Bad Company

.

Summary: Constantly on high alert, Genjo Sanzo, the egotistic president of Kinzan Publishing Co., had always derided the threats made on his life. Like hell he cared about that. Putting Son Goku, his ever-optimistic, ever-dogging assistant, in said harm's way, however, caused the pompous man to seek and spill blood for the first time in his solitary life.

.

A/N: Remember Yōu from episode one in Gensomaden? That cute little acolyte that practically worshipped Sanzo before he realized what a foul-mouthed monk Sanzo was? Yeah, that's Youmei—literally means "young child". I gave him that nickname because it would be hard to differentiate his name, Yōu, from the word "you", hence, the little nickname. Kind of like how Koumyou used to be Houmei, huh?

.

When Sanzo had stared at the picture Goku had taken from Dougan's apartment months ago, he knew it was going to be an unwanted pain in the neck.

Unending calls from the press urging Sanzo to talk about the incident at the bridge, anonymous mails from fans of Kinzan books sending their support, anonymous mails from who-knows-where sending their hate, Shien calling him for another trial for his innocence—

Sanzo had smoked his problems away, save for the times when he noticed Goku glaring at him from across the room. The only good that had come out of the entire thing was Kinzan had gained more publicity than ever. New throngs of writers have flocked to the publishing house, often telling the agents that they have gained inspiration from the heroic deeds that Sanzo and his assistant have done, and have opted to write their experience in novel form. The president threw the burdens at his staff, most of them to Homura, just to see the guy twitch in reluctant agreement.

Trusting no one but a select few from his own, Sanzo, his assistant, and his bodyguard have searched high and low for coffee shops in the districts surrounding Kinzan and Houtou, hoping to get a lead on where they supposed Dougan had worked. Some of the shop owners have told them that they have hired no such person as Go Dougan.

The three of them even went as far as returning to the strip club where they first saw Dougan talking with Ukoku—much to Sanzo's vehement disgust at Gojyo's prodding—only to find that they have never seen clients that looked like Dougan and Ukoku.

And that was when Sanzo thought something was amiss.

The blond did a search of his own, and found out that Dougan was being searched by people other than him, Goku, and Gojyo, months before Dougan had disappeared. The owners have described the person looking for Dougan as 'some guy with black hair and glasses and with clothes that stank like a three-day-old pack of cigs'.

Sanzo hauled Goku and Gojyo to come with him on a reluctant journey with Kanzeon and her constantly agitated aide—knowing quite well that he needed her knowledge and her vast connections when it came to investigating potential threats to the company.

They exchanged theories about Dougan's eventual breakdown, and the suspicious bugs found on his coat, and the president and the vice president concluded that they were Houtou's devices. They also shared opinions on how and why Dougan snapped—and it all fell to nothing when Sanzo couldn't come up with a decent conclusion until he heard Goku telling Kanzeon about the picture he found in Dougan's room—

Sanzo paled, and ran his hand through his hair, groaning as he ignored the conversation in the car. Suppressing a sigh, he rested his elbow on the sill, and tapped his index to his lips. Sanzo knew about Ukoku having suspicions on Dougan prior to him getting into Houtou. Although, what were the chances that Ukoku might be watching from the sidelines? What if Dougan had been used? Sanzo knew how weak Dougan's mentality could be at times, and that could be one reason he got brainwashed—

There was also the matter of the rise in killings in the districts after Dougan's disappearance. Chances were high that his ex-employee survived and was probably killing people as they sniffed around for clues—either that, or it was that time when The Security reached its peak this month, and people were out to kill to retain their position in Houtou.

But what was it that attracted people to that vile place?

Sanzo let out a sigh as he glared at the trees they passed by, frowning upon seeing a big, red sign on a wall that said, 'For Sale'.

Sanzo bit his inner cheek, and his eyes narrowed.

A faint thump landed on his left shoulder, and Sanzo craned his neck to see Goku leaning on him, the boy's genial disposition currently simmered as he dozed off on the blond with his mouth partly opened.

Sighing and clicking his tongue, Sanzo tapped Goku's chin close with his fingertip, and bit back the smallest ghost of a smile. Burying his hand in the lush mop of brown locks, the long, pale fingers peregrinated to the sleeping male's temple and ear. The digits splayed on the warm scalp, the thumb whispering warmth on the flushed cheek. Sanzo patted Goku's head one more time before looking out of the window again, ignoring the watchful stares from his aunt and his bodyguard.

Jiroushin, however, cleared his throat as he looked at Sanzo's averted gaze through the rearview mirror. He raised his index, his mouth parted to speak, when a manicured nail poked at Jiroushin as soon as he craned his head around. The old man pursed his lips at his mistress, who winked and wagged a finger at him as she held another finger to her lips. Jiroushin took in a withheld sigh, and looked back at the road as Gojyo made a turn at a corner, whistling all the while.

Kanzeon didn't fail to notice the muffled chuckles from the driver seat, where Gojyo's shoulders jerked as he grinned. She glanced at her nephew, and smiled when she saw his left hand draped on Goku's right palm, the latter still unaware in his sleep. "Konzen, dear?"

The blond hummed in response, but did not look at her, and Kanzeon surmised her nephew's mercurial mood was at a current calm, judging by his lack of bite upon being called by his hated nickname.

"Have you been feeding Goku properly? He looks rather glum lately, I can tell, even if he's smiling." Kanzeon glanced at the sleeping teen, and she frowned, "Give yourselves time to rest when you can. Can't have you running the house looking like a raccoon." And she grinned behind red-painted nails, "Your eyes will get droopier."

"Bah, look who's talking," Sanzo snorted, and he looked at his smug aunt. "What? If you're talking about Goku, he's doing fine. With all the shit in Kinzan, we've been getting less sleep. He keeps coming at 4am to do paperwork even when I told him not to."

"Why? He's your assistant. Why keep him from his work?"

He clicked his tongue, brows furrowing as he looked away, "Who on earth barges inside rooms at 4am when work starts at eight?" His lip curled into a snarl, almost bristling when he saw Gojyo grin through the wing mirror, "Stop leering, lecher!"

