Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Sunny had thought Toriko was beautiful didn’t count. He had been a child—they had both been. Sunny had been young, starving, living a dreary, un-beautiful life in a non-IGO nation where parentless brats like him weren’t protected, so focused on keeping himself and his baby sister alive that he didn’t have the time for beauty—or the means, if he had been so inclined. 

And he had been. He had wanted it so badly, to be able to enter the reputable part of town without the stigma, the stink, of his situation following him. To be looked at not as an object of pity, but of envy. 

It had been a day of no importance to Sunny (a day of great importance to the country, but how could Sunny believe it) when Ichiryu visited. He came every year, had been doing so since before Sunny had been born, walking through the worst areas of the non-IGO nations and feeding those who couldn’t feed themselves. Sunny had never seen him before, and he didn’t believe that such a person would give freely to dirty orphans like them anyway. 

Sunny and Rin had been huddling together under the scant shade offered by a half-fallen awning outside a store that likely should have been abandoned years ago. There was a commotion in an adjacent street that had only been growing louder over the last several minutes; Rin had wanted to go investigate, but Sunny had stubbornly wrapped his arms around her and huddled as far back into the wall as they could go. 

As much as he longed to stand proudly in the light, years of experience had taught him that the less noticeable they became the less likely they were to be targeted. And a commotion in this part of town was never a celebration, even if the one coming towards them sounded like it. 

The noise grew louder and closer, drawing curious but fleeting glances from the other occupants of the street as well, and finally someone appeared. 

It was a boy. Larger than Sunny, but probably not much older. He had blue hair, a blinding grin, and a nearly-full bag slung over his shoulder.

He was beautiful. With his shiny, interesting hair that he didn’t have to hide for fear of being taken and sold, and a grin which held none of the world-weary nature that had been ground into Sunny’s bones. 

But that didn’t count. 

It didn’t count because Sunny hadn’t really known Toriko then, and he would curse himself for thinking it often as they lived together. It didn’t count because Sunny had never lived anywhere truly beautiful before, had never experienced beauty beyond the fleeting memories he had of his parents, and so his standards had been embarrassingly low.

It didn’t count, most of all, because it hadn’t been a complement. 

Back then, beauty was something Sunny aspired to, but not because it was good. Back then, beauty was the gleaming storefront that he was chased from even though he had saved enough money to buy something nice for Rin for her birthday. Beauty had been the people in pressed suits and flowing gowns who turned their noses up at anything different from them. It was the extravagant feasts that those people couldn’t finish, and instead of giving the leftovers to the poor they went into the dumpster with rat poison, to discourage theft. 

Beauty was Toriko, unafraid of the streets, unaware of the hardship, carrying what Sunny somehow just knew was more food than he had ever seen, and probably would ever see, for the remainder of his likely-short life. 

The fact that he was a child with colored hair and a face that held no malice changed nothing about Sunny’s own weary ways. 

“Who—” Rin began to ask, eyes going big and sparkly at the strange newcomer, but Sunny blocked her view and refused to let her oggle him. 

“Not our problem,” he grumbled, quiet enough that he was sure the boy couldn’t hear him. 

That didn’t seem to matter, as the boy seemed to scent the air for a moment before he zeroed in on them specifically, bounding over and hitting them full force with that beaming grin. 

Sunny clutched Rin closer, as if there was some chance the boy hadn’t seen her yet, and fixed him with a deathly glare. 

Undeterred, the boy swung the sack off of his shoulder and started digging around in it. 

“I’m Toriko!” He greeted finally, emerging from the bag with a large loaf of bread and a few other things that Sunny had never seen before—but they smelled divine. “Will you eat with me?” 

Sunny simply continued to glare, this time focused on the food apparently being proffered to them. Was there something wrong with it? Was the boy going to snatch it back at the last second and laugh? 

Toriko, undaunted by the suspicious glare, simply plopped himself down right in the middle of the dirty street and went about breaking the large loaf into roughly even thirds and placing the other things (jams, butters, that’s what Toriko was rambling about as Sunny tuned him out) between them so either of them could easily reach. He dug into his portion without hesitation, and the assurance through action that the bread wasn’t poisoned only served to make Sunny more confused about this situation. 

So confused, so focused on Toriko and his strangeness, that he hadn’t noticed Rin’s hand shoot out and nick one of the bread chunks. Not until she had already dug in.

“Sunny, it’s so good!” She grinned, mouth so full that crumbs fell onto him while she spoke. His nose scrunched in disgust, but he refrained from complaining because he couldn’t quite bring himself to dampen the bright shine in her eyes. 

He made sure to scowl at Toriko as he snatched his own piece, even as the blue-haired boy grinned brightly at Rin’s reaction. As if he was really just here to share food and see people enjoy it. 

And that… that was when Sunny should have called Toriko beautiful. But he didn’t. He thought Toriko was weird, that he was stupid, and he was too busy eating the first fresh bread he could remember to give it more thought than that. 

“Toriko,” a man’s voice called, and Sunny hurriedly scarfed down the remaining bread. Toriko may have been running around giving out food, but there was no way the adult who had given him that food would be okay with it. 

“Old man!” Toriko called back, and a large man with a mustache lugging an even larger bag than Toriko’s stepped out of the same alley where Toriko had appeared. Almost instantly the man’s eyes cut to Sunny, who had made sure to place himself directly in front of Rin as she happily munched on the bread. 

“And who do we have here?” He asked, not unkindly, but Sunny glowered in response.

