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.

.

Goku had dressed in a black turtleneck that was a wee bit bigger than his frame—it was Sanzo's—and had put on his jeans, and tried his best to glare at a smug-looking Homura from where he sat with his legs parted wide and his fists pressed close to his groin, squirming with quivering hands every now and then.

The sick bastard was just waiting for an opportunity to drop the bomb, Goku could feel it. By his feet curled a silent Tama, scrutinizing the guests with her slitted, amber eyes—as though the cat knew Homura's mischievous little discovery.

Sanzo, however, paid Homura—who stood smirking behind Zakuro—no heed, and chose to glare at where a bruised and injured Zakuro sat in front of him, and beside him, a curious Hakkai treated the man's cuts. Beside the doctor sat Gojyo, munching away chips that he emitted in speckles with each second he looked and guffawed at Zakuro's swollen face once he knew it was Homura's work.

"You," Sanzo pointed to Homura, "you know that that derringer is shit. It only has two fucking rounds, for crying out loud. You should've just took it from him and let him roam. There was no need to bring him here."

"Pardon, President," interrupted Homura, his expression now void of smugness, his tone was now business-like, curt and formal, and his hands sat behind his back as he spoke. "Even though what he had is a mere TA-38—looks like a toy gun at first glance—you'll never know if a bullet might accidentally shoot you. It's better to be cautious of such a thing. A bullet could travel miles, I'm sure you're aware of that."

Sanzo huffed. Homura would decide to call Sanzo by his title only during the times when Sanzo was on the verge of being assaulted.

Goku observed the empty and now dismantled gun on the coffee table. "Why go all the way here? You clearly aren't dead like what the news said. You were supposed to be like, the gazillionth Houtou victim. Shouldn't you be there instead of here?" He looked at Zakuro with suspicion, noting the puffy eyes and the red nose. Earlier, Goku had called Gojyo in for backup on stripping Zakuro down for any concealed weapons, and when they had found none other than the small derringer, Goku had called Hakkai in for treating the man. Homura, all the while, had sat from the sidelines, watching everything with an amused gaze.

They have been inquiring Zakuro for the past hour, and the tanned blond, through gritted teeth and clenched fists, had spilled and told them everything, including the events that circulated around Houtou for so long.

Homura and Sanzo were not surprised by Zakuro's tale. Goku, however, was baffled, and could only gape his mouth at the anomaly of it all. He had heard rumors about the employee killings, but to hear it firsthand from one of Houtou's employees sent a shiver down Goku's spine. He'd rather die a painful death than kill Sanzo for a rank that he never wanted.

"Goku, Gojyo, did the hag ever tell you why you had to work here?" Sanzo asked, raising one eyebrow at the wide-eyed brunet and the blinking redhead. Goku slowly shook his head, frowning. Gojyo shrugged.

"I met the qualifications to be some CEO's bodyguard. The pay's high, so I accepted. Didn't think of the consequences. Who needs terms and conditions?" Gojyo laughed through a mouthful of chips.

"I followed her order because she says I got to be with ya and protect ya, Sanzo. 'ts all that matters," he chirped with a grin, pushing away thoughts of death from his mind. And Sanzo huffed, fighting back a ghost of a smirk.

"She knows everything that involves Kinzan. This whole company was built as a publishing house as a pretense. Its real job is to stop Houtou from reeling in all the people in the area from being mindless puppets that reveled in violence through their works. It's why Kinzan had started with religious works."

"Like a filibuster, you mean?" Goku blinked.

Sanzo glared at the silent Zakuro, "A filibuster—you could say that. Our real job is to keep the people from becoming Houtou's victims, countering Houtou's works with Kinzan's. But then over time, Houtou hauled far too many readers and writers that were too willing to contribute to its violent creations. And when their usual formula of stories started to look dull and repetitive to the readers, they changed their methods of writing and acquiring info for their material."