"Fine, you're concerned about his being. But you do feed him, yes?" came Kanzeon's question laced with mirth. She observed his scoffs, and twirled a lock of her black hair around her finger, her lips jutting in a playful pout, "I didn't give my child to you just so you can starve him."

Sanzo turned to his aunt with renewed ire, "Last time I checked, you didn't give birth to anyone—you gave Goku to me out of your own volition. Also, why are you nosy?"

Kanzeon gave her nephew a tightlipped smile, her violet eyes drifting to Goku's necklace for a moment too long, before looking back at her flustered nephew.

"No reason," she said, shrugging. "Goku had been sick for almost half of the winter season, you know how it happens every year. I was worried if you've been taking care of my child properly."

"Like I said, when did you give birth to him...? Tsk—to answer your question, he's been chowing down my food supply like no tomorrow. Besides, he wouldn't be here if I didn't take care of him." Sanzo's eye twitched as he noticed his aunt's silent smile, and looked away, not before tightening his hold on Goku's palm.

"How about his necklace, is he taking care of it? It was supposed to be yours, you know. But he doesn't know that." She smiled and waved her hand with a shrug, to which Sanzo frowned. "Oh, Homura never told you?"

"No," he grumbled with a dismissive snort, shifting on his seat as he looked away, "well, he might have. Maybe I cut him off without me knowing. Wait. What the fuck did that even change?"

Kanzeon giggled, its sound a quiet whisper of irritation grating on Sanzo's ears, "Maybe nothing changed. Or maybe everything changed. Take it as you will. Now, now, Konzen. Don't look at me like that."

Despite her words, Sanzo harrumphed and glared at her, snorting when she laughed.

All the while, Kanzeon's gaze remained at Sanzo's hand clasped onto Goku's.

"Maybe something did change," she whispered behind her hand, smiling as Sanzo looked away with a faint blush on his cheeks, mumbling all the while.

"Stupid, cryptic hag."

She laughed, and gazed at her favorite child and her nephew with half-lidded eyes.

.

Kanzeon sat in her office, smiling as she downed a cup of sake. The cool, spring air bit her tendrils of hair, tickling her nape as she suppressed a giggle while looking at her monitor.

"Found something funny?" Sanzo asked, not looking up from the book he was reading. The shelves in Kanzeon's office were filled to the brim with informational books, as they have always been. It was a stark contrast to the sole shelf Sanzo had back in his apartment. He heard the sound of a mouse clicking in succession, and he gave her a sidelong glance through his glasses. "Is it something I'm not supposed to see?"

She looked up from her monitor, then back at the screen, and giggled. "Probably," she let out in between muffled laughter, and when he fully turned to glare at her, she guffawed. "Oh, pish-posh, it was nothing!" She clicked her mouse one last time, released it, and smiled sweetly at her suspicious nephew. "Never mind me, Konzen. How's our guest doing?"

"He's in your parlor, playing games with the monkey and the undine. What more do you want to know?"

"Oh, anything, I say," she said, waving her hand off, her stacked bracelets clinking against her wrist. "He's been good during his whole stay with us. But now, I need him to be useful."

"I'm working on that as we speak," Sanzo replied as he closed the book and placed it back on the shelf. He plucked another book, one that caught his eye, and opened the first page, "I didn't bring him here on a whim, you know."

Kanzeon hummed, and took out a file of documents from her desk drawer, "Here, Konzen. I'll give this to you. Hakkai had a hard time trying to contact any of her family, but..."

"No one came to identify her, and we had to get authorities dig through her bloody car because it was a fucking crime scene," he harrumphed, and slammed the book shut. Going over to where the folder laid, Sanzo's brows furrowed, a question forming on his lips as he pointed at the documents. "What good will that do to me?"

"It might come in handy someday. Our subordinate killed a completely innocent person—a woman. And I know you well, you hate seeing innocent people killed—especially women."

She watched as Sanzo gritted his teeth and growled at her, and she laughed off his well-placed ire, opting not to say anything about the matter.

"I want to see Dougan behind bars. Either that, or to see my nails buried in his neck for shaming Kinzan. He took files from Houtou, that I assure you. And he took them with him to where he jumped off that bridge. If those were the files which had the list of names we have been trying to get our hands on, then I'm afraid I have to claw it out from his body if I ever see him. If not, then I'll make him pay for what he did, and then claw his stupid brain out of his body."

"Well, aren't you merciless."

"Hah, I'm far from that, Konzen, dear. Very, very far from that."

.

In the parlor, Goku sat on the floor with Gojyo and Zakuro, all of them looking at blueprints lying in front of them. Zakuro bent over the blueprints with a red pen in hand, and scribbled words on the labeled rooms on the plans. By the doorway stood Jiroushin, looking over them in silence.

Along with Sanzo's orders and pulling strings on his own, Gojyo had managed to get specific blueprints from a man who squealed. When Zakuro declared the blueprints new and authentic, Gojyo had reported to Sanzo, and the president, in turn, made Gojyo and Goku guard over Zakuro during their stay in Kanzeon's mansion.

Zakuro encircled and drew arrows and made notes on some of the rooms. On some rooms, he drew a cross over them, and made further notes. Goku, meanwhile, recorded everything with much stealth on his phone, his hand remaining steady on his left knee as he chatted with Zakuro in his usual cheer. Gojyo, too, tried to be stealthy, with taking notes on his own, although failing miserably, from Goku's observation. Gojyo had his right arm behind him, his hand holding a small pencil, and made notes on a piece of paper stuck under his feet. He twiddled his toes, trying to get some circulation back on his legs, but to no avail.

Goku noted the discomfort on Gojyo's face, but made no comment on it. He himself couldn't move from where he sat, taking his filming as a current priority.

And when Zakuro leaned back and stretched his arms overhead, he deemed it done—and a fumbling Goku and a suffering Gojyo finally breathed a sigh of relief. Goku stopped recording, and Gojyo stopped taking notes behind his back.

"So, you're sure that all of that is accurate? You're not lying to us?" Goku quizzed Zakuro, his usual cheer buried under the guise of a stern façade. Zakuro looked somehow offended, pouting and putting his hands on his hips as he huffed.