“He smells like me,” Toriko reported happily, pointing directly at Sunny.

Which, Sunny thought, was an absolutely ludicrous assertion. Sunny hadn’t had a proper bath in months and Toriko was clearly from an IGO nation and probably washed every day. If they smelled the same then there was something seriously wrong with Toriko. 

The man didn’t seem to agree with Sunny’s analysis, instead simply nodding in agreement.

“He has gourmet cells as well,” he said like that meant anything, eyes slipping between Sunny’s deliberately dirty hair (the white, pink, and blue obscured but still visible if one was looking) and the way he was blocking Rin from the two unknown people. 

And then, the question that changed Sunny’s life, asked with all the casual recklessness that Sunny soon came to understand was undeniably Toriko —

“Old man, can we bring them with us?”

Chapter Text

Of all the kings, Sunny could say with utmost certainty that Zebra was the least beautiful. Physically, of course, between his glaring eyes and bulging muscles and that garish gash on his cheek that revealed far too many teeth, but internally as well.

Zebra had no appreciation for beauty in any form. No appreciation for anything really. Even strength didn’t seem to be something he appreciated or admired so much as a challenge for him to crush. Even when fighting—Sunny had to admit that Toriko was a beautiful fighter, even though he lacked beauty at most other times, but Zebra was not. His battles weren’t driven by honor and love as Toriko’s were, but by rage and boredom. Completely ugly motivations. 

Which was why, when old man Ichiryu had chosen Sunny and Zebra to team up and fetch the Cacao Hawk, Sunny had quite a lot to say about it.

“Old man!” Sunny had screeched, voice cracking embarrassingly while Zebra (whose voice had stopped doing such things nearly a year ago) huffed out a laugh. “I don’t want to go with him,” Sunny made the effort to smooth his voice, though he was sure Zebra could hear the strain. 

“Too bad, kid,” Zebra chuckled, though Sunny suspected the older boy was just as displeased as himself and only able to do so because Sunny’s disarray brought him joy. Zebra would be the type of person who found joy in the disruption of others.

“You’re only a year older than me,” Sunny snarled, though the expression looked more like a pout than the threat he wanted. 

“Just try to keep up, kid,” Zebra grinned, savage as he walked by, making sure to knock heavily into Sunny and send him off balance as he did.

“Oh? You need to keep up with me!” Sunny shouted, rushing to catch up. “Your attitude is so ugly!”

“Don’t get cocky,” Zebra snarled, stopping suddenly enough that Sunny crashed into his back before continuing on again, ignoring the accusation that he’d done it on purpose.

“Have fun, kids!” Ichiryu called after, not bothering to worry about their squabbling. Sunny and Zebra had always been the most contentious of his children, with their wildly different ideologies, but it had never escalated to anything unreasonable. 

Two hours into their search for the elusive bird, Zebra and Sunny had largely been ignoring each other. After their initial argument had died down, they had simply stalked forward in silence. Sunny made sure to match Zebra’s pace, but they walked ten feet apart to avoid the appearance of solidarity. 

Zebra stalked forward with the focus of a predator (and Sunny wasn’t trying to replicate it at all), and he must have noticed the fact that Sunny, despite doing his best to ignore him, was still holding on to Zebra with a few strands of his hair. He didn’t say or do anything about it though, which Sunny took as permission to leave them. 

Sunny’s concentration and sullen expression (again, not a product of copying Zebra, just a product of being near him and the hardships that resulted from it) were broken when, a little ways ahead, he spotted an absolutely dazzling flower.

“Ooh!” He cooed, forgetting the pace and rushing towards it. Zebra was only barely in his kitchen with the distance between them, and Sunny hadn’t let go of him, but he didn’t feel the tug of pulling the bigger boy along (or, more embarrassingly, being yanked backwards which had happened before). He didn’t think much of it, but as he knelt next to the beautiful flower he did notice that Zebra was now close beside him. 

“It’s a gold-dew flower!” Sunny gushed, fingers dancing lightly over the petals which were red themselves, but true to the name were speckled with what seemed to be golden dew drops.

“Is it good?” Zebra asked, leaning over Sunny’s shoulder with a glint in his eye that Sunny didn’t appreciate.

“Don’t eat it,” he snapped, using his hair to swat lightly at Zebra and obstruct his view of the flower. “It’s not worth much as an ingredient by itself, it’s the dew that’s important! Apparently it’s an amazing moisturizer, and it even gives your skin a golden glow!”

He didn’t mention that the flower apparently tasted divine when cooked correctly, because he was going to come back out here and have his own source of golden dew. 

Zebra huffed, visibly miffed at the revelation that it wasn’t a delicious ingredient, and pulled back to continue looking around the area. 

Sunny was beginning to suspect that Zebra wasn’t even looking for the Cacao Hawk, because there was no way he couldn’t hear where one was and he kept happening upon other things that he liked to eat instead. That didn’t matter right now anyway, because he had found a good ingredient himself and he was going to take advantage of it in the meantime. 

Ten minutes later, Sunny had stretched the little dew that was on the flower and managed to lather it all over his arms and face, and was quite pleased with the slight golden glow that resulted from it. Zebra had wandered off several minutes ago, but Sunny wouldn’t mind if they didn’t find each other (he knew Zebra hadn't wandered out of hearing range, there was no way he’d been left alone). 

“Ugh,” Sunny muttered under his breath like he really believed that Zebra had wandered far enough not to hear it, “even his partnership is ugly. Where did that brute run off to?”