Homura smiled, looking at Sanzo with a morbid fascination through eyes of blue and gold. "That's when the bizarre killings in the books slowly became real, until the unknown killings attracted attention from the media, but no Houtou employee or an avid Houtou reader would dare spill the beans, because the employees knew they will die, and the readers who might tattle to authorities might be targeted for the next material. Ms. Kanzeon knew that she needed Konzen's—sorry, I mean, the president's—eccentric mindset to be on par with Houtou. It was one of the reasons she gave him her position."

"And so Sanzo opened up new genres, right?" Hakkai said with a delightful laugh. "I very much like the Medical line you put up recently," he looked at Sanzo with pleased smiles, "I've been buying them and been waiting for new issues since it first came out a year ago. The Herbology line also intrigued me. And the most fascinating one I've seen is the Medieval line, where people from the early tenth to fourteenth centuries have been using the strangest remedies for some ailments of the human body. Did you know that people had once used hot irons to shove up people's anuses to cure them from hemorrhoids? And that the Elizabethans ate mice to cure smallpox—"

"A'ight, a'ight, Hakkai. We get your point. Please stop, I'm eating here," Gojyo winced, and raised a finger to Hakkai's lips. Hakkai looked at the redhead with faux hurt at being stopped. "Anyway," Gojyo mumbled, "I didn't know half of that shit Homura just said. I don't care, as long as I get to do my job of protecting that Buddhist bum's ass and get my pay, I don't care what history is between Kinzan and Houtou. Like, now what? So, are we gonna kill this guy?" He jerked his thumb to Zakuro.

"Nah, we need to know every detail he has about Houtou." Sanzo tapped his finger on his now empty beer can, gauging Zakuro's every reaction, "You told us you know nothing of Kami. How can we be sure you're not hiding him from us?"

Zakuro made a sound that was a cross between a scoff and a grunt, and he bared his teeth at the pale blond, "Genjo Sanzo. Even I have been trying to find out who he is for a long time. How he got to Godworks, I don't know. Besides, he shot me. He wants me dead. I wouldn't be coming to your feet, begging for mercy if the situation weren't fatal."

Gojyo shrugged, waving a dismissive hand to Zakuro, "The guy's right, you know. We all saw how his haughtiness rivals that of our His Not-Holiness's."

"Feh, what are you implying, shithead," Sanzo scowled. "Moreover, Zakuro, you told me no one can leave Houtou." Sanzo darted his eyes to Gojyo, and knew fully well that his older brother, Jien, had resorted to escape from Houtou with broken limbs. Jien had apparently willingly chose death than to kill his then fellow workers. Hakkai had saved Jien's life, and Gojyo had since then owed the doctor for everything.

Gojyo averted Sanzo's gaze with clenched jaws.

Zakuro didn't need to know that.

"Have you seen your president's face?" Sanzo inquired instead.

Zakuro froze, his eyes darting about, and his jaw clenched as he thought of an acceptable answer. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I need it. I need to know who I'm dealing with," Sanzo's eyes narrowed, his brows furrowed, and his upper lips curled into a snarl. "I already have a hunch, I just need confirmation." He took out a picture from his wallet, the one with Kami, and a black-haired man with his back facing the camera. He placed it in front of the unresponsive Zakuro.

"Do you know who Kami is talking to in this photo?" Sanzo inquired the silent man, and when Zakuro didn't reply immediately, the sound of Homura's Dragon Fury knife unsheathed from his pocket, its titanium and scale-patterned blade glinting and kissing against the skin of Zakuro's throat.

"Answer him," Homura hissed.

"I'm thinking! I can't think if there's a knife on me!"

Sanzo stared pointedly at the black-haired man, and ordered Homura to stop badgering Zakuro. And when Homura merely removed the knife from the throat and moved it to the forehead, Sanzo sighed, and muttered about shitty subordinates. He glanced at the quietly giggling brunet beside him. "Goku."

Goku tried and failed to stifle his wide grin as he covered his mouth from Sanzo, "Got it." He then looked at Homura with a suddenly passive face, "Homura. Lower your weapon."

Homura regarded Goku with a raised eyebrow, sighed, and folded his knife with a smile, "As you say, Son Goku."

