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They came into his restaurant just before closing, without fanfare, but Komatsu knew who they were immediately. As calmly as he could manage, he ordered his head waiter Ayaka to gather the staff and evacuate. She protested, but one look at the expression on Komatsu’s face told her the seriousness of the situation. Face twisting, she grabbed his hand and squeezed.
“Be safe, sir. Please.” she whispered, and then she was off. Komatsu took a deep breath and plastered a fake smile onto his face before turning to face the door just as the intruders entered his kitchen. Perhaps they could still solve this peacefully.
“Hello, Bishoku-kai.” he smiled as pleasantly as he could manage, trying not to show any fear, “I’m sorry, but we’re closing, and I’m afraid customers aren’t allowed in the kitchen. If you like, you can purchase something to go. I’ll even make it specially for you.”
“No need.” the apparent leader said smoothly, “Call me the Overseer. We simply have a question for you, Chef Komatsu Hara.”
“Me?” he blinked, “Um... how can I help?”
“Could you point us in the direction of your partner?” the Overseer asked pleasantly, and Komatsu’s heart dropped, “We can’t seem to locate him, you see, and we know you two are practically inseparable. If anyone can lead us to Toriko, it’s you. We just have some business with him, is all.” His smile rang of insincerity, and Komatsu knew almost instinctively that their business was nothing good.
“I-I don’t know.” he cursed his stammering, “I don’t know where he is. He’s off doing what Toriko does, wherever he does it.” he tried to laugh it off, but it rang hollow even to his own ears.
“Now chef.” the Overseer chided, “We both know that’s not true. This doesn’t need to be difficult. A location, and we’re gone.”
“Ah... sorry.” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I can’t just betray him like that. He’s my partner, I look after him. To give him up would be horrible of me.”
“So you won’t tell us?” he sighed, like he’d been expecting this eventuality. Komatsu looked quickly around, making note of anything he could use to defend himself.
“No.”
“Hm. Shame.” and just like that, all pretenses dropped. The Overseer made a gesture with his hands, but as his henchmen started to move, Komatsu seized the nearest knife and threw it as hard as he could. He was both gratified and nauseated to see it bury itself in the nearest henchman’s shoulder, blood quickly soaking his jacket as he cried out. The others reacted, pulling out various weapons and leaping at him, but Komatsu grabbed another knife and launched it, this one finding a home in a man’s chest. Komatsu had no time for regret, as he dove behind a counter just in time to avoid a baseball bat swung right at his head.
“Don’t kill him.” the Overseer didn’t sound fazed at all. If anything, he sounded almost pleased, “We may need him alive.” Komatsu swallowed, heart pounding, and wished not for the first time that the Kings carried reliable phones. A hand seized his wrist in a bruising grip, and he gasped. He automatically plunged his last knife into it, gasping when the weapon was wrenched from his hand as the goon recoiled. Komatsu leapt from cover, grabbing a nearby pan of hot oil and tossing the liquid at the faces of the two henchmen reaching for him. They screamed and reared back as the smell of frying meat filled the kitchen, and Komatsu had to try hard not to vomit.
He swung the still-hot pan at another goon, but this one was prepared. She grabbed Komatsu by the wrist and twisted harshly, forcing him to drop it. He cried out, aiming a flailing kick at her stomach. Miraculously, it connected. And her grip loosened with a grunt, enough that Komatsu could wriggle free, but it didn’t stop her for long. She lunged with a snarl, and Komatsu ducked under her grasping arms and ran for the exit, swiping her legs out from under her as he went. He heard the sickening crack of her head against the counter, but didn’t dare look back, the door nearly within his reach.
“Not so fast!” someone snarled, and he was tackled from the side and pinned by the henchman from before, the one whose arm Komatsu had stabbed. He looked beyond pissed off, and Komatsu struggled ineffectively against his superior strength. The man grinned, leaning in close to taunt him in a moment of cockiness that would have set Zebra fuming.
