And I think to myself, what a wonderful world

Title: Little Pines (working title, looking for a better one!) Part 1A
Fandom: Toriko
Rating: G for this section, will go up to PG-13 once the pirates start appearing
Summary: As a landlocked chef, Komatsu has never really fit in the world of the Gourmet Empire. Can an encounter with a mysterious stranger, an accidental abduction, and a whole new world of adventure help him find his place?
Warning: Toriko Pirate AU. Do I really have to say anything else? *facepalm*

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AN: Happy Boxing Day! Boxing Day is usually when we go out and buy super cheap stuff that’s on steep discount. Fittingly, my holiday gift to you is a discount fic that I don’t think anyone would “buy” at the full price… it hasn’t been polished to full shine yet and needs a little love, but for a bargain basement production … well, yeah.

This portion (and the following two) will be up until the new year when I’ll take it down, polish it, and release it regularly with the rest of the fic. So you might want to wait until then. X3

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Komatsu’s day started much like any other chef that lived within the Gourmet Empire. At four am, long before the sun’s rays would even begin to emerge above the horizon, he padded out of his bed, stumbled blearily to his front door to pick up the morning’s edition of Imperial Times, and wandered back into the kitchen to start breakfast. One softly steaming cup of starberry coffee and some crackly bacon leaves and cocoa toast later and he was feeling like he could possibly start his day on the right foot.

The headlines were still screaming that the Four Kings of Hell were on the loose and were last seen near the town Cuisine Cove. A shiver trickled through him. Cuisine Cove was only a dozen or so kilometres down from Haute Harbor, his own town.

Food prices are sure to jump, he fretted. Supplies might be hard to get for awhile.

He remembered the nearly bare cupboards and shelves of his pantries and refrigerators the last time the papers had raised the pirate alarm, a little more than a year ago. He had been forced to limit the amount customers served; cutting down the quality of the dishes had been out of the question. Going to the till at the end of the day and scraping out and counting every last penny there so he could buy the next round of ingredients … he still had nightmares about it sometimes.

Komatsu chugged down the rest of his coffee, using the heat as a distraction from his chilled nerves.

In other news, the chef rankings hadn’t shifted, Komatsu noted. One day, he thought. One day, his own tiny restaurant, The Little Pine, might actually make it into the listings. Maybe it would even make it as far as the first thousand best restaurants in the Empire! And then the Empire might even issue him a permit to handle even more exotic and rare ingredients …

But that’s only going to stay a dream if I don’t get The Little Pine stocked for today! he told himself firmly as finished tying the last knot in his best apron. With one last check to make sure his oven had been turned off and breakfast items stowed away correctly, he headed for the harbor.

The imperial delivery ships were just pulling into their docks when Komatsu arrived. In the dark of predawn, he could barely make out the hulking shapes of the gathered watercraft — in truth, he could only see vague shadows blocking out the fading stars. Dock 10 was the home berth to the elaborate class 10 schooners; their scrolled detail work and their beautiful, ornate rigging seemed designed to flaunt the rare and precious ingredients they carried.

Komatsu clutched his Class 5 permit, trying (in vain) not to stare at the ships. It wasn’t against the law to daydream, but it didn’t do much to help the twinge in his chest every time he thought about those ingredients, either. In the cold twilight, the words one day seemed more like a millennium of years away.

Of course, there were some that believed all ingredients should be available to anyone at any time, regardless of who they were, or how much money they had, or where they lived, or how much influence they wielded. There were some that claimed the food would ultimately lead to peace for all nations as the wealth and bounty of the world was shared. Once, some said, it had been a very real possibility.

Time, reality and the scramble for the best ingredients had proved otherwise.

Komatsu supposed — in the vague way that all students who had been brought up through the imperial school system did — that the Empire had to be better than the alternative of constant war. One nation with one motto: World Stability through Food Stability. Control the appetite; control the world!

(Still, every now and then, there came furtive whispers of a rebellion led by the legendary students of Acacia, God of Gourmet. Komatsu gave as much credence to the talk of rebellions as he did to the conspiracy theories which claimed that the government was breeding four eyed mutant monster cows and sending galala crocodiles to the moon.)

He turned his feet back towards the more familiar markets of his class level. Numbers, after all, meant little; just the very thought of working with any ingredient made his heart beat faster and his fingers twitch.

“Good morning, Rachel-san! Can I get a box of your mochi-mushrooms and some gummy pears? Oh, and now that I think about it, a bushel of  bore-ranges too, I have a new idea for a tart.”

“K-komatsu-san! Uh … there’s nothing in your level today!” she spluttered even as  Komatsu started to warm up his bargaining arguments.

