beloved daughter of the sea

A swordsman's fight

You gritted your teeth in anger as Krieg continued pushing against you. "Sanji, do you still think you made the right choice?"

You caught his warped reflection in the brass chain Krieg wore as Sanji stood up from where he had fallen, adjusting his suit before answering. "I'm sorry, Y/N-sama... I do."

"Hmph."

Fueled by anger, you found the strength to push back against Krieg's arm, sending him stumbling. You turned to glare at Sanji. "Then you don't deserve to be a chef at this restaurant."With a loud cry, you thrust your trident toward Krieg's chest, aiming to kill him in one strike. However, instead of impaling him and drawing blood, the trident hit solid metal, leaving no damage.

It was to be expected. You had grown up relying on the ocean's power, and without contact with water, your strength was diminished tenfold.

Refusing to give up, you continued fighting Krieg one-on-one, testing different vital points with each strike. Krieg, however, had no trouble finding your vital points, peppering bruises all over you with his diamond gauntlet.

Finally spotting an opening to his head—one he guarded like gold—you lunged with your trident, aiming for his face. The tip grazed the skin on his nose when—

"Hold it!"

Zeff?

What was he doing?!

In your surprise, you pulled your trident back, giving Krieg the opening he needed. He struck, sending you hurtling into the stair column, barely missing Luffy as the air was knocked out of your lungs.

Everything went black. You couldn't see, your chest hurt so much that it was difficult to breathe, and you could feel broken ribs stabbing into your muscles as you gasped for air.

Through your limited vision and hearing, you faintly saw Zeff place a large white sack in front of Krieg and say, "This is about a hundred meals. Now take it to your men right away."

No.

He couldn't.

You tried to get up but coughed up blood before you could. Your throat filled with the sticky, red liquid, preventing you from speaking as you gurgled and choked.

All you could do was fall forward to clear your throat. After a while of hacking blood from your lungs, you faintly felt someone lift you up. The jolts and bumps as they carried you told you that you were being taken upstairs.

After some time, you felt yourself being gently lowered onto a plush bed, and you sensed that the person who carried you was about to leave.

Lifting a weak arm, you grasped their sleeve. As they paused, you muttered, "Bed... bedside table... top drawer... the blue bottle."

If this person was a chef from the Baratie, they would've carried you to your room. And if this was your room, then the ambrosia you kept in a blessed bottle would be there.