Notice: This is the last fic I will be posting on FFnet. All further updates will be on Archive Of Our Own, in the Toriko section, under the pen name Semianonymity. There are several fics over there that haven't been posted to FFnet, so check it out if you're interested!

SPOILERS through chapter 264, which is much further than the anime ever got, so if you're anime-only this might not make tons of sense. Written right after 264 came out, so not compliant with any later chapters. I was really, really disturbed by chapter 264, and wanted to write something in response, to help me process. Thanks to Bluebird, Latenightiridescence, Firen and Stariceling for helping me figure out my thoughts/feelings before and as I was writing!

Also, if you haven't already, be sure to check out Bluebird's fic "Don't Fall Apart," a chapter 266 reaction fic inspired by this fic. It's excellent and you should read it!

Komatsu was yawning, still practically glued to Coco's side, and Toriko was uncharacteristically silent. Everything should have felt—comfortable. Komatsu's cooking had improved, Coco could taste it—the ingredients Toriko had brought were far better than almost anything Coco had eaten before, and incomparable to his meals in the past year and a half. But even snug and secure in Coco's house, never big but only really cozy when it had been invaded by Coco's—family, friends, the people dear to his heart. And his heart was practically singing, with Komatsu slowly going boneless and relaxed with sleepiness against his side, one hand wrapped partway—too small to reach all around, but the grip strong and sure—around his wrist.

But there was a prickle of discomfort that was more than half instinctual. Something was wrong.

More wrong than it had been. Komatsu's eyes had been shadowy and lost before he'd caught sight of Coco and brightened. He'd been gone from the human world a long time. A lot had changed.

But Coco thought there was something more than that.

As Komatsu tried and failed to stifle another yawn, Coco stirred finally. "Komatsu-kun, you're tired—let me set your bed up."

Komatsu paused, face going suddenly—lost, solemn, afraid, and something froze in the pit of Coco's stomach, furious and cold. "Coco-san, I—" He shook his head, suddenly blushing, and leaned in close, tugging Coco's arm until the bishokuya leaned in closer. "Coco-san, this is rude, I'm sorry! But can I—can I sleep next to you tonight?" Komatsu asked, and that was desperation in his voice, underneath the exhaustion.

Toriko still looked blank, distant, vaguely pleased. He was powerful, more powerful than even Coco had thought to predict—

"Of course," Coco said. He wondered why Komatsu had wanted the illusion of privacy, pulling closer to his ear, voice a subdued whisper, to ask. There was only Toriko there. It wasn't like any of them didn't know that Toriko could hear, but...

"Thank you," Komatsu said, tearing up again, and he dashed away the tears before Coco could say anything, managing a grin that almost looked as wholehearted and enthusiastic as he'd been—before, before the world had ended.

Toriko looked maybe mildly confused, and Coco wondered why Komatsu had asked him, shy and nervous, instead of asking his partner.

When Komatsu crawled into bed next to him, hesitating just a second before burrowing in close, relaxing suddenly with a heartfelt sigh of relief, happiness, it let Coco unwind a little. He hadn't been expecting to sleep, but with Komatsu's exhausted warmth next to him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, it was unexpectedly easy to slip into dreams. And Toriko was still awake—he slept only an hour every two weeks or so, he'd said, just another piece of evidence as to how much he'd changed, but no doubt it was safer for Komatsu, that Toriko was more often wakeful and wary and watching out for his partner.

At three in the morning, Coco was awakened by Komatsu screaming, thrashing and—nightmares, he realized, just barely checking his instant reaction—poison, no, he couldn't, Komatsu was still tucked up against him—and realizing what was going on. "Komatsu-kun? Komatsu-kun!"

Komatsu woke up sobbing, blinking his confusion and lost and—throwing himself at Coco, Coco was terrified and worried and this was Komatsu, who had indomitable will, endless depths of bravery, and what had happened?