“What?!” Komatsu’s eyes swung automatically towards the store’s permit level. It had not changed. Moreover, he could clearly see the box of mochi-mushrooms, the key ingredient for his demi-glace. “What about those?”

“Those are already reserved,” she said.

Komatsu mentally reviewed the other stocks he could see prominently displayed. “If there’s a shortage beginning, I can be flexible with the prices, Rachel-san. How about the gummy pears?”

“Those too. All of it. And no, I can’t bargain — it’s just not for sale. I’m sorry, but you have to move along! Please?”

The wavering tone of the seller’s voice, the way her hands fluttered among her wares — all of it made Komatsu pause before dropping the issue.

Hands trembling slightly, he hurried towards another seller, only to find the same story. None of the merchants and distributors would meet his eyes, and no one wanted sell anything to him, no matter how much Komatsu begged and pleaded.

“What’s going on? Has the pirate situation really gotten so bad already?” he asked, after the tenth seller turned him down. “All I need is a crate of butterbunnies and I can see you have ten!”

“It’s not in your class level! And it’s all been reserved!”

 “It’s a class 1 ingredient! Even kids can cook with them! And how can it possibly be reserved so fast?”

“You just can’t have it!” the butterbunny seller all but screeched, hands flapping in the air like a demented chicken-tiger. “It’s not for you! It can’t be for you! NO BUTTERBUNNIES FOR YOU!”

If it’s already like this even BEFORE the Four Kings have docked, then what will happen once they actually DO arrive and raid our food supplies?  None of us little restaurants will survive! Oh no, none of the civilians will either!

Stomach fluttering and heart racing, Komatsu wandered down the docks, one hand clutching his hair. There was only one distributor left that he could try.  Komatsu practically flew to where he knew his last hope was docked.

“Tom-san?! TOM-san?! Are you here?”

“Eh? Oh, good morning, Komatsu-kun! What’s wrong? You look rather troubled.” Tom stretched, yawning as he plopped his trademark gourmet hat on top of his head.

 “Um, good morning Tom-san! But not really, because it’s a disaster! No one will stock my restaurant today.” Komatsu worried the edge of his apron with his hands. “Has the pirate shortages begun already?!”

Looking around carefully, Komatsu cupped his hands around his mouth as he whispered dramatically, “It’s the Four Kings of Hell, isn’t it?”

“Hmm,” Tom tilted his head, considering, then bunched his legs and leapt from his ship to the dock. Komatsu had to wave his hands to steady himself as it shook from the impact. “Let me see your list.”

Komatsu fished out his list and handed it to the other man.  He continued to twist his apron as Tom scanned through his required ingredients.

At least Tom seemed able to meet his eyes, and he didn’t reject the list without looking at it, like many of the other distributors did.

“I saw several imperial warships docked on the harbor today,” Komatsu said. “It has to be because of the Bon Appetit. Did they eat everything on my list already?!”

“Ah. In your case …not exactly. I mean, it’s true that there are more pirates around as of late, and not just the Four Kings of Hell. But despite what the papers say, gourmet pirates — especially them —are only after high class rare ingredients. They certainly wouldn’t be after what’s on your list. Usually, the fact that common ingredients like yours are scarce is a result of everyone hoarding.”

Deflating somewhat at Tom’s words, Komatsu kicked halfheartedly at the ground.

“Ehheh,” he scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, now that I think about it, what you say makes sense. What I have wouldn’t be of any interest to any pirates.”

“Why do you look so glum about that? Aw, do you actually want to go out swashbuckling for rare ingredients and have high adventures on the seven sumptuous seas?” Tom teased.

“Shhhh, Tom-san! Don’t say that!” glancing furtively around, Komatsu waved his hands in a shushing motion. “If someone heard you …”

“There’s no one up yet. You’re usually the first in the market, you know. And don’t tell me you never ever even once thought about trying your luck out there, even if it is as a pirate? Not one little bit? Think of all the ingredients you could finally cook with!”

“Well, I guess … it is a little exciting how pirates tame the waves in search of new things to eat, how they’re free to explore new lands and find new cooking methods, and how they capture and use whatever ingredients they want, no matter what the class  — b-but no I would never want to be one! I have a restaurant to manage, right?! And I don’t like how pirates take ingredients from others! That’s not right at all. And they hurt people and their actions make all the ingredients scarce for the lowest classes — even if they don’t take ALL the ingredients, everyone’s scared. So no, I wouldn’t want to go off with gourmet pirates! Of course not!”