“You shoulda just come quietly.” he growled lowly, “Mighta showed you mercy then, ya little-“ he cut off with a shriek as Komatsu lunged, sinking his teeth into the man’s nose in a desperate move born more from panic than strategy. The man struggled, but Komatsu didn’t let go even as coppery blood filled his mouth and his teeth sank deeper into cartilage. He might have bitten his entire nose off if the man hadn’t driven his fist into Komatsu’s stomach and lurched away, clutching his gushing nose and cursing.
“You little-“ he growled, but Komatsu was on the other side of the kitchen, spitting blood and trembling as he faced them again. Only two remained standing now; the Overseer and the man with the now mutilated nose. The Overseer somehow managed to look both impressed and annoyed all at the same time. It was fair, he supposed. Even Komatsu hadn’t thought he’d last this long in a fight.
“I think this game has gone on far enough.” the Overseer sighed, and Komatsu realized he was now blocking the exit, “Now, you have two options. Either tell me where Toriko is, or you’re coming with me, and we’ll find him together. Doesn’t that sound reasonable?” Komatsu glanced around, but there was nothing within reach he could use to defend himself. He was cornered. He was weaponless. His wrist and stomach were throbbing and his heart was pounding. He would be killed if they got any closer; or worse, used as a hostage against Toriko. He couldn’t allow that. He was useless most of the time, but that wouldn’t stop him from protecting his partner with everything he had, no matter the cost.
The Overseer approached him slowly, a cat toying with a mouse, and Komatsu’s eyes fervently scanned the kitchen again in search of something, anything, to help. He wasn’t a fighter, not like Toriko, but he liked to think he could hold his own if need be. The henchmen bleeding everywhere were proof of that. As if by fate, his eyes landed on the carefully stacked pile of nitro cherries just as the Overseer came to a stop before him with a sickly grin, awaiting his answer.
“So, Chef?” he crooned, “Your answer?”
One thing was absolutely clear to Komatsu then; He couldn’t let these people get to Toriko. Steeling himself, he narrowed his eyes at the man who dared intrude in his kitchen, his haven. In one smooth movement, he swiped a small bundle of nitro cherries from the counter and raised them high above his head, mentally sighing in relief when they didn’t explode in his hand. The Overseer froze, as did his henchmen, and Komatsu allowed himself a moment of hope.
“Go. Away.” he enunciated, glaring as blood dripped from his chin. He didn’t want to imagine the picture he must make, “Leave this place now, or I’ll throw these at your creepy face.”
“If you toss those,” the Overseer said carefully, looking at him with a critical eye, “you’ll die as well.”
“A small price to pay for Toriko’s safety.” he said with conviction, “Go. Now!” The Overseer stared for a moment, and then chuckled.
“You know... I don’t think you’ll do it.” he said with complete confidence, and something in Komatsu’s chest tightened with resolution.
“I will!” he yelled, and he meant it. The Overseer examined him for a moment, and then a smug grin split his face.
“You won’t.” he laughed, and then he was lunging at him. Komatsu had only a moment of hesitation, Toriko’s face clear in his mind, before he hurled the cherries at the ground between them.
He had exactly one second to savor the surprise and horror on the Overseer’s face as he realized his miscalculation, and then he was forced to close his eyes as bright light filled his vision. He had a moment of regret that he hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to Toriko, to his Kings. He allowed himself to grieve the fact that he would never see them again, that they would return only to find his beloved restaurant in ruins and him a charred corpse. He hoped someone stepped up to cook for his Kings. He hoped Toriko’s next partner loved him as much as Komatsu did.
At least his staff would be safe. At least Toriko would be safe.
A flash of unbearable heat. The screams of the Bishoku-kai filling the air. A prickling sensation on his skin.
He didn’t remember anything after that.