"Coco—Coco, Coco-san," Komatsu gasped into his chest, and—Toriko was in the doorway, silent and watching, not reacting, but ready to—fight. There was nothing to fight. Coco felt hollowed-out and filled with bitterness and poison. He knew toxins, he knew the death that could slip through a body, make it fail piece by piece, and it was dripping through the room, and something was wrong.

"Komatsu, Komatsu, calm down, shhhhh," he said, a low-voiced calm babble, stroking his hands down Komatsu's hair, then reaching over with one hand to turn on his bedside lamp, not for himself of course, but for Komatsu.

"Thank you," Komatsu said, gasping. "Thank you—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—wake you up," another gasping sob, Komatsu trembling in his arms, everything was wrong— "I thought—I thought I wouldn't get any more nightmares if I wasn't sleeping alone, I'm sorry, Coco, thank you, thank you!"

Komatsu was shaken enough to leave off the honorific, Coco thought, thin and distant. Not that it was appropriate as he held Komatsu in his arms, in his own bed.

"You get nightmares?" Toriko asked, suddenly, and Komatsu shivered and fell silent and everything went sharp and distant for Coco, like he was about to enter a fight he might not win. Something was wrong, it was like a klaxon horn, and he didn't know what was going on, but Toriko needed to talk.

"Yes, Toriko-san," Komatsu said quietly.

"—I thought the Bishokukai didn't mistreat you," Toriko said, threatening, ready to protect Komatsu—and Coco's mouth went thin and dangerous, ready to spit poison. But he didn't want to intervene, he didn't want to speak over the weak-strong, always always brave man clinging to him with iron, with determination.

"I've only had nightmares the past six months, Toriko-san," Komatsu said, looking away from him. "I didn't want to tell you. You're always gone when I'm asleep—"

"I knew I could smell your fear!" Toriko said, with satisfaction, like something had been resolved. "I thought you thought I wasn't protecting you well!"

"You always do a good job protecting me," Komatsu said numbly.

"But—why? I told you the other Kings were fine—"

Komatsu's fingers tightened against Coco's arm, his hand, and he squeezed back, gently, using his free arm to bring the chef in even closer, curling around his sweat-damp body. Even he could smell the fear—how could Toriko handle it?

"Ume-chan. Takashi-kun, Sawa-kun, Nakamori-sensei, Trilli-san, Rei-chan, Chef Paul, Hideki-kun, Ayu-kun, Alishba-sensei—Ojiisan, Obaasan, all my cousins—Aru-san in the apartment beneath me, Lela-san, Ryouga-kun, Susan-san, Ryan-chan—"

Komatsu was crying again, and Coco felt like he was falling, he could feel how horrified he was underneath the numb shock.

He didn't know any of the people Komatsu had listed. But of course. Of course.

Toriko was—open-faced, confused, he looked younger than Coco had seen him look in a long, long time, but there wasn't much sympathy, just driving anger.

"I didn't know, I didn't know, I was so relieved when you rescued me Toriko-san, I was, I'd lost you, I'd—and then we didn't go back, it took so long, you weren't listening to me, Toriko-san—I couldn't make you listen!"

Coco watched, distant, removed, as Toriko flinched at the accusatory venom in Komatsu's voice.

"Coco, Coco, I never meant to wake you up, but I just—Toriko-san doesn't sleep anymore, not near me, and I couldn't—couldn't ask but I was so lonely, I was so alone—"

Coco's intimidation was flickering behind him, and overpowered or not, if Toriko hadn't looked—something, when he looked over, he would have attacked him. But Komatsu was still holding onto him, and Toriko looked lost, something darker stirring deep underneath his placid expression.

What had happened to Toriko?

Coco didn't care as much as he cared about what Toriko had done to Komatsu. "I was there," Toriko said, confused maybe, defiant— "I protected you, Komatsu!"

