Subete-no-motsu

Finished 8-23-08 for the saiyuki dark LJ comm.

Based on an idea I had more than a year ago. I'd been reading a series of Sanzo-Gojyo love stories archived on another site, and while I thought they were yummy, it seemed really clear--to my mind--that there was one big, nasty obstacle in the way of pairing those two characters: jealous Hakkai. Unhinged, violent and dangerous jealous Hakkai. So...

The title probably isn't real Japanese, but I meant it to mean the exact opposite of "muichimotsu"--i.e., "hold everything".

NOTE: Violent content very early in story; stop right here if you don't want to know.

They'd barely gotten a half-mile from town when Goku drew back in his seat; grimacing. "Ukh. I smell blood."

"Hn?" Gojyo glanced over in surprise. "A lot?"

"Yeah. Blood and--" Goku flushed a little. "Right over there."

Hakkai pulled over and Sanzo followed the monkey's lead. Accurate as ever: she was just off the road, half-under some creosote bushes. A swarm of flies rose up as they approached.

Sanzo circled upwind and studied the body. She'd been raped--brutally, thighs bruised and bloody, deep nail marks in her shoulders--killed with several deep stabs to the heart, and then played with some more, cloudy stripes of semen crossing the gouges and streaks of blood across her belly. (--huh. Blood and, was it? He decided he'd rather not know when Goku learned what that smells like.) The stab wounds were clean, no serration, and spaced too regularly for knife wounds. Claws: the punch of a youkai's talons could go straight through a human's ribs to the heart. But no blood in the long dark hair, and no harm to the face, not so much as a scratch…

…exactly the same…

He swore, quietly and vehemently. It irritated him when things got messy, and this was turning into one hell of a mess.

Sanzo shook his head and walked back toward the jeep, Goku falling into step beside him. "Is it like--"

"Like the last two?" He got his cigarettes out of his sleeve. "Identical."

They drove back to town, asked the innkeeper to please notify the police--and no, most sorry, they couldn't stay to perform any services--and got back onto the road, not pausing until the little settlement was out of sight..

"Ahh, that's our Sanzo, always ready to comfort the grief-stricken family." Gojyo leaned forward to light his cigarette.

"Ch." Long pull of smoke. "The grief-stricken family is probably howling for youkai blood. We're not through with this business yet."

"It is somewhat unusual, " remarked Hakkai. "People's reactions could be extreme."

He had that right, thought Sanzo. Youkai murderers weren't uncommon, and the ikkou had put down more than its share; but youkai rapists were rare, and the appearance of one whipped people into a mob rage. If this went on, no doubt they'd be prevailed upon to do something about it, one town or the next. Damn, he did hate being regarded as an agent of justice…

He could feel Gojyo watching him out of the corner of one garnet eye, still felt his skin tingling where the sly redhead's fingers had brushed it while holding the lighter. He knew what was going to happen, what had already begun to happen, and no longer felt like fighting it. It might be pointless, it might be reckless, but he had to admit it; it did make annoyances and bullshit like this fade away…

"Well," said Hakkai cheerfully, "we've lost some time; we'd best hurry if we're going to reach a town with an inn tonight. Hakuryu, if you please?" He stepped on the gas so abruptly that Gojyo and Goku were flung back into the seat.

"Sst. Gojyo."

"…hn?"

"Get back to your own bed." Impatient whisper. "I don't want to chance falling asleep with you here."

"..ah--" creak of springs--"but it's so nice to sleep this way…"

(do they really think we couldn't hear that; these walls are no better than paper…)

"Out. Now."

Deep, heartbroken sigh. "Oh, all right." Soft sounds of rummaging for clothing. "They are gonna find out, y'know."

"I suppose. All the same--"

"I know. OK, one kiss and I'm gone, I promise."

"Hmf. Tricky bast--uhmm..."

(--on the other side of the wall, thin slit of a green eye, wide awake and waiting for silence.

When silence comes, three, tiny, silvery clinks on the bedside table.)

Sanzo's been waiting in the dark almost three hours when he finally hears a step at the door. He waits three beats and snaps on the light. The youkai's pupils contract sharply and for a second it's blinded: Hakkai in his sleep clothes, long fine ears, skin traced with slim dark vines, its overall poise keen and foxlike. Clothes grimy, slashes of blood on his face and chest, the sharp nails bloody and broken. He can see the silver limiters, lined up neatly on the bedside table.

Sanzo aims the shoureijuu. "So, where is she?"

"What?"

"The fourth girl. Where'd you leave her? The steps? The back seat?"

"Fifth actually. And nowhere so obvious, though I might have had to if you hadn't caught on." He realizes he's never actually talked to youkai Hakkai before; its voice is like his, and not, rougher and a half-pitch deeper. "How did you catch on?"