Completely coincidentally, Sunny heard a barbaric, too-loud shout off to his left where Zebra had surely just attacked some random animal that they weren’t there to capture. 

He decided, since he had nothing better to do and no other options for company, that he might as well head that direction. 

Except as Sunny picked his way through the forest, taking his time to both look at anything beautiful enough to catch his eye and to avoid getting dirty as much as possible, suddenly Zebra bolted past him going back the way they had come.

Zebra only ran for two reasons—either there was a delicious ingredient, or he had heard something that he wanted to fight. 

On the off chance that it was delicious, and in the interest of being a beautiful partner, of course Sunny had to follow. 

Zebra lead the way directly back to where Sunny had found the flower, bursting into the clearing without regard for the broken foliage left in his wake.

The disrespect for nature was decidedly ugly, and Sunny sneered as he stepped carefully over the debris. The clearing came into view only moments later, revealing Zebra squaring up against some large, disgusting creature. 

“Gross!” Sunny yelped immediately, but his attention was stolen more quickly by what was lacking in the picture—the gold-dew flower. It had been roughly where the creature was standing now. 

A bolt of indignation ran through him. The idea that this… disgusting beast had trampled such a beautiful specimen was utterly inexcusable. Ignoring the creature, Sunny reached out his feelers in an attempt to locate the flower that could hopefully still be safe behind the thing.

If it wasn’t there, the ugly beast would regret its very existence. 

He reached forward with a single-minded purpose, and it was only due to the strands he had unconsciously wrapped around Zebra that he noticed the older boy gearing up for an attack.

And while Sunny could deal with a direct attack, feeling it on his hyper-sensitive follicles would not be pleasant. 

Moments before the blast, he retracted without having found the flower—but knowing that it couldn’t have survived Zebra’s attack that had just knocked the nasty creature through several trees and scored the ground around it. 

“Zebra!” He snapped, spinning to glare at Zebra without even having to look at the carnage to know the result. He didn’t want to look upon the corpse of something so beautiful torn asunder by such a meaningless, ugly attack. 

Zebra didn’t even have the grace to look cowed. He may not have been sneering, but his torn cheek certainly made it look like he was, and the way he rolled his eyes didn’t lend itself to the benefit of the doubt. 

“I can’t believe you did that!” He screeched, and Zebra simply huffed like he was a particularly colorful gnat rather than an actual threat. 

Which was insulting. Even though it was obvious that Zebra was the most powerful of the four kings, Sunny would like to believe that the strength of his indigence could at least make him a threat. 

“Ya don’t need to shout,” was all Zebra said in response, turning and walking away despite Sunny’s fuming. 

“Disgusting,” Sunny muttered to himself, knowing full well that Zebra could hear but using it as plausible deniability. As much as he didn’t want to see, and as impossible the flower surviving would have been, Sunny turned to address the object of his distress.

Of course, trees were uprooted and smashed, dirt gouged and rocks thrown, just as he had expected. 

But, in the midst of a particularly deep trough that had clearly been hit by the brunt of the sonic attack, there was a small mound of dirt. And on top of it sat the gold-dew flower, completely unruffled by any of the occurrences around it. 

“Wha—” Sunny gaped, running forward, stopping short, and spinning back to look in the direction Zebra had gone. He was out of sight now, but certainly not out of earshot. “Did you—?” There was no answer, and Sunny hadn’t expected one despite Zebra’s sound bullet being more than capable. He didn’t need one anyway—there was no way the flower had simply been missed by accident, not with where it was placed. Not only had Zebra not destroyed the flower, he must have erected a sound barrier around it before he attacked to protect it specifically. 

Finally, after floundering in silence for a moment, for something to say or do to apologize for his assumptions, he finally settled on whispering a single word. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured, pretending that he thought Zebra wouldn’t hear him. Pretending that he thought Zebra would know what he meant if he did hear. 

It was beautiful, in a way. The silence, the way he did what he wanted, insisted that everyone adapt to him, and yet had decided to protect a simple flower which, to him, had no benefit.

For Sunny, perhaps? 

Either way. It was a beautiful thing. 

Chapter Text

Sunny hadn’t even noticed him until he spoke. 

It was partially because Komatsu was simply below his eyesight, but since Sunny relied so much on touch rather than sight that it wasn’t much of an excuse. 

He had felt the tiny man immediately, known there was another person in the group intellectually, but there was just… nothing catching about him. 

He wasn’t beautiful, he wasn’t powerful, he wasn’t even ugly enough to be of note. Sunny didn’t sense any gourmet cells, and his eyes slid right past upon glancing at the small cook because he was just… wholly unremarkable. 

At least if someone was particularly grotesque (Zebra, not to name names) they commanded a certain amount of attention. Not the small person who had tagged along with Toriko, whose existence was completely obscured by his partner’s loud presence. After the initial noting of his company, Sunny had legitimately forgotten about his existence until he’d spoken again. 

When he did he was gushing about some ingredient—Black grass. Sunny’s first thought was that they matched well—Both of them small, boring, without inherent beauty. 

“Wait… who are you?” Sunny squinted, peering close into the little chef’s face, having not been listening to what he was talking about. Sunny had probably interrupted him, but whatever he was saying about such a shoddy ingredient couldn’t be that important. 

After leaping backwards with an undignified yell and a truly ghastly expression, the small man smiled sheepishly. 

“Oh… uh, nice to meet you,” he smiled sheepishly, “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself. I’m—”

“Don’t care,” Sunny cut him off without remorse; it was true. On top of everything else, this chef was a pushover. He didn’t even have the confidence to call Sunny rude for his blatant disrespect, just to keep on smiling like a fool. Certainly not a fool worth Sunny’s time. “In the beauty department, you’re a blue tag sale.”