Komatsu was laughing through the tears. "You wouldn't, wouldn't ever listen to me, Toriko-san! You never asked me what I wanted—"

"I always asked you what I should bring you!" Toriko said, and Coco wanted to laugh to, because it was horrible, it was awful—

"Nothing that mattered," Komatsu said, so forlorn that Coco had to flinch, and the awful aching loneliness in Komatsu's voice, the horror, was finally starting to show on Toriko's face. "You—Toriko-san, you're supposed to be my partner—"

"I am!" Toriko said, desperate, his own intimidation starting to flicker around him out of agitation and he was wild-eyed and—Komatsu flinched. Coco could feel it. He knew that Toriko had seen it: he went still, and looked suddenly hunted. "I'm—Komatsu, I'm your partner, I failed you but I got you back—"

"You always protect me," Komatsu agreed, voice low. "You—Toriko-san, it's a partnership. I try to protect you! I, I mean—the big ways, with—Starjun-kun, and—that you eat meals that are good for you, that you're happy—and before, you were my partner, Toriko-san, but you stopped caring what I said. I couldn't make you listen—" he was crying again, and Coco had to reach up and brush away some of the tears. It felt like he had to move his hand a mile, like his arm was made of lead, and Komatsu's tears were hot against his finger, like they were melting the frozen horror that had encased him.

"Toriko-san—Toriko-san, it's not a partnership if it's just you. If you don't—tell me anything, if you don't listen, I can't just let you make all the decisions, I can't, it doesn't work that way! The big decisions, Toriko-san. And you never asked. About my family, about who I was missing, I couldn't say anything—I couldn't tell you about the nightmares. You didn't seem to care about anything—"

"Losing you almost destroyed me," Toriko snarled, voice harsh, muscle tight and corded with tension, shoulders square, head lowered, hair in his face—a predator's threat gathering around him. "I couldn't lose you, Komatsu. I had to protect you. I had to!"

"Some risks are my risks to take!" Komatsu said, desperate, chest heaving as he fought back more sobs. "I always—I still fill out my will, Toriko-san! I did—I did before everything collapsed, but I don't know who'd read it, now. I always know I could die, Toriko-san. I can choose to protect you—"

"You shouldn't," Toriko said, voice raw, hoarse, almost quiet. "You should never—I failed you and I won't fail you again. You're my partner, and I'll protect you."

"Toriko-san—if you don't, don't listen to me—I can't make you. Do anything. I couldn't leave. I couldn't—go anywhere, I didn't know if you'd be there or not. I didn't—didn't have anyone else to talk to, for a year, Toriko-san, and you wouldn't really talk to me. And it was—I trusted you, Toriko-san." And Toriko flinched back, curling in on himself like Komatsu had gotten in a fatal blow, and it make Komatsu choke on a sob. "I'm not your partner if—if you don't listen and I was afraid, because I was helpless, I couldn't—Toriko-san, you're stronger than me, I c-couldn't—"

Coco curled his arms around Komatsu, a little tighter, a little closer, on edge, ready to fight, ready to defend Komatsu from his failure of a brother, but he couldn't let himself secrete any poison, he had to keep Komatsu safe, he wouldn't endanger Komatsu, too. Komatsu needed someone to take care of him. Toriko hadn't, and it was a—surprise, a shock, and it made him want to mourn, because he'd seen what they'd had before.

Toriko shook his head, numb negation, horrified as well. How hadn't he seen it? Smelled it? "Komatsu—I'm not stronger than—"

"I didn't know!" Komatsu said, hysterical. "If you wouldn't listen to me about going back home, if you wouldn't listen when I didn't know if my family was still alive, how could I trust you to listen about anything else? How could I trust you, Toriko-san?"

The silence dragged on and on, awful, Toriko hunched and defensive and Komatsu shaking, trying to muffle the sobs shaking him, choked gasps and the occasional small, pained noise still escaping. And since when had Komatsu ever tried to hide his tears?

Had he curled up, alone in the Gourmet World except for Toriko, and cried in the wake of his nightmares, trying to muffle the noise?

