Chapter 14

Sanzo shut the front door and propped his back against it for a moment. Filthy. He felt so filthy… His skin crawled where Zhou Jun's saliva and sweat had touched it. He hesitantly raised a hand to wipe his neck—he did not want more contact with any of that bastard's fluids—then startled when he found a pair of eyes glaring at him from a darkened corner. The old man who had helped Hakkai into the house crouched in the shadows, very still, his lined face frozen in a scowl.

"Where is my servant?" Sanzo demanded, straightening himself.

Silence. But the hatred in those eyes…

"I asked you a question," Sanzo pressed impatiently.

And there was no answer.

Something snapped inside him and Sanzo advanced on the man, growling like a wild beast. A mad idea about him losing Hakkai once more to this maze—about him having to go after Hakkai again and again and again, only to have his teammate snatched away each time—clouded any rational thought. He grabbed fistfuls of the old man's threadbare shirt and hauled him to his feet.

"I asked you a question!" he hissed. "Did you hear me?" A violent shake. "Where is my servant?"

"In the yard!" the old man spat, furious. "Your demon is in the yard!" Sanzo released him and stepped back, shocked both by the answer and his own loss of control. Someone rushed into the room and the old man crouched again, his empty mouth twisted in a smirk. "Oh, yes, foreigner," he drawled malignly, "I know very well what your 'servant' is! What it is! I would be able to tell with closed eyes! I can smell them! I was the best in my time!"

"Uncle?" a whiny male voice intruded. "What is it? Do we have new guests?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, old man," Sanzo said coldly.

"Me neither, sir, please, forgive him," the whiny voice concurred and Sanzo felt a tug on his robe. He turned, very irritated, and a middle-aged man backed off quickly, bowing low. "I'm Wang Po, sir, and this is my great-uncle. He isn't the right person to answer the door, but I didn't hear you knocking. Do you need a room? It's always an honor to receive a new guest in our humble boardinghouse."

"That's right, you useless cunt," the old man said from his corner. "Lick this youkai lover's boots."

Wang Po's cordial expression flickered almost imperceptibly at the insult. "Uncle was in our force for many years, sir, and he's quite a legend here," he explained to Sanzo. "Maybe you have heard of Major Wang Ushi? No? Old age has made him … confused, though."

"Confused?" the old major repeated with irony. "You have the guts to say that I amthe confused one?"

Sanzo took a deep breath. Hadn't that clerk warned him about soldiers and elders? Just their luck, to be stranded now with a raving combination of both.

"So, are you here for the Festival, sir?" Wang Po asked, a fake smile plastered on his round face. "Aren't there any available rooms in the regular inns? I heard this is going to be one of the best years ever, our town is swarming with visitors."

"Let's talk later, all right?" Sanzo rummaged through his inner pocket and dropped the first coin his fingers fished out into Wang Po's palm. From the gleeful squeak he had as an answer, it was one of the gold ones. "I have a sick servant in the yard. Can you give us something light to eat? And water?"

"Yes, yes, of course, sir!" Wang Po agreed excitedly. "And there is water in the yard, sir, plenty! For baths… For washing clothes… I can wash your clothes, of course! Just go there—" He pointed to a passageway and rushed to the front door. "Where is your luggage, sir? I'll pick it up for you, of course!"

"This man's 'servant' is a youkai, you idiot!" Wang Ushi snarled, his tone still more vicious. "They were brought here by that deviant, Zhou Jun. Which means they have another youkai in trouble somewhere. Probably in the Anthill."

"Uncle! Show some respect—"

"You show some respect, scum! This house is mine! Now you welcome youkai and youkai lovers here? Zhou Jun is after this monk's ass, you know. How many times has he already done that? And I bet our 'guest' is going to accept the offer. Aren't you, pretty boy? You'll try to save the monster those incompetents managed to catch, only Buddha knows how, by whoring yourself."

Livid, Sanzo stepped towards Wang Ushi—who laughed and invited the attack with an obscene gesture.

"Please, sir, don't!" Wang Po pleaded half-heartedly from the door. "I know uncle can be very offensive, but he's not to be taken seriously."

Sanzo unclenched his fists, panting. "Then keep him away from us."

Wang Po nodded, disappointed. It seemed that he, too, wanted to see the old man's mouth being shut by a fist.

Sanzo strode to the passageway, reached the kitchen and, from it, gained access to the backyard—a grassed, neglected area, protected by a high wall. There were a few trees around, men's clothes hanging from a rope to dry, a washtub near a shed or bathroom, and a well. Hakkai sat by the latter, barefoot and naked from his waist up, lifting a ladle from a bucket. His hand shook so badly that most of the water spilled down his chest. Sanzo went to him, thinking of a similar scene he had witnessed the morning before. At the time he had been pacing the grounds of the Temple of the Soul's Retreat, Gojyo's erotic dance replaying over and over in his head, maddening him with a mixture of anger and desire. Then he had seen Hakkai at the well. Hakkai, unaware of any trouble, filling their water bottles. Hakkai, staring rapturously at the sunlight on the water, face peaceful, his serene aura calming Sanzo just by being there.

Hakkai's face was a mess now.

"Here, let me do that for you." Sanzo took the ladle, dipped it into the bucket and offered it. "Drink."

Hakkai did, his hands crossed on his chest as if he was cold or ashamed. Sanzo waited until he had drunk his fill, took a few sips himself and dropped the ladle. "Bath?" he muttered, also uncomfortable. At Hakkai's nod, he grabbed the bucket and carefully poured water over the youkai.

"Thank you," Hakkai murmured, pushing back his dripping hair.

"There's soap on the washtub, sir!" Wang Po butted in from the kitchen door.

