Spoils of War

by Keiran

Jus in bello is fine and dandy from behind a high desk, but when the frontline is two blocks away and war zone ends where the city does, things are bound to get complicated. Sanzo/Goku, AU, dark.

Title: Spoils of War

Author: Keiran

Rating: 18

Pairing: Sanzo/Goku

Prompt: present or near future - gangs. Street setting but NOT Yakuza. The boys are all part of street gangs. Rival or not. Whatever the author likes. Drugs and alcohol and prostitution ok. Dark ok rough, tough boys.

Disclaimer: Not mine, borrowed for entertainment purposes only.

Summary: Jus in bello is fine and dandy from behind a high desk, but when the frontline is two blocks away and war zone ends where the city does, things are bound to get complicated.

Warnings: graphic torture, sex.

AN: Written for the Orphan Prompts community.

It was raining. It was always raining these days, on the days that weren't heavy with fog. The sky, luckily, wasn't dark and stormy yet, but it was well on its way. Sanzo looked out at the night with something akin to peace in his eyes. No one had disturbed him with bad news in more than two hours, which, on the streets, meant plenty. Usually two hours was time enough to organise a profitable sale of heroin, have it blown by the coppers, escape with your life, hide and then watch half a dozen of your lackeys get murdered in painful ways, or arrested.

Come to think of it, no news most likely meant that all of his underlings had been killed since he'd last checked up on them. He'd have to move and wake Hakkai soon, if only to confirm the sad need to find more idiots willing to risk their necks for petty cash. But he had plenty of time to do that later. At the moment Sanzo was happy to hole himself up in his apartment and listen to the rain.

Gone were the days when rain would make him sad. He'd learned to appreciate the silence and peace the weather brought to the city. No one was eager to get out and get wet, which meant fewer people got into trouble. Sanzo stretched his back against the naked wall and watched the raindrops splash on the concrete floor of the storey below his perch.

Not all people were sensibly staying in that night, however.

"Sanzo, we have news." Hakkai didn't stick his head in the door. He rarely did. He preferred looming in the corridor and making announcements from the distance in that pleasant, schoolteacher's voice of his.

Sanzo always found that voice to be the most disquieting thing about Hakkai. He was often told his tastes were skewed.

"What is it?" he asked, not moving from his perch on the windowsill.

"Dougan is dead."

So, he was at least partially correct. One valuable asset, gone. "What happened?"

"He snitched on us."

Sanzo smirked at his reflection. Hakkai still held a bloodied knife. "Good call."

"But it still leaves us one man short. And I have reason to believe he'd been forced into talking."

"The reason being?"

"He told me."

Sanzo could bet he did. Hakkai had many clever ways to make a person speak the truth. Even an impromptu interrogation with just a knife was enough to make a person melt into his arms and confess the truth in a broken little voice. Usually the voice would be broken because of the long hours of confessing, but for some people, the very reputation of the interrogator did the trick. Sanzo had witnessed a questioning during which the unfortunate informant had given in and shared all he knew and more, while Hakkai had only needed to stand still and smile. To be fair, the idiot was stoned at the time.

Still, having Hakkai on his payroll was a bonus all by itself.

"So, Nataku is moving into our territory." Way to state the obvious. If Nataku was going so far as to actively pursue people out of Sanzo's inner circle, the things must be getting serious indeed.

"Seems to be the case." Hakkai dropped the knife by the sink on the far wall. He gave the water a couple of seconds to lose the rusty brown shade the unused pipes added before he started washing his hands. "I can't believe you're living in here," he said conversationally. Every now and then he would give the pipes a good shove, to get the water running again.

"I hate that apartment," Sanzo said. He could see it just fine from where he was sitting, distant lights bathed in the hectolitres of rain between here and there. He'd always preferred it from the outside, anyway.

"I'm sure your dislike, while irrational, has some perfectly valid reasons. I however must point out it has clear water and central heating. I could have it arranged to your liking, flaking walls and graffiti are not that hard to achieve."

Sanzo felt like arguing. This room had been his since he moved to the derelict skyscraper. It had years, decades probably, until it achieved an appropriate standard of being run down. The apartment he owned, shiny with luxury and comforts, would take a long time to even remotely resemble a hole in the wall. "Let me know when you're ready to stop being funny," he said instead, turning to the window again.

"I'm perfectly serious."

"So am I."

Hakkai wisely dropped the subject. "What are you planning to do about Nataku?"

"Don't know. What does the Bible say?"

Hakkai's hand automatically closed around the cross hanging around his neck. "I do believe it says 'an eye for an eye.'"

"I must have been reading the wrong Bible then."

"The devil is in the details." Hakkai smiled again. Sanzo wasn't going to argue.

"That he is." Sanzo swung his legs onto the floor so that he was facing his second-in-command. "We are this close to a fucking open war." That was putting it mildly. Nataku apparently got into his head his destiny was to rule the fucking world, starting with the streets of their measly city. Which would have been all right by Sanzo, if the little bitch hadn't been the most annoying brat this hemisphere had ever seen.

"He only has himself to blame for this," Hakkai remarked, and Sanzo knew it was true. He'd kept his people to his own territory, he hadn't infringed on Nataku's dealings, he'd attempted not to provoke. All of which had been difficult as hell, since the kid poked his nose everywhere.

"Still hell on us." Sanzo turned his head to look out into the rain. "This is pretty personal," he said eventually. Though Dougan had creeped the fuck out of him, he had been useful. If Sanzo ever bothered to have friends, Dougan would have been it, right after Hakkai, who was more of an enemy kept closer, and the dumb whore, who was around to anger the fuck out of him. As it were, he'd lost a decent gun, a good knifeman and a trustworthy ally.

It was with a mixture of reluctance and grim need for revenge that he voiced his conclusion. "We need to get to him. Close and hard."

Hakkai never disappointed. "Rumour has it, Nataku keeps a boy he's rather fond of," he said, picking up his knife again. He held it under the running water for several seconds, then, when the water went from pink to mostly translucent, wiped it clean with a handkerchief.

Now this was news. "Nataku has a kept boy?" In all the time Sanzo knew Nataku, he had yet to see him express a human emotion, let alone a need a whore couldn't satisfy.

"We aren't exactly sure…"

"Be sure," Sanzo said curtly. If he were going to war over a piece of ass, he'd damn well know whose ass it was beforehand. "You have two days."

.xxx

Two days later, to the hour, Hakkai appeared before Sanzo with a thick manila folder in his hand.

"Where the fuck did you get the pretty folder?"

"I robbed the IRS office."

"Good for you." It had been nice and clean, at least that's what the morning paper said. The police had been puzzled why nothing but office supplies had been stolen, particularly when an office supply store was across the street. "I have a problem with authorities," Hakkai explained on occasion, and Sanzo took is as the reason for all the little idiosyncrasies the man demonstrated. It clarified none of them, but sounded like a good substitute for too much information.

Looking through the contents of the file, Sanzo had to raise a brow. Kept boy it must have been, because monitoring his activities showed that hanging around Nataku and eating were the only things he did. Sanzo turned a page. For a good reason too. The kid – kid! – in question must have had little other use. He could barely hold a gun straight, he had no connections whatsoever – "According to Kannon, he was a foundling," Hakkai said – and was approximately sixteen years old. Sanzo turned a page and raised a brow. The kid was nineteen.

An emotional commitment with no strategic value. Nataku was gaining ground in the race of the morons. Pity, because out of all the people out to kill him, Sanzo was betting Nataku would be the one to do the job. But if he was leaving himself wide open like this, it was his own problem.

"Interesting," Sanzo said out loud, holding up a mug shot of the kid. The vivid white light and the grimness of a station wall made the boy look even younger. "What was he in for?"

"First degree."

… Okay, maybe he wasn't quite so useless.

"Acquitted on all charges. The police investigation proved he was framed. The case was killed before it even made it out of the station, even though the culprit was never caught. They wrote it off as suicide."

Or not.

"What got him acquitted?"

"Nataku." Hakkai's mouth curved into a pleasant little smile. "Ask who did the actual killing."

"So he was framed?"

"Yes he was."

"So who did the actual killing?"

"Li Touten."

"Nataku's father, Li Touten?" Apparently, these days laundry business was trickier than it seemed at first glance.

"The very same."

Sanzo closed the folder with a snap. "Interesting."

Hakkai took the papers out of his hands, like he spent his life doing it. "What is your bidding then?"