"You should at least know what it's like to lose a parent, Toriko," Coco said, trying to keep his voice even, the tone undeniably dangerous. Filled with threat. "You could have had some sympathy after our father's death."

"—death? Ichiryuu-san is dead?" Komatsu asked, horrified, and it—didn't make any sense, Coco thought, eyes snapping down—even though he wanted to keep his vision focused directly on (the threat) on Toriko.

"You didn't tell him?" Coco said, Komatsu shivering—wiggling closer, thank God, Coco thought—as his intimidation flared, the room suddenly oppressive, so thick with threat that it had to be hard for Komatsu to breath.

Toriko's breathing was harsh, unsteady, and—unexpectedly, he sobbed, half a growl and almost nothing human in the sound. Slowly, he collapsed downward, folding in on himself, falling to his knees, nails digging into the edge of the doorway, cutting long gouges into the stone as they scraped down. Toriko was shaking with sobs, rough, almost too rough to recognize, his huge form shaking, and Coco felt—frozen. What could he do? He'd—been the oldest, but it had been years and years since he'd comforted Toriko. Since Toriko had needed comforting. And at the same time, there was no way that Coco would let go of Komatsu, not right then, not for Toriko, not for anyone unless Komatsu himself asked.

Toriko's hands were half-curled into fists, muscles tensed and tears streaming down his face, nothing beautiful about it: racking sobs, his face twisted with misery, loss, fear, baring his canines—even sharper and longer than they had been, Coco thought, unable to miss that detail, automatically cataloging everything he saw, and he saw so much—but there was nothing in his pain that was animalistic except for the ferocity of it. But it was human pain, human loss.

Komatsu was crying again. "Coco-san," he said, voice muffled where he'd buried his face into Komatsu's chest, but Coco could feel the dampness and—and he'd need to get Komatsu some water, he was going to be dehydrated, Coco knew how miserable that was all to well. "Coco-san—I'm so sorry, my condolences, I'm sorry—I know it's not the same, but when I lost my mother—" His breath hitched again, shoulders shaking with another stifled sob.

"Thank you," Coco said, quietly, starting to cry as well, and he needed—damn it, he couldn't cry on Komatsu, too much risk of contamination—

When Komatsu pulled away, it still hurt, did he know—about Coco, about the new degrees of toxicity he'd reached...? He didn't know what Toriko had told him, just that it wasn't enough—

Komatsu squeezed his hand, earnestly, meeting his eyes, and the grief was too much, it was overwhelming, and Coco was crying too, raw and aching and—Komatsu, Komatsu, braver than anyone he'd ever known, who cried openly and freely because he had nothing to hide. Or he used to cry openly. Coco was never, never going to lose him, lose what he'd been given, never. So he squeezed his hand back, always careful, and then let it go.

It was terrifying, watching Komatsu walk up to Toriko, not quite fearlessly—the fear was what made it worse. If Komatsu didn't know how safe he was with Toriko—but no, it wasn't fear for his physical safety, Toriko had learned that, Coco thought, bitterly amused, if you could apply that soft a word—'amused'—to the razor-edged painful thought.

"Toriko-san," Komatsu said, hesitating before he touched Toriko's shoulder, hand fluttering for a second a few centimeters away. Coco felt like he was grieving, he was, it was—their father, it was the unexpectedness, everything the Human World had lost, and now this. Now Komatsu. He'd wanted—he'd thought that it would be anything other than this.

Toriko flinched away from Komatsu's tiny hand, and the chef flinched back too, nervous. "Toriko-san, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for your loss—why didn't you tell me?"

Toriko couldn't look at him, couldn't speak, still crying, harsh and it had to affect his sense of smell, nose running and—is that why he hadn't cried? Hadn't told Komatsu, hadn't talked about any of it? It made no sense, but nothing did.