Sanzo dispatched the man back to the house with a glare and went to search for soap, stopping to urinate at a tree. Living mainly on the road as they did, there was neither finicality when the issue was an ordinary bodily function nor shyness when they had to tend to personal hygiene—at least on the part of Goku and Gojyo. By nature, both himself and Hakkai were much more reserved and tried to maintain their personal standards. So, he barely managed to bite back a grunt of sympathy when he returned with the soap to a blushing, miserable-looking Hakkai: in no condition to seek a more adequate place, Hakkai had unbuttoned his pants and relieved his bladder where he was.

"It's all right; I'll wash it," Sanzo mumbled and handed over the bar of cheap soap. He then adjusted the pulley rope attached to the bucket and lowered it for more water. The 'well,' he noticed, was a rather deep drum buried in the ground—enough to supply these people for months, perhaps, but still a limited, crude solution. Sooner or later some unfortunate soul would have to toil to fill it again. But it made sense; they were on a hill, after all… A hill on the fringes of a desert… Suddenly the infinite small harassments of owning a house seemed too much even for him, who had never worried about such mundane things from the perch of his high position in Chang'an. "Holy shit, who fucking cares?"

Only when Hakkai gasped a "What?," did Sanzo realize that he had spoken aloud.

"Sanzo? Are you—"

"—bone tired?" Sanzo interrupted tightly. "Yeah. Bath."

"I've already finished. We can't lose time, you know."

"I know." Sanzo pulled the full bucket out and sat on the grass, resting his chin on his knees. Had Hakkai really whined? A childish, Goku-like whine? "Use the soap."

"Why can't we go—"

Sanzo looked at Hakkai. "I will go. In a few."

"We can't waste time! Gojyo—"

"Hakkai. Just give me a minute to breathe, okay?"

Hakkai grimaced and Sanzo blinked, surprised. Had Hakkai really chewed his lips? A self-harming, Gojyo-like chewing?

"I—sorry, Sanzo…"

Sanzo grunted and closed his eyes to avoid more talking. Fuck, Zhou Jun might have handed him a trump card to bluff and bargain his way past Gojyo's cell door, but still here he was, getting sidetracked and flustered like a complete idiot.

A soft rustle was proof that Hakkai had finally taken off his sodden pants.

Good. Now, concentrate!

Sanzo gritted his teeth. On the road, Hakkai was always so careful when he bathed, so … prude. How many times had he seen Hakkai naked? Just once and just a glimpse…

All right. That's enough!

With effort, he conjured Major Wang's brief interaction with Zhou Jun, as well as the old man's delayed reaction in the house. Soon, feeling relieved, he settled in the middle of his inner maelstrom and started analyzing words and facial expressions. Chaotic images and swirling feelings progressively slowed down as his mind weighed options, devised possibilities, projected attacks and counterattacks. Centering himself, the go master planned.

"Where is Goku?"

The hesitant whisper intruded the process, shattering it. Sanzo turned to Hakkai, ready to lash out. And froze.

Hakkai sat huddled beside him, pale and perfect. And though alluring, it was not his nakedness that sent a jolt between Sanzo's legs. What undid him was the vulnerability in Hakkai's bruised face.

Of his three demons, Hakkai was the only one who never really surrendered any kind of control—he stood on his own, always polite, always composed, a self-possessed and self-sufficient enigma who interacted with Sanzo as an equal. Now, Sanzo could see what was hidden behind a thousand locked doors. Only a boy. Pushy. Scared. Lost.

Human.

Sanzo swallowed the lump in his throat. Don't go there! Don't you dare go there!

He would not. He absolutely would not.

But if he wanted…

If he really wanted…

He was sure he would be able to play Hakkai like he played Gojyo. And he would have in his hands a finer, subtler, much more refined instrument, capable of meeting all his virtuoso demands without pitifully breaking apart. The idea of that velvety voice cursing or calling his name longingly just because he, Sanzo, had touched the right nerve was intoxicating.

"Sanzo? I asked you where Goku is."

And Sanzo now recognized one of his own traits in Hakkai: impatience.

"I've told you that already," he answered, voice strained.

Hakkai squinted at him and caught a drop of water with the tip of his tongue. "Have you?"

"I sent him away," Sanzo rasped. "With Hakuryu. Remember?" Of their own volition, his fingers encircled Hakkai's right ankle and raised the captured foot in the air, exposing him further. Those eyes… One peered at him, a gamut of emotions behind green that the summer day made more vivid. The other… The other was dead.

"Water and light," Hakkai murmured.

"What?" Sanzo shortened the distance between them, sheltering Hakkai in his shadow. There was something unbelievably erotic in holding such a powerful, complex creature like this. "What did you say?"

Hakkai shrugged, embarrassed. "Nothing. It's—nothing."

Both were very close now, though their only point of contact was still Sanzo's tight grip.

"Sanzo?"

"Yes?" Sanzo had his head just above Hakkai's left shoulder, his eyes on a vine that exploded in yellow blossoms on the brick wall.

"We must go." Hakkai sighed. "Gojyo—"

"Yes."

"The old man knows what I am."

"Yes." Sanzo closed his eyes for a moment, indulging in his 'cute' one's presence.

If only…

If…

He knew he would never, ever hurt Hakkai like he hurt Gojyo.

He liked Hakkai too much.

"I wish it were you," he whispered, desperate. "This desire. This … fever. I wish it were you. Not him. You."

"Sanzo?" And the warm breath touched Sanzo's ear. "I… We—"

"Don't, Hakkai." Please.

He released his grasp and rose, adjusting his wet robe. Wang Po was at the kitchen door again, watching them with his eyes and mouth wide open.

"We need towels, Wang Po-san," Sanzo snapped. "And food."

Wang Po hesitated for a moment, then scurried into the house.