"Stop talking to me like you're my fucking butler, first of all."

"Apologies."

Sanzo pretended to consider the situation. He knew, as well as Hakkai probably did, what he was going to say. "Get him. Rough him up a little. Not enough to warrant a witch-hunt though," Sanzo added immediately. "You have the keys to my apartment, you have a place to hold him, indefinitely."

"Generous of you, letting a hostage have a free reign of your fancy apartment."

"Which I'm hoping you'd have enough brain cells to liberate of anything sharp or explosive."

"Now, why didn't I think of that," Hakkai chuckled, and Sanzo had to smile, albeit sardonically.

"I'm not going to tell you how to do your job."

"I'll figure it out as I go along, I'm sure."

.xxx

Hakkai was a very useful man to have around. He wasn't daunted by tasks like shopping, mutilating, sewing, stitching, dishwashing, interrogating or cooking. Most of the time all Sanzo had to do was mention a task that required someone's attention and two days later there would be a very literal head on his metaphorical desk. All right, he had been a little cross that one time, but he'd let it slide because Hakkai was new to the trade and didn't yet understand that when Sanzo said "bring me his head" he didn't mean the skull encased in the flesh and skin and hair, severed below the fourth vertebra.

Though he had to say, the gang had been very, very impressed. Their effectiveness had increased substantially, and he had it on good authority the tales of Hakkai's first job had circulated the town, making it as far as the cradles of kids who refused to behave.

Because it was Hakkai, Sanzo wasn't surprised when his mobile phone woke him up a couple of days after he gave the orders. The mobile ring tone was most annoying, Sanzo had decided that minutes after acquiring the phone. It left a person no choice but to get up and consider whether to take the call or hurl the contraption at the wall. That joyous day had not yet come for Sanzo.

"Yeah?" he asked, wearily, into the receiver.

"Accomplished," came Hakkai's voice from the far other side. "I had to dope him silly, I hope you don't mind." His voice sounded tired and rather hurt.

Sanzo snapped to attention. "I'll be right there."

Sanzo had made sure when he moved in that the bed was not particularly welcoming. It saved him the trouble of wanting to fall onto it, plus if he slept restlessly there was less chances of the dreams assaulting his unsuspecting mind. It was with some relief then that he threw the covers aside and vaulted to his feet. He slept half-clothed anyway, it was the work of a moment to put on a shirt, tuck the gun into the waistband of his jeans and the mobile phone into the pocket. A hand through his hair was enough where styling was concerned, and a cigarette rounded off the morning rituals.

Ten flights of stairs, and he was opening an old Ford Fiesta with a penknife. People never learned, he sighed to himself. There was no alarm either. Seconds later he was backing out the parking lot, and tearing across town. Faster than a bus and saved the expense of a ticket. He abandoned the car two blocks away from his destination, secure in the knowledge he'd learned to shoot on the CCTV cameras around town, and took time off to practice whenever someone got in their heads the idea to install new ones. Every now and then a moron would appear, but he'd be quickly put into his place.

Sanzo only went joyriding when he was in a hurry anyway.

He paused before he went into the posh building. Not because he feared recognition, not really. People didn't notice punks like him coming in, not these kind of people. They'd hardly notice an army taking stations in their own bathrooms, on the basis that nothing of this sort could ever happen to their kind. Even if that weren't the case, it'd been more than a decade since he'd lived here, and he'd been a little boy then. His looks were distinctive, but what everyone remembered was a pretty child in a private school uniform. Not a nicotine addict in a leather jacket.

The pause was mostly to let his own head get used to the setting. Often it was his brain that was the most problematic.

Ten stories later, he'd smoked the last of his second cigarette and knocked his name in Morse code on the mahogany door number 39. Seconds later the door opened to reveal Hakkai with a freshly blackened eye.

"Sanzo, good to see you so early." Clearly the bruises didn't hamper his spirits. Sanzo was beginning to worry if anything ever would. Not that he wished Hakkai ill, it just would do wonders for his own self esteem, knowing the bastard was even remotely human.

"You have him?"

"I would lie if I likened the abduction to any culinary product."

"I usually appreciate your education, but when we're dealing with a crime against persons can you lay off the metaphors?"

"He's trying to say the kid is a tough motherfucker, is what," said another voice. Sanzo rolled his eyes.

"The fuck brings you here?"

"What? I heard you're stealing other people's lays. Of course I had to come." Gojyo was leaning against the wall and grinning. Sanzo hated Gojyo on principle, even when he was being useful. When he was standing around making idiotic comments, Sanzo was ready to shoot his brains out.

"But you got him?" he asked, willing himself to ignore the redheaded idiot.

"Oh yes." Hakkai put down the ice pack he was holding to his face. "Though I fear it might take him a while to get full control of his limbs. The dose I gave him could kill a lesser man. He's in the bedroom."

"Bloody fantastic." Curse Hakkai and his need to provide moderate comfort to his victims. The kid was half-naked and handcuffed to the bed in the master bedroom. Unlike Hakkai, he showed no signs of having been in a fight recently. His skin had a faint golden hue, the kind that no amount of tanning could provide, if the gene combination wasn't right. It was also unblemished and healthy-looking. The photos didn't do him justice.

Which, altogether, pissed Sanzo off to no end.

"When is he going to wake up?" he asked, lighting yet another cigarette. He was getting through his morning pack faster than usual, but then again it wasn't often that he had to stave off a sudden wave of lust. The mug shots really didn't do people justice; he'd known that. It didn't mean it was any less of a shock to see all of that, spread on the sheets, in nothing but his boxer shorts.

"Should be soon," Hakkai said. "Theoretically."

Just like Hakkai said, soon the kid's eyelashes started fluttering. "Wha …?"

Before he was even half coherent Sanzo was standing by the bed, wearing his default expression of disgruntlement. "Wake the hell up," he gritted.

Having had plenty of rude awakenings in his lifetime, Sanzo could imagine how it must have felt, waking up in a strange apartment, half-naked and immobilised, with three total strangers watching your every move. To his credit, the kid didn't start screaming.

"What th' hell?" he said, scooting backwards, until he sat as comfortably as his bound wrists would allow.

"Shut up," Sanzo said.

"You shut up! Th' fuck ya brought me here for?"

"You ain't particularly bright, are you," Gojyo drawled, giving him a fairly convincing leer. The kid shrunk back into the headboard, glaring for all he was worth.

"Don't even think about it," he spat.

"If you are quite finished," Sanzo said, rolling his eyes. "Look, kid, shut up and behave and you will leave this place, eventually, with all your limbs intact. Don't, and I can promise you won't leave at all."

"Go to hell!"

Curious, for someone apparently attached to Nataku, not to react to a thinly veiled threat made by Genjo Sanzo, especially when Cho Hakkai was at his side. The kid was either a complete moron, or … a complete moron. Sanzo really saw no other option.

"Have it your way." In a flash Sanzo was on the bed, grabbing the kid by the neck and shoving him face down into the mattress.

"That hurts!" the kid howled and Sanzo had to agree, having one's arms bent at that angle could hurt. In fact, it would be strange if it didn't.

"And it's going to hurt a lot more," he hissed. "I don't have time for this. You are going to shut up and behave, or you're going to have a limb removed. Is that clear?"

"Yeah," the boy muttered after a long while of what must have been an agonising pain in his arms. "Let go."

Sanzo did, and withdrew to Hakkai's side again. "You are only worth anything mostly intact, but believe me when I say you can be in agonising pain and still mostly intact." The boy clenched his eyes shut. "You will not be leaving this apartment. You will not be contacting anyone. You will give us no trouble and you will be relatively safe."

The kid muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "fuck you." Sanzo was tempted to pull the gun out and cuff the little fucker with it. "He'll need a guard," he said instead. "Gojyo, you're on the job."

"What? No!"

"When he starts behaving, you can get the cuffs off. But your head's on the line, so I'd be careful, if I were you."

"I said no!"

"And get him some clothes."

"Did you lose your fucking dictionary? If so, Hakkai could probably explain."

"Shut the hell up already! I'm in no mood to listen to your crap. Stay here and look after the punk."

Sanzo walked out of the apartment. It was almost an hour before he could vault himself over a fence of his home, and another ten minutes of hiking before he saw the final landing on the stairs. If nothing else, the living conditions kept him fit, for which he was grateful. He hated running with a passion and physical exercises were a waste of his valuable time.

