General Disclaimer: Saiyuki (c) Minekura Kazuya. But oh, how I wish it was (c) Moi. Saiyuki is so going on my Christmas list.

Inspiration and Dedication: The Elysian Twilight is the brainchild of the Almighty Arice-sama who also betaed this. Kudoes to her. The Elysian Twilight is dedicated to Jaimie as an apology for addicting you to slash. Sort of, I still think it isn't my fault...

A/N: This was actually unearthed within the dark horrors that is my USB drive, to get Arice-sama to stop biting my head off, I have decided to post it. My first attempt at Saiyuki fanfiction, this is an AU piece so liberties will be taken, such as the fact that Sanzo now has parents. Also, there might be some OOCness on Sanzo's part although in my mind I can still see him acting like this, since he is younger and all. Please have a nice read.

The Elysian Twilight

01

Somehow, Sanzo's heart had sank in spite of itself when his mother had stopped screaming at him one day and held out a letter. She sounded very smug, and Sanzo almost wanted to shoot her in the face (had he his gun, but his father had confiscated it the moment he found out) and he didn't exactly want to shoot her because she hadn't looked so smug for a very long time and he had no reason to be annoyed. In fact, he was relieved that the incessant screaming had stopped.

"From your Uncle Koumyou."

In a way, correspondence of this nature wasn't so unusual anymore, ever since his expulsion a month ago, letters from all over, even from relatives he'd never known existed had sent letters that equated to hate mail. For what it was worth, Sanzo now knew that he had relatives in Thailand, India and even Greece. All of them were ashamed, utterly shocked, at how the great Genjyo Sanzo could get kicked out of school. What kind of idiot brought a gun to school, anyway? That last one was the killer. Genjyo Sanzo was far from stupid.

But a letter from Uncle Koumyou himself...

Perhaps because Uncle Koumyou was one of those relatives that he actually liked and respected...perhaps that was the reason for the cold lump that formed in his throat, it tasted like stale iron, or maybe bullet lead. No matter how many times he swallowed, the lump wouldn't go away. Sanzo stared at the envelope for a long, long moment before taking it reluctantly.

"I'm going to read it in my room."

With that, he stalked down the hall and slammed the door.

-

His room afforded Sanzo a feeling of calm that couldn't be found in any other part of the house. His room, unlike the rooms of his peers was painfully austere, but it still managed to be messy. Sanzo clicked the lock on the door and sank down on the mattress.

His sheets smelled dusty, they needed to be changed. He hadn't been out of the house for a whole month, yet he still kept forgetting. Or maybe because he didn't want to incur the wrath of his mother more than he absolutely had to. Asking her for fresh sheets would have entailed talking to her, something he didn't exactly like—or want to do.

Not that his father was any better, except avoiding him was easier, avoiding him meant not coming downstairs from eight-thirty onwards. On the more convenient nights, he wouldn't be at home at all.

Sanzo sighed and turned the envelope over in his hands. The envelope was addressed to 'Kouryu', a name that he couldn't quite bring himself to hate. He wanted to burn it, he had read all of the other letters for fun (old people had surprisingly colorful language when they were angry enough), but to read a letter like that from Koumyou...he honestly didn't know if he could stomach it.

He slit open the envelope and slid out a single sheet of paper, the paper smelled of herbs. Old herbs, but herbs nonetheless.

Dear Kouryu,

Somehow, I think this would have been better said over the phone but forgive an old man of his forgetfulness, I seem to have lost your cell phone number somewhere and I've little desire try my luck with your actual house phone, I'm sure you're much more aware of how temperamental your mother can be, so I'll just leave it at that.

Your father phoned me a few weeks ago to inform me of your expulsion. Although I will agree that carrying a firearm to school is indeed a serious matter, I will say that his anger was rather unjustified, seeing how it was he that gave you the gun in the first place. I'm sure you had your own reasons, Kouryu, but I wish you would be more careful.

Sanzo put down the letter, let out a breath that he hadn't been aware of holding. The lead in his throat had disappeared. Koumyou was not angry. Disappointed, perhaps, but not angry. He picked the paper back up and continued.

Knowing your father, I think he would have placed you under house arrest by now, not that I really think you'll learn anything from it. So I'd like to propose a modest proposition, I'm sure if I brought it up your parents would be delighted, and it'd save you from some boredom. I would like you to come stay with me in Chang'an for a while, my resort always needs extra hands, and I'm sure the country air will do you good.

Give me your reply and I'll try to work out the details as soon as possible. I'd also like to see you. You haven't been around in a while.

Your Uncle Koumyou

-

The drive to Chang'an, way up in the mountains, took six hours. Sanzo was old enough to drive, but along with his gun, everything else was confiscated: his car, his computer, and his magazine subscriptions, particularly the ones advertising guns, even his newspaper subscriptions. They had almost gotten hold of his phone too, but he had hid it just in time and convinced them that he lost it.

He was glad his mother didn't decide to come, at least it was quiet. Sanzo and his father spoke very little, if at all.

They pulled into Chang'an in late afternoon, despite being a country town in the mountains, it was quite lively. Its liveliness probably contributed to Uncle Koumyou being bloody rich. Rich enough that even his father, who was never impressed by anything, except maybe an exceptional shot, was impressed.

