Sanzo raised a blonde eyebrow at the man standing in front of him, utterly unimpressed. There may not have been any major incidents in the time since he'd taken over from Yakumo, with all the district leaders eventually deciding to keep the status quo, but he hadn't realised he'd have someone on his back about this so soon.
"Sir, you need a second. You can't keep doing everything on your own."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Sanzo replied sarcastically. "I didn't realise your job is to tell me what to do." The other man paled slightly, probably remembering what had happened to Kanzeon in that very room; but he didn't back down, which Sanzo grudgingly had to respect.
"That's not what I meant, it's just that…well…you're in danger without a second. Yakumo's second was killed not long before he himself was, so he was vulnerable when Kanzeon pulled her attack. It'll be better for all of us if you stay as protected as possible."
"I can take care of myself."
"I'm not saying that you can't, but the other thing is that you really don't know any of us. As much as I hate to say it, you need to bring in someone you can trust- one more outsider won't make too much of a difference." The man's confidence was clearly growing, and Sanzo decided to put a healthy bit of fear back into him before he got too cocky.
"Tell me how to do my job again and I'll kill you. Now get the fuck out of my office."
Luckily for him, the man took the threat seriously: he was gone in a matter of seconds. Sanzo leant back in his chair with a frustrated sigh, gaze darting around his office- it was definitely his now, as was the whole house. Yakumo's will had left everything to his unnamed successor, as the man's family was long-estranged, and so Sanzo had inherited everything on the property.
Not that the blonde particularly wanted any of the dead man's junk: it seemed like the guy was still annoying him from beyond the grave. Yakumo would probably be laughing his ass off at how easy it was for the gang members to rile up their new boss.
Like this second shit. Someone Sanzo could trust? He didn't have anyone like that. Sure, he could appreciate the need some people would have for a second: Dokugakuji had relied on him for everything, the lazy asshole.
But, like he told the man who had just run off, he could look after himself perfectly well. He wasn't doing too much work on his own…
A small voice in the back of his head suddenly piped up. 'Face it, you're doing a lot more than you should. And he was right: if you don't have a second, there's no one to take a bullet for you.'
Slamming his closed fist onto the desk, Sanzo shoved a cigarette between his lips.
What the fuck was he going to do about this situation?
Gojyo grumbled to himself as he walked down a quiet residential street, taking the last drag from his cigarette before tossing it onto the road. He was not in a good mood.
Two weeks. Two fucking weeks of trying to find any scrap of information about where Sanzo might have disappeared to, and he still had absolutely nothing. His patience was running out, and he got a little closer to the end of his rope every time a promising source knew nothing other than, 'He's gone'.
For one of the very first times in his life, Gojyo regretted staying relatively far away from the inner workings of the criminal underworld. Maybe, if he'd allowed himself to get closer to that dangerous world, he would have some better contacts to use in this situation. But it was too late for that now, and he couldn't even use his status as Dokugakuji's brother to reach some of the higher-ups: he wasn't sure if the man was still hunting for him.
Gojyo knew that Jien would try his hardest to stop the redhead from finding Sanzo, and if he was taken back under Jien's watchful eye then his already-futile search would become even more hopeless. While he still had his freedom, there was a tiny thread of hope that he could find something about Sanzo's new location.
He had to talk to some…less than savoury individuals in his search, and Jien would hate that. The hypocrite.
Scowling, Gojyo continued making his way back to his old apartment. Goku, as crazily generous as he was, had pretty much forced Gojyo to stay with him free of charge. The kid had said that he wasn't mean enough to kick someone out of their own apartment, and even though Gojyo had repeatedly pointed out that it was Goku's home now, the brunette had just grinned and asked him to stay.
The kid was even paying for his food, which made Gojyo feel utterly useless. But Goku had insisted that he was making more money than he could possibly have used on himself- which was an unpleasant reminder of where all Gojyo's profits had once gone. He guessed that Goku probably had a point, though, because he himself would've been in the same situation had he not tried to fuck over a loanshark.