"Of course, I'm not lying. Why would I lie? I told you before, boy. I want to see Houtou in ashes for what they've done to me."

"Still, man," Gojyo began, his hands fumbling behind his back as he shoved the pencil and paper inside his back pocket, "ya gotta admit, if our ol' Homura had simply thrown you out of our premises, you would've been dead by now."

"I would be, wouldn't I," Zakuro whispered, bowing his head as he blankly stared at the blueprints. "But even so, I want them to pay me back. Never mind the house that they gave me when I got into Houtou, I just want—"

Gojyo shook his feet as he crossed his legs, and he held out his palm at Zakuro's words, "Whoa, wait, wait, wait. Houtou gave you a house? A real, fucking, house?"

Zakuro blinked and tilted his head, and he nodded, "Ah, yes, they did—it's actually a secret from people outside the company, but Houtou gives you a house if you work with them. They wouldn't tell you that when you applied to them, though."

"What type of work?" Gojyo and Goku said in unison, cutting off and startling Zakuro at the same time.

Straightening his back and heaving a deep breath, Zakuro gulped, "By work, I mean the Security work. Starting on the day when you accepted the key to the modest house that they gave you, you have to protect it at any cost, along with a written agreement that you'll never say anything about the property to anyone else. Tell anyone about it, and you're dead. Try to get away from Houtou after acquiring the house, and you're dead. Accepting it is the only option. Soon, you'll get to have 'permission' to take your co-worker's life, and you get to have the house that Houtou gave to them, as well. After that, you'll get the option to keep the house and its property or sell it. Most people would sell it and take the money as their own and have their own house renovated—like I did—but some keep it as a second house, which then becomes a problem. Because no one would supervise it on a regular basis."

Gojyo and Goku looked at each other, and then—

"Why would that be a problem?" Goku asked, his thumb now back on recording their conversation.

"If no one supervises the second house, some people from Houtou might break in and stay there until the owner returns, to where everything becomes bloody. And if the one who broke in was a civilian? Then you get... paid—because you killed. But you won't get the victim's property, of course. Houtou covers it up as an accident, a justified defense. How? I never knew. And then after some time, Houtou will blackmail the employee who killed. A bounty will be placed on the employee's head without the employee knowing it, only the others within the company will know of it. If—if the employee gets killed by another one from Houtou, then the bounty, along with the properties the employee had, will be transferred to the one who killed said employee."

Silence fell in the room, not even Jiroushin moved from where he stood, and simply stared at the back of Zakuro's head, the old man's mouth hanging open at the tanned blond's words. Gojyo's shoulders tensed, his eyes staring at Zakuro's solemn countenance, searching for any hint that his words might—

"That's a joke, right? That… that's fucking messed up. What the fuck."

Goku, however, stopped recording on his phone once more, his expression the epitome of calm and level-headedness, a rare sight even to Gojyo.

The door to the living room opened, and in came Sanzo looking grim, his purple eyes glaring straight at Zakuro. "So I'm right. Houtou runs on blackmail and a sick version of carrot-and-stick. Don't look fucking surprised, Zakuro. I've been listening the whole damn time." He took out a smoke, waving a flippant hand to where a peeved Kanzeon stood beside a sputtering Jiroushin, and this time, even Goku let it slide. Sanzo sat on a plush chair behind Goku, his legs crossed, and pointed his cigarette at Zakuro.

"I'll take your words as a confession. Now tell me—do you know the location where Houtou and Godworks keep their list of the victims' names?"

.

"No."

"Come on, Sanzo! I have done this before in Godworks, let me do it!"

"No."

"Well, why the fuck not!?"

Sanzo rolled his eyes and sighed, and turned around to look at Goku, huffing his reddened cheeks as he tried and failed to glare down at the taller man. "Because, stupid imp, Godworks is on a fucking different level than Houtou. You're not doing it. I'll find someone else to do it." His eyes roamed around the streets, checking to see if anyone tried listen in on them, and noticed no one. He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Goku stomping his way down, following the blond.

Clutching onto the man's coat, Goku pouted, "You did that once, and look what happened! Sanzo, I need you to let me do this!"

"Goku, we're not having this conversation in the middle of the fucking street where people can fucking hear us." Sanzo walked faster, clicking his tongue when he heard the hurried steps and the ceaseless whines from behind.

He heard the heavy stomping, the familiar grumbling, Goku's muffled voice bubbling behind scrunched lips, its sound like that of a kettle about to burst with the restless, drawn out whistling—

"Sanzo, you big, stupid, stupid jerk! At least tell me why you won't let me do my job of assisting you like I'm supposed to do! I want to help you, you stupid boss! Don't clam up on me like how I—mmph!"

Sanzo whipped around—red-faced—and slapped Goku's mouth shut with his hand, his face mere inches from the startled brunet. "Oh, you sly little shit," he began, his right eye twitching as he placed his forehead to Goku's, "trying to pull that on me when we're in fucking public? Didn't I just tell you—we're not having this conversation in the middle of the fucking street. Do you understand what I mean?"

Goku's wide eyes searched Sanzo's intently, his breathing ragged from his outburst. Sanzo didn't remove his hand from Goku's mouth until the teen's shoulders sagged, and he nodded quickly.

The blond pulled back, glared down at the blinking teen, and finally removed his hand from Goku's mouth, only to see the smaller man grinning up at him, his previous bout of ire now gone.

"So, when will you tell me? Huh? Huh?" Goku was back to his jovial self, his bright eyes widening and his feet bouncing as he scooted over to Sanzo, standing on his tiptoes and nuzzling his hair to Sanzo's chin as the latter gritted his teeth.

"Probably when we're back at home. Come on." Sanzo sighed and turned away, and hummed when he heard the smaller man running up to him. Feeling brave, Goku bit his lip, and linked their arms as closely as they walked.

Sanzo said nothing, and Goku grinned, his eyes scanning all the bakeries and restaurants and the people they passed by. "You know, a few months ago, you would have flipped out if I did this," he muttered, glancing up at Sanzo's stoic face every now and then. The blond didn't look at him, but Goku saw the minute jutting of lower lip as the blond idly looked at the busy streets.

