Bad Company

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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.

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A/N: Thank you for the reviews—especially to promocat, because she's reading this fic even if she hadn't read Saiyuki. -weeps happily-

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Kinzan's CEO had a burning mission, and that mission involved tracking down where his aunt went. As was her whim, Kanzeon had a hobby of trotting around the globe with her long-suffering aide, Jiroushin. Sanzo made it clear that she should be at her home once he arrived, something that made his aunt laugh in her own, sophisticated way. She always knew what her beloved nephew was doing outside his flat without his knowing—a mystery that Sanzo would rather leave unsolved. At one point, he was convinced someone was a plant in Kinzan, relaying every move he made to the vice president.

Then again, it would do him no good. After all, it wasn't as if he killed off people in his company, was it?

"Sanzo?"

Sanzo looked away from the dull view from the car's windows, and glanced at his assistant's inquiring façade. He was sure that the brunet still had no idea what was going on—as long as Sanzo ordered him to do something, Goku would do it, no questions asked.

"What's going on?"

Ah, there it was.

The blond redirected his gaze to the scenery of cars passing by through the windows, and from its reflection, he could see Goku still staring at him, blinking. "Something's been bothering me since Gojyo brought those files." And it was true—initially, he would have come to her, as a last resort, to ask about Kami's real identity in Kinzan; none of the veterans in Kinzan knew the curious man very well, anyway. But it all changed when he saw that familiar face on one of Houtou's files.

His foster father never mentioned to him about having a former alliance with Houtou—all that Sanzo knew was that Houtou had a cruel reputation of blackmailing and driving small-scale publishing houses into bankruptcy and eventually buying them, absorbing what little sources it had, claiming it as their own work and sweat and blood, without any regards to the families that were affected by the sudden closing of their workplaces, driving some of them into depression and suicide.

Houtou had no heart for its employees, and only had its eyes set on hauling in more cash in its already bursting pockets.

It was disgusting.

"Sanzo?"

The blond hummed, and looked at his clenched fist on his lap, held loosely under Goku's warm palm. And when violet eyes fell on golden ones, Sanzo's breath caught in his throat as the brunet scooted over to him, leaning away from the other side of the window, their suit-clad shoulders brushing against each other. "Are you all right? Do you need food or a drink? We could have a stopover if you want."

Sanzo noted his own jaw, clenched tight from thinking too much, and his teeth clacked as he spoke, "I'm all right. I just have a lot on my mind." It was too late when he realized what he just said, in a completely calm manner—so unlike him—and it was too early to glance at the rearview mirror, seeing Gojyo on the driver's seat, his eyebrows raising, crimson eyes glinting in barely concealed mischief at the CEO's unusually serene tone. Sanzo was tempted to tell him off, if it weren't for an insistent tugging at his sleeve, to where Goku kept looking at him with the same questioning eyes he always held whenever he thought something was wrong about the blond.

On instinct, Sanzo's hand draped over Goku's head, ruffling the hickory-hued locks, along with soothing a thumb over a tanned cheek. "I'm all right," he droned low enough for only Goku to hear, and his few words seemed to put Goku's mind at ease, and released his hold on Sanzo's sleeve, opting to rest his hand on his instead.

"That's good, then," Goku mumbled as he pulled away and leaned back on the seat, his eyes closing with a soft smile as his hold on Sanzo's hand tightened, and only then did Sanzo heave a sigh of relief, to which Gojyo stifled and choked back a guffaw bursting from his chest.

"Shut it, undine. I can hear your shit even if you don't say it," Sanzo growled as Gojyo finally laughed.

