smells amazing~ Sanji-san, is this the grand feast before the war?"
He moved skillfully to the counter, eyes fixed on the freshly baked cake.
"Just a regular lunch," Sanji said flatly, though he still cut a small slice for him. "Aren't you busy, Admiral? No strategy meetings to attend?"
"Na~ the plans were made ages ago~"
Kizaru replied cheerfully between bites of cake. "We just have to stand where we're told and wait for the guests to arrive. But this place… really gives off a sense of peace~"
His gaze drifted toward the relaxed Renzo, and he added meaningfully, "It's chaos out there, you know~ Akainu's stomping around yelling his head off, the whole harbor can hear him."
"Sengoku's office Den Den Mushi hasn't stopped ringing all morning. Only Rear Admiral Renzo's office is still this… what should I call it… ah, 'strategically composed.'"
Renzo didn't even open his eyes. "So noisy. If they'd just quiet down a bit, maybe Whitebeard would arrive later."
Kizaru snorted with laughter. "You've got a point~ But according to the latest intel, the Moby Dick and its fleet have already assembled in the New World. They're heading toward Marineford at full speed. Estimated time of arrival, right around the execution."
The news made Potts' hand tremble, he nearly dropped the sugar jar.
Sanji frowned deeply.
If Kizaru himself came to deliver the news, there was no doubt it was true.
Renzo finally set down his utensils and dabbed his mouth with a napkin.
He seemed to ponder the information seriously, only to ask, "Sanji, how many days' worth of volcano oranges do we have left in storage?"
Sanji blinked, caught off guard. "If we ration them, maybe four or five days. If the supply lines are completely cut off…"
"Potts."
Renzo interrupted, giving a calm order. "Head to Logistics again this afternoon. Use my highest clearance. Get three more crates, no, make it five crates of volcano oranges. Reason: 'Maintaining critical decision-making capacity.'"
"Yes, sir!" Potts responded immediately.
Kizaru chuckled slyly, "As expected of Rear Admiral Renzo~ Always knows what really matters~ Keeping the juice supply steady, much more practical than worrying about Whitebeard~"
Renzo ignored the teasing and walked over to the window.
From there, he could see the bustling harbor, warships moving like shuttles, soldiers swarming like ants.
Further out, on Marineford Plaza, the execution platform was under construction. Its cold metallic frame glinted harshly in the sunlight.
He watched quietly for a moment, then let out a long yawn.
"Tired," he said. "There's nothing this afternoon that needs my personal attention, right?"
Kizaru answered instantly, "No, no~ Those 'security reports' you signed earlier have already been delivered to the Fleet Admiral's office. Everything's fine~"
"Good." Renzo nodded in satisfaction, sank back into his soft chair, pulled a thin blanket over himself, shifted into the most comfortable position, and closed his eyes.
"Wake me up when Whitebeard arrives," he murmured.
Within moments, his breathing became slow and steady.
The kitchen fell silent again, save for the faint hum of the cooling oven and the soft sound of Sanji washing utensils.
Sanji and Potts exchanged a look, both seeing in the other's eyes a kind of absurd calm.
Outside, the greatest war in the world was drawing near.
And here, at its very center, their commanding officer had fallen contentedly asleep, all because he'd secured enough orange juice for the next few days.
Kizaru finished the last bite of cake, quietly slipped out, and even closed the door gently behind him.
As he strolled down the increasingly tense corridors of Marine Headquarters, still fanning himself, that unreadable smile lingered on his face.
"being able to sleep is a blessing~" he murmured.
"Let's just hope that after this great war, there's still cake this good to eat~"
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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