Carmen knew the fucking cost of dreams. Growing his dreams had kept him sane growing up. But Mikey never let him cook, so when his dreams got too big, he had to go follow them. His dreaming, or maybe his greedy seizing for this life he so craved, carried him far from the people he loved, the people who starved him. His dreams landed him halfway across the country, in a cold kitchen where the best was barely accepted. He was never the best, because the best was perfection. He was not perfect. He needed to be perfect. If he was not perfect, it was not his dream.
And into the midst of this single-minded obsession dropped Mikey’s dead body and a will heavier than Carmy’s conscience. The fucking Beef. All he’d wanted was to cook here. To turn it into something spectacular. Something perfect. He’d just barely been keeping it afloat. Who has room to dream when you’re starving?
But now, he held the tomato sauced money in his right hand. He looked at the other tomato sauce cans lining the wall. Suddenly he could see it in his mind’s eye, clear as the day he’d drawn it for Mikey. This was the path to his dreams he’d been looking for. This was how he would build The Bear. He was taking that first step onto the tomato sauce road.
Then some cosmic shit fuckery happened and he fell into another world.
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It’s known that there exists four dimensions within our human perception: space and time. Mathematical theory suggests that there is at least a fifth dimension that we cannot perceive or understand in a meaningful way. That fifth dimension would allow for time travel. A sixth would allow for travel between parallel universes. But what math has never determined is the precise number of dimensions.
There are in fact not five nor six, but twenty seven unique dimensions. After the sixth dimension, dimensions become rather abstract, with names like truth, curiosity... The one poor Carmen ran afoul of was named dreaming.
Normally, the dimension of dreaming is only accessible while asleep. Our sleeping minds drift beyond the confines of our four dimensions, accessing others through the strange twists and turns of tesseract folding. Yet some call upon dreaming when awake because they are living their dream. They who live their dreams pull the heaviest on the fabric of the dreaming. In some worlds, so many people tug so heavily on the dreaming that the dreams themselves begin to manifest in metaphysical power. But when called upon with such strength and fervor, the dimension has a habit of straining to accommodate. Sometimes, the fabric tears. Sometimes, when two people reach the same pivotal moment in their lives of deciding to follow their dreams and committing with an all-consuming passion, when their dreams are almost identical, when the block to their dreams was so similar… sometimes they crash into each other.
Just like Carmy crashed into Sanji on the deck of the Going Merry, the gravity well of Sanji’s dreaming world guaranteeing a short drop from our own stifled world into his.
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“Hey, Luffy,” Sanji said.
Luffy turned to look back from where he sat on the sheep’s head. “Yeah?”
“We got a guest.”
Luffy looked around at the open ocean. “But there’s no ships- A mermaid?!”
Sanji laughed. “No. Not yet. But close. From another world.”
Luffy said, “That’s not close at all. Can we keep them?”
“He can’t stay. You know how this works?”
“Yeah. I met one when I was a kid. How long do you think?”
Sanji put his hands in his pockets and rocked forward on the balls of his feet. “Couple of weeks? He’s not in a great frame of mind.”
Luffy looked him dead in the eyes. “You know you have to be the one to help him. Cause he came to you.”
Sanji said, “I know.”
“Good. What’s his name?"
“Carmen. But he prefers Carm. Or Carmy.”
Luffy nodded once. “Let’s keep him as long as we can. We’re all he has right now.”
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“I’m insane,” Carmen said, patting down his pockets for the cigarette box.
“It’s actually not uncommon,” Sanji said.
He handed Carm a cigarette.
Carmy glared at him. “Don’t give me some bullshit about how we’re all a little crazy.”
Sanji held out a lighter. Carm touched his cigarette to the flame. Sanji lit his own. They both inhaled and exhaled, watching the smoke drift over the rail and out to the ocean.
Sanji said, “I wasn’t. Cause you’re not.”
“Excuse me?”
Sanji gestured broadly with the cigarette. “You fell from another world. Big shitty deal. Happens all the time.”
Carmen dragged a hand down his face. “That’s the kind of shit that gets me locked up, man. I can’t get locked up. I got a restaurant to run, I got bills to pay..."
Sanji said, “Hey, a restaurant? You a cook?”
Carmen said, “A chef, yeah. Why?”
Sanji grinned. “Me too, mate. Used to work in a shitty restaurant under my shitty old man. He never let me cook. I’m a damn good cook though.”
Carmen said, “That’s… familiar sounding.”
Sanji said, “Oh yeah?”
Carmen leaned against the railing, staring down at the waves sightlessly.
He said, “Yeah. Yeah. You know what, fuck it. If this is a psychotic break… fuck it. I’m just gonna get some shit off my chest, okay?”
