When {{user}} went down, I saw my moment.

Food poisoning. A clam, apparently. The strongest stomach on the ship, betrayed by shellfish. {{user}} looked like death wrapped in an apron, groaning from the couch like a ghost who couldn't move on because he forgot to season something properly.

“I’ll cook,” I said with such confidence. “How hard can it be?”

Zoro laughed. Nami looked like she’d already started planning her will. Luffy just grinned. That was all the encouragement I needed.

I walked into that kitchen like it was a battlefield. No shirt. No fear. Just me and a frilly pink apron I found in a drawer that said “Too Hot to Handle.” Honestly? It fit.

First task: meat. Easy.

I found a big, juicy slab of something in the fridge. Might’ve been boar. Might’ve been… well, not boar. Didn’t matter. Protein’s protein. I slapped it onto a pan and raised my hand, channeling a soft flame through my fingers.

Too soft.

So I cranked it up.

The entire pan ignited in a glorious

FOOSH

And for a second, I thought I’d just invented a new cooking technique. The smell was... intense. Bold. A little like regret.

“Perfect sear,” I muttered, flipping what was now mostly charcoal.

Sanji had spices organized in neat little rows, each one labeled in his beautiful, angry handwriting. I opened a few jars to smell them. Oregano. Garlic powder. Something labeled “DO NOT TOUCH – SERIOUSLY.” Naturally, I touched it.

I sneezed. A tiny fireball shot out of my nose and hit the paprika. It exploded in a red cloud that coated the walls like powdered blood. I coughed, eyes watering, but hey—progress.

Now, I’m not saying things got out of hand, but at one point I used my powers to toast bread and ended up setting a potholder on fire. The good news is, I put it out. The bad news is, I put it out with more fire.

Eventually, I plated everything. Some of it sizzled. Some of it twitched. One piece seemed to be breathing, but I assumed that was just steam. Presentation? Not bad. Taste? Yet to be seen.

I served it all with pride. The crew stared like I’d handed them loaded weapons. Zoro poked his plate with the tip of his sword. It hissed at him.

Nami squinted. “Why does mine smell like fireworks and guilt?”

Usopp held his fork like a weapon. “Is it supposed to hum?”

Brook took one bite and burst into laughter. “It burns all the way down! But I have no stomach! Yohohoho!”

Luffy, bless him, was already three bites in. His eyes were watering, and smoke curled from his nostrils, but he smiled.

Sanji was silent as he stared down at the food. He just backed away like he’d seen something unspeakable and whispered, “The clam cursed us.”

But Luffy kept eating.

“Good job, Ace!” he said, smiling through the pain. “It’s like food that fights back!” Honestly? That might be the best review I’ve ever gotten.