In any case, Gojyo was determined to pay the kid back someday. Without him, the redhead would've only had two choices: going back to his brother, or going back to Zakuro. Neither was particularly appealing, though the latter more than the former: even if he did manage to find Sanzo, the man would probably never speak to him again if he knew that Gojyo had been selling himself once more.
The redhead glanced up at a street sign, turning the corner as he tried to figure out how far he was from the apartment. He was almost there, but he decided that there was time for one more smoke. Pulling the half-empty pack from his pocket, Gojyo stopped walking as he bent his head down to light it.
From the corner of his eye he saw a car quietly pull to a stop beside him, but he paid it no serious mind. Because the area was made up of houses and flats, it wasn't unusual for cars to park along the street; but, just in case, he kept a small amount of attention on the vehicle. The engine was still idling away, and Gojyo's street-honed paranoia had him start walking again as the car doors opened.
It was almost unsurprising when a hand grabbed the back of his T-shirt, and the redhead immediately spun around in an effort to dislodge the grip. He heard the material tear a little when the hand didn't let go, but he could now see that his attacker's arm was stretched completely straight.
Taking advantage, Gojyo slammed his elbow down onto the other man's extended elbow, the impact enough to loosen the man's fingers so that the redhead could get away. As he tried to decide whether he should run or fight, Gojyo felt the wind being knocked out of him as a second assailant quickly ducked in from the side, his arm grabbing the redhead's waist and dragging him to the ground.
Gojyo tried to struggle, but there were suddenly two rather strong guys forcing him over onto his stomach. He realised that there was a third man when his arms were wrenched behind him, the unmistakable feel of metal handcuffs settling around his wrists with a loud click.
His heart sank. Jien had finally found him: he must have walked past the wrong person earlier in the day or something. He'd been ratted out, and now he was caught. The feel of coarse rope pulling tight around his legs was enough to send a shock of pure panic through Gojyo, memories of a filthy basement and unimaginable pain flooding back.
The redhead forced himself to breathe: Jien wasn't going to want to torture him…probably. He wasn't going to end up half-dead and alone again, as long as he didn't try to put up too much of a fight.
It was for that reason that Gojyo allowed the men to lift him into the car with only a token struggle on his part, realising that his best chance for survival was cooperation.
It looked like the game was up: apparently, his brother had caught him again. And now he was being dragged back like a lost pet, sandwiched in the back seat of a car between two heavily-muscled gangsters.
'Great. Just great.'
"He's here."
"Take him to my office, and be sure to unbind him," Sanzo snapped into the phone before cutting the call. He had a feeling that this was a bad decision: that he didn't actually need a second, and that the man he had coming in was going to be more trouble than he was worth. But somewhere along the line, this had seemed like the best possible option: he didn't know why, and he didn't particularly care to explore his decision in detail, but a reluctant part of him realised that this was something he had to do.
When he had finally given some thought to finding a second, there had only been one name that came easily to mind. He'd tried to struggle against the idea, but it had all been futile: as much as he hated to admit it, and he wasn't going to admit it to the man himself, there was only one person whom he trusted to not stab him in the back.
That man was now sitting in his office, waiting.
Stomping his cigarette butt out under the sole of his dress shoe, Sanzo composed himself as he made his way from the back garden. He was not in any hurry to see his 'guest', and he attributed the slightly warm feeling deep inside him to a nicotine rush.
It was the only acceptable explanation.
Quickly approaching the closed office door, Sanzo didn't pause as he slammed it open and stomped inside. He stopped once he was inside, though, looking at the back of the redheaded figure seated before the desk.
"Oi, asshole! I don't know where I am or why I'm here, but if one more person puts their hands on me I'm going to fucking kill them." Gojyo didn't turn around as he ranted, so Sanzo allowed himself a small smirk. The man was definitely back to being the boorish prick he had been when they'd first met.