"Shhhh, Toriko-san, I'm here, you—you protected me," Komatsu said, crying as well, and of course he was comforting Toriko after everything that had happened. Of course he'd still look after the partner who had failed him, because it was Komatsu—kind to complete strangers, unfathomably kind. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Toriko's shaking form, moving more slowly and cautiously than Coco had ever seen him move around his partner, and he had to wonder how often they had touched, that year in the Gourmet World, after six months with the Bishokukai, and Komatsu, incurably friendly, social, human...

Toriko wrapped his arms around Komatsu, bending until his head was resting against Komatsu's shoulder, still sobbing, clutching at the cloth of Komatsu's shirt until it tore under his fingernails, but still careful to keep him safe, to keep safe the chef whose arms were just barely circling his neck, soothing through his hair, crying with him as he mourned everything he hadn't let himself feel, and he'd hurt Komatsu after all.

"You protected me and I'm so, so sorry, I wish you'd told me, you can't just—protect me from everything, Toriko-san—"

"I'm sorry," Toriko said, voice shaking and distraught and thick with tears and mucus and the ugly, painful reality of crying. "Komatsu—"

"Toriko-san," Komatsu said back, gripping harder, and he was crying into Toriko's hair. Neither seemed to care. The embrace was raw, desperate, drowning souls clinging together. Until finally Toriko had mostly cried himself, tears still falling and breath still shuddering, pained, the way Toriko almost never was, but the worst of it over.

"Komatsu—partner," Toriko said, voice hesitant, desperate, and Komatsu flinched. He was still crying. He'd always cried more.

"I'm not your partner, Toriko-san," Komatsu said, voice raw, like he'd lost—everything. "I—Toriko-san, you gave me everything. I'm so grateful, Toriko-san, I am—for the food, for the memories, and for being my partner but if you can't—c-can't treat me like an equal even if I'm just—even if I'm just what I am, Toriko-san, I've never been extraordinary like you—"

Toriko flinched, his hands unwrapping from around Komatsu, reluctantly, slowly, like he was in the middle of his worst nightmare. And he'd lived through it already, Coco thought once, morbidly fascinated—he was losing Komatsu again and it was his own fault this time, too, and he wondered how many pieces of Toriko would be left to pick up. How he'd recover from a failure even more crushing than his last.

But Komatsu didn't let go, and Toriko didn't pull away, anchored by the strength contained in Komatsu's thin, determined arms.

"You—you were the stronger partner," Toriko said, in pain that made Komatsu's face contort in sympathy.

"It can't be like that again, Toriko-san," Komatsu said, and it was his own pain twisting his face, too.

"I—I'll let you go," Toriko said. "I'm sorry, Komatsu, I won't make you—sorry, sorry, fuck, I'm sorry—"

"I don't—Toriko-san, it's not—if you'll try—will you be my partner, Toriko-san?" Komatsu was still crying, tears falling near-silently down his cheeks, his eyes shadowed and exhausted despite the obvious health of his skin, his hair, he'd eaten well—been taken care of, in some ways. In ways that were insufficient. "I want—I want to have you back, Toriko-san, I want you—"

"I failed you," Toriko said, and at least he could admit it, it was the obvious blind truth, Coco thought.

"So we try again," Komatsu said, stubborn. "If—if you'll try. Toriko-san." Stubborn, and still hurting.

"I—Komatsu, I made you afraid—"

"I want to trust you again," Komatsu whispered, into his shoulder, and slowly, slowly, Toriko's arms went back around him.

"I'm so sorry, Komatsu, I'll listen, I'll—you're important, it's you, I'll—yes, I'll be your partner, as long as you want me, Komatsu—"

"Then we can try again," Komatsu said, sounding relieved. "Toriko-san, I didn't want to lose you, too, I believed in you for so long and then you came but it wasn't—"

"Sorry," Toriko repeated into Komatsu's shoulder, horrified. Coco had never heard him use that word so many times before, not at once, not even if you added all the other times up. It let something ease inside him. He wanted Komatsu—safe, but happy, as happy as he could be, cared for, he wanted to take care of Komatsu and he was going to have words with Toriko but he was so glad that Komatsu hadn't lost his partner along with his restaurant and everything, everyone else he might or might not have lost.