Sanji flicked some ash off the end of his cigarette but said nothing in a patient, listening way.
Carmy said, “I’m a cook. All I ever wanted to do. And you know how I got there? Not through my brother. He never let me cook. I just wanted to help out. But… he told me I would never cook under his roof. So I left. I learned. And I was good. I was really, really good. And then he died before he ever got to see it. He left me the fucking restaurant. The same fucking shithole restaurant he wouldn’t let me make sandwiches in. And you know, I’ve just been… drowning. Under it all. The bills. The chaos. The not knowing why he gave me this fucking thing."
He took a drag off his cigarette. "I thought, he’s punishing me. I thought, I deserve this. I left him and I didn’t come home and he… he fucking killed himself and I wasn’t home to help. So now I’m home, I’m helping, and sometimes I’m thinking he doesn’t want me to succeed, he wants me to go down, that’s why he did this to me, and then. I find the money. The fucking money. This idiot put it in tomato cans. I mean, who does that? That’s insane, right? Fucking Mikey, man. But..."
Carmy waved a hand. "But insane, whatever. I think, finally. Finally something goes right. I can see it, the restaurant. The place. The spot. The one I can cook, really cook in. I can really elevate the place, take it to somewhere special. And then…”
He took a drag off his cigarette.
Sanji said, “And then?”
Carmy shrugged. “And then here.”
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Sanji dragged Carmen into the kitchen with him.
“It’ll be good for you,” he said, holding out an apron.
Carmen looked at it for a second before caving. What else was he going to do?
He was ready for chaotic yelling. He was ready for cold silence. But what he wasn’t ready for was how comfortable Sanji’s kitchen was. Carmy defaulted to a junior role, letting Sanji decide where to put him doing what. And Sanji pulled him right back up to level.
“You’re a cook, yeah? I gotta respect that,” Sanji said.
Sanji decided they’d both handle prep work. He and Carmy decided what to make together. It was surprisingly easy. Carmy found himself breathing and not thinking about it.
A young man wandered in to lean against the counter. Carmy glanced at him before going back to his prep work.
“Hey, man. I’m Usopp. Sanji says you’ll be staying a while?”
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Carmen nodded. “Yeah. I guess. Call me Carmy. Carmy.”
“Cool. Sure thing. Um. Anything I can help with?”
Carmen glanced at Sanji. It was his kitchen. Carm was just there for the ride.
Sanji smiled at them. “Always happy for the help, mate. Do you know how to make a mirepoix?”
Carmy listened with a quiet aching as Sanji warmly, patiently instructed Usopp. There was something brotherly in how they talked. There was a lot of kindness in this kitchen, he realized. A lot of love. But, the cold part of his training said, it’s not perfect, is it?
That lasted until Sanji held a fork to his lips. Carmy took a bite.
He looked at Sanji with respect. “That’s fire, chef.”
Sanji frowned. “It shouldn’t be that hot.”
Carm said, “No, no. I mean, it’s good. It’s really, really good. Beyond good. It’s… it’s perfect.”
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They sat down for dinner, family style, all together. Carmy was messing around with some drinks in the kitchen, trying to figure out the ratios to get them just right, and getting frustrated.
“Can I help?” a kid with a straw hat asked.
Carm said shortly, “No, thanks. Go on ahead and start without me.”
The kid said, “Nah. You helped make the food! We can’t eat without you. I’m Luffy, by the way.”
Carmen took a pause. “You’re the captain.”
Luffy grinned. “Yup! So let me help. Captain’s orders.”
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Carmy was a bit bemused, taking instructions from the kid, but he knew better than most that age did not restrict talent or ability. And as he sat there, eating some of the best focaccia he’d ever had (seriously, how, it was unearthly), he realized that they were all kids. Well, not kids. Young adults. But here he was at his big old age of 25, and these kids were probably in their teens still. Even Sanji, who acted so grown he hadn’t seen it until now.
“So, Carmy,” Nami said, “How long will you be here?”
Carm shrugged. “I guess I’ll get off at the next port or something. I don’t have much choice in it.”
“What? Of course you have a choice,” Luffy said from around a mouthful of rice. “You can stay with us! Join my crew.”
Carmen choked. He drank some water. “What?”
Luffy smiled. “Join my crew.”
Carmen said, “I have to get home.”
“Is that your dream?”
Carm bit back his temper. “I have responsibilities. Family. The restaurant.”
“Sure. But what do you want?”
Carmen said, “To turn my family’s restaurant into the best in the world.”
Luffy said, “So you gotta get back, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then stay with us. You won’t find a way back on any old island. We’re going to the Grand Line. It’s where dreams come true.”
Carmy said, helplessly adrift in a whole new world, “I guess you have a point.”
“Great! It’s settled. Now: can you fight?”
