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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On that same day, Sanzo, Goku, and Homura have discussed deep and long about letting a Houtou employee into the threshold of Kinzan's works, all the while, the CEO had made Zakuro return to Gojyo's flat as they talked things out. And when they did, all of them came to an agreement.

Zakuro was not to write anything that involved any sort of violence, and none of his works should be forged or plagiarized, to prevent any situation from becoming drastic and might end up being a second Kami in the making. He agreed, and Sanzo took the reins on supervising Zakuro's work, with Homura checking in on the former Houtou employee from time to time.

"This means that you'll have to read Meurtre de Humain sometime—to take a look at how he writes his stuff and all that," Goku commented as he arranged a manuscript in Sanzo's office. "You haven't glanced at it since you bought it, you know."

"Tch. I don't plan on reading that shit. I'll leave that to you."

Goku stared long and hard at his boss, who was trying his best in turning away and ignoring the golden-eyed stare sent his way. "Sanzo." The flick of the newspaper covering Sanzo's face answered Goku's caustic expression, and the brunet snorted. "You need to read it to understand how his mind works—"

"I already did. Five chapters of it."

"The book has 35."

"Shut it."

Goku sighed and patted the finished manuscript on the table. Going over behind the desk, he took the paper from the blond's hands and sat on the desk, "If you say so. Homura will keep a close eye on him when you're not around." Sanzo snorted and took the paper back from Goku's hands and tried reading again. Goku, tired from his boss's stubbornness, looked blankly at the wall with one raised brow and pursed lips. Itching for a change of topic, he hissed and clamped his lips, and looked back at the newspaper in his employer's hands. "By the way, have you seen Dougan? Because he wasn't in the meeting earlier. Goujun went ballistic because every editor had to be there, and Dougan was the only one not present."

Goku had Sanzo's attention now as he finally lowered the paper from his face. "No. He was supposed to submit his author's work today. Did he call in for a leave?"

"No. None of his staff knew of his sudden absence today, not even a possible reason for it."

Sanzo tapped his fingers on the armrest, lips pursed in thought at his employee's absence. "That's odd. He has a perfect record since day one."

"Maybe he's sick?"

The blond furrowed his brows at his assistant, trying to find answers to his unspoken questions. Dougan was one of the model employees in the Buddhist fiction department—always early, never tardy in anything and everything. Dougan would have been the perfect, model employee if it weren't for his odd behavior at certain times.

During the two short days that seemed to be too long for Sanzo, Dougan had constantly followed the CEO around—during lunch breaks, during meetings where Dougan shouldn't be in, and even to the restroom, often using the excuse that he needed to take a leak at the same time that Sanzo needed to take a leak.

Sanzo had consulted Kanzeon about Dougan's behavior on the first night, and she told him that maybe Dougan admired Sanzo a bit, something that the blond brushed off as hogwash.

On the second day of Dougan being his assistant, something happened, and it resulted to Sanzo burying those events in the recesses of his mind.

He thought that he could be a replacement for Sanzo's foster father at some point—something that Dougan had foolishly said at one occasion during a supposedly small talk over a meeting—and it had disgusted the blond. He transferred the man to another department the following day.

"Sanzo, you'll get wrinkles with all that face scrunching."

"Shut up, I'm thinking."

Goku shrugged, grinning as he looked away.

The office door opened, and in came a flushed and flustered Dougan, his fringe plastered to his forehead with sweat, his glasses askew, and his coat not properly straightened on the right shoulder. Behind him, a red-faced and tensed woman berated him, stomping her foot in earnest—

"You can't come in here! The president said he's not to be distur—President Genjo, I'm so sorry! Mr. Go insisted so much even though I forbade him to—"

"This is urgent!" Dougan pleaded, tugging his arm away from Sanzo's secretary's hands. "President Genjo, I need to talk to you!"

"Is it important?" Sanzo muttered, and when Dougan nodded, the blond sighed. "It's okay, you can leave him. And close the door."

His secretary placed her hands on her lap and bowed, pursing her lips with a withheld protest, and she gave Dougan a wary look, and held her chin high as she closed the door on her way out.

"So," the president started as he took out a cigarette and ignored Goku's frown towards the little stick, "what's the problem?"