"Hey, 'Kai, why did the prince follow the monkey instead of the boss?" Gojyo suddenly asked, red eyes darting between Sanzo and Goku and Homura, while Hakkai clamped his lips shut to stifle a burst of laughs—

Sanzo cleared his throat, "Zakuro. Your answer."

Zakuro hissed in annoyance, and gave Homura a sidelong glance. "There are many men with black hair in Houtou. How should I know who that is?"

The click of Sanzo's gun was heard, and Zakuro raised his hands up immediately. "I swear I don't know!"

"You lie," came Sanzo and Goku's low chorus.

"I am not!"

Goku clenched his fists on his lap and stomped his foot, teeth gritting out in both dull pain and impatience, unconsciously surprising the cat by his leg. "Yer not lookin' 'ere! Tell 'im th' truth s'you can go home!"

Gojyo warily looked at the fuming teen that was now muttering apologies to the offended cat, then craned his neck to where Zakuro sat. It was when Goku slipped to a different and almost incomprehensible accent altogether that Gojyo knew the brunet was serious. Hakkai, too, sensed the change in the usually cheerful boy. Gojyo stretched his arm behind Hakkai, and tapped Zakuro on the shoulder. "Yo, answer His Highness. His little pet looks like he's going to blow a fuse any second. You can deal with him hungry, but not angry. And you don't want him angry—" He held up his palms, "Trust me."

Zakuro lowered his head, and his lips moved, and Homura and Gojyo slapped the tanned blond on the back.

"Say it louder!" Gojyo and Goku—who now had a fussy Tama in his arms—yelled, and Zakuro slammed his finger on the photo, his chartreuse eyes burning in fury.

"It might be that sneaky, that godawful Ni Jien Yi, Kami's god!"

There was silence, and Sanzo muttered the name in undertone, memorizing it, and then—"What do you think he's handing out to this... Ni Jien Yi?"

Zakuro looked at Sanzo, bared his teeth, and muttered, "Most likely he's handing him his report on the people he killed that week. It happens to Houtou, too. Godworks also has the policy of, 'The more people killed, the higher your position will be.' It's a constant war zone where you could trust no one."

"Is that so. So this Ni Jien Yi is in a higher position than Kami," Sanzo drawled, and he glanced at his subordinates and Hakkai. As much as he openly expressed his distaste in dealing with people, Sanzo was not one to promote killing among his ranks. The thought of it alone was fucking despicable. "What about Kami wanting to extend his filthy hands to my firm? This whole shit started with him going here and declaring that Godworks wanted me to give them a hand 'for the greater good', whatever that is."

"It's most likely to spread its influence. Godworks recently bought Fortunes & Castles Publishing from Chin Yisou, son of that degenerate politician. I heard Houtou had his father killed after a negotiation gone wrong, and had Godworks kill the son for stepping out of line." Zakuro was calmer now, and Goku silently noted that the tanned blond was finally cooperating.

"So I've heard," Hakkai muttered. "I had Yisou as my patient. Took a fatal stab to the stomach and died within a few minutes—"

"Feh, the guy gave you a hard time for badgering you to sell your hospital to him for his 'additional property' shit. I say the damn prick deserves to die," interrupted Gojyo with a huff.

Hakkai let out a forced laugh and a too wide smile, "Well, can't say I'm not relieved, to be honest."

"Hey, Zakuro, I just remembered," Goku started, glancing at Sanzo and waiting for permission to continue. The purple-eyed man nodded, and Goku looked at Zakuro. "Kami once told me this: 'Ravens will devour the night and we'll get back what was stolen from us.' Ring any bells?"

Zakuro looked around, muttering to himself in quiet thought, and then—"There's only one person he'd refer to as a raven. It's why Houtou and Godworks have ravens as their logos." He looked at the photo, and hummed. "That black-haired man, now that I look at it closely, has to be the raven. Kami has never shown a smile like that to anyone. It's Ni Jien Yi—Houtou's shadow president. Kami thinks Kinzan stole Houtou's rightful fame, and wants to take it back. No offense, Genjo Sanzo, but I, the great Zakuro, want to take it back, too—or should I say, wanted to. We have kept a close eye on you for a long time because you were taking up all the space in the shelves alongside Keiun—and making you our target would mean a huge boost to our position. It was all business."

