Author's Note: A couple quick things before we begin. Alright, I confess, they're sorta long things.

Each "Data" is written entirely by one character. Each Data is further separated into chapters, so I can update more than once every couple of years. Think of it this way: each Data is an episode, and each chapter is a scene within that episode.

Since this story takes place in Japan, all the characters are speaking Japanese. Japanese words may be used if language confusion or use is relevant to the story or jokes, if there is no valid English equivalent, or if the Japanese word fits the situation better. In all cases, these words will be provided with translation, in context if not in parenthetical notes.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. In other words, this isn't meant to be based on anyone, and if this is at all similar to something anyone went through, it's just a coincidence. Also, if the characters say something that offends you, keep in mind that I, the author, do not necessarily share the same views. These characters are mine. Do not use them without my permission. With that bit of unpleasantness out of the way, please sit back and enjoy.

by The Archimage


1.1 : Another Ordinary Day


I haven't written in my diary for some time. A lot of that has to do with the fact that there hasn't been anything worth noting for a while, but the bigger problem is that once things DID start happening, I couldn't even take a breather until now.

To make any sense, I have to go back to when things started getting strange, three days ago. I got up like any other normal Saturday, got into my school uniform, ate breakfast, the whole normal morning routine. Trust me, I make this sound much more leisurely than it actually is.

I brushed my teeth while my mother lectured me on the importance of a good breakfast. "Toriko," she admonished. "You can't keep doing this. You're in high school now, and it's important for your mind and body that you start your day off right..."

"Uh huh," I completely blew her off after I finished rinsing my mouth out. I rushed down the hall, toward my room, and frantically searched the room.

My mother followed me. "I'm serious! You can't survive off of just a piece of toast in the morning. I work hard to make a good dinner for you every night, but I can't do anything about breakfast..."

"Have you seen my book bag anywhere?" I asked, not really paying attention to her morning speech. I'd heard it a hundred times before, and could probably recite it in my sleep if I had to.

"It should be in the same place you left it last night."

"I've already checked by my desk, and it isn't there. Wait a second... Mamoto, you jerk! What'd you do with my bag?"

I heard my younger brother call out from further down the hall, "I didn't do anything with it! Would you quit blaming me all the time?"

I stormed over to his room. "I wouldn't if it usually wasn't your fault." As I expected, my bag was laying right next to his desk. I picked it up off the floor, and presented the evidence. "I thought you said you didn't do anything with it."

"So I needed to borrow a pencil. You don't have to get all pissed about it."

"I don't have the time for this, I'm late. You should ask before taking my stuff, or at least admit it when- Oh no! My toast!" I pulled my bag onto my shoulders as I charged out of the room. I had forgotten that my dad sets the toaster to "charcoal" before he leaves in the early morning. I was too late; by the time I arrived, my breakfast had become a blackened, inedible mess.

I was about to throw another two pieces of bread into the toaster, but a car horn outside told me I had already run out of time.

My school is only a ten minute drive from my home, but my mother doesn't have a car of her own. I get a ride from my friend Sahari; or to be more precise, her older sister Minari. Most other students take the train or the subway, but we're lucky since we live so close to school; we don't even have to enter the heavy traffic areas that Tokyo is infamous for.

I announced my departure, and grabbed the boxed lunch mom made for me on the way out. The car door had been thoughtfully opened for me, and I practically dived in.

"Good morning, Toriko," Sahari greeted. "Got up late again, huh?"

"I got a little carried away last night. I draw best late at night, when no one's bugging me, and I wanted to finish what I was working on."

"I know exactly what you mean. It's the same way with me and my poetry!" We shared a laugh between struggling artists as the car drove us onward.

Today looked like it was going to be just another ordinary day. I couldn't have been more wrong.