Toriko fanfic, wheee!
Toriko/Komatsu fanfic. Star-chan, I did eeeet, haha!
High in the towers of Hotel Gourmet, in a fine dining restaurant ripe with the allure of culinary delights, a lone man was seated at their linen-draped tables. It was a table for one. Actually, make that a whole restaurant for one. The man was striking in appearance: handsome, immensely tall and muscular, and smartly dressed in a crisp white suit, a dark blue shirt, and polished white loafers. His wild, blue hair was smoothed back for a sharp and slick effect. He sat comfortably with one leg crossed over the other and puffed on a branch stub like a cigar, producing lazy clouds of smoke.
The restaurant was otherwise empty, save for Komatsu, the head chef. He had been busy preparing a very unusual dessert. The dish itself seemed ordinary at first -- a simple tart, to be precise -- but it was made with extraordinary ingredients. When the finishing touches were done, the chef cheerfully wheeled out a large covered dish to the awaiting guest and placed it on the table with a flourish. Removing the covers, the chef said, “Here it is, Toriko-san: a spiced Golden Peach tart, served with Crystal Lait cream, and garnished with Emerald Mint.”
With only a glance, the man known as Toriko jumped up in a frenzy, salivating excessively. “The Golden Peach!” he exclaimed. “It looks amazingly good!” The sight was tantalizing: the peaches were perfectly sliced, arranged in an elaborate rose-like pattern within the rich, ruffled crust. The fruit, soaked within the finest butter and spices, glowed gorgeously with a gentle golden hue. Paired with the glistening sugar glaze and the sparkling nature of the mint and cream, the dish literally glittered like countless sunlit diamonds.
Even though he could barely contain his anticipation and appetite, Toriko still had the consideration of giving thanks first. Clapping his hands together and closing his eyes, he uttered an enthused “Itadakimasu” before he took his fork and took a bite, savoring it carefully. On the first taste, his eyes shot open in surprise and slowly fell shut. The experience was incredible, overwhelming to the senses. He could describe the taste as bottomless wells of sweetness from fresh, juicy, summer-ripened peaches. But then the feeling that Toriko had upon the first swallow was completely sublime, as if he tasted the mythical peach of immortality from the royal orchards of heaven.
But then, that was to be expected of a super-ingredient like the Golden Peach. When fully ripened, the fruit was as large as a car tire, its skin radiant with the colors of a sunset. It is said that its sweet fragrance was powerful enough to tempt anyone within a mile of its presence. Getting to actually eat the peach however, was no small task. This was because the peach trees could only grow under the nests of Momo Dragons, who were fiercely territorial. The peach trees themselves were huge, taller than the largest redwood trees, and climbing the slippery bark and branches proved deadly for the most seasoned gourmet hunters. Because of these dangerous conditions, the Golden Peach was considered a rare and treasured ingredient, classified at a capture level of 30.
Since the season was perfect for ripened Golden Peaches, the International Gourmet Organization had sent Toriko to retrieve a peach, as usual. And when Toriko was successful, he had brought the rest of his bounty to Komatsu, a five-star chef with whom he was well acquainted with.
After Toriko had taken his first bite, the tart was gone in seconds. He gazed wistfully down at his empty plate. “Aww. Wish I could have seconds.”
“It would be better if you took more time to savor things, Toriko-san,” said Komatsu. “I’m afraid if you scarf it down, you won’t be able to keep the taste very long.”
Toriko was silent. Then he looked up as if he had a sudden revelation. “Komatsu!”
“Yes, Toriko-san?” Komatsu replied. “Wait, were you listening to me at all?”
Toriko’s large hand wrapped around Komatsu’s waist to yank him closer, and pulled the startled chef right onto his lap. “You’re covered in peach juice,” Toriko observed. “I can smell it.” He leaned forward, and took a deep breath. “It smells great... I can’t stand it,” he moaned, and nuzzled even closer. Finally the temptation became too much for him to bear, and he bent down to take a bite of Komatsu’s uniform, nibbling on it hungrily.