"Did you know how Kami escaped from us? Do you Houtou people have a certain method to use? Because fuck, I still don't know how he escaped from falling out of the window." Gojyo asked out of the blue. The redhead had been trying to wrap his mind around Kami's escape for a long time—

Zakuro furrowed his brows, eyes boring at Gojyo's, and he shook his head, "None that I know of."

Sanzo hummed. A question had been plaguing his mind for some time since he had talked with Kanzeon. It was pure chance that he had encountered Kami, and—

"Hey, Zakuro. That Ni Jien Yi—is that his real name?"

The tanned blond shrugged, "I mostly call him Chief. As for his name, I'm guessing it's an alias. I never see a plaque of his face or nameplate of him anywhere. His PA sometimes calls him Ni Jien Yi if she's irritated with him, otherwise, she simply calls him Dr. Ni. I assume that's his actual name."

"Last question," Sanzo declared, his purple eyes glinting as he straightened his back on his seat. "Do you and the other employees meet up on the same place at the same time to see this Ni Jien Yi?"

.

The following weekend, Sanzo set up their mission to put Zakuro's info to the test.

Squeezed in between Gojyo and Goku sat an uncharacteristically silent Zakuro. Beside Goku sat Sanzo, on the passenger seat sat Homura, and Hakkai was their designated driver. Hakkai's Versa Hatchback parked a few feet away from the corner of the street where Gojyo and Goku had last seen Kami talking to a man in a black suit, a place that Zakuro had confirmed was Houtou employees' 'covert' meeting place with the finished killings.

Sanzo blindly took fries from Goku's makeshift paper bowl, his eyes not leaving the street corner through the tinted windows.

Homura turned to Hakkai and smiled. "I'm quite surprised Konzen allowed me to be a part of this group—"

"Fuck you, odd eyes. I told you not to call me that. You fucking invited yourself here—" Sanzo tore his gaze from the sidewalk and kicked the seat in front of him where Homura sat—with a socked foot, of course. He wouldn't want to be scolded by Hakkai, of all people—

"Sanzo," Hakkai chided gently, looked at the pale blond through the rearview mirror. Sanzo huffed, silently tucking his foot back in his shoe. Hakkai smiled, "I am quite amazed why we didn't just stay in your car, instead."

"It attracts too much attention," Sanzo muttered as he fixed his earpiece, fixing his gaze back to the sidewalk on the other side of the street. "Zakuro, do you know of a man named Koumyou?"

"No, why?"

"Oh. Just asking."

Goku munched on the fries, and then—"Hey, Sanzo. Isn't that your—ow! Gojyo! Why'd your throw a can of soda, you jerk!"

Goku stopped his oncoming rain of insults when Gojyo's eyes bulged and shifted, darting from Zakuro to Sanzo. He faintly shook his head and twitched the corners of his lip, tapping it repeatedly with one finger. The teen caught on after more funny and vague gestures from the redhead, and Goku clamped his lips in a tightlipped smile.

"Right. Here's your soda." And Goku threw the soda can back to Gojyo, grinning back to his near empty paper bowl of fries.

Homura craned his neck to where Zakuro sat, and eyed him with the slightest hint of suspicion in his narrowed eyes, "You told me you know nothing of a woman named Rinrei, correct?" When Zakuro nodded, Homura frowned. "I'll take your word for it—but if I catch wind about you hiding anything related to her, I'll slaughter you with my own hands." He turned his attention to the pavement, and mulled over Zakuro's reply. If Zakuro—who had only been in Houtou for two years—knew nothing about the death of Homura's fiancée, then there was a chance that other employees, much longer in Houtou's service, knew at least something.

Kami, according to the records he got from Sanzo, had been under Godworks's eye for six years. That man had to know something.

"He's here," Sanzo drawled, and all eyes fell on a white suit-clad Kami standing by a lamppost, with two envelopes in his hand.

"Now, Sanzo?" Gojyo asked, his hand already reaching for the door—and when Sanzo shook his head, Gojyo backed away. And when a bespectacled man in a black suit approached Kami from the side, Sanzo shook his head.