No. No he could not. What the hell kind of question was that?
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Fighting, it seemed, wasn’t necessary for the time. They were nowhere near land and wouldn’t be for a while. Apparently they'd settled into some doldrums? Whatever. He did what he'd always done: learned how to cook better by watching and listening.
But Sanji, always imaking snacks and prepping food, wasn’t in the kitchen all the time. Carmy followed him like a shadow as he dropped by the helm to give Nami a glass of tangerine juice (somehow it tasted like sunshine? It was the best juice Carm ever had?) and chat with her. He brought Zoro pre-workout and post-workout snacks and drinks, and it was definitely tense but in a brotherhood rivalry way that Carmy understood. He brought Luffy snacks on the hour, every hour. He made sure Usopp felt useful even as the kid wolfed down fish jerky like no tomorrow. (He taught Usopp how to fish.) But he also just lived. He laughed and loved and took naps. He was considerate, watchful, understanding. He tailored the menu to his crew’s needs. Nothing was painstaking, not in the way Carm was used to, but it was somehow still perfect.
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“You're kind of a genius,” he said to Sanji.
They were peeling tangerines on the Merry’s deck.
Sanji thoughtfully put a piece in his mouth. “Nah.”
Carm said, “Bullshit. You know you are.”
“If I’m a genius, then what does that make you?”
Carm floundered. “What?”
“You’re keeping up with me.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve got five years on you.”
“Yeah but I started cooking when I was a kid. Like seven years ago, in a restaurant cooking. When did you start?”
Carm was silent. It was seven years ago for him too.
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One day, in the kitchen, he glanced over at what Sanji was plating and had to stop. It was so beautiful. He just had to draw it.
He said, “Hey, we have any paper and crayons?”
Nami was annoyed at first, but when she watched him sketch, her annoyance went away.
“It’s beautiful. Can I have it?” she asked, holding up the drawing.
“Sure. I guess,” Carm said. He’d never given his drawings to anyone.
“If you need more paper, just ask,” Nami said.
Sanji, kneading dough, cracked a smile. “You’re very talented, Carmy. She doesn’t give just anyone paper.”
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It started again. The flowing sense of creativity he’d had before Mikey’s death. Suddenly he felt the urge to draw beautiful things. He drew one thing after another, but one day when he was drawing the tangerine trees against the ocean, he started drawing a dessert using tangerines. It would have salt, for the ocean, and a sauce, and a flakey bottom…
He went into the kitchen. “Sanji, can I try out a dish?”
Sanji grinned at him. “Of course, mate! I’m happy to see you trying new things. I’ll give you some space.”
Without really thinking about it, Carm jumped straight into testing mode. The first dish wasn’t it, so he dumped it. The second was better but it wasn’t perfect. Neither was the third. He was about to dump the fourth when Sanji grabbed his arm.
“What are you doing?” Sanji asked tightly.
Carm, unsettled and confused, by the anger in Sanji’s voice, said, “Making a new dish?”
Sanji breathed in and out. He let go of Carm’s arm.
He said, “Carm. You do not waste food on this ship.”
Carmy went pale. That’s right. He was on a ship. This wasn’t the middle of Chicago. They couldn’t just get more food if they ran out.
He said, “I- shit. I’m sorry, chef. I wasn’t thinking. I just sort of slipped back into… analytics.”
Sanji said, “Mhm. Okay. What’s wrong with it?”
“What?”
“Why are you throwing it out?”
“Oh. Uh. Needs more cardamom.”
Sanji tasted it. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not, though. It needs to be perfect. I can do better. I know you would.”
Sanji shook his head. “I would have served it like this.”
“Why? You can taste it’s missing something.”
Sanji said, “It’s really, really good, Carm.”
“But it’s not perfect.”
Sanji shook his head.
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“You should have more confidence.”
Carmy startled. He lost the cigarette to the waves. “Shit.”
Zoro grinned. “Sorry.”
“You’re not. But it’s fine. What do you mean, more confidence?”
Zoro tapped his sword. “I know I’m going to be the best. So I act like I’m the best already. Because I am.”
“What is this, a lesson in manifestation? If you can think it, you can be it?”
“Your food’s good, cook.”
“I don’t know if I trust you. I watched you eat a fish out of the trash can. Sanji doesn’t put food in the trash can. But that one? He put it there for a reason.”
“Have you ever heard of sushi?”
“It definitely wasn’t good for sushi, dude.”
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“You should do a cookbook,” Nami said.
She brought out the drawings Carmy gave her.
Carmy flipped through it. “Because everyone wants to see pictures of boiling a turtle twice?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not stuff like that. But like this. What you’re drawing here. This is amazing.”
“Nah. It’s nothing.”
Nami sighed. “Sometimes you can be really dumb, Carmy.”