“Y-you don’t say,” the little chef still laughed, sheepish, “my apologies…”

But of course, worthy or not, it was the duty of a beautiful person to spread beauty at all times. Even lacking any beautiful traits, even this plain little man deserved the chance to be beautiful.

“What’s your usual diet?” Sunny asked, trailing his sensors over the chef’s skin without a thought. It wasn’t horrible, but it could use some moisturizing for sure. Especially his hands, ugly and hard with callouses. 

“Uh… well… you know. Normal stuff,” Komatsu stuttered nervously when Sunny leaned forward to inspect with his eyes as well. 

Sometimes he forgot that people didn’t realize what he was doing with his sensors, but he didn’t much care about the discomfort he could cause. After all, they should be grateful he decided to get so close to them. 

“Normal?” Sunny scoffed under his breath. “Tsk tsk. Normal rarely gives you the vitamins and collagen wholesome food does.” And he could see the need for it, this close to Komatsu’s face, hand on his cheek, sensors still prodding invisibly. “In the future,” he offered benevolently, “help yourself to my own full-course meal!”

It was an insult as much as it was anything else, he knew. But the way the chef thanked him didn’t hold an ounce of insult or suspicion, and Sunny pulled back (hair and all) with a subtle eye roll. Really, beauty started with confidence, and this man had none. 

Thoroughly convinced of the plainness of the tiny man (and, really, was that any better than ugliness?) Sunny decided to ignore him for the remainder of the trip. 

Except, when they hadn’t been paying quite enough attention and the Rock Drum had hit them all with a solid kick that separated them into groups, of course it was Stubby who he got flung with. 

Right into a gross mushroom forest filled with disgusting soy sauce hoppers wriggling all over the place like something so nasty had any right to exist. 

And of course, the plain little man he was with was positively overjoyed by the nasty things, picking some mushrooms and snatching an honestly pathetically tiny hopper with his gross, calloused hands and setting to work with glee. 

The glint of his knife was the first thing that finally caught Sunny’s attention. It flashed in the sun, the flawless surface rebounding pure sunlight as the small man’s hands worked almost too quickly to be perceived, slicing the mushrooms with a speed and confidence that Sunny would have never imagined this man possessed. 

“Sunny, they’re done cooking!” He beamed like he really thought Sunny would jump at the chance to eat his cooking. Sunny, ignoring him for the moment, took the time to examine the knife with his feelers. 

In truth it was nothing special. A passable knife, and nothing more. Normal materials for both the hilt and blade, nothing like a Melk knife, nothing like any 10-star chef would be using. But despite that, Sunny couldn’t find a single deficiency. The handle was worn, particularly by the calluses on the hand that gripped it, but it was smooth and in no way discolored. The blade hardly had any nicks his sensors could detect, and the entire blade was sharpened to perfection although Sunny knew knives so cheap dulled and nicked easily. 

The little chef took far better care of his knife than he did himself. 

“That’s a decent knife you’ve got there,” Sunny admitted, not caring that he wasn’t responding to the man’s words. And then, after a moment, admitted, “exquisite.” Because even though the materials were plain, the upkeep was extraordinary.

“Oh! Uh… thanks…” The chef beamed, a garish blush rising on his cheeks.

“I’m complimenting the knife, not you,” Sunny reminded, lest the little chef get a big head. The correction didn’t shake him though, looking even more pleased even.

“R-right, but, that actually makes me happier than being complimented myself,” the chef admitted, and Sunny concluded that they would simply never understand each other. He was grabbing that disgusting little creature he’d snatched earlier, and Sunny was loathe to keep silent about such a travesty.

“A disgusting creature,” Sunny scoffed. “But if you must be disgusting you could get a more aged soy sauce from the even more disgusting adult version.”

“Yeah,” Komatsu agreed glibly, like he had done to all of Sunny’s gripes. It was starting to become annoying. “But the adults are five meters long. Someone like me could never catch one,” he shrugged, and Sunny had to concede the point. It was strange, talking to someone who admitted their own shortcomings so blatantly, and didn’t seem to feel badly about them at all. 

They were from entirely different worlds.

Still. Tuning out what the little man was rambling about now, Sunny allowed his eyes to linger on the knife. And, since it was now being used, coincidentally on the chef using it. The knife was beautiful, and the technique with which it was used was nothing short of masterful. Even with the words spilling nonstop from the chef’s mouth, even with the grotesque faces he made when he was enjoying the food he’d cooked, Sunny couldn’t help but admit…

Seeking out an adult soy sauce hopper with his feelers, Sunny slammed it to the ground near the chef effortlessly, not minding that he’d cut the latest ramble short. 

“That’s an adult soy sauce hopper,” Sunny explained with the air of talking to an idiot, “I just caught it. This one’s soy sauce will be superior with the mushrooms.”

After all. A superior chef should be using superior ingredients. And this little man—no, Toriko’s partner—ugh, no, his name…

“Your name’s Komatsu, isn’t it?” Sunny stated more than asked, having no doubt in his flawless recall. Komatsu seemed to be stunned to silence, simply blinking in response, and Sunny took that as the compliment is obviously was. After all, anyone so plain would be honored to have one such as Sunny remember his name. “I can’t say the way you squeal like a child over high quality food stuffs despite the danger we’re in is anything but disgusting,” Sunny flipped his hair, because he wasn’t in the habit of lying, “however… for some reason…”

Almost despite himself, and especially despite Komatsu’s short and unpleasant visage, Sunny’s feelers began to creep forward. 