"If you don't want me to put my hands on you, then why are you forever molesting me?"
There was a moment of silence before Gojyo's chair clattered noisily to the ground, the man standing and spinning with a blur of red.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Gojyo gasped out, eyes wide. "S-Sanzo…holy fuck, man, I mean…shit!"
Expecting the assault, Sanzo remained still as he was wrapped up in tanned arms. He made no move to return the gesture, but he didn't try to stop the other man, either. Gojyo felt…familiar, which was something that Sanzo was unused to after being thrown to the top of a strange criminal organisation. He couldn't say that he hated the sensation.
Sanzo only pulled away when Gojyo obviously went to kiss him, turning his head so that the lips only connected with his cheek. Detaching himself from the long arms, Sanzo pointed to the upturned chair.
"Sit."
As Gojyo slowly complied, Sanzo made himself comfortable in his usual seat and looked the redhead over with a critical eye. There were no visible marks on the man's skin, apart from some faint exhaustion circles under his eyes: part of Sanzo was thankful for that. It meant that he didn't have to expend any effort teaching his men not to overstep their marks.
"Sanzo, I…"
"Shut up," the blonde interrupted. "I have a proposition for you."
Gojyo looked confused, which was probably to be expected. The man had effectively been kidnapped and taken quite a way from his home: a little uncertainty was allowed in such a situation.
"Over two weeks ago, I was made the leader of this organisation. In essence, I'm to this city what your brother is to his. But I've got assholes riding me about bringing in a second-in-command, and I'm offering the position to you."
Gojyo was just staring blankly, and it was beginning to piss Sanzo off. The man usually had a mouth that never closed, so why was he suddenly deciding to be quiet? It was irritating.
"Well?"
"I…uh…Sanzo, why me? I have no idea how any of this works." Gojyo bit at his bottom lip, nervous over something. Sanzo rolled his eyes.
"You think I don't realise that? I don't care what you know about gangs, I just realise that you won't shoot me if I turn my back."
Gojyo's brow furrowed in concentration, and Sanzo wondered if he'd misjudged the situation. He'd figured, considering how Gojyo usually acted towards him, that the man would jump at the chance of staying by his side. Especially after all that shit about being in love.
Finally, Gojyo looked up. Sanzo caught the sly grin spreading across the man's face and felt a flash of apprehension. This couldn't be good.
"So what you're saying," Gojyo casually asked, "Is that you trust me with your life?"
"What?" Sanzo snapped. He quickly fell into outrage at the situation, and so was caught slightly unawares when Gojyo suddenly vaulted onto the desk, scattering miscellaneous junk everywhere as he slid forward to land right in the blonde's lap. The chair rocked dangerously, stopped only when Sanzo shot a hand out to grab the edge of the desk.
Strong hands cupped Sanzo's face and drew his gaze upwards to meet expressive red eyes. Gojyo smiled sincerely, and the blonde was shocked to actually recognise the affection shining from his expression.
"You know I love ya, right? Course I'll take your job. I'll learn what I have to, as long as I can stay with you." This time, Sanzo allowed Gojyo's lips to capture his own, his hands lightly coming to rest on the redhead's waist as a hand moved from his face to the back of his neck.
Gojyo's tongue flicked at Sanzo's lip and was given entry, Sanzo not entirely sure why he was putting up with a lap full of idiot…
But he just couldn't find it in himself to push Gojyo away.
***Alright! I thought I may have been rushing things a little here, but how the fuck can you rush things in a 52-chapter story? We didn't need more solitary moping, we needed a reunion! It might feel like a flimsy pretence to get them back together, but despite Sanzo's denials, do you really think he needed a good excuse to drag Gojyo back to him?
Anyway, there may only be two or three chapters left now. We're hitting the end of the road for this little story of mine…thank fuck. I've been going for over 15 months now, and it's all because I know there are people out there reading this. So thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and/or alerted, this is for every single one of you.***