—-
Everything was fuzzy for a while. He held only vague recollections and hazy sensations. The sound of Ayaka sobbing. A loud, piercing wail like a siren. A red film painting the fuzzy sky an odd shade of lavender. Hands lifting him with utter gentleness. A soft surface that somehow still hurt his burning skin. Warm droplets of water falling onto his face. Warm weight encasing his hands, safe and secure.
He had moments of lucidity as well. Flashes of pain and dizzying swaths of white bandages covering nearly his entire body. Voices, familiar and unfamiliar, murmuring too softly for him to make anything out. The blue of Toriko’s hair laid on his chest, attached to tense arms and shaking shoulders, and Komatsu ached to comfort him, but his body and voice refused to obey him. He drifted in and out of consciousness, snatching only bits and pieces as time crawled by in indeterminate increments. Occasionally, voices and conversations managed to break through the dreamy half-life of pain and sleep, though Komatsu could barely comprehend them, catching them only in snatches.
“-hasn’t woken up for more than a few seconds.” an unfamiliar voice, low and soft, “The trauma was quite severe, we can’t be sure if...”
“Koma-chan.” Ume-chan, sniffling and speaking in a wobbly voice, “Koma-chan...”
“-nd you are so loved, Komatsu, so loved by all of us. So please, Komatsu. Please, don’t go where we can’t follow.” Coco, strained and raspy, like he’d been crying. But who could ever make Coco shed tears?
He tried to think, but clarity slipped through his fingers like sand as time passed hazily.
“Damn you.” Zebra’s voice, sounding almost choked. Worry rose in Komatsu’s chest, but it was distant and fuzzy, “God damn you, kid, you had no right...”
“-and you tell that quack that if he even thinks about amputation again, I’ll amputate his damn hands myself and see how he likes it!”
“Rin, please calm down-“
Rin... Zebra... That’s right... He had to...
“Partner.” Toriko, sounding absolutely wrecked, like his world was crumbling around him, and even in this state, Komatsu wanted to fight whoever had made his partner sound like that, “Komatsu, I… I can’t...”
“-this hospital room is so unbeautiful! I refuse to allow poor ‘Matsu to languish in such a miserable room a moment longer! If we get some lilacs, maybe a fruit bowl, some softer blankets, then maybe he’ll... maybe, if his room is beautiful, he’ll finally wake up...”
Komatsu usually drifted off again before the voices finished, before he could really understand what was being said, and he didn’t have the strength to be upset. Not when he alternated between darkness and crackling fire, trapped in his own body, dead to the world.
He awoke in increments, slow and drowsy. The pain was the first coherent thing that hit him, though dulled and distant in a way that only heavy painkillers provided. He opened his eyes slowly, and the act felt like a monumental effort. But he persevered. What he saw was not what he’d expected, though to be fair, he’d kinda expected to be dead. He was lying in a hospital bed, the blankets far too soft and warm to be standard issue. There was something over his face, and he tried weakly to bat it away, but his limbs were like lead, completely immovable. It was probably for the best, as he put together a moment later that it was in fact a breathing mask.
To top off the scene, he was surrounded by his friends on all sides. Sani and Coco sat by the window, slumped and wilted, bickering softly in a way that held no real heat. They both looked exhausted, and Komtasu distantly wondered if he should ask if they wanted the bed. Surely it wasn’t fair that they had to stand while he laid down. But they seemed fine, and his tongue was heavy, so he refrained for now. Zebra sat in the chair on his right, arms crossed and posture rigid. His face was set, and Komatsu could tell just by looking at him that he was listening for something, be it Komatsu or outside threats, he wasn’t sure.
There was a slight weight to his side, and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was Toriko. His partner appeared to be fast asleep, his head on the pillow beside Komatsu’s, his nose buried in Komatsu’s neck. His large arm was draped carefully around Komatsu’s middle, his hand clutching Komatsu’s limp one like a lifeline even in sleep.