The three of them drove their way to Kanzeon's mansion—a vast and gaudy place that served as too much for two people to live in. She had a penchant for anything Zen coupled with the gaudiness of Western decor, as mirrored by her home's exterior and interior design—the two, large, circular fountains in front of her home and in front of the receiving area were her favorite ornaments of all, the water decorated with lotuses and koi fishes swimming around. Marbled floors and a sparkling chandelier hanging from a marbled ceiling were kept clean to its finest, and all around, the scent of incense wafted in the air as soon as the looming doors to her mansion opened, and descending from a grand, spiraling staircase was Sanzo's aunt, her arms outstretched with a wide grin on her blue-toned, red lips. She let out a laugh as she hurried down the stairs decked in a sleeveless, white stola that flowed freely behind her, making a frantic Jiroushin—the poor man that grew too many gray hairs from her antics—chase after his mistress with concern for her running down stairs in overflowing dresses.

"My nephew! Finally decided to see me, eh?" She made her way to hug Sanzo, only to be met with a scowl and a cringe. She pouted in mock hurt, and turned to the awkwardly waving brunet. "And Goku—" she rushed up to the smiling, young man and held him tight against her ample bosom, paying no regards to his fruitless escape in her hold as she rubbed her cheek against his. "—my favorite, favorite child! Oh, I missed you so much!" She pulled him away from her embrace, tucked a stray strand of her long, wavy, black hair behind her ear, and tapped his nose, "I have prepared a feast for you, my child! All your favorites. I know how you love your Chinese food. Oh, and Konzen, dear, be a darling and try not to smoke in this house. You'll desecrate the incense—"

Sanzo bristled at the name, snapped his cigarette in half, and shrieked, "Stop. Calling me that!" And Kanzeon brushed it off with a laugh and a wave of a hand and returned her attention to Goku, stage whispering and giggling all the while as they walked towards a long hallway decked in white walls and the same marbled floors, leading to the dining room.

"Dear, did you know that your boss here used to love playing with cicadas when he was a little tyke? On the days that I visited his house while Jiroushin tutored you with lessons, Konzen would be fascinated of these insects, the golden ones, to be exact, and he'd idly watch them on trees to hours until he'd get hungry. Soon, I came to call him Konzen because of that. But you didn't know that, because he'd get mad. He used to be so cute as a kid—but you're cuter, Goku, dear, don't worry—and now he turned into a grumpy thing. I don't know where I went wrong."

Gojyo howled in laughter at her story, and Sanzo, growling and red in the face, stomped and barked and yelled behind a smiling Kanzeon, who had her arm draped on Goku's shoulder as they walked.

"You fucking hag! Stop telling him that!" he screeched, and Kanzeon ignored him still, her attention still focused on a grinning Goku, who eyed Sanzo with barely concealed mirth.

"You like golden cicadas?" came Goku's playful question as he looked over to Sanzo, and he covered his toothy grin with his hand. The blond balked, his face flushed red in embarrassment, and he glared at his aunt.

"Stop listening to her! Goku, come here!" Sanzo held out his hand to the giggling brunet, and Goku shook his head.

"Nuh uh. Not this time. Hey, Auntie Kanzeon, tell me more!"

Sanzo's mouth gaped in disbelief at Goku's sudden interest in Sanzo's childhood days, and Gojyo, not even hiding his complete amusement, patted him on the back. "Ah, such is the turn of events for a rebellious son—gah! Don't punch my face!"

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"So, you want to know what happened during Koumyou's days in Houtou?" Kanzeon asked Sanzo as she ate a plate of chicken veronique. Goku and Gojyo had long gone to the parlor after a hefty meal, opting to play video games that Kanzeon provided especially for the golden-eyed teen.

Sanzo idly chewed his potato and onion gratin and nodded, "You heard the shit that happened in Kinzan, right? I had Gojyo investigate about Godworks and its affiliations after what happened to Goku, and found out that it has ties with Houtou—and found him in one of the staff. Care to tell me why I was never informed of this even once?"

Kanzeon softly put down her knife and fork, and regarded her nephew with a clandestine smile, "Konzen, when your father died, I had to make sure you wouldn't be involved in anything that would scar you for life—"

"Hmph. Too late for that."