He found his room undisturbed, which had been the standard for a while now. The manila folder was still on the windowsill. Sanzo casually sifted through the pages, again, knowing full well it was a mistake from the moment he opened the file.

His name was Son Goku.

He had very bright eyes. Bright and wide, and if Sanzo had a trace of romanticism in his soul he'd say innocent. He didn't, so he dismissed it as stupidity. It was a wonder Nataku thought it'd be a good idea to dally with him. Especially if what Hakkai had said was true, and Li Touten vehemently disapproved enough to try and have the kid put away for life.

Goku's golden eyes got even brighter when he was angry and scared.

Sanzo dropped the paper like it scorched his fingers and took a step back. He wasn't going to start coveting his rival's whore now, now was he?

"Means to an end," Sanzo said out loud.

They couldn't afford attachments, and if Nataku was stupid enough to let himself have one, he was going to pay for it.

.xxx

"You are in big fucking trouble, Genjo!"

Funny really, but this was the first time he and Nataku actually met, face to face. He was a little younger than Sanzo expected. And definitely shorter. At least now he and the kid in his apartment made sense. They both looked younger than their years; they shared a look more suited to children in safe homes, coddled by protective families. Surrounded by tough looking, gangly punks it was no wonder they stuck together.

"You must have known what you were getting into, going after Dougan," Sanzo said coolly. "Don't even try to tell me you didn't know this would happen, because it's bullshit. You're not ten."

Then again, looking at the petulant face Nataku was wearing, he might as well have been. "I didn't lay a finger on Dougan," he said, glowering.

"And I never touched your boy-toy." Not literally true, but the general idea was accurate. "I have people to do that for me."

"Genjo, I'm serious."

"Good. Then maybe we can stop the games." Even so, there was a certain feeling Sanzo had… a feeling that maybe, just maybe, he'd been had. "You have given me plenty of trouble and cost me one of my men. So I'm going to keep your boy under lock and key, for the time being, until you come up with a way to make it up to me."

"And what makes you think that boy is that valuable to us?" Nataku asked. He needn't have bothered; acting skills were not his forte.

"I'm pretty sure he isn't all that valuable to your crew." Sanzo whirled a pen in his hand. "Not so sure about you."

"What do you want?" Nataku glared at him across the table, and Sanzo knew he'd hit close to home. A little closer than he liked, in fact. Getting things too personal was never a good idea and obviously that boy was very personal. Still, what was done was done.

"Glad we're ready to get down to business. I want you to back off a little."

"A little?"

"I'm not expecting miracles. We had equilibrium before you went in and got Dougan killed, I want that back."

"I didn't kill Dougan!"

"No, I did. But you put him in a position that would get him killed, by his own." Which was what pissed Sanzo off in the first place. Scuffles were commonplace, murders, accidents, aided suicides happened all that time. What had happened to Dougan had been cruel and affected the entire community.

It amused Sanzo to think of the gangs as a community, but it was true.

"You aren't expecting miracles, you said."

"I'm not a moron and I'm not out to start a war. The kid--"

"Goku."

"The kid's just a guarantee you'll stick to the truce."

Nataku smiled, ever so slightly. "Name your terms."

"You don't stick your hands where they don't belong, that's one. You've pissed us off plenty over the past few days, and I don't want that escalating. Stick to your own territory and I'll stick to mine."

"So all you want is for us to stay on the opposite sides of the fence." Nataku gave him a long, sceptical look, one borne of a life among people who'd slit his throat for the contents of his pockets.

"Essentially, yes."

"Fair enough."

Sanzo felt as if the metaphorical rug was pulled from underneath his feet. "What?"

"I'm in no hurry to go to war either."

This made little to no sense, considering Nataku's usual modus operandi. Sanzo smelled a trap. "Goku would stay where he is, for the time being," he said. "I don't want any surprises."

"Don't hurt him," Nataku said, right before they parted ways, and damn if he didn't look ten as he did.

"Don't do anything stupid." Sanzo left without a backwards glance. This whole thing stank and he was up to his neck in it. What the fuck was Nataku playing at?

.xxx

Goku had calmed down significantly since he'd been brought to the apartment. He was still clad in nothing but his boxer shorts, but Gojyo had deemed him safe to move freely around the apartment. Why he deemed him unsafe for clothes, Sanzo could only guess, and he would much rather not. He was this close to ordering a blanket and duct tape.

"I brought you dinner," he said, setting a tray on the living room table. "You better not be allergic to any stupid shit, 'cause I'm not paying for your diet."

"Fuck you." Goku muttered, helping himself to a kebab.

"I need to know what the hell is Nataku's deal," Sanzo said pulling up a chair and lighting a cigarette. After a moment's hesitation he helped himself to a chip.

The kid gave him a semblance of a glare, but as an accomplished glarer Sanzo wasn't going to be bothered by a child's rendition of one. Particularly not over a chip.

"Talk," Sanzo said once Goku was done tearing through the food.

"About what?"

"Nataku."

"No."

Sanzo rolled his eyes. "It might have escaped your notice, what with the availability of food and facilities, but you are not at liberty to refuse." He noted the slight confusion as the kid worked out the longer words, then the youthful face became set again.

"Go to hell. Nataku's my best friend, I ain't gonna say nothing to you."

On one hand, it was refreshing to talk to someone relatively sane and not easily intimidated. On the other, Sanzo was slowly coming to the realisation that it was vastly overrated and frustrating.

"I could have you flayed," he said casually, and noticed with some satisfaction that the kid twitched in fright. It lasted for less than a second, than he was squaring his jaw again.

"I ain't gonna say nothing."

"That's assuming you actually know something."

Goku didn't take the bait. "I ain't in the gang, if that's what ya mean. I just hang around Nataku."

"And he just lets you."

"We're friends."

"So you're not a whore." Sanzo made an extra effort to infuse the question with as much sarcasm as he could muster. He needn't have bothered. Sarcasm came naturally to him.

"Some people can go out and have sex for free, not that you would know anything about it," he said, though his tanned cheeks flooded with pink. "You probably hafta hit 'em over the head."

"Don't tempt me," Sanzo said by way of innocent death-threat laden flirtation.

"I'd jump out th' window first."

"You and me both." Sanzo said, lying through his teeth. All right, maybe he wouldn't mind fucking the boy all that much. Even if he was (had been?) a whore, he was hot. "Look, I don't want you here any more than you want to be here. If Nataku behaves in a few weeks you'd be out."

"Can I have my clothes back, or do you get off watching me around in my underwear?"

Sanzo felt he might have achieved sainthood, for not decking the little moron. "Eat your food," he said. "Quietly, if that's at all possible."

He made a mental note to have Gojyo find some clothes that would fit the kid. Not that he minded the show, personally, but it was irritating to get called on it.

.xxx

Days that began with "Sanzo, you need to see something," had never, in his experience been good, partly because most often the something he was called upon to inspect turned out to be a dead body.

This was the case today.

"Who the hell was that?" was Sanzo's first question upon arriving in the back alley. Judging by the clothes it was definitely one of theirs; a street kid. Which was a pretty bad start. Gojyo had warded off the alley against any potential onlookers, leaving the space clear for Hakkai and his forensic magic.

"Give me a moment," Hakkai said snapping a rubber glove on. Gently he rolled the body onto its back.

Sanzo started. "That's Yon, isn't it."

"If you recognise him, I'm not going to argue." Hakkai lifted the boy's clothes away from his bloody chest.

"Yeah, I recognise him." Damn it to hell. Sanzo was fond of the kid. He caused almost no trouble at all, figuratively speaking, had a family to go home to. More than once Sanzo had threatened him with bodily harm if he didn't go back to school. Unfortunately, he had a bad tendency to pretend he was badder than he really was. Which had now gotten him killed. "How did he die?"

"A combination of a gunshot wound to the chest and falling off of something moderately high, though my bet is on the bullet. I'd say he'd been dead for less than a day."

Sanzo looked up, at the fire escape they were standing under. "Here's where he landed, I take it."

"Positive."

"Not really a scene for suicide."

"Hardly an accident, either," Hakkai said taking off the rubber glove. Sanzo had to agree. Falling off of this fire escape would have to be deliberate. He cursed under his breath. A body, on his turf, and now it turns out it was of one of his, too. "Nataku's lot did this," he stated rather than asked.