"Not yet."

Gojyo grumbled, his palms itching to get a feel of punching someone again. It had been so long since he had gotten into a fight—

"Hey, Goku. You take my place here." Gojyo slipped the earpiece around his nape, and patted Hakkai on the shoulder, "Take care, man." When Hakkai nodded and patted Gojyo's hand, the redhead exited the car and put on his helmet as Goku scooted over and slammed the door. Tapping on the window twice, Gojyo rode his Ducati, and waited for the signal.

Sanzo kept his eye on the man with glasses, and Zakuro pointed at the bespectacled man.

"That's him. The shadow president."

Sanzo hummed, and squinted, trying to get a good look at the man, "...Ni Jien Yi is Ukoku?" His purple eyes widened a fraction, noting Ukoku's scruffy stubble, glib smile, condescending face, and unkempt, black hair. There was no doubt in his mind, that the man that Kami was talking to was Ukoku, Kami's no-good stepfather. Sanzo pointed at Ukoku, "You don't know that they're a dysfunctional family?" He asked Zakuro, to which the tanned blond's brows shot up in surprise.

"Wha—family, you say? What?!"

Sanzo merely nodded, his thoughts running in a blur at the revelation, and when he turned his attention back to the two men, Kami smiled and bowed to Ukoku.

Not once did Sanzo see that Ukoku opened his mouth to speak to Kami.

When Kami and Ukoku parted ways, Goku tapped the window to his side twice, alerting Gojyo to tail Kami as soon as the blond was out of the corner of the street. Hakkai waited for Gojyo's Ducati to turn to a corner.

"Now," Sanzo commanded, and Hakkai followed Ukoku with a decently slow speed on his car. Ukoku had his hands buried inside the pockets of his pressed slacks, idly walking down the crowded street, and when Ukoku turned around the corner, Gojyo's voice rang through Sanzo's earpiece.

"The punk's riding a silver Peugeot Allure. The fuck do I do now?"

"You're catching up to him, right?" Sanzo muttered.

"Course I am."

"Just follow him around and stuff. We're tailing this Ukoku guy now at a turtle pace," said Goku to his mouthpiece, muffling his voice with a burger that Hakkai made.

"Gotcha." And they heard the sound of Gojyo's motorbike revving up.

"Any idea where Ukoku is heading?" Hakkai asked Sanzo, glancing at the blond through the rearview mirror. As soon as he said it, however, Ukoku stopped in his tracks, and Hakkai stopped his car at a corner, staying at a decent distance from the man. Ukoku looked around, his shoulders hunched, and entered a hotel. They waited, and opted not to spy inside the building with the huge, embossed sign of Houtou's logo on the glass doors. Zakuro entering the hotel was not an option, for he was supposed to be dead. Goku was also out of the question—his face had already been seen in Godworks's security during his short trip there. Sanzo was especially out of the question. Sanzo refused Homura to go in the building—which only left Hakkai to investigate, as he was neither Kinzan nor a Houtou employee.

After being given a covert microphone and earpiece, Hakkai went inside the hotel—and they waited. When Hakkai exited the building after half an hour, he returned to his car with all smiles—

"Okay. He's about to leave with a woman."

The hotel doors opened, and Ukoku, all unkempt and smug, exited the hotel, with a middle-aged, green-haired woman linking her arm to his.

The continuous shots of Goku's camera went off as he took picture after picture of the pair walking down the street. "Who's she?" he asked no one in particular, and Hakkai shrugged.

"The real owner of Houtou, Gyokumen," Zakuro answered. "Feisty and sadistic woman, she is. Never takes no for an answer. I have never seen her son—stepson, that is—but I heard her nails are pretty much embedded deep into him and he can't get away from her."

"Have you directly spoken to her?" Homura asked, and he hummed in thought when he shook his head.

"I have never spoken to her. Very few people can speak to her directly, and if she doesn't like you, she gets you disposed of, right in front of her."

Goku made a disgusted face at the confession, and winced when he took a picture of Ukoku and Gyokumen kissing on the streets. "So, they like each other?"