“T...To...” and like a gunshot had gone off, everyone leapt up at once, a clamor filling the air as they all surged forward. Komatsu watched sleepily as Toriko tensed up, his head slowly rising as if afraid of what he would see. When their eyes met, Komatsu drew in a breath. Toriko looked awful, like he’d been to Hell and back, his eyes red and bloodshot, his clothes rumpled, his face strained in a way Komatsu had never seen before.
“Tori...ko...?” he rasped, wincing at how wrecked his voice sounded, “What... happened? Why...?”
Toriko only stared at him, like he was drinking him in, like he was drowning and Komatsu was a life preserver. It filled Komatsu with worry as clarity trickled in with agonizing slowness. He was about to open his mouth to speak again, but Zebra’s growl stopped him. He turned his head to look at him, his neck protesting the activity. The man in question looked intense as always, but there was something lurking just behind his eyes and the hard set of his jaw that made Komatsu think of an injured animal, or perhaps a cornered cat. Wounded, defensive, dare he say frightened. It was an expression alarmingly similar to the one Toriko currently wore.
“Komatsu.” Coco said softly, stepping around Zebra to lay a gentle hand on Komatsu’s forehead, and he got the vague impression that the man was giving Toriko a moment to collect himself, “How do you feel?”
“Um... well...” he tried to crack a smile, but it came out weak and wobbly, “If you check my patient chart... uh… it says ‘bad’.” The joke didn’t land, only Zebra letting out a huff of air and a dark growl that sounded something like ‘cocky fucking bastard’. It comforted him nonetheless.
Toriko was still staring. Those brown eyes bored into Komatsu with wild intensity, and Komatsu weakly turned back to look at him.
“Toriko.” he breathed, “What’s... wrong? Why do you look... I-I protected you... so why...?”
“Don’t.” his voice was low, borderline dangerous, “Don’t you dare.”
“Toriko?” Toriko straightened, though his grip on his small hand never faltered. His eyes were shadowed. Haunted.
“Ayaka told us what happened.” Sani huffed, trying for haughty and missing the mark just a little, his eyes too misty for it to really work, “What those Bishoku-kai wanted. That Overseer guy. What you did.”
“Ayaka...”
“She’s okay.” Coco, wonderful intuitive Coco, seemed to read his mind, “She heard the scuffle and called the police. She also took initiative and evacuated the building next door, just in case. No one else was hurt.”
“Thank goodness...” Komatsu relaxed slightly, “I’m so glad... But, the people who attacked me...”
“Are dead.” Toriko answered darkly, menace and fury dripping from his voice in a way Komatsu had never heard before. Seeing his slight shiver, Toriko softened slightly, “The ones who were in the restaurant with you were killed in the explosion. The others were... taken care of, once we knew you’d live.” At the solemn looks of the other Kings, Komatsu figured out what they meant.
“You...?” he could almost see it. His beautiful Kings hunting down and tearing apart the remaining Bishoku-kai, all sense of mercy lost now that their favorite restaurant was gone and their favorite chef was out of commission. Komatsu’s heart lurched in his chest slightly as a realization hit him.
“Oh!” he weakly tried to rise, but his body still seemed hesitant to obey him. He wondered just how many painkillers he was on, “Oh, you guys, who... who’s been cooking for you while I was out? Who’s been… t-taking care of you?” His throat was on fire, but he had to know. Yet, at his questions, the Kings seemed... sad. They looked at him with some strange cross between fondness and distress, and Komatsu wanted nothing more than to keep these men safe and happy forever.
“Kid...” Zebra growled, a massive hand coming down onto his shoulder with a gentleness that belied his nature, “Forget about the fucking food, okay? We don’t give a shit.”
“Eh?” he blinked, trying so hard not to let the drowsiness creep back in, “Zebra, what...? To hear you say that...”
“He’s right.” Sani said, and Toriko was still staring at him like he might disappear, “‘Matsu, what matters is you. Only you.”