"Stop bringing up the past, idiot."

Goku chortled behind his hand, and said nothing more. Often, he'd find himself nudging his head to Sanzo's shoulder, to which the latter ignored aside from muttered grunts. When they returned to Kinzan, they were met with three trucks parked in front of the building, with men in blue jackets and blue caps bringing in carts of boxes.

"Delivery today, huh," Goku mumbled, bowing slightly to one of the men he passed by. "Sorry for the trouble," he said to one of the delivery men, and the man tipped his head and bowed. Goku glanced back at Sanzo, where the blond spared the delivery men a nod as a quiet commendation. Taking the elevator, they talked in hushed tones as Goku pushed the 'close' button.

One delivery man pulling on a cart of boxes hollered at Goku to stop the elevator, and when he did, the man pushed the trolley and excused himself, apologizing as he placed the cart inside. Goku smiled, and faced the elevator doors with his hands behind his back as he kept Sanzo behind him.

They remained silent for the ride, with Sanzo and Goku looking at their reflections, and with the delivery man fiddling with a piece of paper.

"Excuse me—sorry to bother you, sir, but where is the Sales Department?" The man looked at Goku as he wiped the sweat from his jaw, gulping when the two men looked at him. "Um—"

"Twenty-first floor. Which division are you going to deliver that to?" came Sanzo's curt reply, eyeing the man with his usual suspicion.

"N-National Account Managing, si—"

"Twenty-first floor, the second door you see as soon as you exit this elevator."

The delivery man said his thanks, and muttered Sanzo's words in undertone. When he reached his destination, he pushed on the carts and got off, bidding the men goodbye.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Goku's smile turned into a sly grin as he nudged Sanzo's arm. "That was a first. You offering help to someone."

"Fuck off. I do that all the time."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do. You mooch off me all the time, barge in my room all the time—you don't hear me complaining."

"But, Sanzo, you just did. Now, only if you just allow me to go, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Sanzo glared down at a beaming Goku, and their daily banter began, even as they reached the 23rd floor and saw people on the way. The people bowed and greeted them, and among them was the new addition to Kinzan, Yōu, or as the president called him—Youmei.

Youmei greeted the president and his feisty assistant, albeit the two of them ignored him in favor of throwing banters at each other's faces as they walked by. "Are they always like that?" Youmei wondered out loud to some of the gaggle of women ogling at the president and his assistant. One of the women nodded, and Youmei glanced at how physically close they were, with their arms almost glued to each other. "Isn't that the president's room, though? Why is Mr. Goku the one opening the door?"

One of the women smiled at Youmei, "The president's PA always has complete access to the president's room—it's one of the rules here since the company started decades ago. Kinzan's presidents have always been lenient on their assistants, too, and President Genjo is no different."

"Ah, and even if President Genjo is like that," one woman leaned to Youmei, glancing at where Sanzo and Goku have disappeared to, "he has his soft side, too. It's just not that obvious. Plus, Mr. Goku also gets to have the job we all want."

"Oh? What is it?" Youmei asked, smiling at her seniors.

The women giggled to themselves before one of them bit back her grin and waved a finger at Youmei's nose, "He gets to be with the president all day, everyday—even when there's no work day. Sure it's inevitable that they see each other, gentry like us live here, after all. But if look at them and tell me you don't notice anything between them, I wouldn't believe you."

"Every senior around here knew that when Mr. Goku was an intern here, he got under President Genjo's skin, and yet, he wasn't kicked out. That's when their daily squabbles started. How Mr. Goku remained in Kinzan, we only assume it's because he can stand up to the president and insult him on his face."

"Plus, Mr. Goku is cute. And the president likes him back. They're pretty much a cat-and-dog pair since they met, but they always manage to pull through."

Youmei blinked, surprised at the information. He let out a single, breathless squeak as a reply, before a crash came heading to his way, the sound of cardboards and falling books tumbling against the unsuspecting young man.

.

Inside Sanzo's apartment, Tama ate on her bowl of food with her tail swishing in slow waves, aware but ignoring her owners' escalating conversation on the dining table. Sanzo and Goku have been talking for some time now, with Sanzo trying hard not to lash out much at the younger man, and with Goku trying hard not to whine and plead for Sanzo to let him in for a task.

Sanzo talked about the option of failing again, deciding to find another person suitable for the job of taking the list instead, a method that Goku was too adamant to refuse to take, telling Sanzo that—

"Sanzo, I've been asking you for days! Why can't you just let me do it?"

"And if you end up like Dougan? What, then? I'm not thrilled at the fucking idea of me dragging your body from a sewer because of a fuck up."

"Sanzo, I'm telling you I won't fuck up!"

"No, I won't allow it."

"Sanzo!"

The scraping of chair's legs against the floor startled the cat, and it wrapped its tail around itself as it ate, its ears twitching for any further sign of disturbance.

"I won't have it," Sanzo hissed, his jaw tense as he walked over to where Goku sat. Crouching beside him, he winced when he noticed the bright, golden eyes were near tears from all the quarrels they have had since leaving Kanzeon's residence a week ago. Gritting his teeth, Sanzo dug his hands in Goku's shoulders, forcing the teen to face him through angry, would-be tears. "I can't," he whispered through ragged breaths, his voice raspy and weary from all the yelling, and he felt Goku's shoulders shake, and he was sure that the boy would cry.

"You're… scared, aren't you? That I might not get away from them alive?" Goku's words were silent as he pulled Sanzo's hands away from his shoulders and held them close to his cheek. Sanzo's cold gaze turned away from the warm stare, his lips curling from words he bit back—and Goku held his hands tighter until Sanzo looked at him again with reluctance. "Tell me, Sanzo—you fear for my life, don't you? Is that why you won't let me? Sanzo, please. Tell me."

The urgency in Goku's quiet request didn't budge Sanzo to speak, but instead, the blond closed his eyes and swallowed a lump in his throat. All the while, Goku noticed the growing coldness on Sanzo's hands, and he rubbed them together on repeat, placing them on his lips when they were warm enough. When Sanzo finally opened his eyes, he saw Goku frowning at him, the tears that have been welling up from the corners of his eyes now dried as he held Sanzo's hands in his.