"...I need to sleep, Toriko-san," Komatsu said, exhausted. "I don't—you didn't give me very much time to sleep. On the way here."

"I thought," Toriko began again, barely more than a whisper, hunkered down like a beaten dog afraid to get back up.

"You need to ask me, Toriko-san," Komatsu said, making a sound that was almost a laugh, only full of too much aching pain. "Ask me—"

"I'm supposed to know you—"

"I need you to listen to me! I... I need to sleep. Coco—I'm being rude, Coco-san, I'm sorry, sorry—"

"No," Coco blurted. "Komatsu-kun, Komatsu, please—whatever you're comfortable with."

"Coco? Coco thank you, I'm so—thank you. I might have another nightmare, so I'll—go find someplace else to sleep, I don't want to wake you up again, I'm sorry for the disruption!"

His smile was awful, stained with tears and salt, his shoulders still trembling visibly—to Coco's eyes, probably even to Toriko's, and doubtless the other man could feel the chef shaking against him—and his eyes were worst of all, still shadowed and lost and afraid.

"Don't apologize," Coco blurted out. "Komatsu, you should—it's not an imposition, I want whatever makes you happiest—"

"I've already disrupted your sleep, you're doing me a favor," Komatsu managed.

"You can sleep with me," Toriko said suddenly. Still afraid, Coco thought—but not hiding it anymore. "...if you want, if it won't..."

Coco didn't think he was going to finish the sentence.

"—won't make it worse," Toriko finished, nothing more than a rough whisper.

"But you don't need to sleep, Toriko-san," Komatsu managed to say. "I—"

"But I could lay next to you," Toriko said, and the guilt in his voice was impossible to miss. "Komatsu...san," he added, hesitant, and Komatsu flinched.

"You've never—"

"We're partners, I'm going to do it right, I am, Komatsu—Komatsu-san, and we're—equals, right, I respect you—"

"I've always liked how you call me," Komatsu said, shifting so he was staring over Toriko's shoulder, not at his face. "You don't need to—"

"Then call me Toriko," he managed, and Komatsu looked suddenly thankful, relieved.

"Only if you mean it, Toriko-san, I want to be respectful, I—"

"Toriko," he repeated, desperate, and Coco could see Komatsu suddenly relax, almost collapsing inward. Toriko steadied him automatically. That synchronicity that had made their partnership work. And had broken it, almost broken it, left it reparable—maybe. Coco wasn't going to assume again that Toriko was taking care of Komatsu, because Komatsu, he needed, needed, someone watching out for him.

"I'll make up a bed," Coco said, but he hesitated to move, needing to know how big—

"Thank you, Toriko," Komatsu said, and his smile was still fragile and awful enough to shake Coco to his core, but at least it was real, relieved, more at peace. "...thank you."

-End-

Chapter 264 felt like a huge loss in characterization for Toriko, in addition to the frustrating timeskip/pacing issues. It was like we were back in the very first chapters of the manga-only with Toriko protecting Komatsu physically, but hurting him emotionally. I want to think that Toriko's grief/inexperience with grief will play a role in upcoming chapters, but I'm not superhopeful, because I'm living in shonen hell. So I wanted my take on it-not an excuse for Toriko's behavior, but a reason for it, and what it might be like for Komatsu, who's handling a lot, too.

(The scene that happens after this: Sunny and Zebra show up the next day, and Coco distracts Komatsu with a bunch of hungry people to cook for, and then Toriko gets beaten into a fine paste.)

And again-future fics by me will be posted exclusively to Archive Of Our Own. The way FFnet's set up isn't working for me right now, and AO3 offers me more control. I'm really sorry for any difficulty-I want most of you to know that I really really appreciate you reading my fics, reviewing them, favoriting and watching-it means a lot to me! I hope you'll continue to do so.