“But... you all seem so upset...”
“Because you blew up your restaurant and damn near fucking killed yourself!” Toriko snapped, slamming a fist into the wall by the bed. Komatsu jumped, and immediately regretted it as it agitated his wounds, and Toriko had the grace to look ashamed. He turned away with his head bowed, and Komatsu wanted so badly to ease his pain, but he didn’t know how.
“Zebra. Sani.” Coco said, his tone indecipherable, “Let’s go grab something for Komatsu to eat. He’s probably hungry.”
“Why the hell does that need all three of us?” Zebra growled over Sani’s indignant shriek about ugly tasteless hospital food, and Coco gave them a sharp look. He nodded his head towards Toriko, and the other two seemed to finally get what he was saying. The conversation went over Komatsu’s head, still not entirely up to par, but he didn’t complain as each of them approached him and allowed him to weakly embrace them. Sani’s hair seemed to cling to him as the man held him gently, nuzzling Komatsu’s hair before reluctantly pulling away. Zebra went next, his cheeks flushed in a way he’d forever deny as he squeezed an unbandaged part of his his arm with that same uncharacteristic gentleness. When Komatsu smiled and awkwardly hugged the arm as best he could, Zebra got this indecipherable look on his face, cupping Komatsu’s face for a brief second before pulling away with a grumble. Coco smiled reassuringly at him as he approached, leaning down to take Komatsu’s face gently in his hands and pressing a feather-light kiss to his forehead.
“I’m so glad you’re okay.” he murmured against his skin, “We all are.” Komatsu touched his soft hands with his own heavily bandaged ones and smiled at him, and Coco reluctantly pulled away after a moment. All three of them headed to the door, and only Coco stopped just long enough to murmur something to Toriko, so quiet he couldn’t hear, before exiting.
Just like that, he was left alone with Toriko. Toriko, who still looked tense and wired. Toriko, whose eyes were sunken and shadowed. Toriko, who Komatsu loved so much it ached. He still looked like he may burst into tears at any moment, and Komatsu wanted to give him time to gather himself, so instead of his partner he stared at his hands. The bandages were crisp and clean, but Komatsu was dismayed to see he couldn’t quite move his fingers as much as he liked. He hoped to all the gods that didn’t affect his cooking. If he couldn’t cook, what use was he? If he couldn’t cook for his Kings, then what right did he have to stay by Toriko’s side?
As if sensing his thoughts turning dark, Toriko finally, finally looked at him. He reclaimed his seat at Komatsu’s side, brown eyes never leaving him. Komatsu gave him a small smile, wanting nothing more than to reassure him. The smile seemed to ease a small amount of tension in him, so Komatsu counted it as a win.
“So...” he said softly, willing his voice not to sound so croaky as he weakly joked, “I bet they didn’t Over-see that coming. Eh?”
“Komatsu.” Toriko didn’t so much as crack a smile, his tone deathly serious, “I want to know why.”
“Why?” he blinked, “Why what?”
“Why did you do it?” he asked, leaning forward and clasping his wrapped hands like he may break if he wasn’t careful, “Why go so far? Why didn’t you run?”
“I... I tried.” he said honestly, “They blocked the exit. And I ran out of things to use as a weapon, so I had to improvise.”
“But nitro cherries?”
“It was the only thing in reach.” he defended, his voice breaking a little, “I couldn’t let them get you, and I couldn’t let them use me as a hostage, so I...”
“Hostage.” Toriko echoed darkly, “They wanted to use you as a hostage?”
“If I didn’t tell them where you were.” he blinked as Toriko’s expression darkened further. His fists clenched.
“I should have drawn their deaths out.” he growled, threat dripping from his voice as his teeth sharpened involuntarily, “I should have made them suffer.”
“I thought Ayaka told you everything?” Komatsu asked, unnerved, and Toriko’s expression softened minimally as he looked back to Komatsu.