“Tor--Toriko-san!!” Komatsu exclaimed, frozen in shock. It was very true that he was covered in juice. Komatsu had found out too late that the Golden Peach was so full of its sweet juices that a single prick through its skin could yield enough juice to fill up a large sized bathtub.
Komatsu braced his hands against Toriko’s chest, trying in vain to push the other man back. “Th-that’s enough! Please, stop!”
But Toriko didn’t stop. He chewed and tugged at Komatsu’s uniform voraciously until he finally let the fabric drop from his mouth. Then he latched onto Komatsu’s wrist, and set his sight on Komatsu’s fingers, licking them lightly for a taste and then boldly slipped some into his mouth. Poor Komatsu trembled from the strange sensation of a slippery tongue and nibbling teeth, and barely registered the tingling feeling on his fingers when the mouth finally withdrew.
Komatsu felt his heart skip a beat despite himself. He knew he shouldn’t expect any ulterior motives behind Toriko’s actions. Toriko was just that crazy about food - that’s all there was to it. Komatsu took a deep breath, and tried to compose himself.
“Did you have to do that, Toriko-san?” Komatsu felt a blush creeping on and turned to hide his flushed, rosy cheeks.
“Sure. You wanted me to savor it, didn’t you?”
“Well… Not like that.”
“You were right, though. It tastes much better this way.”
“Um…” Komatsu’s cheeks were burning fiercely, and he desperately hoped that Toriko wouldn’t see him like this. “…That’s good. Now, if you’re satisfied…” He tried to slide off Toriko’s lap but strong arms held him tight.
“Not yet.”
“Not yet?” Komatsu faced forward to his guest who grinned back at him. But it wasn’t Toriko’s usual grin. It was a very peculiar kind of grin - it even looked a little mischievous.
“I still want thirds.”
Komatsu blinked, surprised, as Toriko leaned in for another taste. With his reason now shot to pieces, Komatsu had enough sense left to secretly wish that his stamina could match Toriko’s appetite.
High in the towers of Hotel Gourmet, in a fine dining restaurant ripe with the allure of culinary delights, a lone man was seated at their linen-draped tables. It was a table for one. Actually, make that a whole restaurant for one. The man was striking in appearance: handsome, immensely tall and muscular, and smartly dressed in a crisp white suit, a dark blue shirt, and polished white loafers. His wild, blue hair was smoothed back for a sharp and slick effect. He sat comfortably with one leg crossed over the other and puffed on a branch stub like a cigar, producing lazy clouds of smoke.
The restaurant was otherwise empty, save for Komatsu, the head chef. He had been busy preparing a very unusual dessert. The dish itself seemed ordinary at first -- a simple tart, to be precise -- but it was made with extraordinary ingredients. When the finishing touches were done, the chef cheerfully wheeled out a large covered dish to the awaiting guest and placed it on the table with a flourish. Removing the covers, the chef said, “Here it is, Toriko-san: a spiced Golden Peach tart, served with Crystal Lait cream, and garnished with Emerald Mint.”
With only a glance, the man known as Toriko jumped up in a frenzy, salivating excessively. “The Golden Peach!” he exclaimed. “It looks amazingly good!” The sight was tantalizing: the peaches were perfectly sliced, arranged in an elaborate rose-like pattern within the rich, ruffled crust. The fruit, soaked within the finest butter and spices, glowed gorgeously with a gentle golden hue. Paired with the glistening sugar glaze and the sparkling nature of the mint and cream, the dish literally glittered like countless sunlit diamonds.
Even though he could barely contain his anticipation and appetite, Toriko still had the consideration of giving thanks first. Clapping his hands together and closing his eyes, he uttered an enthused “Itadakimasu” before he took his fork and took a bite, savoring it carefully. On the first taste, his eyes shot open in surprise and slowly fell shut. The experience was incredible, overwhelming to the senses. He could describe the taste as bottomless wells of sweetness from fresh, juicy, summer-ripened peaches. But then the feeling that Toriko had upon the first swallow was completely sublime, as if he tasted the mythical peach of immortality from the royal orchards of heaven.