"I know you well, Sanzo. You have been nothing but kind to me my whole life. I know you're being kind to me now by not allowing me to go to Houtou, but… if I can't go there, who will? If we can't have evidence, then how can we help the very people that we've been trying to help with Kinzan for all these years?"

"Goku, I can't—"

"You won't. I know. You won't sacrifice me, not after what happened," Goku said with a small smile. He sighed, and wrapped his arms around the agitated man's neck, cradling Sanzo close to his chest. "But what else can we do, Sanzo? It's either we attack them, or they attack us."

"I'll think of another way, then," Sanzo said in a quiet voice, the words muffled against the crook of Goku's neck, frowning at the feel of the cold gold biting his forehead. "I'll think of another way," he repeated, his words a reassurance more to himself than to Goku.

Feeling the embrace tighten around his shoulders and the familiar fingers thread through his hair, Sanzo closed his eyes shut, and wrapped his arms around Goku's waist, thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was another way to get out of the mess they have been in for a long time.

They reconciled that night, with Goku lying on the bed, laughing and crying as he hugged Sanzo until the latter snorted and grunted his words away, choosing to let his actions speak as he held him tight, and buried himself inside Goku, his fingers clawing onto the edges of the mattress, his teeth gritting in response to the nails digging onto his scarred back, his brows furrowing as the warmth beneath him moved with his own. And Goku finally allowed his tears to fall as his mouth fell open and his head fell back, exposing his neck for Sanzo to pepper it with bites and licks and hot breath fanning over the heated skin. Hands quivered as they wove their way to tangled, damp locks. Lips trembled as they sought for each other's heat, their dampened lashes trailing butterfly kisses along their skin, their teeth nipping on the sensitive ridges of their ears—

Whispered pants crept to their lips, with Sanzo's breathless gasps and Goku's choked cries bouncing off from the walls. Their mouths met in a silent, hungry kiss—the tongues sliding along with their muffled groans and suppressed whimpers. When they pulled away, their eyes met for the briefest of moments, and they reeled themselves back into their deepening kisses and escalating thrusts, refusing to stop even if their shuddering hearts begged them to.

Sanzo returned and released his white-knuckled grip from the edge of the mattress, and buried his hand in Goku's hair, wrapping the other around the undulating hips below him. His face fell on the pillow, muffling his stuttered gasps as he swallowed the saliva pooling from his mouth, and hissed with every lunge, making Goku emit a string of garbled cries and incoherent words—each syllable of pain-riddled pleasure from Goku inciting Sanzo to go even deeper—

Their mouths fell into a silent cry, their toes curling and their bodies stuttering to a halt as they came in unison—and only when it was over did Sanzo try to move, only for Goku to stop him with a sated smile as trembling hands met Sanzo's flushed and damp cheeks.

"Don't move just yet," he said in a quiet voice, gazing up at the blond's breathless form as he moved Sanzo's stray hairs from his brow, "I want to feel you more."

Sanzo grunted, blinked away the sweat from his lashes, and gave Goku a tired smile before kissing him on the forehead. Holding him tight, Sanzo stayed on top of Goku as long as the brunet wanted to.

They fell asleep soon after Goku had struggled to put decent covers on themselves, and when they have drifted off to rest, a curious Tama entered the room, looking around as she snuck in and jumped at the bottom of the bed, curling up and joining in on her owners' peaceful sleep.

.

Sanzo tried to shrug off the silence hanging over his apartment the following Sunday morning. Goku had left minutes ago to meet up with Youmei about 'something important', or so he said. They were supposed to meet up at the cake shop Sanzo had frequented with Goku. The blond had requested—demanded—for a cake, one that Goku was too happy to oblige. A blueberry cheesecake should do the trick of relieving his back pain as he hunched over his paperwork.

Behind him, Tama lounged on the bed, pawing at the blankets every few seconds. He didn't mind the mild scuffle, but when he heard the sound of claws on the headboard, he had to look behind him to see in the bed was still intact. Sighing, he returned to his work, double-checking to see that Goku's share of work was impeccable—save for the sloppy handwriting scribbled on some of the white spaces on the paper—and once satisfied, Sanzo studied them all for the final time before typing everything on his laptop, trying to ignore the seemingly loud ticking of the bedside clock.

The hours seemed longer, and the air seemed quieter and heavier when his pet was out and away.

Clicking his tongue, Sanzo creaked his neck every now and then, moving around only when he needed to take a drink or to go to the bathroom. When noon rolled by, Sanzo was about to start on a new set of document-writing on his laptop when he heard the front door open, along with the familiar voice filled with joy.

Hearing the happiness in Goku's voice made Sanzo lean back on his chair and sigh in relief. Gone was its tone filled with anger and sadness that filled Sanzo's mind for the past few days.

That voice should always remain cheerful, he mused with a hum.

Just like that, the air suddenly felt lighter, less stifling than the hours he spent typing away on his work.

He heard his name being called without fail, and Sanzo didn't respond as he closed his eyes. He'd hear that ceaseless voice again, awakening him even if he didn't want to be disturbed. Sanzo figured—it had to be that way—

—to keep himself from going insane.

"There you are! I've got the cake! You haven't stood up since I left, haven't you."

"Wrong, stupid," Sanzo huffed as he took a gulp of a cup of tea. Goku shrugged, and went over to the blond, hugging him from behind.

"Take a rest, you need it," Goku suggested, pulling Sanzo's hands away from the keyboard, only for the latter to return them immediately. He pouted at the stubborn blond, yet grinned when he noticed Sanzo fighting back a snort through tensed jaws. "Guess what," Goku started, kissing Sanzo on the temple and lowering his voice as he tightened his hug around the man's shoulders, "I won't be asking that question anymore if you really don't want me to."

Goku failed to see Sanzo's lips twitch in a small smile as he ruffled the mussed up, brown locks. The brunet buried his face on the pale neck and smiled through sniffles—

"Let's not fight like that anymore. It hurts my throat. And it feels like my insides were being squeezed."