“She told us how you got everyone out.” he said lowly, “How she heard fighting, how she peeked in through the window and saw you holding them off with knives and hot oil. That was when she called the police.” his expression softened slightly, though his eyes remained shadowed, “Komatsu... even though I was scared out of my mind, I was so proud of you. The way Ayaka described you... like you were a brawler, or a vicious wolf. I think she’s your new biggest fan.” Komatsu flushed at that, and huffed.
“I was not anything like that.” he said, “I was really just acting on instinct. Just trying to stay alive. I... may have bitten a guy’s nose off, though.” At that, Toriko let out a laugh. It was small, nothing like the booming laughter he was used to, but it eased Komatsu’s heart regardless.
“Komatsu...” Toriko gazed at him with open adoration, his eyes misty, yet shining with admiration, “You’re amazing. I don’t... I don’t tell you that enough, but you really are.”
“Eh? No, I’m just some guy. You’re the amazing one, Toriko.” he denied, managing to twitch his fingers in a weak impression of a squeeze. Toriko looked like he wanted to argue, so Komatsu distracted him, “Will my hands be... I mean, will I be able to...” At that, Toriko’s face darkened, and Komatsu wondered if he’d made a mistake.
“It was touch and go for a while.” Toriko admitted softly, bringing Komatsu’s hands up to his lips and holding them there, his eyes sliding closed as if in reverence, “One doctor suggested that amputation was the best option, but Rin kicked him through a wall.”
“She did!?” he squawked, regretting it when it led to a coughing fit that had Toriko hovering worriedly over him, “Toriko, did she apologize? If she didn’t, I will, where is he, can we call him? Is he o-okay, I mean yeah I’m not thrilled that he wanted to amputate m-my hands but still that doesn’t mean-“ he was cut off by Toriko laughing, really laughing. The kind of laughter that shook his shoulders and lit up his face. Almost involuntarily, Komatsu relaxed at the sound.
“Komatsu.” he laughed, and then the massive man was in the small bed with him, wrapping him up easily in his arms, careful of the bandages and breathing mask. Suddenly reminded of the device, Komatsu made to take it off, but Toriko’s hand stopped him.
“The last time they tried to take it off,” he said quietly, “You stopped breathing.” Komatsu blinked at that, shivering a little at the implications.
“But, if I’m awake now, shouldn’t that...?” But Toriko shook his head.
“Please.” he said, looking pained, “Keep it on for now. For me.” and how could Komatsu refuse this man anything? He nodded his assent, and was rewarded by Toriko’s relieved smile. He gave a reassuring smile, and Toriko smiled back.
“How long was I...?” he trailed off, but Toriko seemed to understand easily.
“Six months.” he answered hoarsely, blinking away what looked suspiciously like tears, “Six months.”
“Six-“ he squawked, and Toriko squeezed his hand reassuringly, “Six months!?”
“Yeah.” Toriko’s smile faded, and Komatsu wanted it back. He could freak out later, right now Toriko needed to smile again.
So...” he wrinkled his nose, “Why don’t I have a beard then?”
“Sani.” Toriko answered, unusually subdued, “Said you look unsightly with a beard. He took a break from helping rebuilding the restaurant every few days to shave your face.”
“He…” his face was on fire, “A-Ah. I… suppose that’s why my hair and nails aren’t all crazy?”
“Yeah.” Toriko ruffled said hair with a fond look, and Komatsu managed to push aside the embarrassment of poor Sani feeling the need to groom him. He would have to find a way to thank him, but right now he had a more pressing question.
“Toriko?” he started cautiously, “Not that I’m not relieved, but… how did I survive?” At that, Toriko’s face shuttered again, and he took a deep breath.
“You almost… It… You… You died once.” Toriko whispered, eyes distant, and Komatsu gaped.
“W-What!?” he squawked, and Toriko pressed him slightly closer, for Komatsu’s comfort or his own, he wasn’t sure.
