It's nine-thirty at night, the sun has set and the crickets have found their way this deep into the city. He has three cigarettes left before he starts to worry.

Not that there's anything else to worry about. It's only nine-thirty, there's no sensation of yokai being present and for once in his life things are quiet.

It's proof of neighboring rooms being empty. Likely, the remaining three are still in town doing whatever people do in town at nine-thirty at night. They're big enough to take care of themselves and they hadn't invited Sanzo along.

And Sanzo didn't want to come. He's got the local paper and enough smokes for the evening. It's also quiet enough to hear crickets.

He takes a drag and pulls over the page. There's a Sudoku on the other side and maybe he can complete it before a certain teacher comes over to point out answers or make corrections. Why the hell should he have to share his paper, after all? Goku can't even count to nine on most days, why cut up Sanzo's reading material to let him try?

It only leads to fights. Teasing and then fights. They're probably even fighting right now in front of a food stand or something.

Whatever.

Grabbing a pen for the puzzle seems like too much effort at the moment, so Sanzo turns the page again and glances at the window. If anyone were to choose to break in, it'd be easiest to use the door. The windows in this hostel are thick and the criss-crossing wood looks strong.

Exhaling a cloud, Sanzo notes that an attack still isn't likely tonight. It's just that he...

"No."

He says it to nobody at all, reminding himself that there's nobody to prove anything to at this moment. Everyone has left him alone for the night.

God, this is annoying.

If giving up his peace means gaining a better sense of security, then it's not worth it. None of them are.

It's still difficult to straighten the creases from the last page-turn since his mind won't let go. Some Zen he's ever mastered. It's also the footsteps not pounding down the hall or the door swinging open.

There's nothing but silence to conceal any cry for assistance. He's not needed right now. Not wanted. It's exactly how it should always be but...

"No," he repeats. Softer this time.

It's twenty-to-ten and a cricket has found a home braced under a hostel window.