Dougan opened his mouth to speak, and closed it when he realized that the president's assistant sat on the president's left, on the desk, all casual and comfortable as the brunet looked at him with wide, blinking and curious eyes, as though it was a normal thing for a CEO's assistant to just nonchalantly plop on the president's orderly desk—with his thigh just inches from the president's hand—and those golden eyes were looking at him like he had just committed a heinous crime—

"Dougan."

Hearing the president utter his name snapped Dougan out of his thoughts in a split second, and he smiled in automatic response, "Ah, yes. Um. President Genjo, I just want to apologize for not being in the meeting earlier—...and for coming in late today."

Sanzo glanced at the clock on his computer, it was well past lunchtime—that made Sanzo hum in thought as he took a drag from his cigarette. "Right. Now, does this apology of yours actually warrant you to just," he flipped his hand in dismissal as his upper lip curled in an almost snarl, "barge in and disrupt your other coworkers and blatantly disobey the order that I gave to my secretary for others to follow?"

"Ah. I'm sorry, I—"

"No, right? If that's all you have to say, you can fuck off," he growled, letting off his steam through the wispy trail of smoke from his lips.

"Sanzo," Goku chided gently as he leaned closer to the blond, "you don't have to be mean. Maybe a personal problem came up and he had to solve it quickly—"

"Yeah, but do you have to go through five floors to my office just to say sorry?" Sanzo paused as Goku opened his mouth to speak, and he stopped him with a raised index, "I know what you're going to say, and no, I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about him."

"Oh." And Goku laughed as he scratched his head.

Sanzo sighed, and looked at Dougan with a skeptic look, one brow raised and lips downturned in a frown. "Well?"

Dougan blanched, and stammered. "I thought that President would be w-worried that I—"

"And why the fuck would I be worried? Did you die? You know what, fuck that. How's your info gathering going? You're memorizing everything right, I suppose?"

Dougan beamed at the change of topic and at the prospect of being forgiven. "Oh, yes, President Genjo! I actually," his smile faltered a bit as he glanced at Goku, who still looked at him with utmost curiosity—and he wanted to wipe that look from his face. Dougan bit back a laugh as his teeth showed, all grins and pride showing on his pale face. "I actually memorized everything, President Genjo. Everything you asked me to memorize about Houtou and Godworks and more. Oh, and also, I—"

"Is that so," Sanzo cut in as he puffed on his cigarette, "that's good, then. Don't go off on your own until I say so."

Dougan's eyes widened at the president's words, and felt his lungs expand with air and his heart stop for a moment too long. His broad smile widened even further, elation filling his entire being. "Thank you, President Genjo! I—" he paused, and pondered over his next words. The president just told him not to go off on his own—he was worried! "I'll make sure to follow your every order, sir!"

Sanzo hummed and puffed out the life out of the little stick. "Make sure you do. Because obedience," he stubbed the butt of the cigarette on the ashtray, squishing it at he looked straight at Dougan's eyes, "is absolute in this company."

Dougan's smile froze, and he looked at the president's eyes, narrowed and suspicious, then at the assistant's, all stern and cold.

He gulped, and recalled everything he had done since this morning—being in Houtou and talking to Chief Ni—and he forced a laugh as he felt sweat trickle down his already dampened dress shirt beneath his coat.

"Don't worry, President Genjo! I am obedient to your every word."

.

In Gojyo's flat, Zakuro sat in the living room—around him were Kinzan books, and a thesaurus. Scribbling notes for him on his left was Goku.

"—so, you go over this one with the red marks again, and not that."

"I see," mumbled Zakuro, who muttered the notes to himself, then glanced at the laptop screen, and typed away.

Goku nodded to himself. Checking on Zakuro's progress as a Kinzan writer proved to be an easy task. After showing him a few corrections and telling him a few directions, Zakuro would do the rest directly. At one point, Sanzo called Goku on his phone and asked him about Zakuro's work, and the brunet told him that the writer was doing well, jotting down necessary notes and mulling over the advice given to him. Zakuro was, as Goku had stated to Sanzo on the phone, a very subservient man, contrary to what Zakuro had been during his days as a Houtou employee.

Goku slurped on a bowl of cold noodles as he read what Zakuro typed. It was a story of a man searching for the best firewood in the forest, and had lost his way back to the village. It was under the works, Zakuro had said, and wished to flesh it out more before he could show it to Sanzo.

"Boy, do you conceive of me as dangerous?" Zakuro asked as he typed. "I'm not exactly the poster boy for the model employee in the market, you know. And right now, I could kill you."