“I didn’t hear it.” Toriko murmured, his eyes distant, lost in a memory, “We were all in the waiting room, and then Zebra just… snapped. All of us had to restrain him, we couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him, and then…” his breath hitched, and Komatsu fearfully wondered if he was about to see his partner cry.
“Toriko, you don’t have to-“
“He yelled… He yelled ‘the damn kid’s heart stopped, the kid’s fucking heart stopped, he’s not breathing’.” Toriko buried his face in Komatsu’s chest, and Komatsu was horrified to feel wetness soaking into the thin hospital gown, “A-And… Komatsu. Komatsu, partner, it was like my heart stopped beating too.”
“Toriko…”
“They brought you back.” his voice was clogged, choked, “They brought you back, but they didn’t know if you'd ever wake up. And if you hadn’t I would’ve… If I lost you, I don’t know what I’d…”
“Toriko.” Komatsu, wrapped his arms gingerly around Toriko’s head, “Toriko, if I died then you’d be able to find a new partner.” Toriko shook his head wildly at that, clutching Komatsu closer.
“No. No.” he gasped, tears flowing freely now, “I don’t want another partner. I don’t want anyone else, I won’t have anyone else!”
“Toriko-“
“I won’t!”
“O-Okay.” he said soothingly, not wanting to upset Toriko any further, dutifully ignoring the selfish part of him that burned at the idea of sharing Toriko with anyone, “Okay. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here, I’m okay, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Komatsu-“
“-I mean that literally, I mean how long are they gonna keep me trapped here anyway?”
“Komatsu.” Toriko tilted his head to look up at him, his big eyes and tear-stained face lending him the appearance of a bereft puppy, “I love you. You’re the only chef I need. Don’t ever do something like this again. Please.” Komatsu knew he couldn’t promise that. He couldn’t possibly promise not to do anything in his power to protect this man. But looking at Toriko’s face, pained and miserable and so worried about him, how could he deny him? So, with a fond sigh, he lied.
“Okay.” he said softly, “Anything for you.” Toriko visibly relaxed at that, nuzzling Komatsu’s chest and holding him like a precious treasure.
“Thank you.” he whispered, eyes sliding shut as he held his partner, whole and alive in his arms, “Thank you, Komatsu. I promise you, this won’t happen again.”
“Hm?” Komatsu inquired even as he snuggled deeper into Toriko’s embrace.
“I failed you.” he said softly, “But it won’t ever happen again. I’ll protect you, I promise, I’ll be there for you.”
“Toriko.” he sighed fondly, “This wasn’t your fault.”
“But they were after me.” he said, distressed, “And they came after you. They made you take such drastic measures, and you were willing to-“
“Toriko.” wanting to stop that train of thought, he let out a yawn that may not have been entirely genuine. In Toriko’s state, he didn’t notice, “I’m tired. Can we sleep?”
“Of course.” he said immediately, tugging the blankets up around them both, tucking Komatsu in with a focus that made him giggle a little, “I’m sorry. You’re hurt and I’m making it all about me. I…” at Komatsu’s dry look, he sheepishly closed his mouth.
“Stay with me?” Komatsu yawned, for real this time, only feeling a little bad about the minor manipulation. Toriko nodded quickly.
“I won’t leave your side.” he said, the words sounding an awful lot like a vow, “Ever. I promise you, Komatsu.”
“Thank you. I promise too.” he smiled softly at him, resting his head against Toriko’s chest, letting his heartbeat fill his ears. Toriko’s arms around him were warm and secure, his chest solid and familiar, and as he dozed he felt a large hand carding through his hair. The world still had an edge of fuzziness, but it had long faded to a manageable level. He didn’t want to imagine how he’d feel when the painkillers wore off. He didn’t want to think about the months of physical therapy that surely lay in his future.
Right now, it was just him and Toriko. And that was more than enough for him.