It took another twenty minutes to reach Kinzan Onsen. To Sanzo's relief, Uncle Koumyou was standing outside with his usual faint smile tinged with something or the other, this time, it was tinged with amusement.

His father parked the car and popped the trunk without a word, and Sanzo got out to load one suitcase (it would have been two, if his mother could have helped it any) but in the end, it was Sanzo who won over and so it was one suitcase, and one backpack.

"Ah, it's good to see you, Kouryu," Koumyou smiled at him, "The last time I saw you, you were -this- small." He held one hand level with his elbow. "How old are you again? I forget."

"Eighteen, soon." Sanzo said.

"Time flies, doesn't it?" Koumyou laughed a light laugh, "One moment you're here all grown up and I'm here as a senile hermit."

Sanzo would never understand why his uncle was so keen on self-deprivation, and he would have defended him, if not for the fact that his father was standing there. So he said nothing. Normally, he liked riling his father, but not in front of Koumyou.

An awkward silence passed, and Sanzo shifted his bag to the other shoulder. Until his father finally cleared his throat and said rather gruffly, "If the boy's any trouble, give me a shout and I'll come haul him home."

Now that made Sanzo wonder, his father hadn't hauled anything, let alone his son, in years. The last time his father had done anything even close to discipline was eight years ago. Now he was just subject to his mother's incessant screaming. Which was worse, actually, he missed discipline.

Koumyou only smiled and shook his head, "Nonsense, I'd hate to trouble you for something as trivial as that. I'm sure Kouryu and I will get along, we always do. Are you sure that you don't want to stay the night? I've got plenty of rooms."

Sanzo was pleased to see that his father was suddenly in a hurry to leave. "No, thank you. I have to get back to the station before midnight, anyway. Everyone's shitting their pants about the case that just came in." And then he paused, and turned, looked at Sanzo.

"I'll stay out of trouble."

Sanzo loathed admitting something like that, but he had a feeling that his father wouldn't leave until he said something.

-

"Dinner is in an hour, if you want to rest up, you can." Koumyou told him, "Baths are down that way, and someone will come get you for dinner."

Sanzo looked around, this room was a lot like his room at home, the decorations were kept to a bare minimum (save for the painting of floating leaves on one wall, there was nothing else.) This was just further proof of how much Koumyou understood him, and just this once, Sanzo realized he didn't mind so much.

He put his suitcase to the side and looked at his uncle. He wanted to explain about the gun, so that Koumyou wouldn't think wrongly of him, but he couldn't find the right words to say. So he just nodded, "All right."

"Then, I'll take my leave."

Koumyou bowed, whether it was out of habit or otherwise, it was still strange to Sanzo. He awkwardly mirrored the gesture and straightened only when the bamboo screen door slid shut.

Alone, Sanzo changed into fresh clothes that didn't stink of sweat and his father's car. Then he led on the futon spread out for him and decided that it was more comfortable than his bed with dusty sheets back home.

Thinking about his dirty bedsheets segued quickly into thinking about his mother and Sanzo promptly shook the thought from his mind. He had an hour, he wanted a bath, but didn't want to get up.

But there was one thing he could do without getting up. Sanzo dug around in his pockets before unearthing a new pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Smoking was turning into a vice for him as of late, and to his chagrin, he hadn't been able to secure a safe supply before coming to Chang'an. He stared at the pack before he tore it open, this would probably last a week, if he smoked sparingly.

He inhaled a lungful of smoke and immediately felt his nerves settle.

There was a gentle knock against the screen, and Sanzo lay still.

The knocking persisted. Finally, he sat up, feeling his nerves beginning to flare again, "What?" He snapped harshly towards the door.

The screen slid open, inch by inch, and Sanzo found himself studying the other man that stood in his doorway. The first thing he noticed was the other's eyes were so green they blazed. The second thing he noticed was that the man wore a light yukata and then he remembered that this was an onsen resort and suddenly his own jeans and t-shirt seemed inappropriate.

The stranger spoke, he had a soft voice that reminded Sanzo of the white wisps of smoke that drifted from the tip of his cigarette to the ceiling.

"You must be Koumyou-san's nephew."

Sanzo nodded.

"You look just like Koumyou-san. I'm impressed." The man turned to slide the screens close, "May I call you Sanzo?"

Normally, he didn't like anyone getting so friendly with him right off, but the fact that stranger had paid him the greatest compliment that someone could pay, that he looked like Koumyou, Sanzo decided that it was all right. He nodded. "What do I call you?" Not that he wanted to ask.

"Oh, me?" The man seemed surprised that the question was reciprocated, "You can call me Hakkai. I'm your attendant. For tonight, anyway." He walked carefully measured steps to the futon, "May I offer one piece of advice?"

Hakkai was staring intently at his cigarette, Sanzo wanted to say no, but what came out was instead, "...Does it have to with my smoking? You can shove it, then."

"Yes, but I wasn't going to tell you to stop." Hakkai seemed superbly unperturbed, he even smiled. "Just...be careful that nothing catches on fire, it'd be rather troublesome."

"Oh."

"Now come on, we're already late for dinner."