Goku stirs and mumbles something; Sanzo says firmly, "Go back to sleep," and turns back to the youkai. "Just a little too neat. All killed just the same way, all left within walking distance of where we'd stayed the night. They even all look alike." He keeps the pistol trained on it. "I'm not asking why you did it. I'm asking why you wanted me to know."

"My, my." The green eyes look amused. "You haven't really caught on at all, have you? You've missed the most obvious clue."

"Which is?"

"That this started the same night you and Gojyo began fucking."

He spits the last word like he hates the taste of it, and Sanzo knows he must have blanched, because the youkai laughs--it sounds like broken glass shaken in a jar.

"You should see your face. It hadn't even occurred to you, had it?"

Sanzo rubs his forehead. "I don't believe this. You are not going to tell me you did this because you're jealous?"

"Yes, I'm jealous," vine-Hakkai hisses, slapping the outside door shut so hard it shakes the wall. "And I'm sick to death of being the one who has nothing."

The green eyes' glare is bitter, and he knows that note, remembers it from their audience with the Sanbutsushin; that harsh wounded tone of starvation and grievance. Of course that's why, I should have known, he tells himself: idiot, baka desu, I should have fucking known.

"If Gojyo means that much to you, you should've told him; he doesn't realize it."

"He doesn't. Either one of you would have been fine. It's just--"

--speak of. The door bangs open and there he is, shaking off sleep, barefoot in jeans and reaching out for shakujou, ready for anything but this. He stares from Sanzo to youkai Hakkai and back as if not sure he isn't still dreaming.

Sanzo tears his eyes away--damn-- and sighs peevishly. "Join the party. It seems we're the ones to blame here."

Gojyo steps into the room, lowering his hand before the weapon can appear, looking --for the first time Sanzo can remember--actually uneasy in so little clothing. Sanzo's not looking, but the youkai is all but licking him with those lambent green eyes.

"Hakkai's latest body count is apparently due to the fact that neither one of us offered to fuck him."

"--what?!" The hanyou's jaw drops, horror and guilt torn by shock. "He said that--"

"I was beginning to explain," says vine-Hakkai, "though it's difficult."

Sanzo lowers the gun a fraction of an inch. "Take your time."

It's still a standoff; no one's inclined to sit. The youkai begins to pace slowly back and forth in the space at the foot of the beds.

"For a long while, after I lost her," it says softly, "I didn't feel desire at all. But...I suppose I was healing…and I started to miss it."

(--because she loved it, could barely wait through dinner for it, we did it every night, sometimes twice a night, and one can't be expected to just forget all that, now can one--)

"But another woman was unthinkable." (It is so strange, Sanzo thinks, to hear Hakkai's calm, precise diction in this prowling creature's quiet snarl.) "I began to wonder how it would be with a man…and the only ones I could possibly trust were you. I could even say that I found you both beautiful."

It gazes at them with a look that might be comradely affection if not for the open hunger of its eyes; the dark delicate vines are like tiger's stripes.

"But there was no chance, was there? Because you only looked at women, and you didn't even like to be touched. So I saw no use in asking. Why make a fool of myself to no purpose?

" --Then that happened." He spins to glare at them, the cut-emerald eyes all pain and betrayal now. "How did that happen? What made it possible?"

Sanzo closes his eyes. "You're not going to accept this, but…it was raining."

The youkai gives a choked, frustrated hiss, and Gojyo steps forward as if to ward him off.

"Not just that--it was the day we found that burned temple, you remember." He swallows. " All those monks, or what was left of 'em--"

Sanzo couldn't forget if he tried. It was the worst youkai atrocity they'd seen in all their miles west. They'd barricaded the doors, let the place burn, then gone in and feasted. Used the sacred temple as a goddamned barbecue pit. All he could think, couldn't stop thinking, was what Shuei--Rikudo--had told him, what had befallen Kinzan Temple the night he left it…

…and that night in the inn, the rain lashing the windows, and he huddled in the blankets wishing for death, Gojyo had padded over to sit beside him…and it had just happened. And afterwards he had slept till morning with no dreams.

"All right. Once, all right. But it wasn't just once--"

Sanzo, eyes still closed, smiles very slightly. "The bastard's persistent."

"Oh, it's all my fault, is it--"

"STOP it," snaps vine-Hakkai, and again there's broken glass in the voice, stress beyond bearing, fine splintered edges. "I can't--I won't stand this--" he's shaking as he strides forward, draws back a clawed, bloody hand as if to rake Sanzo's smile off. The priest pulls back, levelling the shoureijuu --

A hand grabs the vine-traced wrist, stopping it in mid-swing.