Sanzo didn't say anything, but kept scratching lightly at Goku's hair. When he did reply in a form of a quiet hum, he sighed, and stared blankly at his computer screen, "Can't say we won't." Pecking him on the temple, he huffed, "You're stubborn."

"But you're stubborn, too," Goku retorted with a pout, grinning only when he was given a sidelong glance from those purple eyes. "I like all of you, though—so I can't be completely angry at you for a long time."

Sanzo's snort tickled Goku's arm, and he gave him a small smile, "Is that so? In that case, where's my cake?"

Goku laughed, and led Sanzo into the kitchen where they ate their food. In between forkfuls of cake and sips of tea, they talked, and Goku told Sanzo about how Youmei have had trouble with finding his keycard after they had seen him yesterday afternoon. Youmei had, according to Goku, stayed over with one of the male editors for the night.

"I told him that he can get a temporary key from the reception until a replacement is made, so I guess he'd be getting a temp key for three days until he gets a new keycard. Downside is, he'd always go to the reception to give up the key if he wanted to leave the premises for a few hours, and only get it back when he returns. Kinzan's first presidents sure thought it through so the employees won't lose their keycards from sloppiness and negligence."

Sanzo slid his tongue on his upper teeth, and pondered over Goku's words as he stared at his half-empty plate, "Did he remember when he last had it after he saw us?"

Biting the tines of the fork, Goku stayed silent for a few moments, and then—

"He said after talking to the secretaries, one of the delivery men pulling on the cart of books bumped into him. Youmei and the secretaries helped the poor guy rearrange the boxes and the delivery guy went on his way."

Sanzo's eyebrow rose, and looked at Goku's scrunching face, "Oh? And what was a delivery man doing in the residence area? Did he ask?"

"No—but one of the secretaries did. Said the guy was lost. I mean, this place is huge, so it's possible—…you're suspicious of something, aren't you? I know that look."

Sipping on his tea, Sanzo looked away, and toyed with his cake, "Not suspicious, really. But you'll never know. Ah, did you remember what the guy looked like? The one who was with us in the elevator? Could be him."

Pursing his lips, Goku shook his head, "Nah, can't even remember what he looked like. You?"

"Can't remember the guy, either. But the one we saw was headed for the National Account Managing Division. The 21st and the 28th floor has a pretty huge gap to get lost to, if you ask me."

"Maybe the guy was heading for the Legal Department?"

"Feh. That's on the 20th floor, idiot. That's even farther than—besides, what business does the delivery man have with the Legal Department? Their only destination is on the Sales, and the Marketing Departments, nowhere else."

Goku chewed on the last bit of his cake, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, "Yeah—guess you're right. Ah, Sanzo. You're not eating that—I'll take it—geh! You ate it! Stingy!"

Ignoring Goku's empty threats of stealing his food, Sanzo eyed the newspaper sitting beside him as he drank the last gulp of his tea, his gaze fixated on the headline in the Business section—Expansion of Godworks Publishing House Temporarily Ceased.

"'Ceased', huh."

"Did you say something, Sanzo?"

"No," Sanzo muttered, his eyes narrowing at the overlooking photo of the publishing house, "nothing at all."

.

In order to avoid another scandal and further shame in Kinzan, Sanzo executed an order to have all employees take another mental status exam, the previous one having been taken after they were hired. When Sanzo—and mostly Goku—have read the results within a week, only then did Sanzo riddle the psychiatrist over the phone with questions—

"Are they reliable? Accurate? How sure are you that no one lied?"

And the psychiatrist's answer was always the same—the employees were all in good mental health.

Satisfied for the time being, Sanzo hung up the phone and called for a meeting for the entire staff, ordering them to keep a close watch on any suspicious and possible destructive behavior from any of their co-workers.

"Before you report your co-worker directly to me," Sanzo deadpanned as he looked at the seated crowd in front of him, narrowing his eyes at one of the employees raising his hand, "make sure that it's definitely serious, and don't report them to me because you have a shitty grudge over them for taking your lunch or your damn pen when you're not looking."

The man in the crowd lowered his hand, and chuckles from all around could be heard.

"Any more questions—? No, Odd Eyes, not you. Ah, Goujun?"

The executive editor stood up and went over to the podium, his face stern as he inched closer to the mic and faced the president, "Will you also give orders to us, sir, to capture the one that shamed Kinzan?"

The hall fell silent, and even Kanzeon, who had been talking with Jiroushin, stopped and looked at her nephew from where she sat at the front, her violet eyes reflecting amusement, her lips curling into a smile as she anticipated what Kinzan's president would say.

The crowd watched as Sanzo opened and closed his mouth, contemplating what he should reply to Goujun's blunt question. When Sanzo had returned to the podium, his reply was curt—

"No. I won't be having you chase down a man who's probably rotting under the sea. The rule is absolute—unless a direct, fatal attack on anyone residing in Kinzan occurs, we are not to hunt down anyone. And until we see a chink in Houtou's armor of concealing evidence of the killings over the years, we won't be declaring war against it."

Goujun squared his shoulders and bowed, "Yes, sir." He returned to his seat, and talked amongst his other fellow editors, and shushed them all up.

The meeting ended with a word of caution given to the employees, and when most of the people have left the hall, the few who stayed behind approached the president and bowed low before him.

"President Genjo, please give us the order to get you the list of the victims' names from our rival companies!"

Furrowing his brow, Sanzo scoffed and regarded his bowing subordinates with confusion, "Who the fuck told you that?"

"I did, Konzen. I figured you need some help after that fiasco last year."

Snarling as he turned to a smiling Kanzeon, he growled at her, "Hag, I don't care if you're my fucking aunt, consult major shit with me before you blab your mouth to anyone who's not related to the case!"

"Oh," Kanzeon started as she looked at her nails with much feigned interest, "but they are related to the case. Anyone who is a member of this company is related to the case. Since you wouldn't allow someone to take over, I figured more heads are better than one."

Glancing at Goku standing beside Gojyo, Sanzo fumed, "You asked her to tell them, didn't you?"