"They use each other, more like," Zakuro shifted in his seat, his eyes trailing at the pair's retreating forms. "Ni controls Houtou with his intelligence, and Gyokumen uses that intelligence to broaden her connections. Convenient, if you ask me. Now that they had taken my property after I 'died', they'll find another employee to harass and kill."

Ukoku and Gyokumen disappeared around the corner of the next street—and Sanzo, deciding that they got all the info they needed for today, called Gojyo.

"Where are you? We got all the shit today."

"He returned to Godworks, man. Should I return? He's not killing anyone for the moment."

"Yeah, return for now. I'm thinking of a plan."

.

Zakuro had been placed under Gojyo's flat until the mayhem in Houtou subsided. Goku, with Yaone's help, continued accommodating to new clients in Kinzan. Sanzo and Homura, for the meantime, bickered over Sanzo's plan to get a list of the past victims of Houtou and Godworks, and present a case to the court.

"Konzen, I still have connections even though I am not in service anymore—"

"And have you involve the entire fucking military over this? Fuck no. I know how you work."

"Fine. A private investigation could be done, at least. Let me do it so I could strangle his neck—"

"Don't be blinded by your fucking revenge plot."

"I am certainly not blinded by my revenge plot."

Sanzo mulled over the possibilities of involving certain authorities to the case. He was now dealing with the discovery of massive killings, with the motive to get its hands full of properties from employees left and right—that had been Houtou's modus since the beginning, but no one dared to tackle the case, in fear of getting caught up in Houtou's web.

"Homura, you're dismissed."

"What? No. Listen, Konzen—"

"We don't have a case to present if we don't have decisive evidence—"

"And that's why I told you I will do it and get the decisive evidence. I get it, give you the files, I'll talk to my colleagues, we'll present the case—"

The sound of knocking interrupted the two, and in came a lanky, fidgety man with long, black hair tied in a low braid behind his back. In his arms were three, thick folders that he struggled in his hands as he closed the door behind him.

"The manuscripts I edited are here, sir," he said in a meek voice, his head bowed throughout as he held out the folders with shaky arms.

Homura, irritated at being interrupted, turned around and raised an eyebrow. "You expect the president to come to you?"

The bespectacled man flinched, and his face paled as he looked at a frowning Sanzo reclining on his office chair, one hand tucked under his chin.

He had always regarded the president as a cold beauty—with his pale skin, striking blond hair, piercing, violet eyes, the ever-present scowl, the constant spew of filthy words from his deep and gruff voice, the haughty air that surrounded the man—

—he couldn't help but be captivated by the CEO's aura.

Homura snapped his fingers twice, "Hello?"

The lanky man snapped out of his reverie and muttered apologies, and only made a step when the door slammed open to reveal a smiling Goku carrying five stacks of folders, accidentally pushing the man to the floor—

"Sanzo! Here's the work Jien and I did—oh. Oh!" Goku scrambled to Sanzo's desk and placed the folders in a neat pile and fussed over the man fumbling with the fallen manuscripts littered about. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry—!"

The man mustered a shaky smile to the teen, his thin and sallow face showing meekness and nervousness as his hands scrambled to get all of the papers into the folders before Goku could.

"Lemme help," Goku offered, taking the folders away from the man's hands before he could say anything else. He scanned over the pages as he numerically arranged them, and smiled thoughtfully, "From the Buddhist Fiction department, yes? Hi, I'm Son Goku!" Gold eyes looked at the man's taupe gray ones, and his smile widened when the man feebly nodded and stammered his name.

"Go Dougan, I am."

"Haha—! Why so formal?"

"Goku, get it over here," came Sanzo's irritated drawl, and the brunet's smile froze and he shuffled to his feet, rearranging the rest of the manuscripts on the desk, leaving Dougan to stand awkwardly by the door. "How many times do I have to tell you to knock before you enter, stupid monkey?"

Goku stuck out his tongue and merely laughed, and burrowed his nose back to the disarrayed papers. Homura chuckled and glanced at the fumbling Dougan, then back to Sanzo.