"—and now, I guess I couldn't keep you away from it, after all," she sighed, and leaned back on the plush chair. "Koumyou had been capricious when he was Goku's age, and often fought his way out of becoming Kinzan's successor. He eventually ran away with this fellow, Ken'yuu, and they formed an alliance—"

"Wait, wait, who is this Ken'yuu?"

She pursed her lips at Sanzo's impatience, "I was getting to that, dear. Ken'yuu used to be an editor in Kinzan—had quite the secret taste for raunchy literature, too—until he got bored with the constant subject of religion in the books he edited, and he quit. Dragged Koumyou with him and they ended up in Houtou. What reputation Houtou has now was its foundation in its early days. Ken'yuu became fascinated by the broad genres of the house, and he landed a job there. Koumyou, although he initially loved the time he spent with Ken'yuu—he used to talk to me about him to hours on end—he... Well, Koumyou, I think, finally opened his eyes to see the truth behind Houtou's infamy and how it handled its clients by the neck if they refused to write the content they wanted to see. Koumyou couldn't stomach the books that were being pushed on him to check on. Subjects about gore and the horrific and the disgusting and the disturbing—those things were never really his thing, as you know very well."

Sanzo nodded, his lips set in a grim frown. From the vast collection of books that he inherited from the late Koumyou, it was as though Sanzo had looked into his foster father's very soul. Books about medicine, science, of creations of the lifeforms of the earth and of the galaxy, about worldly legends and myths from around the globe—genres that focused on life and living and a quiet rumination about cherishing peace and finding all forms of affection in people—these were the gems that were placed into Sanzo's hands when he was 13, and he had treasured them all in his room, often letting Goku read them and arrange them afterwards. They were some of the small things that kept Sanzo with his sanity intact.

"Apparently, these things were what Ken'yuu was completely thrilled and enjoyed the most. Your father tried to convince him to quit and find another company, but Ken'yuu refused. Eventually, Koumyou decided to quit, and he was in a limbo for a while. Until he realized—that the foundations he had been so clinging to—the concepts he had been adhering to for so long, were all from Kinzan's view. Long story short. Koumyou returned to Kinzan and took over, admitted that he couldn't runaway from what he was destined to be, and saved face, in a span of a year, regretting everything that he was forced to do in Houtou. And then, after a two years, we all know what happened. He found out about me taking care of you, found out about your story of how you ended up in my care, and he immediately felt a rush of affection for you. He took you in, with my permission, and made sure you would get all the love that a father could ever give to his son—even if his family didn't agree with him. And I, well, I gave you all that you'll ever need to deal with after your mother's death."

Kanzeon smiled at her silent nephew, his eyes sad and downcast—and to her eyes, he looked as though he was back to being a child again, looking lost, wordlessly seeking for a help of a guiding hand.

Sanzo sat still and seemed to debate whether to speak or not. Kanzeon waited patiently, her elbows perched upon the table, her chin cradled on her locked fingers. And when he did speak, she could barely hear it, and she saw the tiniest hint of light in his darkened eyes.

"...You gave me Goku."

Her smile widened, and she stood up, went behind Sanzo, and draped her arms around his shoulders.

"Dear, you were just a child back then, and he, an even smaller child. I knew how you kept hiding the pain from seeing your parents fight all the time—you needed someone who could make you see that not everything in this world has to end up in tears." She nestled her chin against his head, and closed her eyes. "Goku was very small, and had no parents when I found him on the streets. You and he were alike, in a sense, and I thought he could be your playmate at times. Throughout the rare times that you two played around this house, I thought, 'Ah, this little one could be with him for a long time, I can tell.' And what do you know," she placed a kiss on Sanzo's brow—

"I was entirely right all along."

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Kanzeon offered them a night's stay as soon as the torrent of rain poured outside, and knowing her nephew, she made sure to keep him as not-cranky as possible. "Besides, it's a Friday. No work tomorrow, right?" she said with her ever knowing smile.