Blinking, Goku shook his head, his face devoid of any surprise, "No, I didn't."

"I did it by myself, Konzen, since I know how stubborn you can be," Kanzeon let out with a lilting laugh. "Give them a chance—a fresh mindset might open new possibilities for us to attack Houtou when it least expects it."

Growling, Sanzo whipped his head to his still bowing subordinates. "Raise your heads," he commanded, and they did. He noticed that they were some of the editors under Goujun's department, and also with them were Sanzo's secretaries, and the new addition to the Buddhist Fiction department, Yōu.

"And what the hell do you suppose you can do to get the list?" Sanzo snarled. He ignored the glare Goku was sending his way—Sanzo could tell his assistant was still a bit sore about the topic despite not bringing it up anymore, but Sanzo couldn't help it. His aunt had to spill out everything to unrelated people—

"We can be the president's undercover," said one of the editors. "We can even track down that traitor of a man if you want, President Genjo—"

"There would be no need for that shit," Sanzo snapped, and glared at a sighing Kanzeon. "I'm not going to lose another of my staff for a futile mission. If I can't get that damn list, then I'll find another method to capture Houtou in the act."

Tapping her forefinger on her hip, Kanzeon frowned, "Suit yourself, Konzen. But I'm telling you, that growing list is vital to our case."

Sanzo harrumphed, and stormed away from his aunt, "Goku, Gojyo!"

The assistant and the bodyguard trailed after Sanzo, leaving the editors and the vice president frowning as the president walked away.

.

Months rolled by, with Sanzo juggling work and investigation most of his days. He had tried the reasonable methods he could think of—

He had tried making the incarcerated men who had stabbed Sanzo confess about the whereabouts of the list of names, only for them to attempt to bite their tongues off—and ended up in the hospital, alive, but now without the ability to speak. A regretful Hakkai then tried to remedy it with all that he could, but all ended in vain when the men managed to assault a nurse and rummaged through her pockets—and injected their palates with large syringes filled with Pavulon, and died within hours.

Sanzo grew even more irritated when he heard the news.

He then tried making Zakuro return to Houtou with the help of a prosthetic mask, only for that idea to be shot down when Gojyo notified Sanzo about Houtou's recently installed retinal scanner before entering the building.

Running out of ideas, Sanzo mulled over a surprise infiltration, but ended up tearing at his hair when his conclusions always fell to his subordinates being used as bait and might probably end up dead.

"Fuck!"

It was times like these when Goku would stop whatever it was that he was doing around the apartment, and would attempt to lessen Sanzo's problems with food and an occasional drink. Other times, Goku would simply sit by Sanzo's legs, content on leaning his head on the pajama-clad thigh. He'd receive a harrumph here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary aside from the resigned sighs and the moments of hair ruffling he'd get.

There were also days when Hakkai, Gojyo, and even Zakuro, would drop by for a visit—often urged by Goku—so they could have a few rounds of drinks. Goku knew Sanzo needed rest, as the workload was taking its toll. With the steady rise in killings in the district—along with the police's cowardice of butting heads against the evasive and muck-raking people in Houtou and its subsidiaries—Sanzo felt a constant need to strangle someone, and Goku had to keep constant watch over his boss.

Some days, it was Kanzeon and Jiroushin who visited them, with the vice president often poking fun at her struggling nephew.

"You're not helping, you fishwife of an aunt!" Sanzo would say, only for Kanzeon to retort with a laugh and a playful pinch to Sanzo's cheeks. Goku thought it was funny, but Sanzo thought otherwise.

There were times when Sanzo wanted to be alone, and sought advice from the ash-filled urn, the minutes passing by with only Sanzo talking to himself as he looked at the picture of his late foster father. The cat also helped, as much as Sanzo wanted to deny its furry presence. Goku, on the other hand, would return to his flat below and clean up everything, and cook food for himself, and played video games while waiting for the food to cook. And he'd always return to Sanzo with a fresh batch of desserts to cheer the grumpy man up.

On some nights, Sanzo allowed himself to let loose under Goku's touch, succumbing deeper with each pant and gasp as Goku bathed him in constant warmth—the ardent embraces, the heavy kisses, and the quiet words shielding Sanzo from the bite of the chilly, autumn air.

November came and went, and Sanzo cursed his age the day time added another line to his life—"Twenty-five years and I still can't fucking take down that shithole!"

Through it all, Goku stood by him, constantly prodding him away from the downward spiral of Sanzo's growing, cynical thoughts.

"Sanzo! You turned down another client? That's the second time this week!"

Goku had barged in on the office and saw Sanzo muttering as he read a manuscript on the desk. Seeing that he would be ignored, Goku leaned on the doorway with his arms crossed, his pout hidden behind his face mask. "Sanzo."

"The fucker asked me if I had 'a thing for colors and home décor', and wanted to make me a poster boy for interior design for her book idea," Sanzo growled without looking up from the manuscript.

"...oh. Well, in that case, good thing you kicked her out, then," Goku said, his laugh muffled behind the mask. Winter was drawing near, and he had to double his work before he got hit with the fever and cold.

"Damn right. Oh, right. Goku, give me a copy of Zakuro's manuscript. He gave it to you the other day, right? I already have the proposal. The hag already had a pseudonym for him and he's supposed to get his work published in Keiun for the meantime. I'm supposed to meet up with the heads in Keiun in a few hours. You're going with me, naturally."

"The manuscript… the manuscript… Uh yeah, I think that's with me. Huh. Right. Um. Okay, I'll get it, Sanzo!" With a salute and a wide grin behind his mask, Goku closed the door and left Sanzo alone in his office, only to open it again. "We'll eat hot pot tonight, by the way!" he cheered, and when Sanzo looked up, the blond nodded, and Goku giggled.

Goku closed the door, unaware of Sanzo hiding a smile behind his hand.

"Silly monkey."

Outside Sanzo's office, Goku sniffled every few seconds as he dug around his cluttered desk, fishing out envelope after envelope from the binders, grunting when he couldn't find the manila envelope he was looking for.