"So, about my proposal—"

"Homura, just stop it. I am not going to risk anyone's ass for some documents."

"But it was your idea in the first place," Homura shrugged with a lopsided smile. "Besides, those 'some documents' are vital, yes? It would save you a lot of trouble if we get our hands on it."

"Ah! Homura's right. If you want, I could go, too," cheered Goku as he tapped the edges of the papers in his hands, to which Sanzo glared at the brunet as a response.

"Hell to the fuck no. I'm not leaving you in some punk's questionable care."

Homura snorted a laugh, his shoulders shaking with mirth at Sanzo's words, "Me? Questionable? How rude, Konzen. Have you forgotten when I saw you two—"

"Shut it. Don't speak about it," came Goku and Sanzo's clipped response in unison, and Homura blinked in stunned silence, and stifled a laugh in between his teeth a few moments later.

"Even your sentences slide into the same tone! You two amuse me."

Dougan meekly raised his hand, his voice low and trembling. "Um, if I may, President—I could help you with your task."

Homura and Goku snapped their heads to the jittery Dougan, their expressions now void of any prior cheer. Sanzo blinked at the sudden declaration.

"Do you even know what we're talking about?" Sanzo huffed, annoyance seeping in his tone.

Dougan's shoulders stiffened, his eyes wide at the sudden retort. He didn't expect for the president to directly address him—! "Um, you—you want to get documents, sir? My job as an acquisitions editor may come in handy now."

Homura tried and failed to stifle a snort, and covered it with a fake cough a moment too late. Leaning one hand on Sanzo's desk, he noted the way Dougan stood too stiffly by the door. He bit back another laugh, "No offense, but I'm the managing editor, Son Goku here is a copyeditor, and the president still don't want us to do it. Are you sure you're up to the task?"

Sanzo growled, glaring at Homura's back with a snarl, "Hey, what are you doing."

Homura let out a low chortle, and went over beside Sanzo. He beckoned Goku over with his hand, and when Goku did so, Homura spoke lowly to Sanzo and Goku, all their eyes trained on the unsuspecting Dougan.

"What if we make him do it? He doesn't stand out as much. He's one of the few people that don't live in this building. No notable skills whatsoever—he could blend in easily with Houtou's crowd. He's perfect for the role."

"Ah, but what about his position? We can't just chuck him there and leave his department without an editor—" Goku whispered harshly, arms gesturing about. "Think of how his department will be if he'll be there. Homura, we'll be in trouble—"

"Goku's right. If word leaks out that someone from here spies on there, shit will happen."

Homura idly tapped his fingers on the desk, tutting at the two, "They won't know, because he's one of the generals. And generals never stand out amongst the gentry, especially with our actual line of work."

Sanzo scrutinized Homura's expression—his brows raised and the corners of his mouth sliding upwards, as though he had won the challenge in a landslide. The blond sighed, glancing and waiting for a further comment from Goku, and the brunet shrugged at both of them, and gave Dougan a sidelong glimpse before huddling back to Sanzo.

"Doesn't look like we have a choice, does it? Gojyo obviously can't go there. He'll screw everything up with that foul mouth of his the moment he enters the building."

Homura muffled a laugh behind his hand at Goku's words. All the while, Dougan tried to listen in, and failing in return. The hushed talk between the three men had him curious. The task at hand seemed to be a serious matter. Dougan had once been Sanzo's assistant for two days before Sanzo decided to transfer him to the Buddhist Fiction department five floors below.

On those two, short days, however, he had developed a pining for the young CEO. Cold and cynical his boss might be, but he knew, and had yet to see, that there was a genuine kindness buried underneath all the walls that the president had built around himself.

Rumor had it that those small glimpses of kindness were only known to the few who knew him well—among those were the people on this very floor where his office was. But the most who knew his innermost workings and tiniest hints of affection in public was none other than the young brunet who had taken Dougan's place. He had expected that the youngest person that the president had for an assistant wouldn't last an hour on the first day, but he was proven wrong when he had found out that the young man lasted for almost nine months now, and the stories he heard about how the brunet often had open squabbles with the president without getting kicked out of Kinzan made Dougan skeptical.