And now Sanzo looked at the ceiling of the room that he used to have when he was a child, and remembered everything was the same. The glazed, caramel walls, the dim, warm lighting, the plush bed that remained too big even for an adult to use, the lacquered drawers that held too many drawing materials, a large, ornate, black, wooden box decorated with silver, budding flowers that Sanzo knew wasn't there before—

He lifted the lid and peered inside the large box, and his brows rose in the smallest hint of surprise when he saw the first of the many stick and blob drawings that Goku used to draw for him whenever they met. The drawing on top—a crude drawing at best—was of him and of Goku, sharing their first meal together under a tree. Sanzo bit the inside of his lower lip, and checked the drawings some more. There was a drawing of a cat, and of a blob figure of Sanzo running away. There was a drawing of a very small Goku, clutching his hand onto Sanzo's, and a drawing of Sanzo sick in bed, and beside him was a blob of Goku surrounded by blue lines that what Sanzo assumed as tears.

The blond fought back a small smile, and failed.

"Sanzo?"

He shuffled and placed the drawings and the lid back in place, just in time to see Goku open the door and enter the room.

"I asked Auntie if I could sleep in the room we shared when we were kids. She agreed," the brunet said with a soft smile as he closed the door behind him. "Gojyo is with her right now, and if I didn't know better, he'd be hitting on her. Jiroushin keeps glaring daggers at him, though. Oh, and I asked her about Spot. Said she'd tell us about it tomorrow at breakfast."

Sanzo hummed and turned away from him, "Like hell she'd let him hit on her. She may act like a bitch, but not an actual bitch—hey. What are you doing." He tried turning around, and failing to do so when Goku tightened his arms around him. It was like déjà vu all over again.

"You look happy, Sanzo," the young man beamed at him. "Was there something you remembered?" And Sanzo, being Sanzo, grumbled something under his breath that Goku couldn't quite catch, and he pestered him to no end until the blond pulled away from his embrace and fell back onto the side of the bed he once shared with the brunet. He followed and plopped back beside him. Knowing that Sanzo wouldn't repeat what he uttered moments prior, he changed the topic. "Hey, Sanzo. Are we even doing our jobs anymore?"

The blond quirked an eyebrow and faced the younger man, who looked at the ceiling, his face expressing too much unspoken thoughts. "What do you mean?"

"This—thing that's been going on lately with Spot. It's like—we're not just doing our regular jobs anymore. There's something darker going on, is there? I mean, normal publishing companies wouldn't just try and kill anyone over some books, right? I've never seen you do that." Golden eyes looked at purple ones, and Sanzo sighed.

"I wouldn't do that, idiot. I'm not that insane," the blond mumbled, his insult holding none of its usual bite. "The hag told you the same thing she said to me, I suppose?" Goku nodded. Sanzo closed his eyes, and said nothing more. How much she told Goku, he never asked, and he took comfort in the short silence until he heard the familiar sound of calm and even breathing. Glancing over to Goku, Sanzo huffed, and fully turned over to observe the sleeping brunet, his arm now propped up under his temple. He looked at how he slept with his mouth parted, emitting soft snores, and noted how his lashes kissed his soft face.

Sanzo hovered on Goku's lips, letting his breath fan over Goku's parted lips.

He closed his eyes and nudged Goku's mouth closed, his index and middle fingers brushing against a soft chin a tad too long.

He regarded the sleeping Goku with a raised eyebrow and a barely concealed, lopsided smirk.

"Looking completely defenseless in your sleep while I'm here, eh. Heh, you trust me too much."

He brushed the stray fringe on Goku's forehead, sighed, and placed a kiss there. Goku did not stir, not even when Sanzo put his forehead to his.

"You really are a silly monkey."

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The following morning during breakfast, Kanzeon explained to Sanzo about Kami, as promised. She told him of how orphan Kami wasn't given a real name under Ken'yuu's questionable guardianship, and how the child developed a god complex because of Ken'yuu's lax and carefree teachings.