“That’s me. Dumb Carmy.”
She got a look on her face. “You know what, fuck you and your bullshit. I think I know what you need from here.”
She stomped off.
Carmen called after her, “Okay, I don’t know what that means, but bye, love you!”
She ran back and hugged him. “Dumbass.”
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The game plan, apparently, was ‘make Carmy love himself’. It was not subtle.
He drew. He cooked. He made new dishes, with Sanji monitoring and making him watch as his failures, the not perfects, are eaten with admiration, gusto, and praise. His pictures got pasted to the walls and admired loudly and embarrassingly. Usopp knocked up a daily menu review and read it out loud to the crew. Carmy hated it at the start but the kid’s got a talent and eventually he laughs every time. The crew rejected out his self deprecating humor and scolded him with different, positive things to think about himself. And it’s everything he hated and everything he needed.
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Carmy was out late one night. He couldn’t sleep. He found Luffy on the figurehead keeping watch.
“Hey, Loof.”
“Carmy! Hi. You want some of my watch snack?”
Luffy waved half a foot long at him.
“Nah. Thanks, though.”
Luffy gestured. “Join me?”
Carmy did. He looked up at the stars, amazed. “I can’t get over how dark it is on the ocean compared to back home. But then I look up and I think, it’s not dark enough. I can see the galaxy but I want to see the universe.”
“See any constellations you recognize?”
“Nah. Never learned them. You?”
Luffy bumped him with a friendly shoulder. “Yeah. Look, here. The Tiger. And then over there, the Pirate. And then the Five Sisters. And… uh. The, uh. Bamboo man. And the Barrel. And then there’s the Gib. And-“
“Are you making these up?”
“Yeah. Sorry. My brothers and I would make up constellations all the time when we were kids.”
“Sounds fun.”
Luffy asked, “You got any siblings?”
Carmy sighed, suddenly exhausted. “A brother and a sister. I’m the youngest.”
“You ever do anything like this with them?”
Carm shrugged. “Not really. Mikey was older than me. But he let me dream. He used to listen to me when I was dreaming and then he’d tell me to let it rip."
"What?"
"Just means, do it. I believe in you. He actually is why I can have my own restaurant.”
“He sounds like a good brother.”
“Yeah. Well. He’s dead? So uh.”
“Oh. Sorry. I know what that’s like.”
Carmy recoiled. “What?”
“One of my brothers died when I was a kid. He drowned in the harbor during a storm.”
Carmy sucks in air. “Jesus, Loof.”
“He’s part of why I’m out here though. We all promised we were going to be pirates, together. We made a blood vow. I carry him with me. As long as I’m a pirate, he is too.”
Carm said, “Why do you want to be a pirate so bad, anyway?”
“It’s my dream to find the One Piece and become the King of the Pirates!”
“So something simple, then. Alright, Luffy. I don’t get it but… Let it rip, I guess.”
Luffy grinned.
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“That was amazing, Carmy,” Luffy said happily after a failed salad.
“Thanks,” Carm said. “From you, for a salad? Yeah, thank you.”
Nami’s eyes sparkled. “I think that was sincere.”
Carm smiled. “You know what? It was.”
Luffy vaulted across the table to wrap Carmen in a hug.
“You did it! You love yourself!”
“I’m sure trying, Loof. Now this is nice but can you get off? I’m dying here.”
“Sure. You’re going anyway. Love you!”
Carm frowned. “Love you too, but what do youuuuiiiio~”
He fell up and back into the kitchen at The Beef, his feet gently tapping down onto to tile.
He held the sauce money in his right hand. Like he never left. He glanced at the clock. Same day. Same time. But not, he realized, the same clothes. He was wearing Sanji’s apron.
“Fucking… cosmical bullshit,” he muttered. "What the fuck."
Whatever, he thought. Whatever. He'd think about it later. For now, it was time to get down to business. To Bearness? No, Carm, that's terrible, shut the fuck up.
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Sanji was cleaning the kitchen when Luffy came by and started helping.
“I miss Carmy,” Luffy said, drying a plate and setting it away.
“Me too, mate.” Sanji passed him a cup.
“Think he’s okay?”
“I hope so.”
Luffy stretched out to set the cup away. “What drew him to you?”
Sanji’s lips quirked. “You’re asking now?”
“He’s gone now. It’s not his secret anymore.”
Sanji focused on washing his skillet intently. “True. Well. Basically, right, we thought our families were blocking us from being the best cooks in the world. And then suddenly, one day, we realized all that was blocking us… was us.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good!”
“How’s that?”
Luffy grinned at him. “If it’s just you blocking you, then I’d bet on my Sanji any day.”
"Yeah?”
“Yeah! Let it rip, cook!"