Chapter 7

Don't go to sleep.

Right.

Sanzo had told him that.

Sanzo had also told him "Talk."

Had even acknowledged the chosen topic.

But it seemed that Sanzo had also drawn a clear line between 'talking' and 'discussing'—and, within that limit, Hakkai could apparently mumble to his heart's content as long as the words kept coming.

It did not mean that Sanzo was going to listen to him.

The image of an outraged Goku screaming "Not fair!" popped up into his mind. Because whatever was said here would make no difference in the end.

Not fair. At all.

Too tired and too ill to find a rational solution to break their impasse, Hakkai opted for silence. If Sanzo wanted a 'talk,' he would have to hold up his part in the conversation.

When Sanzo eventually let out a vicious curse, Hakkai almost smiled. Yes, he did not play fair either.

"Did he ask you to grovel on his behalf?" Sanzo spat.

Hakkai slowly lifted his head. Sanzo still propped him up, the fair hair now his most distinctive feature, shining whitish in the streaming moonlight. "You know, he has a name," Hakkai murmured, struggling to give his words a coherent pattern. "Can't you say it?"

"Answer me," Sanzo hissed. "Did Gojyo ask you to act as his pimp?"

Hakkai startled, and his body's involuntary jolt caused him to grimace in pain. "What?"

"You heard me."

Indeed. But it was still difficult to believe. How dare Sanzo insinuate such a thing? Hakkai tried to scramble away, wanting nothing to do with the human right now.

"Oh, no." Sanzo reached out, grabbing his shoulders. "You wanted to be a part of this, so you'll be a part of this. If you aren't too sick to poke your nose into my life, you can very well answer my question!"

"Get off of me!" A vicious shake and Hakkai gasped helplessly as white-hot pain flared. "Sanzo…"

"Yes or no," Sanzo demanded, tightening his grip. "It isn't so hard for a smart, smart guy like you. Just yes. Or. No."

"No," Hakkai moaned.

Sanzo released him, straightening back to his previous position. Hakkai slipped onto the bed and there he lay, lost in the agony that threatened to split his head into two burning halves. When the worst finally receded, he bent his legs, trying to put some distance between himself and the other occupant of the bunk. Something wet was trickling down his face; he raised a tremulous hand to brush it off, then licked his fingers, wondering at the salty taste.

Was it sweat? Tears? With a metallic hint…

"Blood," he sighed.

As always.

Sanzo said something unintelligible, bent over him again, and slapped his wrist down in another uncalled for reaction. It seemed that being locked in a darkened room with a demon slurping his own bodily fluids was too much for his sensibilities.

Hakkai huddled further into himself, angry and disappointed. He wanted to lash out—would have lashed out—if he had not sensed Sanzo's despair and concern. Concern for him. And concern for him. For Gojyo.

"Sanzo?" he rasped, his blurring eye on the window.

"What?"

"I want to hurt, really hurt you right now."

"Yeah, well; get to the end of the line," Sanzo replied in a low, neutral tone. "You okay?"

With the lingering taste of tears and blood in his mouth, Hakkai merely snorted.

"My business with Gojyo," Sanzo muttered, after an awkward pause, "is my business with Gojyo. It has nothing to do with you."

Hakkai shifted his position on the bunk, still watching the window coming in and out of focus. "Your 'business' with Gojyo has endangered us all," he slurred. It was not intended as an accusation, but ended up sounding like one. And this was neither the time nor the place to have such a discussion. Not with so much at risk and his being barely able to think.

"And that's why I'm going to put an end to that shit as soon as I can," Sanzo retorted.

On the other hand … when and where else would he and Sanzo be free to open up with each other like this? Both of them were too tired to care about losing face. And in the morning, he could feign he had been too ill to know better, and Sanzo could pretend that he was only obliging a delirious teammate. "Gojyo thinks you're going to send him away," he murmured, deciding to go the entire way.

"I thought you weren't having this conversation as his spokesman?" Sanzo did not bother to hide his resentment this time.

"I'm not. As a friend, I'm worried."

"And as the leader of our fucking group, I will do what is best for the mission. Not that I have to justify myself to you."

"Keep on hurting him and you will."

"Are you threatening me, youkai?" The cold voice dripped contempt.

"No." Hakkai closed his eyes for a moment. "But I won't stand by anymore as you deride him. Gojyo isn't a 'whore'—"

"He's certainly doing an excellent impersonation."

"—and you have no right to treat him like dirt."

"Why should I treat him better than he treats himself?" Sanzo sneered. "He acts like a—"

"Because you know better," Hakkai said, desperately trying to gather energy to speak. "He doesn't. Not really."

"Oh, please. Let's not pay a visit to that merry land of traumatic childhoods and damaging experiences, right? We all had—have—complicated lives."

"Unique complicated lives. You can't compare—" Hakkai's dry throat choked his next words. Damn. Where had Sanzo put that basin with water again?

"Hakkai?"

"Yes, I—I'm fine. But Gojyo … isn't. You two—"

"We two? Hakkai, I fail to see why you're relating that kappa to me on such a level."

Hakkai chuckled giddily. "And that's your issue with him, right? Such a level."

"You're distorting my words."

"Am I? So explain to me why you have to make so filthy what Gojyo has offered you?"

"Did he tell you?" And there was so much anger in Sanzo's voice, so much hatred. "I can't fucking believe that!"

"He told me his version of the story. He's pretty upset—"

"Yeah, as I am," Sanzo snapped. "Besides, I'm not the one who wallows in filth. Or are you forgetting that what he has 'offered' me is also freely given to anyone who wishes to take it?"

"You said yourself … impersonation. I don't find it difficult to see through his act." The water … where was it?

"Perhaps you're the one who sees too much," Sanzo countered. "Pretty ironic, circumstances considered."

Hakkai flinched. So unlike Sanzo, this blunt low blow. But it did not matter. The basin … he had to find the basin. "Where—where did you put it? The basin, I mean." Then he remembered. Sanzo had put it on the floor. And the water was soiled. With blood.

As always.

"I can't drink that," he said dejectedly.

"Of course not," Sanzo answered, surprised. "We haven't reached the bottom of this pit, yet."

Hakkai wet his lips, blinking. The window… What had happened to the window? "Sanzo? Did you—did you close the—the shutters?" No, of course not. The window had no shutters and Sanzo had not moved from his side. Yet… "We need light," he said, his voice breaking. "I don't…" I don't like the dark!

He felt Sanzo lean forward and braced himself, expecting more pain. Sanzo was talking and touching him—very carefully, this time—but Hakkai could not make out what was being said. Then there was noise. Lots of noise. Sanzo was up, pounding and screaming at the door, demanding captains and doctors and help, among a string of furious swearing.

Despite everything, Hakkai had to smile. Though he was angry with Sanzo… He could not really be angry with Sanzo. An eternity ago, he, too, had been a lost young man in a private war against the world. Quick to hurt. Slow to forget and forgive. Yes, his former self and Sanzo had many things in common. Sadly enough, such a realization brought about another: Cho Gonou was only a detached memory now. Hakkai could look back but not fully understand the motives that had driven the desperate boy he had been once.

"Sanzo?" he rasped, suddenly sad. The noise at the door ceased at once. "I think… I think I've forgotten what it is to be human."