But then, that was to be expected of a super-ingredient like the Golden Peach. When fully ripened, the fruit was as large as a car tire, its skin radiant with the colors of a sunset. It is said that its sweet fragrance was powerful enough to tempt anyone within a mile of its presence. Getting to actually eat the peach however, was no small task. This was because the peach trees could only grow under the nests of Momo Dragons, who were fiercely territorial. The peach trees themselves were huge, taller than the largest redwood trees, and climbing the slippery bark and branches proved deadly for the most seasoned gourmet hunters. Because of these dangerous conditions, the Golden Peach was considered a rare and treasured ingredient, classified at a capture level of 30.
Since the season was perfect for ripened Golden Peaches, the International Gourmet Organization had sent Toriko to retrieve a peach, as usual. And when Toriko was successful, he had brought the rest of his bounty to Komatsu, a five-star chef with whom he was well acquainted with.
After Toriko had taken his first bite, the tart was gone in seconds. He gazed wistfully down at his empty plate. “Aww. Wish I could have seconds.”
“It would be better if you took more time to savor things, Toriko-san,” said Komatsu. “I’m afraid if you scarf it down, you won’t be able to keep the taste very long.”
Toriko was silent. Then he looked up as if he had a sudden revelation. “Komatsu!”
“Yes, Toriko-san?” Komatsu replied. “Wait, were you listening to me at all?”
Toriko’s large hand wrapped around Komatsu’s waist to yank him closer, and pulled the startled chef right onto his lap. “You’re covered in peach juice,” Toriko observed. “I can smell it.” He leaned forward, and took a deep breath. “It smells great... I can’t stand it,” he moaned, and nuzzled even closer. Finally the temptation became too much for him to bear, and he bent down to take a bite of Komatsu’s uniform, nibbling on it hungrily.
“Tor--Toriko-san!!” Komatsu exclaimed, frozen in shock. It was very true that he was covered in juice. Komatsu had found out too late that the Golden Peach was so full of its sweet juices that a single prick through its skin could yield enough juice to fill up a large sized bathtub.
Komatsu braced his hands against Toriko’s chest, trying in vain to push the other man back. “Th-that’s enough! Please, stop!”
But Toriko didn’t stop. He chewed and tugged at Komatsu’s uniform voraciously until he finally let the fabric drop from his mouth. Then he latched onto Komatsu’s wrist, and set his sight on Komatsu’s fingers, licking them lightly for a taste and then boldly slipped some into his mouth. Poor Komatsu trembled from the strange sensation of a slippery tongue and nibbling teeth, and barely registered the tingling feeling on his fingers when the mouth finally withdrew.
Komatsu felt his heart skip a beat despite himself. He knew he shouldn’t expect any ulterior motives behind Toriko’s actions. Toriko was just that crazy about food - that’s all there was to it. Komatsu took a deep breath, and tried to compose himself.
“Did you have to do that, Toriko-san?” Komatsu felt a blush creeping on and turned to hide his flushed, rosy cheeks.
“Sure. You wanted me to savor it, didn’t you?”
“Well… Not like that.”
“You were right, though. It tastes much better this way.”
“Um…” Komatsu’s cheeks were burning fiercely, and he desperately hoped that Toriko wouldn’t see him like this. “…That’s good. Now, if you’re satisfied…” He tried to slide off Toriko’s lap but strong arms held him tight.
“Not yet.”
“Not yet?” Komatsu faced forward to his guest who grinned back at him. But it wasn’t Toriko’s usual grin. It was a very peculiar kind of grin - it even looked a little mischievous.
“I still want thirds.”
Komatsu blinked, surprised, as Toriko leaned in for another taste. With his reason now shot to pieces, Komatsu had enough sense left to secretly wish that his stamina could match Toriko’s appetite.