Chapter Text
It was late at night, the moon shone through the bars on the prison window. Chef Saltbaker was laying on his bed deep in thought. Despite his complete exhaustion after one sleepless night, the following battle with the cups and his arrest, he still couldn’t get any sleep.
How did it come to this? His beloved bakery was destroyed while he was trying to harm innocent children! For what? To control astral plane. For power, that he didn't even really want, if he thought about it more rationally.
Cooking and magic have always been fascinating to him. He loved combining these two elements in one. So when he found out about that challenging and seemingly powerful Wondertart recipe, he became very determined.
Saltbaker liked to think he was a good person. He loved his craft, he loved making his customers happy with his pastries. Loved seeing their happy faces and knowing that they smiled thanks to him.
However, it wasn’t just once that he noticed himself getting “carried away.” Once he’s set his mind on completing something, it was hard to steer it away. He became stubborn and not at all like himself. Actually, screw the stubbornness, he could become like that because of the smallest thing. Like an annoying customer. A lack of sleep. Or a failed recipe. It was hard to stop and return to his senses then.
Saddened and troubled by these thoughts, the now ex-chef, fell asleep unbeknownst to himself.
***
It's now been about a month since Saltbaker's trial and the start of his community service jobs. Today he was supposed to go to the boatman and do whatever it is that he asked him to do. Most certainly he would have to row the boat back and forth between the isles under the scorching sun. The chef still couldn't get used to all of these manual tasks around the island. Not to mention, he was completely deprived of the one activity that brought him so much joy — baking. He was sort of sick of it all, but he knew he couldn't complain. This was all fair, and he deserved it. He knew he was the one at fault for everything that happened…
Finally, he arrived at the pier.
“Good day to you, Mr. Saltbaker. If you don't mind me getting straight to business, today I will ask you to paint my boat,” said the boatman.
The chef was surprised. All of his previous tasks were much more tiresome or at the very least in some way annoying. “Are you sure that's all you need?” he asked incredulously.
“Quite. I know you've worked hard for the past month, so I thought I'd give you a slightly easier task. Besides, there are no passengers at the moment, anyway.”
And so, Saltbaker got to work. The repetitive nature of it gave him the chance to get lost in thought for the first time in a while.
He never saw the cups after that day. He wondered, how they were doing now. It would probably be best if he never got to see them again, though. He sighed. Now was as hard as ever a time to admit, that he enjoyed their company. Especially Ms. Chalice, since the brief past encounters with those mischievous cup brothers proved they were only in it either for the sweets or the money. But at least he admired their willingness to help their friend. Ms. Chalice, on the other hand, seemed to actually enjoy cooking. He remembered the time when he was showing her how to bake those astral cookies…
To think, that he was willing to sacrifice either of their souls for that damned Wondertart!
Saltbaker noticed an unidentifiable feeling flash inside of him, but it was too late. In mere seconds the bucket of paint was furiously splashed on the ground.
“Dammit!” he cried. It quickly passed and the chef came back to himself, seeing the consequences. Feeling extremely ashamed, he crumbled to the ground and pressed his hands to his face, as if trying to disappear.
The boatman slowly approached Saltbaker and gently put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright, pal?”
“I'm so sorry I spilled the paint…” the chef mumbled through his own hands.
“I assumed the monotonous task such as this would be more relaxing to you.”
“No-no, it's just- I thought about how much harm I've caused to everyone. I irresponsibly sent those little cups to cause havoc which I am now dealing with. And then…” at the memories of the fight he broke off for a second. But the boatman continued to listen. “Previously, I thought… About how I lose control sometimes. Become someone who I don't want to be! Someone who scares me. And the most terrifying part — it’s still me. It was I who handled the ingredients so roughly. It was I who trapped Cuphead in that glass container. And it was I who almost committed something irreversible that day…”
After a short pause he realized that he was venting to a person he barely knew. “Oh, I apologize. My problems shouldn't concern you.”
The boatman seemed to be thinking for a moment. “Have you ever thought, that you might just get angry sometimes? Or feel any other emotions? You are a living person, after all. You can’t always be happy and smiley, can you?”
Saltbaker didn't know how to respond. These words hit him like a lightning of realization. He pondered them for a few seconds. How did he never think of that before?
“Alright. You’re lucky I happened to have some spare paint with me.” The boatman smiled warmly. “Think about what I said. If you embrace all parts of yourself, and not just the jolly one, there might just be less harm caused!”
The idea that the boatman so generously voiced greatly lifted Saltbaker’s spirit. Lately he’s been practically drowning in the sea of his regrets, but now it almost seemed like he had some hope. Maybe if others won’t accept him after what he did, at least he could try and do that himself.