"There's only so much I can tell from what I have here, but I'd say it's fairly certain." A pair of tweezers appeared magically, to extract the bullet. "Bullets are consistent with the weapons they usually use, wound suggest close range, gun most likely shot by an inexperienced shooter; he has no shortage of those. We are not far from his territory. If Yon stumbled there, even by accident, it's not much of a stretch to imagine him being pursuit here."

"Okay. Fuck. Gojyo, give the body back to the family." Sanzo paused. Damn Nataku to hell and back, the little fucking cretin. "Then clean up. We're going to talk to Goku." The very slight emphasis on the word "talk" was enough for Hakkai to look up and Gojyo to take an involuntary step back.

"It might be unwise to talk to him in your apartment," Hakkai remarked after a moment of silence. "He might get … vocal."

"Around ten a.m., on a weekday everyone would be at work."

"Yes, everyone including the maids."

"Fuck."

"There's garages, underground," Gojyo said, in a flash of genius he clearly resented. "Not exactly soundproof, but a couple of feet of concrete, around ten a.m. on a weekday, should be plenty."

Sanzo nodded his acquiescence. "Good."

"Very well. Gojyo, I'd like you to get a tarpaulin sheet," Hakkai said, washing his hands. "A few screwdrivers, my set of knives, a bottle of distilled alcohol and some cotton pads."

"Wait, wait. We don't want to be disposing of a body when we're done, Hakkai."

"Are you questioning my expertise or work ethic here?"

Sanzo didn't like the look Hakkai was giving him. "Any permanent mark you leave on him had better be superficial."

"He'll be in some pain for a while, but unless he has some serious health problem and no pain tolerance, he would be fine."

Sanzo closed his eyes for a moment. This was one of the things he absolutely resented about this job. "Gojyo," he said eventually. "Hakkai. Get everything ready for tomorrow morning. Make sure no one sees you."

"Yeah, yeah."

.xxx

It was five minutes to ten the next morning when Sanzo locked the door of the garage assigned to his apartment from the inside. Gojyo had done his job well. Because the garage had been mostly unused the past ten years, the localised cultures of spiders had the chance to evolve in peace. Their achievements had accumulated, up to an including their own amusement park in the dust valleys. All that was now gone. The paleontological layers of dust had been removed, as had most of the cobwebs along with their inhabitants. The floor was covered with a tarpaulin sheet, large enough to cover the whole space. The lone (but new) light bulb hanging from the ceiling was aided by a couple of portable lamps, all three centred on the middle of the floor. And what they were centred on was a metal bed frame. It was fairly new, judging by the faint sheen of paint. Either that, or Gojyo'd had too much time on his hands last night.

Hakkai was crouching on the bed's side, looking through an open toolbox, arranged for easy access. Currently he was disinfecting each item, one at the time. Sanzo often felt the need to comment on Hakkai's need to disinfect everything he'd laid his hands on, but who were he and his paranoia to judge.

"What the hell are you doing?" Goku asked turning his head towards Sanzo. Panic was colouring his voice, as he struggled against the ropes. He was stretched on the metal frame, his hands and feet secured to the headboards. He was half-naked again, though this time a shirt and pants were neatly folded and waiting in the corner of the room.

Sanzo recognised how, under the circumstances, Goku might have been distressed.

"Gojyo, get out," Sanzo said, avoiding Goku's eyes. In a rare act of wordless compliance, Gojyo walked out of the door and shut it behind himself.

Sanzo switched the video recorder on and nodded at Hakkai.

"It will hurt," Hakkai said, gently, leaning over Goku's exposed stomach with a sharpened knife. "I apologise."

Under different circumstances his voice, combined with his expression, might have been reassuring. Though different circumstances would also call for the words to be more along the lines of "We will now administer the anaesthetics, you won't feel a thing," or "It's a standard procedure, nothing to be afraid of."

Sanzo pressed the rec button only moments before the knife touched Goku's abdomen. He was grateful for the camera, even though it still felt as though the images were going straight through the lens and into his brain. The knife broke the skin angled slightly to the outside of the curve. Sanzo grit his teeth. The room was silent, save for Goku's accelerated breathing and occasional mewl of pain. He didn't scream though, not even when the first rivulets of blood marked his skin, trailing down his sides and onto the tarpaulin below. He bit his lip when Hakkai lifted the knife and swabbed at the circular cut with gauze soaked in antiseptic, though it must have stung like hell. Hakkai didn't stop for long, though. Within seconds the knife lowered again, tracing the insides of the circle.

Sanzo wished for an out-of-body experience. Watching Hakkai was always a touch uncomfortable, a little like watching shimmering neon. Watching him work was always prompted by morbid fascination– what else could he do? The man had the hands of a surgeon, and plenty of knowledge to pursue that exact career. And now he was applying it to skinning a boy's stomach.

The design Hakkai had in mind consisted of a circle with something akin to a Chinese character in the middle, surrounded by four arms, reaching out. Somehow, it made the situation worse, the deliberate nature of the mark.

Sanzo was close to breathing out when he saw Hakkai put down the knife and stretch his shoulders. Then he saw him reach for the acetylene burner.

He had noticed the burner, of course. One does not live on the streets for as long as he had by disregarding any possibly harmful objects in a room. This one time he was trying to put it out of his mind. Hakkai held up a screwdriver and turned the burner on. Sanzo made sure the camera caught the bright orange shade of the metal before Hakkai turned and pressed the heated utensil to Goku's bloodied abdomen.

Goku started screaming when the faint line of smoke rose towards the ceiling.

Sanzo clenched his jaw shut, made sure his hand didn't shake, and focused on getting a clear picture on the camera. He didn't want this to happen. He harboured no ill will towards this boy, or towards Nataku personally. But if Nataku was willing to go as far as an open conflict, then he needed to know that Sanzo wasn't going to step down. So he watched and recorded.

Not long after eleven a.m. Hakkai closed his toolbox and Sanzo switched the camera off. Goku's head was twisted to the side, a trickle of blood issuing from his lower lip. His breathing was ragged and there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

Hakkai stood up and fetched a bright red box from the corner of the room. Goku whimpered, but didn't so much as try and move away. He didn't try to speak either. If Sanzo had any business being proud of him, he would have been. He hadn't uttered one comprehensible word over the last hour.

"Sanzo, can you please hand me the basin and the bottle of water?" Hakkai asked, inspecting the blistered skin.

He placed the basin underneath the bed frame and poured the water liberally over Goku's stomach. "Hold still," he said, seemingly unaware of the absurdity of his demand. Then again Goku was too exhausted to move, other than a token shudder when the cool water touched the burns. Hakkai washed away most of the blood, keeping the trickle of water to a slow but consistent amount. Once there was no more water, Hakkai gently patted the skin dry with sterile gauze and applied ointment. It must have been soothing, Sanzo inferred from the fact that Goku let out a strangled sob and relaxed a little. "I'm going to need to sit him up," Hakkai said looking to Sanzo.

"How do you propose he does that?" Sanzo asked moving to undo the bounds on Goku's wrists. The knots on the rope were so tight Sanzo had to resort to his knife to get them off.

"Just get him off his back, I need to wrap the bandage around his abdomen."

Easier said than done. Goku wasn't going to just sit still, he was too drained to do anything but sag weakly against the nearest available surface. In the end Sanzo sat down on the bed behind Goku, and lifted both their arms over his head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Hakkai apply the non-stick dressing to the wound, then wrap it thoroughly with bandage. Sanzo breathed through his mouth. The stench of burnt skin was grating and uncomfortable. He let his mind drift to other matters, like the fact that Goku's head was resting on his shoulder, forehead pressed against his neck. Sanzo could feel the gentle flow of air against his chin – Goku's breathing had slowed to a hypnotic pace.

"Alright. I'll take him upstairs," Hakkai said tucking the end of the bandage underneath the previous layers.

"Will he be okay?"

"Oh, yes, certainly. Barring some very rare complications or atrocious hygiene of the wound he should be fine."

"Good."

Once the ropes holding Goku's ankles were cut Sanzo helped him to his feet. It was something of a surprise to feel him find his footing. With little trouble Hakkai took over being the human crutch. Together they manoeuvred Goku into a shirt and a loose pair of pants.

"You can let Gojyo back in," Hakkai said. "The tarpaulin should be dosed with gasoline and burned, the floor-"

"Let Gojyo worry about it," Sanzo said. "You just make sure no one sees you."

