Five days later, Leo finally caught sight of Star Island. He had expected it to be nearby, but the journey had stretched over five thousand nautical miles. Fortunately, the Poseidon lived up to its reputation as the fastest ship on the seas—otherwise, Leo and Will's excitement would have long since worn off.
No wonder they say, "The Grand Line has seven fixed routes." Once you choose a route, it's nearly impossible to change. On such a long voyage, wandering aimlessly could easily mean death. At sea, the weather and tides are unpredictable; anyone could be swallowed by the ocean without warning.
Even before docking, a delicious aroma reached them. The scent of exquisite dishes teased their appetites, making them salivate before even stepping ashore.
Star Island is one of the most famous spots in the first half of the Grand Line, often called the "Fragrant Island." Its unique location at the junction of the Calm Belt and the Grand Line gives it mild weather and rare natural disasters.
The archipelago consists of seventy-three small islands. Except for the central Lord Island, each has its own number from 1 to 72. Lord Island, a dormant volcano, is the largest of them all. The other islands orbit it like stars around the moon, varying in size yet neatly arranged. At night, the lights from the islands scatter across the sea, creating a dazzling starry panorama.
After mooring, Leo and Will eagerly disembarked and rented personal water scooters to begin their culinary adventure. Without a guide, they navigated by instinct and settled on one of the islands.
Their first stop was a small island famous for its street food. They devoured takoyaki at a bustling stall, their cheeks puffed like goldfish. Between bites, they exclaimed,"Master, your takoyaki is incredible! I feel like I could eat a hundred more!"
"Hahaha, of course! This year, I'm entering my takoyaki in the Best Takoyaki Contest," the owner replied excitedly, hands moving constantly.
"Best-ranking takoyaki? Isn't that part of the competition for the world's best chef?" Leo asked, puzzled. How could a contest for top chefs become a ranking for small snacks? Had the pirates lied to him?
"You're new to Star Island, huh, kid? This food contest really is for the title of the world's best chef. But do you know how many chefs participate?"
"How many chefs? Judging by the crowd, at least five thousand?"
"Five thousand? Not even half. Every day, three chefs compete for each slot. Seventy-two champions move on to the final elimination round, which takes three days. To become the world's best chef, you must be a versatile master of all cuisines," the owner said, envy and resignation flickering across his face.
"And what about the first-place takoyaki you mentioned earlier?"
"Hahaha, that's just an informal agreement among chefs. Competitions like takoyaki first place, curry first place, or barbecue first place are contests between chefs who didn't make it to the elimination round. These private competitions aren't officially recognized by Star Island."
"Why bother then? What's the point of winning first place?"
"It has meaning. Apart from chefs and tourists, most competitors are merchants seeking talent. The title of 'best chef' becomes a standard for selecting skilled chefs."
Leo finally asked the question he had been curious about: "So what reward does the world's best chef receive?"
"In three days, the winning chef will receive a substantial cash prize. The closer the island is to the center, the higher the reward. Royalty and nobles from various countries will watch from the central island. Impress them, and you might be hired as a personal chef—an excellent opportunity indeed."
"As for the title of world's best chef? Don't even think about it. Even if you reach the finals, all three judges must agree on your dishes. If even one judge hesitates, you won't get the title. It's been years since anyone has earned it."
"So if I understand correctly, the prize is mostly the Devil Fruit, right? Top chefs won't care much about money," Leo mused.
The owner's expression darkened with a mysterious gleam."I'll tell you a secret. If you become the world's best chef, you'll serve the Tenryubito personally and be sent directly to the Gods' residence. That's…"
"Unlucky," Leo thought. "Still, this information is invaluable. Perhaps someone from the World Government is in the audience."
"Thanks, sir. We've finished eating. We'll come back to your restaurant later. Good luck in the competition." Leo grabbed Will, and they set off to explore other islands.
In the days before the contest, Leo and Will indulged in the island's culinary delights: fruit caviar ice cream, grilled snapper, deep-sea pearl oyster soup, naval curry, pirate feast barbecue… the list seemed endless. While enjoying the food, Leo also sought potential chefs for his crew—and unexpectedly ran into an acquaintance.
On Island 36, they were savoring deep-sea eel rice. Will's table overflowed with dishes. The little chubby fish-man ate with gusto, resembling a whale, while Leo was unusually composed, savoring every bite carefully. Yet, he couldn't help glancing occasionally at the neighboring stall owner.
To his surprise, he ran into Redfoot Zeff—a true culinary master capable of mentoring chefs like Sanji. Zeff's skills were impeccable, and his physical condition impressive. If only Leo could recruit him… But if Zeff were still a pirate, the bounty would complicate things. Leo squinted, considering a plan.
Suddenly, a commotion arose behind them."You're talking nonsense! If you don't want to eat, get out of the seat—" crack!
Leo turned and saw a green-haired youth being beaten by two burly men. Strangely, the youth stood firm, arms crossed behind his back, using his body to block their punches.
While enduring the blows, he shouted:"Your mackerel is past its prime; the acid secretion is excessive. You shouldn't use East Blue salt—it's too weak to enhance the flavor. Your dish is fundamentally flawed!"
"You dare talk back? Who do you think you are—a foodie? You're just a failed noble, a disgrace like your useless father!" the mackerel vendor sneered, arms crossed.
The young man was stubborn, but not foolish."Cooking without care cannot bring happiness. A careless chef is desecrating the profession."
The crowd murmured."Isn't this guy here every year, always getting eliminated? Don't waste your time if you have no skill.""His family has a grudge against Star Island's lord. Even when he was forgiven, he keeps causing trouble every year."
The spectators scorned him, but Leo noticed his hands—protected at all costs. Any chef would do the same. He felt compelled to learn more.
Leo stepped forward, biting a piece of grilled mackerel.
Hmm. The cook's skill is average—the fish was unevenly cooked, flavor bland. The youth was right; the chef had failed.
Suddenly, a booming voice rang out:"Stop! The master is here!"
The crowd parted as a handsome middle-aged noble, flanked by guards, approached the young man. Adjusting the three medals on his chest, he asked calmly,"What happened here? What are you all doing?"
Tourists shouted:"Lord, the boy is causing trouble! Please remove him before he ruins the competition!"
The lord glanced at the battered youth, smiling faintly."Charles, you're here again? Haven't I told you your skills aren't enough to compete? Go back and study for a few years."
Charles glared, eyes filled with hatred:"Greedy fool, hide your false mask. You can deceive others, but not me."
"Ah, Charles, still so naive. Your actions shame your father. According to Star Island rules, anyone who fights during the contest is disqualified. Both of you are disqualified. Leave immediately."
Charles struggled to rise."Don't bring up my father! I'll win this competition and reclaim his legacy with honor!"
The lord chuckled:"I held your father's knife for safekeeping because you were too young to use it. Prove your skill, and I'll return it to you."
"Greed drove you to steal my father's legendary knife!"
"Haha, dear Charles, you've misunderstood me. Fine, I'll give you one more chance. Win this competition, and I'll return the knife. Fail, and…"
"If I fail, I'll give you my right hand and vow never to cook again."
"Very well, excellent courage. I look forward to your performance."
Lord Grady left, though his entourage continued to ridicule Charles. His rival stall owner barely cared—looking at Charles as if he were already dead.
Leo stepped forward and said sincerely:"You're a good person. I admire your words—only dishes made with heart can bring happiness. Come, will you be my partner?"
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