He wouldn't believe the rumors until he would see it with his own eyes.

Dougan observed the close proximity of the three, with Homura to the president's left, and Goku on the other side, and he noted how Homura somehow resembled the president in terms of appearance, and how Goku appeared to be wiry underneath all the pressed suit and slacks of burgundy—

Sanzo's lips curled into a grin as he beckoned Goku over, splaying pale fingers on the wild, brown hair, and he whispered something to his ear—and the brunet bit his lower lip, stifling small giggles. Homura, seemingly having caught onto Sanzo's words, smiled broadly, and muttered something to the two. The glimmer of Sanzo's teeth peeked from the small ghost of a simper from his smooth lips, while Goku's cheeks bubbled in mirth.

Dougan looked away.

It was the first time that he saw the usually ill-tempered president crack an expression other than the typical frown and grimace—and it was a grin, no less—!

Dougan wondered, who was this Son Goku who managed to capture the evasive president's undivided attention?

"Right, so we decided," Sanzo interrupted Dougan's thoughts with a stoic façade. Goku and Homura had now given Sanzo space. The president's purple eyes bore straight through Dougan, and the latter suppressed a shiver that ran down his spine as Sanzo spoke, "You'll take on the task I will give you. This mission is yours alone. No slip-ups. I'll tell you the details later. For now, you're at ease."

The words rang and pierced Dougan's core, and he felt a rush of elation at hearing Sanzo directly giving him a very vital task.

Not Homura, one of the greatest editors in Kinzan.

Not Goku, the president's most trusted person.

But him—Go Dougan, one of the mere editors from the Buddhist Fiction department, who was too lanky and too plain and lacked any notable presence in any room—!

Dougan's face lit up and beamed at his president, his ashen eyes sparkling beneath his round spectacles—

"Don't worry, President Genjo. I will make you proud!"

Sanzo hummed, his face slipping back to its neutral disinterest, and nodded, "All right, then. You're dismissed."

Dougan nodded enthusiastically, all prior meekness now gone as his smile widened at the blond, and he bowed and turned away.

"Ah, Sanzo. I could help him a bit, you know. Tell him the necessary things and all that," Goku stated with his face inching to the blond's—a gesture that Dougan caught from the corner of his eye.

Dougan really hoped the president would say no. He was tasked to do it alone—!

"Sure," Sanzo shrugged, unfazed at the closeness of Goku's face to his, "I don't see the harm in it."

The face of the taupe-eyed man changed to that of concealed disdain in a flash, and it was gone when Goku flailed his arms in joy and bade the blond his thanks and went over to a still frozen Dougan. Goku remained oblivious to it all as he chatted away, and only when Dougan was directly addressed did he finally mutter a response, and his meekness returned as they exited the president's office.

"I can keep an eye on him, if you want," Homura idly commented as he straightened his back, his gaze intently following Goku's movements.

"'Him' meaning who?"

"Go Dougan, of course," Homura smirked, biting back a witty comment at Sanzo's implication. "You don't know him well, do you?"

"I know him a bit. He was my last assistant until Goku took over."

Homura casted Sanzo's sullen countenance with mild interest, "Oh? He was the ninth?"

Sanzo shrugged, sighed, and leaned back on his chair, completely ignoring Homura's inquisitive stare. "I think. I lost count." He heard Homura hum, and the blond scoffed, "Don't even voice out your opinion, I know what you're thinking."

"Oh dear. Should I use Occlumency now?"

"Feh. Fuck you and your references."

Homura laughed, and both of them silently peered at Goku's lively form through the glass panes—

—and both noted the sudden stiffness of Dougan's expressions, all tightlipped in his smiles and automatic in his nods. And when Goku went away to return to his cubicle, Homura and Sanzo noticed Dougan's face scrunching in anger for a split second—the man's eyes narrowing and his jaw visibly clenching as he trailed after Goku's retreating back.

The two men frowned—and blue and gold eyes met violet ones in silence.

.

A/N: Unexpected character popping up is unexpected. But, whew. Also, the HP reference was accidental.