"Of course." Not like that was going to be hard. The building was a high class enough to have cameras on every floor, including the elevator, but it certainly wasn't posh enough to have security on duty at all times. Also, the locks in the security office were very plain; the recordings were only every reviewed in case a crime was reported. Considering that Goku had no one to report him missing to the police, no one would ever care he was walking up and down the building aided by other people.

Plus, Sanzo's apartment was the only one on the top floor, which meant the normal elevators were a touch inconvenient to use to get there. The most practical way was the stairs, though when that failed there was the cargo elevator, hidden from the sight of the tenants.

Sanzo walked out the apartment building with the camera in one hand and an envelope in the other. Half an hour later the package was on its way to being dropped off in Nataku's mailbox.

Now it came down to whether Nataku really cared for Goku. If he did, he might consider backing off. If not …

Sanzo believed in warnings, but his beliefs only went as far as final.

.xxx

The next couple of days the city was taking an extensive hosing down. Sanzo felt no inclination to move from his spot on the windowsill. He even went as far as letting the mobile ring itself to quietness. Nothing could possibly be going on a day like this that would be worthy of his attention.

Naturally, he was proven tragically wrong when, about an hour later, Gojyo kicked his door open and stormed in.

"Goku's gone," he said simply stopping in the middle of the room. He was soaking wet and out of breath.

"What?"

"Gone. The apartment is empty. Don't ask me how it happened, I locked the bloody door myself and there's no sign it's been opened since."

If Sanzo were to be entirely truthful, he would have to say this relieved him considerably. For a moment there he had thought Gojyo meant gone as in deceased.

All the same, this was a serious matter. "Fuck."

"Tell me about it."

"You were supposed to guard a wounded, terrified kid, how the fuck did you screw that up?"

"Okay, first of all, you must be missing half a brain if you think the kid is a kid. Okay, that did not make much sense." Sanzo had to agree, but Gojyo wasn't deterred. "He's a tough motherfucker, is what he is. And second of all, lay off, wouldya? Do I look like a professional jailer?"

"Wouldn't hurt to hire one, apparently."

"Fuck you."

"Go to hell," Sanzo turned to his bed to retrieve his gun and his phone. "Get Hakkai and roust as many people as you can. Discreetly. I don't want Nataku knowing." Though if Nataku was the one to aid Goku's escape, he must have been observing them very carefully now. "Try not to get killed."

Before he could look up, Gojyo was gone. Sanzo tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants and walked out into the rain.

Nataku's territory would obviously be the place to go. Trouble was, everyone qualified to hold a gun to his head knew his face, which made the excursion a risky enterprise. But of course if he was considering it, he didn't have much choice. Goku was missing and he had to be found. Even if he had to risk his neck to do so.

He'd take it out of his hide later.

The shortest route to Nataku's turf had taken him through a park, gloomy and dark in the pouring rain. He cursed the weather for denying him his cigarettes. He briefly considered stopping for a smoke, if he managed to find a spot dry enough to allow for burning anything. But of course, when he needed a cigarette, he couldn't have one. Yet another reason to yell at the idiot.

Sanzo looked up from his internal griping and stopped in his tracks. Goku was sitting on a park bench and even though there was a lustrous tree growing overhead, he was completely drenched. He must have been sitting there for a while.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sanzo asked. "Are you that fucking stupid? Do you have any idea how many people could be killed because you felt like taking a stroll?"

It became increasingly obvious, as Sanzo raged on, that Goku wasn't planning on joining the conversation. Sanzo was starting to get concerned. Goku had been hurt, and while Hakkai assured him that the wound had been superficial – and he was willing to trust Hakkai's judgement on this – he also knew it was meant to cause pain. And pain, combined with an adrenaline rush, could render further wounds insignificant, long enough for a person to wander into a park and take a seat.

"Hey," he said, his voice lower this time, crouching at Goku's side. "I'm talking to you."

Goku still said nothing. He was looking at his clasped hands, with an expression of utmost desolation. His face was wet with not just the rain, Sanzo noted. He'd been crying. He was crying.

"What happened?" Sanzo asked, most of the anger gone.

"He said I shouldn't have come. He said it was dangerous. He said me being there would cause a war."

Well, Nataku had been right. That was more or less what Sanzo was saying, too. Except Sanzo had not been his best friend. His only friend, by the looks of it.

All in all, he could understand why Goku might have been devastated.

"I ain't gonna argue with him," Sanzo said taking the seat beside Goku.

"Would you send me back? If I was your friend, I mean?" the question was so soft Sanzo could safely pretend he didn't hear it.

"We're going back," he said. Goku went, unresisting. Sanzo held his arm, just in case he was planning on fainting on the way. "It's me. I've got the kid, I'm taking him back," he said into the mobile, as soon as he found a drier spot. "Yeah, tell everyone to stand down. We're gonna wait for Nataku to make his move."

They were both dripping when they reached the safety of the apartment block.

"When did you last change the dressing?" Sanzo asked as soon as they were inside the apartment.

"What?"

"The burns."

"I didn't change anything."

"For two days. Very smart."

"Go to hell," Goku said, but there was no real fire in the words.

"Not today. Get out of that shirt." Luckily, the apartment was always well stocked in medical supplies; Hakkai took care of that. "I said take it off, do you have a problem with your ears?"

That seemed to get through. Goku started picking on his shirt, half-heartedly. After a minute or two Sanzo rolled his eyes and dropped the first-aid kit on an empty bookcase. "How the fuck did you live this long, if getting dumped gets you so depressed," he asked. "Arms in the air." The wet T-shirt offered token resistance, but otherwise came off with no problems at all.

That moron. The dressing was soaked with rainwater, serum and blood. "Great." Where the fuck was Hakkai when he was needed. Sanzo pushed Goku into a chair and went to wash his hands. "Lay back," he instructed and set out to clean the wound as best as he could. Up close and personal it didn't look too bad, medically that is. Hakkai did well. The cuts had been superficial and the burns, while ugly, should heal in a few weeks with nothing but a faint scar to show they'd ever been there. Sanzo applied the anti-bacterial ointment and dressed the wound.

"Done," he said straightening up. "Go and change, you're soaking wet."

"Would you really go to war, if Nataku'd let me stay?"

"It's none of your business."

"It's my fucking life you ruined, and you dare to tell me it's not my business!?"

"Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Goku's fists rose, without real intent behind the motion. Sanzo had no trouble grabbing his wrists and holding them in place.

"Go to sleep," was all he said. He was himself surprised by how much he wanted Goku to calm down. Having dealt with many hurt people, he suspected it wouldn't take much. Sure enough, the brief explosion of emotion was enough to exhaust him to the point of catatonia. Sanzo wasn't surprised to see Goku's defiance disappear. He went to change without further protest and when two minutes later Sanzo looked in on him, he was laying in the bed, shivering under the covers.

"Idiot," he muttered. Of course he would be feeling poorly, staying out in the rain on a day like this. Luckily the medicinal supplies included aspirin. A quick scanning of the cabinets revealed that Hakkai stocked up the apartment with a selection of non-perishables, though whether they were put there for their guest or before, Sanzo had no idea. They did include tea and honey, which was what he was hoping for.

Goku took the aspirin without protest, but the tea was left on the nightstand, peacefully emitting vapour.

"Drink it," Sanzo said getting to his feet.

And then, all of sudden, Sanzo found his feet weren't as balanced as they should have been. When the world had stopped moving he was lying on top of Goku, causing what he was sure was substantial pain. Except Goku seemed to be ignoring it. He was looking straight into his eyes and his hand was gripping Sanzo's forearm tightly.

"Fuck me," he said.

Sanzo allowed a couple of seconds for his brain to catch up. "What?"

"Fuck me," Goku repeated, calm as rain.

"Where the hell did that come from?"

"I don't know." His eyes were wide open and serious, staring up at Sanzo. Goku was trying to say something more, but the words his lips were trying to shape weren't voiced. It didn't matter; Sanzo had a good enough idea of what was going through his head.

Boy was transparent like a summer morning.

Goku's hand wound up in his hair. Sanzo could feel his legs part beneath the covers. He wasn't kidding, it seemed. He raised himself on his knees, so as not to upset the burns any further, though considering the little moron pulled him onto himself, it was likely he didn't particularly care at the moment. Either that or he was some sort of a crazy masochist.

