1. Hair of the Bloodthirsty Wild Beast That Bit You

Toriko awoke with a light shining in his face, so bright that it penetrated through his eyelids and bored into his brain like a drill. He lifted his hands to cover his eyes and found them moving slowly and awkwardly, like they were twice as heavy as they should be. What had he been doing?

Ah. Drinking. That was it.

He peeled his eyes open to find that that impossibly bright light source was just the morning sun shining through the curtains. There was a foul taste in his mouth, and his stomach felt like there was something gross living in it. That was the worst thing about a hangover in his experience; it stopped him wanting to eat.

"What the fuck did I do?" he asked himself, bugged by how croaky his voice was.

"Toriko-san?"

Toriko turned his head too fast and made his brain flip about, but managed to focus his eyes enough to see Komatsu. He was sitting on the futon that Toriko usually stored in the spare room, the quilt piled around his waist, rubbing his tired-looking eyes.

"Are you feeling okay, Toriko-san?"

"...no", Toriko croaked pitifully.

Komatsu nodded and got up, walked across the room to the dresser and lifted down a water jug and a glass, bringing both over to the bed.

"I hope you don't mind that I stayed here," he said as he poured, speaking deliberately softly. "You were already feeling bad by the time we got here and I was worried about leaving you alone. I've never seen you drunk before, you know? Even though you drink all the time."

Instead of handing the full glass over, he waited for Toriko to prop himself up on his elbows, then held it up to his lips for him, waiting for him to drink. It was a good idea, Toriko suspected, as 'up' seemed to be about fifteen degrees off where it normally was.

"What happened?" he asked, as Komatsu refilled the glass.

"Um...well, you and Mansam-san were drinking together and he had a bottle of something home made, and...ah..."

"We got wasted?"

"Yes."

"Serves me right. I should have learned the lesson about Mansam's homebrew years ago. Never let him talk you into drinking it, Komatsu."

"Is it that bad?"

"Well, it tastes pretty good...but you'd probably die."

"Ah, okay then."

Komatsu waited for Toriko to lie back against the headboard, then refilled the glass and put it into his hand. As soon as he took it, Toriko got a weird feeling...there was something he'd had been carrying...or maybe just holding, last night, but for some reason he didn't have it now. It felt like it was something really important. What the hell could it have been? Shit, had he lost his credit card again? No, that didn't seem right...

"Toriko-san, I'm going to make you something plain to eat, and see if I can come up with something to settle your stomach, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks Komatsu."

Komatsu pulled his pants on over his undies (knife design this time) and left the room, being careful to move his feet quietly. A bird started singing cheerfully outside and Toriko resisted the urge to open the window and yell at it.

What had he been holding, then? He hated when his hangover killed his memory like this, but it always happened. He shut his eyes and tried to recreate what the mysterious object had felt like. A smooth, round-ish shape, not quite large enough to fill his hands. What could that be?

Outside he heard a canine whimper, and then the sound of the back door opening. Komatsu's voice reached his ears, speaking soothingly to Terry.

"It's okay, he's not really sick. He'll be back to normal by this afternoon, I promise. You'll see... Don't be sad Terry. Aw, come here."

Terry started making the happy noise reserved for when somebody played with his ears and Toriko couldn't help but smile, even though it felt like the corners of his mouth were directly pulling on his brain.

How had Komatsu become so kind? He always seemed to know what exactly people needed and then just handed it over to them, even when it caused him trouble. Toriko was pretty sure that this was Komatsu's only day off work this week, yet here he was, spending his free time looking after his hung over partner. Even now, he could smell something cooking downstairs and smiled a little selfishly, warmed by the knowledge that all of Komatsu's talent and all of his kindness were at his disposal.

Maybe Komatsu remembered what it was he'd been carrying? Had it been...warm?

Komatsu came back up the stairs carrying a tray that held a plate piled high with slices of toast and a coffee mug with a few wisps of steam rising from it. He put the tray down on the dresser and brought Toriko the mug first.

"Here, this is a family recipe. A hang-over remedy. It's really good!"

Toriko took the mug and sniffed at the contents, astonished when he couldn't identify what had gone into the concoction beyond...tomato? Brandy? Pineapple?

"What the hell-"

"There's a little 'hair of the dog' in it, along with some other things. It's best when it's hot, so hurry up and drink it before it clots, okay?"

"Clots? What's in it?"

Komatsu smiled at him and tapped his finger against the side of his nose. Toriko sighed and drank the stuff down. It didn't taste quite as bad as he'd feared, but it was still pretty much the worst thing Komatsu had ever fed him. He grabbed the glass of water from the window sill and swirled some around in his mouth to get rid of the taste, and by the time he was sure it was gone Komatsu was at his elbow with the plate.

"Feel any better?" he asked.

Toriko took stock. Actually...yeah. His stomach felt less swishy, though his head still hurt.

"Yeah, thanks. You should patent that stuff, you know?"

"Nah," Komatsu replied, and settled the plate of toast on Toriko's lap. "See if you can finish all of that and I'll make you something a bit more nourishing, okay?"

"Okay."

He got through about half the toast while Komatsu bustled about, pulling the quilt off the futon and folding it neatly. His mind strayed back to his little mystery; what the hell had he had in his hands?

Again he tried to picture it, a smooth, small warm shape, not quite filling his hands but sitting comfortably in them. Trying to recreate the feeling, he held his hands out in front of him, in the same position that they had held his mystery thing, and looked to see that they were cupped side by side, the heels of his palms pressed together.

What could that have been?

Then he looked over at Komatsu, now bending over to roll up the futon, and experienced a sudden flash of memory.

"Komatsu?"

"Yes?"

"When I was drunk..."

"What is it Toriko-san?"

"Did I feel you up?"

"Nyah!" Komatsu cried, falling over the futon. He recovered himself quickly and scuttled over to the bedroom door on all fours. "Ahaha, I'll go and make you some more food Toriko-san!" he said hurriedly, and was gone.

"...okay," Toriko replied, and ate the rest of his toast, quietly but passionately hating Mansam and his stupid homebrew.