" 'Kai, " says Gojyo, and the aching tenderness of the little nickname would stop a charging lion. The youkai checks in place, staring in surprise. " 'Kai--please--I didn't know. I swear I didn't. I thought…I really did think it would hurt you to ask." He looks so young this way, sleep-mussed hair and pleading, dark-rose eyes, his voice full of pain. "It's not that I wouldn't've...but I thought it would remind you…"

The daemon's eyes lose their glitter, and the taloned hand drops to his side. "Dear Gojyo," he says, and the soft rough texture of his voice is like velvet when he says it, "I'm sure you did. You couldn't lie about your heart if you tried."

(Like hell, you'd have been content with either of us, thinks Sanzo.)

"Stop doing this," Gojyo begs him. "Please stop."

"If you two will stop." The moment's over; he faces them squarely, feet planted, adamant. "Swear you'll never touch each other again, and this is over."

"I think," cuts in Sanzo, "that this is where we discuss why your solution to everything is still to start killing people."

"No." All that banked pain and fury, in a single syllable. "Not this time. This is where we decide that it's time you gave up something."

It's so unbelievable that Sanzo actually laughs. "Gave up something--" as if he has, ever has had, anything to lose--

"Hakkai--" Gojyo reaches out again, but this time the youkai steps aside.

"Don't." Rejecting his touch, head turned away. "I know--I do know you've suffered--but you don't, you can't know how I feel." Deep breath; the weight of pain is tangible, terrible, a sharp-edged weight in its chest. They can feel the catch when it breathes. "It's as if you were sawed in half and still had to get up and walk. The next day, and all the days after. You have no idea."

"And that's still your excuse?" demands Sanzo. "The one who's suffered the most gets to do whatever he wants? Shall we all just stack up our rotten lives and decide here and now?"

"I'm not playing your game. Stop, or girls die. Period."

Gojyo chokes, buries his face in one hand. Sanzo studies the youkai's set, implacable face.

"I ought to shoot you, but I don't know what I'd tell the Sanbutsushin." He lowers the gun. "All right. It doesn't solve anything, but all right. It wasn't going to last anyway."

"Not you. It's too easy for you." And the youkai's gaze is like a gun itself, trained on Gojyo. "He has to say it."

"Hakkai--"

"Let me ask you one thing," says Sanzo. "Do you ever wonder why your girl killed herself?"

"I said we aren't playing your games." Vine-Hakkai's gaze does not waver from Gojyo's anguished face.

"I'll tell you what I think. I think she saw something in you that she couldn't live with."

The sharp-eared head turns at that. "In me? But she said--"

"I know what she said. But I think what she saw was your heart." The steely certainty of the daemon's eyes flickers, and Sanzo's sure he's right. "A jealous heart, that would never have trusted her again."

"That's not true!" cries Hakkai. "If she'd just have gone home with me--"

"You think it would have been the same? That she'd have been fine with what you'd done?" He takes the time to get out a cigarette and light it, letting the words sink in, then looks straight into his eyes. "You're sure you would never have doubted her story? Never wondered what happened to her in that castle? Never asked yourself whether she'd liked it?"

Youkai-Hakkai glares at him in helpless, immobile anger, but can't utter a sound.

Sanzo exhales a long breath of smoke. "I wouldn't be surprised if you'd ended up killing her yourself."

In the silence the youkai lifts its hands, studies the long bloody nails.

(A jealous heart…)

"Tell me where she is, 'Kai," says Gojyo quietly, "and I'll go bury her. No one has to know."

A silence so long they think the sun will rise before he speaks.

"…..about a quarter-mile south. There's a brook and a willow tree. Wild roses…"

"Roses. Got it." He heads for the door.

"I don't deserve the sash," says Hakkai, and he sounds like Hakkai even with the cuffs still off. "I haven't learned a thing."

Sanzo sits down on the bed, takes another long drag. "That's why you do deserve it. Those who think they're learning seldom are."

The youkai looks at him: vines, claws, long tapered ears; intelligent, rueful eyes in a face striped with blood. "You really are determined to save me, aren't you?"

Sanzo sighs and stubs out the cigarette. "All I'm determined to do is be out of here by 10 AM. So go get some sleep."

They can see it from the road as they drive past, just for an instant, under the willow tree. A low mound heaped with roses.

Goku sees it, and glances at Hakkai and at Gojyo, who's licking a scratch on his hand, but no one says anything. The silver earcuffs are extra shiny today, the way they get when they're handled. He smelled Hakkai on that dead girl yesterday, but he didn't tell Sanzo, thinking he'd figure that out himself. Seems like he did; the only smell now is roses.

They follow the road along the brook, headed west.