Sanzo shrugged and let his mouth descend on its own accord, parting his lips over Goku's.

He tasted like the damn aspirin, with a touch of blood from the cut on his lip. Sanzo should have made him drink the tea first.

The covers had to go, Sanzo decided not a minute later.

Oh, it wasn't a good idea. He was well aware of that. He still pushed the covers aside and allowed Goku to yank his shirt over his head.

Goku's skin was cool. He had yet to warm up after sitting stupidly in the rain for god knows how many hours. Sanzo dragged his tongue down Goku's neck, pressing his mouth and teeth against the pulse point. His eyes were closed as he counted the beats. Meanwhile, his fingers skimmed down smooth skin of Goku's chest, ghosting over the bandages and reached the boxer shorts. They rode low on his hips, his smooth, delicate, boyish hips.

His hand dove into Goku's shorts, groping for his cock.

Sanzo would have felt like a lecherous old man, except his birth certificate was reminding him he wasn't that much older than Goku and damn, if his body wasn't agreeing vehemently. His jeans were very, very uncomfortable at this point, not just because Goku's calloused hand managed to worm its way in, mindless of the invention of zippers and buttons, and was stroking the length of his erection.

Goku managed to pop the button on Sanzo's jeans, nudging the fly down. His other hand tightened in Sanzo's hair, knuckles surely turning white. Sanzo allowed the forceful hand a small amount of control, allowed his head to be guided back to Goku's mouth.

Sanzo jerked violently when his lower lip caught a tooth. He tasted blood when Goku's tongue lapped on the cut and then filled his whole mouth with its coppery taste. His hips thrust forward, involuntarily, and for a second he knew he was resting on Goku's stomach, but that didn't particularly matter because the thrust had brought their erections into contact, jeans and shorts notwithstanding, and all else quite plainly went out the window. Sanzo thrust again, more controlled this time and Goku responded by tightening his fist around Sanzo's shaft.

Their mouths worked against each other's, kissing, biting, sucking violently – they were both going to be sorry the next morning, Sanzo thought. Right then it didn't matter so much, because messy and painful it might have been, but it also had the pretence of comfort, as only another warm body can provide on a cold, lonely day.

Sanzo moved his mouth to Goku's shoulder as he came, biting down into the soft skin. Moments later he felt an answering bite bruise his collarbone.

He needed a shower, it occurred to him minutes later. He needed to move. He was still kneeling, hovering above Goku, balancing on one elbow, his other hand still buried in Goku's underwear. Goku, by the looks of it, had managed to fall asleep already.

"Motherfucker," Sanzo muttered and rose to his knees. Goku reacted to the loss of a source of warmth by muttering something and curling in on himself. Sanzo tugged at his shorts, used the material to wipe most of the come from their bodies – luckily none got on the bandages, he was not changing them again – and dropped them on the floor. His jeans joined them soon and Sanzo, firmly ordering his brain to shut up, stretched out beside Goku and pulled the comforter to cover them both.

He was drowsy.

.xxx

It was some minutes past one a.m. when Sanzo woke up. He wasn't sure what woke him. The apartment was quiet, peaceful, devoid of colour. The moon was shining through the window, directly into his eyes. Not enough to wake him up, if there was no danger. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, until it occurred him to turn his head.

Goku was still asleep. He'd barely moved during the night.

He muttered something and perhaps it was the influence of the moonlight that made Sanzo press a kiss to his shoulder. His skin was cool. Goku turned when Sanzo pulled away, his eyes fluttering beneath his eyelids. Sanzo lowered his head again, finding Goku's collarbone with his mouth.

This time Goku did wake up. Sanzo wasn't about to start waxing poetry, he'd shoot himself first, but the kid's eyes were huge. In the desaturating light of the moon they looked enormous and age-old.

They were lying so close, Sanzo could hear Goku's heartbeat. His palm quite naturally moved to rest against Goku's chest, above his heart.

Perhaps it was the moonlight. It made everything look too ethereal, too unreal, too far and remote from the dirty plains of reality. Perhaps that was the reason Sanzo was taking a leave of absence from his usual high brain functions. That was how he would rationalise it later, praying no one took an interest, because even then he knew there was no way to rationalise his way out of what he was doing then.

Declaring himself temporarily insane, Sanzo felt justified in his need to move forth and claim Goku's lips in a soft kiss. He raised his knee and rolled on top of Goku only to pull him up, so that they were both kneeling on the bed.

Underneath his hands Goku's skin was warming up, his heartbeat rate was soaring. When he moaned into Sanzo's ear it was a good sound; it spoke of want, need and desire. It was almost, almost enough to drown out the memory of the screaming.

Goku's hands traced the old scars on Sanzo's back, fingers pressing against the puckered flesh, caressing it and retreating. Goku was studying his life's history, letting his fingertips travel across his back. Sanzo shuddered. There was stuff he never talked about, ever, with anyone. And most of it was written on his skin, had been burned into his skin through the years.

He'd never liked having people touch his back.

Goku took Sanzo's face in his hands and kissed his lips softly. Then his palms slid lower, brushing Sanzo's neck, then his sides and then finally closed around his hardening cock.

There was lotion in the bedside table. Sanzo made an effort and almost got his fingers caught in the drawer for his trouble, but somehow it was easier to do than letting the kiss break.

He lowered Goku onto his back, slowly, carefully, wondering all the while where and when did he hit his head. From there it was only natural to lift up Goku's hands and hold them above his head, and if they weren't both panting already, he might have noticed Goku's breathing speed up. He didn't realise something was off until he was suddenly flat on his back and Goku's wide eyes were hovering over his face.

Sanzo blinked and then cursed. Of course, that had been a pretty stupid thing to do, but Goku was otherwise undisturbed. He leaned forward until they were nose to nose and kissed him, deeply, his erection brushing Sanzo's with every move.

Sanzo would have panicked, at this point, because Goku was touching him again, his fingers were sliding over his cock, between his legs, which was reason enough to panic. But still he didn't move, even though his hands were free. It was entirely too surreal, the moonlight, the silence, complete lack of colour. Goku's fingers, slick with the lotion, circled his opening before dipping in, one by one. He was gentler than Sanzo expected him to be, taking his time with preparation. He certainly was taking longer than Sanzo was prepared to wait, moonlight or not.

Sanzo raised himself on his elbows and further, forcing Goku to lie back against the headboard. He straddled Goku, sinking slowly onto his cock. He winced – because it was uncomfortable and it had been a forever – and then the wince dissipated. Sanzo threw his head back. He would have screamed, except he was not big on the wordless cries of ecstasy thing, and there were no words in the vernacular fitting for the predicament.

So he just opened his mouth and breathed deeply.

Goku hips rocked ever so slightly and Sanzo went with it. He entwined his fingers with Goku's, when they crept up his thighs and then guided them to his own cock. It was slow, the moonlight dragging out each tiny movement into hours, though logically it couldn't have long – they were both too drained.

Goku's mouth parted when he came, letting out a soft moan. His fingers tightened reflexively and Sanzo shuddered at the pressure and moments later he was coming too, coating their joined hands with his seed.

He lifted himself slowly, and fell onto the bed beside Goku. He was exhausted. The barest minimum of cleanup they felt up to took the last vestiges of strength they had. It was that tiredness, Sanzo would tell himself later, that prompted him to wrap his arms around Goku and press himself against the slighter body tightly, chest to back, right before he fell asleep.

.xxx

Sanzo woke up to Goku's golden eyes and a warm body wrapped around his.

"Hey," Goku said.

Sanzo sat up and went to have a shower.

"I don't have to tell you this had never happened," he said upon returning. He picked up his shirt from the ground and pulled it on. Shit, he should have hanged it out to dry the previous night. Same with his jeans.

"Yeah. I know." Goku rolled over in the bed and stared at the pillow.

"And no more running away." The thought of running gave Sanzo pause. "How the fuck did you get out anyway?"

"Climbed outta the window."

"Climbed- What?" Sanzo felt compelled to walk to the closest window and look down, at the bare wall in between the windowsills. "What the fuck are you, Spiderman?"

"Down the balcony, genius. The lady two floors down had hers open, so I got out through there."