“Riiiiight,” Tom drawled. If anything, his teasing grin was now nearly stretching from ear to ear. “Well, despite what the papers and our government might say, I don’t think the Four Kings in particular are hurting or taking ingredients from other people — well, Hell Ears’ Zebra might — but generally not from people like you. Still, just in case,  make sure you sign you will first before you head out ingredient pillaging.”

“Tom-san, please stop!” Komatsu felt his face heat up. Searching for a less embarrassing and dangerous topic, his eyes returned to the list in Tom’s hand. “So if it’s not pirates, then is it because everyone is in hoarding mode? That’s why I can’t get any ingredients? How is anyone going to survive then? I’m going to have to warn the other restaurants too!”

 Tom’s lips flattened into a straight line. “I was wondering when we’d get back to that. Hop on board. We need to talk.”

It was a bit of a scramble, but after a moment (and with the help of Tom hoisting him up by the back of his apron strings after he nearly fell off), Komatsu was on the boat. Tom motioned him into the cabin and away from the eyes of the awakening main street.

“Well, as for hoarding … I don’t think the other distributors are hoarding everything in general as much as they’re hoarding ingredients away from one person.”

“What? That’s not fair! Who is it? We’ve got to warn them!” Komatsu frowned.

“Err… Komatsu-kun, about that … Did you get in trouble with the Empire somehow?”

“Um, not that I know of.” Komatsu swallowed hard. “I mean, I’m just a class 5 chef. What could I possibly have done to interest the Empire? And wouldn’t they just come and yank my permit if I did something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Tom said. “But lately, there’s been word going around the marketplace about you. Specifically, it’s a rather strong suggestion not to sell anything to you anymore. my guess is that you probably pissed off some rival who has connections to someone higher up.”

“Rival? I don’t have any rivals! Most restaurants in Haute Harbor are two classes above me!” Komatsu exclaimed. “I’m no competition to anyone!”

“Well, if you haven’t done anything illegal, there won’t be any officially sanctioned action, like taking your permit away. But there are other ways to make restaurants fail.”

Komatsu gritted his teeth. A restaurant’s lifeblood depended on the distributors; if no one would sell to him, his restaurant might as well be trying to sell flavored air. “But why my place? Why me?”

“Look, Komatsu, why do you have a restaurant?”

Set slightly off balance by the question, Komtasu stilled, one hand coming up to cup his chin in thought.

“Ummm… I love cooking. And I really really like getting all those raw ingredients — even if they are just class 5 ones — and planning a menu. It makes my heart go peta-peta just thinking about it!”

“Peta-peta?!” Tom raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yes!”  Komatsu’s hands  began to dance through the air, as if to better accent his words. “Because the most important thing is to nourish and make people happy with my food. That’s why cooking exists, after all, to make something that’s necessary for life into something enjoyable as well! Oh, and I like working with my staff as a team,” he bit his lip, trying to think of more reasons.

After a moment, he sighed, shaking his head. “I guess that’s it. Why do you ask?”

Tom smiled softly. Komatsu thought he might have even looked a bit sad. “Hold on, let me ask you one last question. What have you done to make your restaurant so successful?”

Komatsu scrunched his nose. “Um, I just make the best food I can. Isn’t that what everyone does?”

“What about paying officials to come eat at your place? Offering special perks and favors to the reporters and editors of the chef ranking magazines?”

“What?! NO! Of course not!” Komatsu balled his fingers into fists. “That’s illegal, isn’t it?!”

“Well, on paper, yes. Just as discriminating against one restaurant for being so successful probably is immoral too — on paper.” Tom gestured to the harbor around them. “Just try to remember this, Komatsu-kun. Not everyone cooks or owns a restaurant for the same reasons you do— especially not in this age and in this empire.”

The sounds from the docks were becoming louder and louder as true morning broke. Komatsu could see the colorful flourishing of merchandise as the merchants and distributors hawked their wares to buyers.

Slowly, unwillingly, Komatsu’s shoulders drooped. “So the reason people won’t supply me  … really doesn’t have anything to do with pirates, or a food shortage, or anything like that?”

“No.” Tom said simply. “Look, I haven’t actually gotten any official orders not to sell to you, so I can get most of these items for you today, but I can’t always be in town, and one day’s worth of supplies isn’t going to do you much good if you don’t fix what’s going on behind the problem with the supplies.”

“But I don’t even understand what the problem is!” Komatsu rubbed his nose, eyes squinting shut in confusion. “Maybe someone made a mistake.”

Tom sighed. “Just be careful, okay, Komatsu-kun? It’s not only the pirates who are the bad guys.There are plenty of land sharks as well.”

With Tom’s cryptic warning still make waves in his ears, Komatsu headed for his restaurant.

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