"Why do I know this, you ask? Koumyou occasionally talked to me about it, telling me that he wouldn't let you be near Ken'yuu because of his methods of raising Kami." Kanzeon ate the last of her panna cotta and regarded her nephew with an austere air.

"So, you're saying that this Ken'yuu person didn't even give his adoptive son a name?" Sanzo asked, brows drawing tight in confusion. "Who hired him into Kinzan, then?"

Kanzeon twirled her fork, and pointed it at the scowling blond, "Your father did. He couldn't stand seeing Ken'yuu neglecting the kid, so he thought that the friendly atmosphere in Kinzan might help the kid become a better person. It didn't. Ken'yuu's teachings on him were deeply embedded into Kami's psyche—I should know, I watched him in his early days as a trainee and he had a childish streak of being self-righteous and conceited. And then you came along, I gladly gave you your rightful position in Kinzan, and we are left to where we are now."

Goku chewed on his dumpling, and side-glanced at a stern-faced Sanzo.

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Goku greeted the new clients and the first-time authors with smiles and encouragement in the lobby. He interviewed them one by one, and directed the writers to their respective heads in the genres that the clients excel in. At one point, the brunet had to excuse himself and call for backup—a dashing, black-haired young man called Homura from the editorial managing department—for one client about a book proposal, and another for a client seeking the best publishing package.

Goku dashed into the lunchroom after relaying all the details to the managing editor, and wolfed down plate after plate of everything in the menu.

"Dude, you're near tears. What happened?" asked Jien, who sat down in front of him with worry after seeing Goku looking distressed. Beside him was Yaone, who looked as equally worried for the brunet.

Goku held up a hand and patted his stomach, trying to even out his breathing, and Jien blinked and nodded. After a few moments, Goku mustered a smile, "'ts okay, guys. I was just having a heartburn from eating too much. I didn't have lunch earlier from all the clients outside. Some of them gave me a headache and kept demanding me to tell them what's wrong with their manuscripts and proposals."

"And so you were near tears," Jien deadpanned, to which Goku nodded enthusiastically. "Man, and here I thought being the president's assistant would make you cry—when the actual thing that'd make you weep is not eating for a few hours and some complaining clients, haha—ow!"

Yaone elbowed Jien on the ribs and glared at him, before smiling at Goku with enthusiasm and a cheerful clap of her hands, "Mr. Goku, if you'd like, we could have a nice nightout after all the clients have done their part. I'm sure we'll need all the relaxation after dealing with the deadlines being met. Say, this Friday?"

Goku gulped down a glass of water and beamed at the smiling woman, and quickly agreed. He had always liked Yaone—always so calm and polite and gentle and kind. And it reminded him of someone he knew quite well. "Ah, can I call in a friend, too? He's nice and polite and smart like you! I'm sure you'll like his company!" he blurted out in glee.

Jien rubbed his ribs and laughed, "Pretty sure that's not our boss."

Goku guffawed, "Of course not! But he is pretty."

The utensils seemed to stop their tinkering on plates, and Jien and Yaone stared at Goku as though he had went insane.

The brunet leaned back on his chair with suddenly stiff shoulders, smiling a bit too tightlipped and eyes fluttering a bit too much as he held his breath, looked at his watch and chattered.

"Oh. Oh wow. Will you look at the time. Is that the time? Yeah. That's the time," he stood up a tad too quickly, his grin stretching from ear to ear, "Have to go back to the clients and all that. Don't want Homura to leave him there all in his lonesome. Tell me about when this nightout will be! Jien, Gojyo will be there, right? Right. Well, have to go, guys, bye!" And he picked up his tray, cleaned up in a mad dash, and sped out of the lunchroom.

It took a few moments before Goku's words sank in for the two. Jien stared at the door Goku just dashed to. "Did—did Goku just confess that he has the hots for the president?"