All right, through the balcony. That made some sense, at least, even if the cold shudders hadn't entirely gone away. Even if it were through the balcony, Sanzo would think twice before attempting an escape down that path. The wall was coarse, but hardly more than the normal crust of concrete. There were no parapets, no sculptures, nothing to lend support to hands or feet. Sanzo wouldn't go as far as saying it was impossible, in the face of glaring evidence to the contrary, but given the height of the storeys Goku must have managed to find support for fingers and toes, and as impressive as that was, it still made Sanzo's skin crawl. "Are you fucking nuts? You could've fallen on your stupid head!"

"As opposed to getting my stomach burned out? I'd rather take my chances with the fucking wall!" Goku had sat up and Sanzo averted his eyes from the bandages.

"I didn't have a choice," he said quietly. "I didn't exactly enjoy it." It was true, but he deserved the derisive snort it got him all the same.

Goku crossed his arms and stared at his knees. "So what, I get to stay here and every time Nataku sneezes you're gonna burn off another piece of me? 'Cuz if that's the case then I am gonna jump outta the window for real."

"I can have grates installed."

"Yeah, I bet you can."

"Look, Goku. I don't want to-"

"Save it. I don't care."

Sanzo took a moment to collect his thoughts. "Perhaps. But the next time you run away, someone might get a bullet through the brain. Could be you, could be me, could be Nataku. Think about that."

Sanzo turned, with no more words to say, and left the apartment.

.xxx

Sanzo wasn't sure why was he expecting a storm following Goku's spider act, but a storm was not what he got.

What he got was silence.

"Nothing?" he asked again, staring at Hakkai and Gojyo's reflection in the window.

"Not a peep. I've watched him for a while; he's holed up in his father's apartment, not doing anything. No one is doing anything," Gojyo reported.

"This can't be good," Sanzo said.

"I concur."

Be careful what you wish for, they often said, and boy, were they ever right. Sanzo knew the silence was ominous, and just how ominous he learned a little over two weeks later, standing over yet another dead body, discovered in a back alley, on his territory. While it wasn't one of his people, it might as well have been. Nataku couldn't have been more vocal if he's spelled the message out on the pavement.

This was fucking war.

"What the fuck is he playing at?" Sanzo raged, staring at the body.

"Nataku is ambitious," Hakkai said, turning to look over his shoulder. "His actions over the last year prove that. He wants you off the streets."

"But he doesn't make no fucking sense." And wasn't that the understatement of the year. Either the kid was worthy of an Oscar, for his performance in the "don't hurt Goku" drama, or something was fucking crazy. The situation was spiralling out of control, fast, and while normally Sanzo hadn't too many qualms about letting the events carry him along, this time the stakes were too high.

"So what, we go and carve another pretty, pretty pattern into Goku?" Gojyo asked. An orange light of a cigarette bobbed in tune with his words.

"Yeah, and you'll be the one to do it," Sanzo said, enjoying the twinge of panic Gojyo let show.

"Fuck you."

Sanzo allowed himself a smirk. Unnerving Gojyo was certainly worth it. "Cutting up the kid anymore won't do us any good," Sanzo said snuffing out his own cigarette. "At this point, we have no choice." The war was upon them, whether they liked it or not.

"Fuck."

Choice or not, the same evening found Sanzo face to face with Goku, again, for the first time in a fortnight. "You friend left us another gory message," Sanzo said, dropping a tray of food on the table. He watched Goku pause, noticed the tremor, which upset his balance for a second.

"So what? You're coming to tell me you're gonna hurt me some more?" The tremor was long gone. Sanzo barely resisted a smirk. The kid had spunk.

"What for? Nataku obviously doesn't give a shit, whether you live or die anymore." Harsh, but necessary. Sanzo felt justified, though he also felt a twinge of sympathy when Goku bit his lip, hurt. "So, you're free to go."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Wow," Goku dropped the chips he'd been chomping on. "You are a world class fuck up," he said.

"Go to hell."

"That's your response to everything, isn't it?"

"I find it's adequate, most of the time." A pause. "Get your shit together, and leave, by tomorrow."

"Whatever," Goku said.

He was gone before the evening was over.

.xxx

Sanzo didn't mean to be there, he had plans for the night. Reconnaissance required some attention. Nataku's people had been milling around the neighbourhood for days, with no apparent pattern to their actions. Sanzo knew better. Something was brewing, and it was going to be big. Given Nataku's penchant for open battle, Sanzo was expecting a formal invitation for the party any day now. Which was why he was hiding in the shadows on Nataku's territory, listening to the whispered words the streets were carrying.

And the word was blood.

It was then that he heard noises in the alley.

His current duties moved him to investigate. The shadowed part of the alley, where the voices were coming from, had a wide sill. Getting on it was tricky, but once there he was over the lamps, which assured he was very hard to notice from street level. Slowly he started moving into the alley.

"I've already told you, he doesn't want to see you," said a male voice. Sanzo narrowed his eyes. The voice was vaguely familiar. Unfortunately, its owner was standing in the door, hidden from Sanzo's gaze.

"I just wanna talk to him!" said another. Okay, that voice was definitely familiar. That was Goku.

"Don't you think you've been enough trouble already?"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Which I suppose is convenient, for you."

"I didn't want it!"

"Oh, so that's why you fucked him?"

Goku fell silent. Sanzo was shocked into silence himself – how the fuck did the guy know? Okay, if Sanzo was to be perfectly honest, he had an idea how he could possibly know. If Nataku's people were worth their salt, they'd have had him monitored, at a time like this. All they'd have to see was him pulling Goku into the apartment one afternoon and leaving in the morning in yesterday's clothes. The conclusions were pretty fucking obvious.

"It's not-- Not like that…"

"Don't come here anymore. Unless you have a death wish." The voice was laced with something Sanzo recognised as satisfaction, which puzzled him.

Goku didn't say anything. Sanzo listened to the sound of closing door and the deafening silence of someone staring at them, hopeless and dejected. It was a few minutes before he heard footsteps. He looked down. Goku had turned and was walking down the alley at a snail's pace. Sanzo had no trouble beating him to the corner.

"I see the meet did not go well," he said when Goku reached the street, a million years later.

"Fuck you," the kid said without looking at him.

"As I understand it that's what got you here in the first place." Wrong move, Sanzo realised seconds later, when Goku whirled, grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the nearest wall.

"Go to hell," he hissed.

Sanzo discovered with some surprise his feet were barely touching the ground. He was, once again, impressed. Goku was half a head shorter than him.

All the time Sanzo was trying to figure out where and when did he hear the voice. It was another minute before Sanzo connected a name to the voice. He'd never met the man, personally, but he had seen him, once or twice. He hadn't made a good impression. "Li Touten doesn't like you much," he said, and now that he made the connection he felt like a total moron. The alley was in the back of the laundrette Nataku's father owned, he should have known that before he set foot in there.

"None of your business."

"He hates you." It was a sudden revelation. "Li Touten hates you. He sounded pleased just now."

"Oh, so now you're spying on me?"

"Don't get ideas. I was spying on him."

"What do you want from me?"

That was one of the difficult questions. "I want to know what is Nataku planning," Sanzo thought but what he ended up saying was "I can give you a place to stay."

Goku stopped in his tracks. "What?"

There was no way in hell Sanzo was repeating himself. "Now you're playing dumb."

"I'm not gonna go against Nataku."

"I'm not asking you to." That was an outright lie. By associating with Sanzo Goku was automatically going against his former people. He was screwed whichever way he looked.

But, in the end, Goku went home with him. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go.

With a city full of people willing to do him a favour, Sanzo had no trouble finding Goku a bed and something constructive to do for food. When he turned out to be half decent with a welding machine and fantastic at pissing Gojyo off, the whole issue became a no-brainer. Gojyo, when he wasn't fetching torture instruments, ran a garage-cum-scrap yard. There was always plenty of work at a scrap yard and never enough help. Goku would fit right in, Sanzo decided. He was scrawny as any other street brat, but his wiry arms had no problems lifting weights Sanzo would have to share. He made the tactical mistake of pointing it out and the moment his mouth closed he just knew he would never live it down, judging by the delight in Gojyo's expression.

To which Goku reacted by insulting Gojyo's male pride – he pointed out he was stronger than him also, didn't he recall the business with the falling engine the day before?

Gojyo called him an insolent baby ape and forbade him to speak with adults without permission.

Goku called him a cockroach.

Naturally, they were best friends before Sanzo stepped outside the gate, if the insults flying back and forth were any indication. With Gojyo they tended to be, except for the case of Hakkai. Sanzo had long since learned that Hakkai was the great exception whenever a chiefly human phenomenon was considered.