“You carry exquisite tools,” he admitted, “and the moment you wielded it, the ingredients before you you shined brilliantly. You created a beautiful union. I can think of no other world to describe it…” And Sunny paused, but he had to continue. Because he wasn’t in the habit of lying. “When you’re cooking, you are…” Komatsu had remained frozen through the speech, and by the look in his eyes he really had no idea what Sunny was about to say. Sunny’s feelers, which had been inching forward ever so slowly, lingered mere centimeters from Komatsu’s skin. “Beautiful,” he finally pronounced, and Komatsu looked even more baffled than he did flattered. 

Understandable, Sunny figured, since he doubted a plain little man like Komatsu was called beautiful often. 

“O-okay,” Komatsu flushed brighter than he had when his knife was complimented, and Sunny couldn’t properly bring himself to find it garish anymore. One of his feelers flicked out to rest there, feeling the heat pool. “Thanks…” Komatsu mumbled. 

It was strange, Sunny decided, but he didn’t much mind Komatsu’s plain appearance. It left room for him to shine in the ways he was truly beautiful. 

Chapter Text

Coco had always been pretty. 

Not prettier than Sunny of course, even with his silky black hair and his mysterious air. He was wholly understated, contrasting starkly to Sunny’s flashy beauty. He hid behind his black clothes and his mild manner, but of course Sunny saw it.

And, unfortunately, so did everyone else. 

There were hordes of people of any and all genders that thought that Coco was the most beautiful of the heavenly kings.

(Again, not as many as Sunny. Sunny had won that popularity poll found in Gourmet Times and if he had it framed deliberately so that you could see the rankings but not how close Coco had actually gotten to beating him then that was irrelevant)

And Sunny had a problem with it. 

Sunny was aware, and so were all of the other kings probably although all of them ignored it and the consequences just as hard as Sunny did, that he had something of a jealousy problem. 

So Coco was pretty. Pretty enough to almost knock Sunny off his pedestal, his self-proclaimed title of most beautiful of the four kings. 

And Sunny, though he would never admit it out loud and none of the others were petty enough to point it out (Sunny would have, he knew, had he been in their positions), knew that he was jealous. 

It didn’t stop the tightening of his gut, the flash of anger, the bitter taste on his tongue—the bitterness that came out as sharp words, and instead of feeling better afterwords he only felt more sick, but this time at himself.

Because he knew Coco well. He knew Coco well enough that he knew exactly what to say to put him in his place (under Sunny, less beautiful, less desirable) and to remind himself and others that there were reasons that people liked Sunny more, thought Sunny was prettier. 

“Of course I wouldn’t touch you,” he scoffed, “you’re poisonous.”

Sunny wasn’t stupid. He was mean, he was petty, sometimes he hated himself for it, but he wasn’t unobservant. 

Which meant that he knew how Coco felt about that. Saw the way the other man’s soft smile locked down into a careful neutral, but only after his eyes widened in hurt and betrayal. It bothered him to be reminded.

And of course it would. Sunny, as the heavenly king with the supernatural sense of touch, with the opportunity and inclination to reach out and openly embrace people in all situations with his hair, to the extent that he was nearly always touching those who were his—The other kings, Ichiryu, Rin, and, more recently, Komatsu as well. If they were within his kitchen they were fair game, and whether they knew or not Sunny was often looping his hair around wrists and draping it over shoulders even as he pretended they were all much too ugly for him to bother with. 

Except. 

Sunny didn’t remember when he had stopped touching Coco like that. 

It was after some argument, he was pretty sure, one that he didn’t even remember the topic of anymore because it really wasn’t all that important. He’d probably said something about Coco’s toxic nature in a fit of unearned rage, insisted that touching him was dangerous for anyone, and said that he’d never do it again. 

He hadn’t meant it, of course. And if Coco had been unable to sense his hair like so many others then Sunny probably would have kept on touching him as usual even while insisting he would never. But Coco with his astounding eyesight could see everything, and that meant that Sunny would have to stick to his guns just to make a point. 

And he did. 

And he did. 

And he did so long that avoiding Coco became just as second nature as touching everyone else.

He was so focused on avoiding Coco that he didn’t notice when Coco began avoiding touching anyone else—ducking Ichiryu’s hair ruffles, stepping lightly out of the way when Toriko tried to throw an arm around his shoulders, even shying away when Zebra would walk by and express his affection with a casual hip check or ram of shoulders. 

Years had passed since then. Zebra had gone to jail, Toriko on adventures, and Coco… Coco had become a hermit, sequestering himself on that horrid little pillar of his so that normal people would have no chance of approaching him. He preferred it that way, Sunny supposed, by now knowing that Coco avoided physical contact and so not feeling so bad about not giving it to him. 

It was easy to believe, since Coco winced and shrunk away any time Sunny saw someone get close to him. Obviously, the solitude was what Coco desired. 

That was, of course, until he saw Komatsu and Coco interact the first time. 

Toriko hadn’t informed Komatsu that they would be meeting up with Coco for their latest escapade. He hadn’t mentioned Sunny either, and honestly Sunny preferred it that way. Usually not being talked about was an insult of the highest order, but the way Matsu’s face lit up in that genuine surprise and unadulterated joy upon seeing him made that inconsequential. Sunny knew, obviously, that even though he was the most beautiful creature alive a lot of people didn’t get along with him (well, that was their loss now wasn’t it) and as such there weren't many people in this world that greeted Sunny without a lick of malice or at least exasperation. The spontaneous, organic way Matsu did it was priceless, and it almost made him feel like he wouldn’t even care if he got second place in a beauty contest, as long as Matsu smiled like that and said he’d voted for him. 