Yaone, too stunned to speak, nodded slowly, and took moments before she, too, could recover. "I think he must be complimenting President Genjo's looks, but now I am not so sure it was just a compliment."

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Sanzo grunted his way back to his flat, all semblance of composure gone as he clutched his wrinkled coat in one hand and swiped the card key with the other, and entered the room. Tama sat by the entryway and greeted him with a soft meow, gently pawing on his foot, and Sanzo sighed. Behind him, Goku crouched to pat the calico cat on the head.

"Hey, Sanzo. At least it wasn't vomit on your coat," he laughed, wagging his finger in front of the playful cat. He heard Sanzo snort as he removed his shoes on the entryway with nonchalance, and stomped his way to the laundry room, only to come back out and storm to the kitchen, yelling insults about how drunk Gojyo was for him to spill whiskey on his pants.

"I looked like I had shit on my suit the whole night, idiot. The whole fucking night! It didn't help that my pants are fucking white—Goku, where's the vinegar?"

"In the cabinet to your left."

"Right. As I was saying—hey, kitten, here's your food—I was saying, those Sha brothers will one day meet my gun for that. I looked like shit. And how the fuck did that smarmy Homura get invited? He's not even on our floor!"

Goku curled his socked toes on the carpet in the living room and plopped on the couch, controlling his snickers as he watched Sanzo ranting and flailing about in the kitchen, and opted not to comment about the glaring stain on Sanzo's white pants. "Homura's your employee, you know. And you're the boss, therefore, it doesn't matter which floor he's on. Besides, I invited Hakkai over, you know. He's not your employee, but I don't see you complainin'."

"Well, fuck you, too."

Goku guffawed, and silently observed Sanzo muttering curses as he struggled with battling the stain on the sink. "It was a good thing we agreed to go to that bar, though. We found out things about Godworks. Like how it's actually Houtou's puppet than a sister company. Plus, we got a new ally in our hands—Sanzo? What's that?"

Sanzo had stopped blotting on his coat, and inspected a soaking wet card in his hands.

"This was in my coat pocket."

Goku blinked and went over to him immediately, and took the soggy card from his hands. "It's—Homura's calling card. What's it for?" He turned the card over and tried to read what was legibly left of the smudged letters and the washed out logo of the golden-tipped lotus that was Kinzan's symbol. "It says at the back, 'me, too.' Did you two even talk tonight? Because I'm pretty sure you two didn't. Anyway, what does this, 'me, too' mean?" Sanzo checked all his pockets in case if there was another card planted onto his person, but found none. He wrinkled his nose at the card in Goku's hand.

"Dunno. Didn't talk to him at all. I'll ask him tomorrow. Goku, check your pockets."

Goku flipped all of his pockets inside out and found nothing that resembled a card or any paper. "Maybe it was just put on you?"

"The fuck would he do that for? He could have just told me about what he wanted to say. And why give me his calling card when I have all the employees' numbers in my disposal?"

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Sanzo glared from where he sat in his office, his eyebrow twitching at Homura's ever present, knowing grin. The sable-haired man reclined loftily in front of him, legs crossed and shoulders shrugging.

"I wanted to call your attention," Homura declared with a glib wave of his arms. "Word spoke fast, you know, Konzen. I heard from the Sha brothers of your little investigation of this notable company," he leaned forward, elbows propped on the desk and obscuring his mouth with his clasped fingers. "Houtou is on a different league than Kinzan, Konzen. You'll need more than just covert fact-finding if you want to know more about them."

"Fuck you. Stop calling me that. And why do you care?" Sanzo leaned away from him, scowling as he breathed out a lazy trail of cigarette smoke from his sneering lips, finding a small hint of satisfaction when Homura's nose crumpled in distaste. The blond never liked the guy in the first place since they met under Kanzeon's tutelage in editorial training, but Sanzo had to begrudgingly admit, Homura's skills in handling people in their most stressful states during an editing cycle was something that Sanzo could never do in his lifetime. Aside from being one of Kanzeon's favorite 'children' in Kinzan, Sanzo had yet to find a hole in actually trying to fire Homura. But he'd lose a fairly decent employee if he fired him.

