Sanzo sat there, smoking his Marlboro, calm. He felt at peace: he could enjoy his cancer sticks, thinking of nothing, with no one bothering him but the rumble of the river's water.
He dragged and took the cigarette away from his mouth, closing his eyes and at the same time a figure appeared in his mind, his master. Oh, how much he missed him… how much he missed his voice, craved his hands patting lovingly his head; the monk smiled sadly, remembering every details of that face, the blonde tint of his silky hair, his lips which he had never seen turned downwards, his pleasant laughter, the way he could reassure him with just a quick look. He remembered his words, when he told him that he would have heard someone voice someday, and his thoughts drifted to Goku's sleeping form, when they had just met and the way he felt while staring at him, the warm feeling that erupted from his chest and waved through him. His visions filled with images of the little monkey and with the ones of the young man that he was now becoming, his cocky smile and his outgoing attitude towards life, towards everything. He was proud of Goku, proud of everything he did even thought he had never told him that, and probably never would. He recalled to his mind the way Hakkai had helped him with Goku, the way he had always took care of him, teaching him, encouraging him. That was something he should have thanked Hakkai for, for having dealt with the hyperactive temper of the boy when he wasn't just in the right mood, for having always been by his side, watching his back, for being the friend he has been. The fake smile Hakkai used to wear occurred to his mind and stung his heart, they were so similar in so many ways, so bound to each other by the outrageous jokes fate played on them. There was something in Hakkai, something in his behaviour that made him go through the day, something that probably was the knowledge that he wasn't alone, he wasn't the only one suffering, he wasn't the only one with a heavy burden to bear on his shoulder but there was someone else supporting him, helping him not to be smashed by the wideness of his mission, of his own life. And, for some strange reasons, just the thought of life dragged his course of thoughts to another frame, another character, another man. Sanzo smiled, eyes still closed, as he let himself been lulled by the silent vision of that tall form, of that warm body that he had had so many times but could never get tired of, of that red hair so soft and so beautiful at the touch but yet so sinful, so shameful. He could clearly see those orbs, red as well, filled with mischievousness, and the thin lips so appealing, so worn out by the thousands kisses so many lovers had planted on them, always turned into a malicious grin and the thought, the certainty that now he was the only one who could bruise them with his own lips, nip at them with his teeth, earn from them a true smile crossed hi mind. And he smiled as he felt his heart melting like ice underneath an August sun, he smiled and happiness washed over him, like a waterfall, like an avalanche that had desperately needed to fall upon him, that he himself had frantically needed to let fall.
"--nzo, Sanzo..."
"Umh?"
"Let's get back babe..."
The monk, smiling, accepted the offered hands as his lover helped him getting up.