Almost. 

Anyway, Sunny knew that Komatsu greeted him with boundless enthusiasm and a great big hug that seemed too encompassing to come from the small man, but he didn’t know what to expect for Coco. Matsu had always seemed the type to accommodate people, so if Coco didn’t want to be hugged then he would probably avoid it. 

But when he saw Coco, Komatsu’s face lit up brilliantly, and he rushed forward without hesitation.

“Coco-san! You’re here too!” He chirped, bolting forward with that enormous, dopey smile. Coco’s face was doing something a bit strange, a fond smile and soft eyes and both looking a little bit wobbly. Sunny wondered if it was because he was about to indulge Komatsu’s desire for a hug despite his own reluctance at physical contact—the little chef was hard to say no to, after all. 

But Komatsu threw his arms around Coco’s waist without an ounce of hesitation, and almost instantly his face drained into pure relief. He hesitated a moment, waiting to see if Komatsu would let go, but the little chef seemed more than content to keep his hold while rambling about how happy he was that Coco would be joining them. Gingerly, as if afraid he would hurt Komatsu even though Sunny thought the notion itself was ridiculous (Coco was the most gentle of the kings, the one with the most self-control. If none of them had hurt Matsu yet, he would bet his best gourmet ingredients that Coco wouldn’t be the first), he looped his arms around Komatsu in turn. 

And then, with Komatsu’s face buried and Coco’s arms locked around him, the most solitary of the kings allowed his face to fall into an unguarded expression of contentment, eyes fallen shut in an obvious indication of how secure he felt. 

And Sunny was baffled. Because Coco hated being touched, he was pretty sure. He didn’t remember when Coco had gone from just as casually tactile as the rest of them to the solitary creature he was today, but it had happened that Coco had started refusing physical affection, it wasn’t the others who had stopped offering it. 

Coco’s eyes fluttered open, and instantly he stiffened, eyes flickering between Sunny and—oh.

Some of Sunny’s feelers were wrapped around Komatsu’s wrists. The chef hadn’t noticed, and Sunny himself had forgotten he’d even done it. They hadn’t been released when Komatsu ran forward and hugged Coco, and so now they were pressed pleasantly between Komatsu’s wrists and Coco’s waist. 

It didn’t seem like a big deal to Sunny; he wasn’t about to let go of Komatsu for some dumb childhood spat he didn’t even remember. But Coco… when he spotted the threads (he had apparently been too focused on Komatsu initially to notice them) started guiltily and sent a worried and apologetic look towards Sunny. 

And that look, the way that Coco immediately straightened and began gently tugging Komatsu off him, that cut Sunny deeper than any superficial physical difference between the two of them.

Because that look told Sunny that Coco—all these years, Coco had been serious, had thought that Sunny had been serious about…But he couldn’t really, could he? It wasn’t serious! It was—

It was… 

Well. Sunny wasn’t so cruel as to claim that it had been a joke. It had always been mean-spirited, done with the intention of playing on Coco’s insecurities to make him feel inferior. 

But… but it wasn’t supposed to be real. It was supposed to hurt, of course, but Coco was supposed to know that it was Sunny who was the problem, it was Sunny who was being petty and cruel and it was Coco who deserved the touch that he was being refused for such a silly reason. 

He didn’t really think—but he must. If he had really thought that Sunny was worried about his poison striking people down, was it Sunny’s fault that he had become so withdrawn and touch averse?

The idea was… horrifying. That something Sunny had started years and years ago on a whim and kept up for nothing more than petty spite had morphed into—what? A complex? An aversion or even fear of physical contact?

Luckily, Komatsu would have none of it. Even though he peeled away from Coco pretty easily, the chef immediately snatched up his hand, tugging him back towards Sunny and Toriko with unfailing enthusiasm. 

Sunny watched them approach, saw the way Coco stumbled uncharacteristically behind Komatsu as if he were hesitant to approach. 

And, in a moment of fancy, Sunny took the strand wrapped around Komatsu’s left wrist and bridged the short gap to Coco’s right, wrapping around that too. Coco noticed immediately of course, gaze snapping to Sunny.

Although Sunny was loathe to admit his own mistakes, he made sure to hold Coco’s gaze for just a moment. One beat, long enough to brazenly, silently assert I meant to do that. Because Sunny refused to be cowed, even by his own actions. Instead he would fix it, without apology and without shame. 

When he felt he’d been direct long enough (less than a second of eye contact), Sunny looked away with an exaggerated eye roll. Coco was confused. And that was fine, because Sunny had caused this problem and he would simply do the beautiful thing by fixing it. 

The strand remained wrapped around Coco’s wrist the rest of the day, as long as he was within Sunny’s kitchen, and even though Coco was clearly confused about it he remained silent.

Because Coco… really was beautiful. It had nothing to do with his appearance, although of course that was appealing too. 

Coco remained silent to spare Sunny’s pride, even after Sunny had spent years hurting him for no excusable reason. Hurting people was not beautiful, protecting people was. And, in this moment, for years in fact, Sunny admitted to himself that he was the ugly one between the two of them.

But that could always change, and Sunny was always striving to be more beautiful.