He didn't want that.

"I want to aid you in knowing more about Godworks and Houtou," Homura gritted out in between gnashing teeth, and Sanzo hummed, one eyebrow raising in a quiet interest. Homura's face twisted in repressed frustration, his blue and golden eyes seething in a bubbling wrath. "This isn't about Son Goku anymore, Konzen—"

"Don't drag him into this."

Homura's tirade stopped, and huffed at the sudden coldness in Sanzo's usual glare. "Ah. Have I struck a nerve?" Reveling in the blond's narrowed eyes and silent fury, Homura smiled, "You and I share the same goal, Konzen, whether you'd like to admit it or not. I seek Houtou's president's blood for killing my fiancée from disobeying a command she couldn't do, and you—"

Homura stood up, languidly coming over behind Sanzo's tense shoulders, and sneered.

"You want to know who wants you dead, right?"

Sanzo snapped his cigarette in half and whirled around, glaring at the haughty man that leaned away from him with a buttery smile. "What the fuck do you know?"

Homura crowed, and shook his head in spurn. "Do you really think that Kami will stop at one attempt on your life? Konzen, you are here now because of Son Goku. Why do you suppose the vice president initially made me your assistant before you transferred me to another department and switched your assistants before ending up with Son Goku? It's a fortunate thing that he is willing to give up his life for you. Konzen, Vice President Kanzeon knows the troubles that follow you around, and that is why I, a former military man, was assigned to you, and that's why she gave you that—"

"Enough. Just. Stop it."

"Why? Because you can't face the truth that your world is being shaken for once, and by an unknown, no less? Or is it because—"

Sanzo quivered in anger in his seat. Standing up, he made a move to grab Homura by the collar when the door clicked open and Goku sighed in lament, eyes downcast as he entered the office.

"Sanzo, the clients have finally left for the day, what do you think about Thai food for—oh."

The blond, with his arm in mid-attack, let out a low growl at Homura's smug face. Goku, oblivious to it all, blinked at the two. "Something the matter?"

Sanzo's eye twitched as he stepped away from his desk and went over over to Goku with long strides, grabbing his coat from the rack near the door in a hurry. "He's just being the pest, as usual. You said something about Thai?"

Goku, out of habit, smoothed out the creases on Sanzo's coat, and nodded with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Uh, yeah. I want spicy food today. Is that okay?" The blond noted how those golden eyes kept darting to Homura with downturned lips, worry and apprehension written all over his face. Sanzo sighed inwardly.

Homura bit the inside of his cheek as he watched how Kinzan's CEO treated the young brunet—with all muttered words and barely gestured nods that seemed to be reserved only for Goku. He hummed as Sanzo said something to the brunet that escaped Homura's ears, words which seemed to cause the golden-eyed teen to beam again. The blond ruffled Goku's hair a tad too long for anyone's comfort, but the latter didn't seem to mind it at all.

"Ah, Homura, we'll go on ahead. Have to make reservations on a last minute notice. Is that all right?" came Goku's now chipper voice by the door. Homura took notice of the way the teen's fingers splayed loosely on Sanzo's upper arm quite longer than any normal employee would to their superior, and the blond merely side-glanced at Homura with a silent taunting of narrowed, violet eyes and crossed arms, quietly urging him not to speak anymore about what happened moments ago.

Homura smiled at Goku with a small wave, "Don't worry, I'll manage it all. Take care on your way to dinner." The teen waved goodbye, and turned away, unaware of Homura's gaze that seemed to focus on his waving arms and the animated way that he talked to Sanzo as they walked away.

An upturned curling of lips graced Homura's features, and chortled to himself, "Seems like you've found yourself a weakness, Konzen."