"Whatcha looking for, squirt?" Jien asked from behind, slurping on a mug of coffee as he watched Goku scatter and rummage through the piles of papers.

"Uh, a manuscript—um. I can't find it… Sanzo entrusted it with me and I can't find it—oh shit—"

Shrugging, Jien looked at the mess, then at the sniffling assistant muttering curses under his face mask. Idly picking up a folder and placing it back on the cluttered corner, Jien suggested, "Have you checked everywhere? Dude, maybe you left it in your place or something."

Plopping a binder on his desk, Goku raised a finger and looked at a distance, his mouth gaping at Jien's words. "You know what, maybe you're right. I-I'll go head there right now. Oh, fuck—" He took out his phone and glanced at the time, "And I have to remind Sanzo that he has a meeting in three hours. Shi—okay, thanks, Jien!"

Goku jogged away from a smiling Jien, and gave him one last holler of thanks before exiting the office.

.

Sanzo looked over at the papers he had printed out, nodding at the lack of errors. Sighing as he chucked it into a folder and plopped it on his desk, he glanced at the wall clock.

It was way past Goku's limit to give him the manuscript.

Plus, Goku was supposed to return to accompany Sanzo to Keiun.

He looked at his phone, and found numerous missed calls and voicemails from his aunt. Cursing, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and clicked his tongue.

"Where the fuck is he?"

Jutting his lip and growling in irritation, he slammed his office door open, prepared to yell at the nearest person when he saw several pairs of eyes dart to him in shock and fear.

Furrowing his brow, Sanzo scoffed at the sudden silence. Before he had opened the door, he could've sworn he heard a lot of commotion and yelling. "What are you looking at?"

Silence fell in the office, and some of them hid behind their cubicles. Some, like his secretaries, bowed and avoided his gaze with barely hidden shivers. Jien, from what Sanzo observed, stood stock-still, his face pale and beaded with sweat from his brow. Yaone and her fellow representatives were the same, their shoulders squared and concealing the involuntary jerks with each breath.

And in the middle of the mess of an office was Gojyo, his jaw tensed as he bowed his head, and darted his eyes left and right, his fists clenching as he tried not to give up on standing with his knees shivering under Sanzo's stare.

"Why the fuck are you here and not at your post?"

Gojyo could hear his heart beating and his blood pumping through his ears. He gulped, and tried in vain to wipe the cold sweat from his shaking palms.

From around him, he could tell that Kinzan's subordinates were also feeling the same. Wanting to feel the earth shatter from beneath him and swallow him whole seemed to be the best option, and being killed in a dark alleyway seemed to be a very promising end to his life at the moment.

Shivering in cold was better than shivering in fear.

"…ku, he…"

Sanzo clicked his tongue, and tapped his foot on the floor as he crossed his arms, "I can't hear you, punk."

Wincing at the demeaning name, he deemed it as a faux calm before the storm, and Gojyo willed to level his breathing as he dug his toes deeper in his shoes—to keep him from stumbling through the sudden dizziness. He felt his mouth run dry as he glanced at his older brother, who had the same look of fear as him, and Gojyo took a deep breath—

"Goku… he…"

.

Slamming the door open, Sanzo gritted his teeth when he saw Goku's apartment looking exactly as it was on the times he had visited Goku during his sick days. Nothing looked out of place. The kitchen was tidy. No stray utensils were scattered on the floor; the knives were still in their sheaths—

Everything was in place.

Except for the scattered shoes and slippers on the entryway.

Ordering Gojyo to stay put by the doorway, Sanzo marched to Goku's room and saw struggle everywhere.

Books from the lone shelf near the door were strewn about on the floor, its covers and pages torn and stepped on by dirty footprints. Goku's Curve laid on the floor, discarded along with the detached magazine filled with bullets. By the work desk, Goku's laptop laid broken on the floor, its screen shattered with a bullet. Beside it was an overturned swivel chair, along with one of the drawers wide open, its contents that of manuscripts from the recent authors.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his vision began to blur, and he turned around to see something sticking out from under the bed. Gritting his teeth, Sanzo dragged out a large, plain and flattened box, its edges ripped completely from two sides.

"Gojyo!"

The sound of footsteps and muttered apologies drummed through Sanzo's ears as Gojyo appeared behind him, the bodyguard's face still damp with cold sweat. "Yeah?" he panted, gulping at the sight of the mess in the room.

"Who entered the premises?"

Gojyo's eyes widened as he averted his gaze to the right, and gulped before he replied, "None that I'm not familiar of. Clients and agents kept coming and going as usual—sir." Gojyo tried to play it off with a lopsided smile, and was met with a cold glare. He straightened his back, and heaved with stuttered breaths, "Um, although—there was an odd delivery truck this morning."

"What?"

"They said you have requested for books to be delivered this morning—…sir."

"Delivery only happens on Saturdays here, fucktwat."

Gojyo's face turned pale. "What?"

Snarling, Sanzo punched Gojyo in the face and stormed off, cocking his gun on his way out—

—only to stop when he noticed faint streaks of blood smeared on the doorjamb, the paint on the wall chipped from what Sanzo assumed were from fingernails. Looking down, he noticed even more streaks of blood, its traces trailing in an upward slope.

His breathing suddenly grew heavy as he thought of what might have happened to his bubbly assistant. He thought of where he could be, his condition—alive or dead—

—and he felt the heat of his body rising in the middle of the growing winter chill, beads of sweat dotting his forehead as his thoughts turned and surged with uncontrollable rage.

Goku was supposed to be with him today.

Goku wasn't supposed to be in danger.

They were supposed to plan the following days searching for more clues to Houtou's downfall.

Sanzo was supposed to make up to Goku for the past months by spoiling him with food and a new book.

Sanzo was supposed to lie with him at night and hold him close as to keep him from harm.

Sanzo was supposed to—!

Clenching his teeth, he blinked back tears he hadn't realized he almost shed. With his fingers trembling, his forefinger slid on the trigger, and a growl ripped through his throat as he shot at the wall with bloody streaks—

—and for the first time in his life, Genjo Sanzo understood the sheer want and need to murder someone.