Chapter Text

Rin was, first and foremost, Sunny’s bratty, whiney little sister. 

(He chose, judiciously, to ignore that of the two of them he was likely the more bratty and whiney; she earned the title by virtue of being his little sister and there simply wasn’t anything she could do to change his mind.) 

He would do anything for her of course, he hadn’t spent years protecting them both on the streets of a hostile non-IGO nation for sport, but that didn’t mean that they got along, and it certainly didn’t mean she was beautiful. 

She used to be cute. Back when they were both small and dirty and she looked at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky. Back before they’d met Toriko, and he’d come with that guileless grin and armfuls of food, and whisked them away to a veritable wonderland of plenty. Endless food, warm places to sleep, new clothes provided, all with seemingly no catch. 

Rin had taken to it like a duck to water; she’d been too young to be suspicious, too taken in by Toriko’s brilliance and sincerity.

It wasn’t that Sunny was jealous that she was looking at Toriko the way she used to look at him. 

(Maybe that was part of it. Maybe he wished he could have been the one to save them, and Rin knowing that it wasn’t him hurt more than anything.)

He hated how well she settled in, and he knew that, at least, was jealousy. Weeks after she had grown accustomed to eating her fill and asking for more, going with the old man or Toriko anywhere they wanted without a thought to hinder her, he was seized with paranoia. 

He demanded to know where they were going, why, how long before he ever let her out of his sight, no matter which of them was leaving. A terrible knot of anticipation built in his chest every time they were given anything, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for them to reveal the catch behind all of this, especially for Rin. 

Because Sunny was here because of those “gourmet cells”, and he figured he paid for his stay by training. But Rin didn’t have those, and she wasn’t being trained in the same way, and he worried that his contributions to whatever Ichiryu wanted him to do weren’t enough to justify taking care of her as well. 

Not that Ichiryu, Toriko, or any of the others they had met here had given him any reason to suspect them, but it wasn’t just something Sunny could stop after how he'd grown up. It was a constant gnawing in the back of his mind, an anxiety that wouldn’t disappear. 

He covered it with bluster, of course. He demanded the most beautiful clothes, ate the most decadent foods, made outrageous demands, and then watched Ichiryu out of the corner of his eyes for any indication that he’d gone too far. None of them seemed to even notice his anxiety, more often than not responding to his demands with obliging laughter and whatever he’d asked for. 

Rin noticed. 

Of course she did, she’d known him her whole life, seen him in tough situations all through it. 

But she was also five, and she didn’t understand why he would be nervous around these people who had treated them so well. All she knew was that he used to hold her back from danger, and how he was holding her back from fun, and for her the common denominator wasn’t protection, it was being held back. 

“Sunny,” she screeched after he had told her she wasn’t allowed to wander off into the forest with Toriko by herself, and he wasn’t free to come because the forest was gross and he didn’t want to, “that’s not fair!” And when he told her that didn’t matter, it’s what was happening, she ran off and did it anyway.

Which turned out to characterize their relationship from then on. Gone was the cute little sister who relied on Sunny for everything; their new environment allowed her to blossom into an absolute menace of a girl who did anything she wanted. And she wanted to roll in the dirt, tussle with creatures, and make absolutely embarrassing goo-goo eyes at Toriko—all decidedly unbeautiful activities. 

Honestly, Sunny would do anything for her, but he couldn’t comprehend how they were actually related. 

He was seventeen and Rin was thirteen the first time she was cleared to go on a mission with him. Which he complained about, of course, seeing as he didn’t want to babysit his little sister. He was just going out to get himself some Moisture-Iris flower, which was renowned for the secretions that could soften ones skin, he didn’t want to have to watch out for Rin and interact with her nasty creatures when he was on such a beautiful mission.

But when she suggested going with Toriko instead, stars in her eyes as she watched him prepare for his own excursion, Sunny was quick to relent. 

It wouldn’t be hard anyway, just a trial run for Rin to use the perfumes the Gourmet Research facility had been teaching her about. She had an aptitude for them, apparently, and was quickly becoming one of the most knowledgeable people in IGO about their composition and use despite her youth.

“We’ll be taking my Helicopter,” Sunny declared, and when Rin perked up quickly added, “you are not to put your nasty, grimy boots anywhere but the floor.” And then he swept off without waiting for a response. Leaving, of course, a hair looped around her wrist that she wouldn’t know about.

“Right,” she rolled her eyes, following his path to the chopper and grumbling all the while as he pretended he didn’t notice. 

“Up you go,” he said when they arrived, using his hair to open the side door and simultaneously lifting her into the air to place her inside.

“Hey!” Rin shrieked, flailing easily contained despite her attempts to escape, “I can get up myself!”

“And risk getting your dirt all over my new helicopter? I think not,” Sunny scoffed, setting her down and shutting the door before lifting himself over and settling into the driver’s seat. He ignored her muttering as he took off to their destination. 

He certainly noticed, just a few minutes into the flight, when she propped her muddy boots up.

“Hey!” He gasped, “You put those down! You’re filthy.”

“You ever think maybe you’re too clean?” She snapped back, stubbornly keeping her feet up.

“Too clean,” Sunny grumbled in disbelief, “too clean?” He demanded, “there is no such thing as too clean, you unbeautiful thing.”

“Sorry I like to have character,” she stuck her tongue out in retaliation, and he rolled his eyes. She had been spending far too much time with that Mansom, she was parrotting his ugly words. 

“Then keep your character off of my beauty,” he replied primly, “I will remove you if I must.”