Visiting the scrap yard was therapeutic, all the same.

"How is shit?" Sanzo asked Gojyo. They were leaning against a wreck of a car, sipping beer, watching Goku take apart another vehicle.

"Well, he ain't had much experience, but he's doing fine. He's figuring shit out, he'll be good at it, one day."

"Oi, Gojyo!" Goku yelled from the other side of the car he was busy with dismantling. "This radio is kinda working."

"Kinda working?"

"Yeah, I think it just needs new wires."

"Cool. Drop it on the table inside, I'll look at it in a minute."

"Good," Sanzo said under his breath.

"Aw, someone cares. I bet the kid will be touched." A moment's pause prompted him to add, "In more than one way, even."

"The fuck?"

"Do I look like I'm blind?"

"No, just stupid."

"Have it your way." Gojyo shrugged and chucked the empty can of beer into the nearest trashcar. The back seat was lined with an industrial plastic sheet, which meant when it was time to take the trash out Gojyo just needed to tie it together and drive out. There was something to be said for laziness.

Sanzo marked down the visit as a fucking annoying success and moved on. Kid was fitting in, even if Gojyo complained he was going to eat him out of business. It was all the kind of grumbling Sanzo had learned to ignore, for his own mental health. Gojyo was obviously pleased with his new company.

.xxx

Sanzo should have anticipated the kid not thinking logically. He should have anticipated Goku not giving up on a hopeless case. Fuck, the moron probably rescued kitties from rivers whenever he had a spare minute. Sanzo should have fucking locked him in, told Gojyo to keep tabs on him now that he was out of the relatively hard-to-exit apartment. And now the little fucking moron was going to get himself killed!

Sanzo ran through the streets, leaving behind him a trail of overflowing puddles. It had stopped raining maybe an hour ago, so, bored and stiff, he went to check up on his crew. It paid to be interested in their private lives, he'd found. Not only did it give him leverage and blackmail material, but also ensured they liked him, for some obscure reason. Now, if someone were wandering by his place now and then, keeping tabs, Sanzo would have been unsettled and pissed. They just assumed he cared.

With a whole huge city to search, Sanzo was down to his best guess.

Nataku's hideout.

He was good at finding people and, as it turned out, he was even better at finding people in the nick of time. Goku was staring Nataku in the face, or rather he was staring down a gun.

"Nataku," he said, quietly, and his voice rang out in the alley.

"My father said you betrayed us. Betrayed me."

"I didn't do anything!"

"He had." Of course, Li Touten joined in on the fun. "He's a traitor. You know what must be done with traitors."

Sanzo heard the sound of a gun being cocked. A cursory glance around the corner told him it was Nataku's. He stepped into the alleys, sticking to the shadows. He was in luck, no one would notice him, when they had an unmoving target to focus on.

"Kill him," Li Touten whispered into Nataku's ear.

Sanzo wrapped his hand around his pistol and cursed, yelled, screamed at Goku to run, to get the fuck out. It might have been more effective if any sound let his lips. Nataku's reputation wasn't that of a first class gunner. The kid had a chance if he started moving. But Goku just stood there, staring down the barrel calmly.

"Nataku," he said.

That was it, then. "Goku…" Nataku started saying, gun shaking, but before he could finish even the name, there was a crunch of a gun being cocked. Sanzo heard rather than saw Li Touten raise the heavy pistol he was holding.

Good thing the fucker was in such poor shape, it took him time to point that gun where he wanted the bullet to go. Sanzo had no such problem. Three steps and he was grabbing Goku's hand, whirling him in place and pulling him out of harm's way, while his gun automatically rose and fired.

Unlike Nataku, Sanzo was a top-notch shot, not that he needed to be, at this range. The bullet pierced through Li Touten's skull, sending him back onto a pile of trash, his eyes wide open in surprise. Sanzo slowly let his gun fall to his side. Behind him, he could hear Goku hold his breath.

"Father!" Nataku yelled, dropping his own firearm.

Sanzo willed his heart to still. "He's dead," he said, holding Goku's arm in a tight grip, keeping himself in the way of any bullets Nataku could still fire. "Let's go," he said in Goku's direction.

"But Nataku-"

"Do you want to die?" Sanzo hissed and pushed Goku back. "We're getting out of here!"

This time Goku listened, in a manner of speaking. He let himself be pulled out of the alley, down the road and into a bus. It took Sanzo half an hour to realise the bus was heading the wrong way and two hours from there to get out, get into the other bus and arrive in the vicinity of Gojyo's place.

"I'm going to sleep," Sanzo announced, pushing Goku before him. "You yell at him."

True to his word he fell onto the couch. He was asleep before Gojyo managed to get through the first barrage of insults.

.xxx

He woke up to Goku's luminous eyes, hovering over his.

"Why did you come?" he asked.

Sanzo blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Goku was on his hands and knees over him, staring into his eyes. The light was scarce; Sanzo estimated the hour to be around three a.m. The big questions, like what the fuck was Goku doing in his room – okay, Gojyo's TV space – at this hour, were still too complicated for his befuddled brain.

"Why did you come?"

"Because you were gone, you dumb shit. I told you to stay fucking put!"

Goku smirked, and there was just a touch of sadness to his smile. Then he rolled off the couch and walked out of the room. Sanzo went back to sleep after that. He woke up the next morning not sure whether he dreamed the encounter or not, decided it must have been.

"Who wants breakfast?" Gojyo asked, coming in to wake Sanzo.

"As long as you're not making it," Sanzo muttered and hid his face in the couch's backrest. "Because your food is only fit for gluing fucking bricks together."

"Don't dis what you've never experienced."

"Some people would say that about jumping off a bridge, so excuse my scepticism."

"Either way, Hakkai is coming in. He says he'll cook."

"Ain't that a godsend."

"Food?" Goku muttered sleepily walking through the door of the spare room.

"As soon as Hakkai gets here."

Goku took his place at the table, folded his arms and rested his head against his forearms, clearly waiting for breakfast to be served, continuing to doze until further notice. Hakkai chose that moment to walk in through the door. He hadn't bothered to knock. "I have news," he said depositing a bag of groceries on the kitchen table.

"Good news or bad news?"

"Nataku is in a coma."

Goku sprung up from his chair. "What?"

"He was found, in an alley, a bullet wound to the head. He lived, but the doctors don't think he'd wake up again. Brain damage is significant."

"But-- but he was fine when we left!"

Sanzo got up from the couch. "I didn't want him dead," he said, staring at Goku.

"It was suicide," Hakkai interjected. "Unless someone wandered down the alley, took possession of his handgun and shot him--" he paused, possibly because of the lethal glare Sanzo was sending his way. Goku was upset enough; he didn't need the gory details. "No matter. Suffice to say it was self-inflicted. There is no doubt."

"He shot himself?" Goku asked in a small voice. "Why?"

Sanzo dropped his hand into Goku's messy hair. He was suddenly seeing the big picture, with all the hidden details. He had been played all right. "Fuck," he muttered. "I didn't see that coming."

.xxx

Nataku was never a very imposing presence, and now, unconscious and surrounded by beeping machines, he was utterly unnoticeable. He was so pale his skin barely differed from the sheets or the bandages. His head had been shaved. The only clue that he was still alive was the rhythmical beeping of the machines around him.

"He's not going to wake up?" Goku asked in a hushed tone.

"Unlikely." Sanzo picked up a cigarette, then remembered about the smoke detectors. "Fuck."

"I'm sorry, Nataku," Goku said leaning over the bed. "I'm really, really sorry."

Sanzo walked to the window. "It ain't your fault." He watched Goku's lips quirk in a small smile.

"It sure feels that way." Goku touched Nataku's unmoving arm.

Sanzo shook his head. "Let's go." Goku nodded and, with one last glance, left Nataku's bedside. Sanzo lingered in the door, wondering if he should say something. Let his rival know… what? That he wasn't happy with the victory? That he wanted to win the right way, whatever the fuck that may be? "He's gonna hope," he said in the end, looking at the unmoving figure.

There was no response, not that Sanzo was expecting any. He wasn't keeping track of the current theories on comatose people, so he didn't know if Nataku heard. He didn't know if Nataku understood what he meant, because he wasn't so sure himself. In the end all he could do was close the door and adjust his stride to match Goku's.

THE END