She knew he would, so she put her feet on the floor—but not before deliberately knocking her muddy boots a few times to scatter dirt clumps on his immaculate ride.

Sunny huffed, and may have let it go except that Rin smirked at his disgruntled noise (probably not but maybe and now they would never know). So he used his hair to sweep up the dirt—and fling it, perhaps, a little into her face.

“Ugh!” Rin raised her hands too late to stop the dirt flinging into her mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sunny preened, “I was just cleaning. Besides, I thought you liked dirt.” 

Their bickering continued halfway to their destination, and the rest was spent in grumpy silence as Rin turned her back and stared out the window and Sunny similarly didn’t move his gaze from the front. 

It occurred to Sunny, sometimes (most recently in the terse silence staring out the window), that as the older sibling it was, perhaps, his duty to be the peace-keeper between the two of them. But they were so very different, he didn’t even know how. He’d tried, once, to teach her how to do makeup—but she said it was hard, and boring, and she didn’t want to. And any other remark about skin care or hair care was treated as an attack. Not… entirely unreasonably, he knew, because Sunny had quite an abrasive way of speaking, but he meant well and it would be easier if she just understood that. 

Getting involved in her interests was similarly abhorrent to him. She worked with nasty animals and gross plants and got horrendously covered with dirt and ruined her pretty hands with calluses and torn nails while doing it and Sunny would not involve himself in such a thing. 

So he didn’t say anything, and they landed in silence. Or, he did anyway. Rin seemed to forget her angry silence as they descended, pressing her grubby hands on his windows and smearing her face all over them as she peered excitedly out. And Sunny, determined to be the bigger man, didn’t even say anything about it even as he frowned at having to shine those later. 

When she flung open the door and leapt from the vehicle the moment it touched the ground, however, he had to say something. 

“Rin!” He snapped, “don’t go running off!” 

She turned just long enough to stick her tongue out at him before scampering off into the treeline. Sunny grumbled, but quickly followed her—Just because this wasn’t a particularly dangerous area didn’t mean that there wasn’t anything dangerous around. He took his time, though, so as not to seem too rushed (never far enough that his hair looped around her wrist had to let go, not that she knew it was there). 

This meant he couldn’t see her, but he could tell, vaguely, how her body was moving. And only a few minutes into her jaunt through the trees, she stopped, fell to her knees, and started digging. 

Sunny shuddered to think what it was doing to her nails. 

“What are you doing?” He sighed, longsuffering as he stepped into the clearing so she was in his line of sight. She was on her knees in the dirt, leaning over something he couldn’t see from this angle, carefully scraping dirt using her bare hands like a barbarian.

“Hey! No! Don’t Look!” She demanded, hunching over more and sending him a pouty glare over her shoulder. Sunny scoffed, but turned his back anyway. 

He considered using his feelers to “see” what she was doing anyway, it was his strongest sense after all, far more useful than just his eyes, but decided against it. After all, knowing Rin, it was going to be something disgusting and he didn’t want to touch gross things with any part of his body, especially his hyper-sensitive hair. 

“Did you find one of your nasty creatures?” he asked, wrapping feelers around her other arm to get a better idea of what she was doing. She was still clearing dirt, but it was delicate, as if she was afraid of injuring whatever she was digging out. 

A naked mole-radish, perhaps? Those were ugly. Probably not a star-anise-nosed mole, it would have moved by now. It must be some type of root-animal; couldn't just be a plant, after all, since Rin had no interest in those creatures that weren’t affected by her perfumes. 

She was doing something else now, pulling up and, what, potting something? Had she brought pots ? This crazy girl, she’d planned on potting things and hadn’t even brought gloves? 

He truly couldn’t fathom how she lived. 

So distracted by the phantom feeling of dirt in his nailbeds, Sunny didn’t even notice Rin stand up and approach him until she called for his attention. 

“You can look now,” she said, and he regarded her with a raised eyebrow. She was giving him a guarded look, both hands held behind her back presumably holding whatever horror she had dug up from the earth.

“Well? What kind of—” he cut off asking what nasty creature she’d found when she shifted it from behind her back and presented it to him.

It wasn’t some hideous beast. It was a flower, purple and gold and distinctly iris-shaped. 

“What’s this?” He asked, although he knew very well what it was. The real question was why had Rin searched it out, dug it up, and even brought a pot for it as if she’d been planning this the whole time? She must have been, even when she had lobbied to go with Toriko instead. 

“It’s what you wanted, right?” She asked in response, glowering fiercely but shifting on her feet in a way that Sunny knew meant she was nervous. 

He stared at it for perhaps a bit too long, realizing what this meant. 

This was a peace offering. She’d come here with the intention of helping him find what he wanted, and had dug it out of the earth with her own two hands. 

The pot she’d brought was dirty now, soil having transferred from her hands to the outside as she held it. But, after just a moment’s hesitation, he reached for it with his hands instead of his hair.

Rin had complained, once, that he never touched using his hands. To Sunny, his feelers were more sensitive and meaningful, but it was hard for someone who didn’t have them to understand that it was more personal, not less. 

Today, though, he could make an exception. Because love expressed in a way that isn’t understood ends up the same as it never being expressed at all.

So he took the gritty pot with his bare hands (if he coated it with invisible hairs first so it wouldn’t dirty them that was no one’s business but his own), and in response Rin beamed in a way he wondered if he’d ever seen before. That smile, despite the dirt still smudged on her face, was beautiful.

He could try, perhaps, to meet some of her disgusting animals. If it would make her smile like that again.