"Nah, you wouldn't," Goku grumbled as he chewed on the noodles and slurped on the beef broth, "I can tell. Yer kind. If you weren't, you—" He paused as he chewed on a piece of beef, "If you weren't, you wouldn't even shed a tear after reading one book from Kinzan."

The typing stopped, and Zakuro looked at Goku, puzzled at the brunet's words. "Is that so. Are the people who read Kinzan kind?"

"Not necessarily. But if you cried your eyes out from reading The Love of Death, then it means you have a heart. At least, that's what Hakkai told me. He's great with the psychology stuff."

Zakuro hummed, and nodded to himself, mouthing words as he resumed typing. Working under Genjo Sanzo's wing was a breath of fresh air. There was no boss constantly hovering on your neck, no suggestion left unheard, no greeting left ignored, no stress from meeting 'deadlines' of a different kind—

—and most of all, no life was wasted on futile attempts of usurping someone for a higher position. Every one had a role in Kinzan that they all deemed as an immense privilege no matter how small of a role it looked at first glance, and from what he could tell, they were all grateful to Genjo Sanzo. Zakuro realized it now. Having a roof on your head with the payment of simply protecting the CEO's life sounded easy enough, he supposed.

He remembered what Sha Gojyo told him about this boy, Son Goku, about how far he went to avenge his employer when he thought that Genjo Sanzo had a fatal wound.

And maybe, just maybe, protecting the 31st president of Kinzan Publishing had its dangers, too.

But if its reward was being kept safe and alive without the worry of being killed by your fellow workers for money, then he supposed guarding Genjo Sanzo's life daily was a small amount that he could pay willingly.

Zakuro sniffled his worries away as he typed, pouring everything he had in mind into his words on screen. If he had previously written nothing but the macabre in Houtou, then he would write nothing but the existing in Kinzan, and would use his knowledge to transform lives for the better, just as how Kinzan had done for him since he was accepted under its care. He swore never to use violence against another person ever again—

"Zakuro, you're crying."

Zakuro wiped his tears, muttering it was nothing, and Goku shrugged with a grin. "I can make more somen if you like."

"Boy, you have a strange palette. Eating somen in fall?"

"Eating noodles is always good no matter what time of the year," Goku laughed. "Besides, you should see Sanzo. He always puts mayonnaise on everything he eats."

Zakuro paused typing once more, "What?"

And Goku prattled about in his usual cheerful way, telling Zakuro things about Sanzo—the man's odd habits and funny quirks, telling him about Sanzo sleeping with earbuds on and how he always jumped in surprise whenever he saw his own cat behind him; telling him about the amount of time Sanzo spent in front of the mirror trying to tame his bedhead and make his small tuft of hair fluff upwards to the way he wanted it; telling him about how he only preferred to eat rice steeped in green tea; about how his bottom lip jutted just the slightest when things didn't go his way and how his eyebrows scrunched down even in sleep—

"So you two are going out, then? There's no way you would know all of those things if you aren't together with him in an intimate sense," interrupted Zakuro, and he noted the way that Goku had lit up during the whole conversation. Gone was his focus on writing, he thought that maybe this conversation could be a source of material for his work, and so he focused his attention on Goku's story. "Is Genjo Sanzo trying to hide it? Is that why he pointed his gun at me in the restaurant?"

Goku laughed, sheepish, Zakuro noticed, and the brunet bit back his grin, "Well, he's not really making an effort to hide it if he is, he just gets shy when things are pointed out to him. Sanzo is Sanzo, I know his shyness on some things will disappear the longer you get to know him. It takes time for him to warm up to people. Like a cat."

Zakuro laughed, and they talked about other things, speculations on mysteries and their shared fondness for theater arts, and as days passed, Goku had developed camaraderie with Zakuro, a fact that Sanzo noticed one day when Goku had declared he'd invite Zakuro over to Sanzo's flat for dinner. Kanzeon was one thing, but Zakuro?

"Hey, little monkey. You're getting ahead of yourself," Sanzo said in irritation and a click of a tongue. "Why didn't you tell me first? The damn apartment's not yours, idiot!"

"I just told you now, you know," Goku shrugged, unfazed at the blond's usual tantrums. The teen glanced at where a sweetly smiling Kanzeon stood by the shelf near Sanzo's desk, checking on some of the books that were passed on to Sanzo. It was obvious that she was amused by her nephew's little outburst. Goku held back a giggle upon seeing Sanzo glower at him. And when he sweetly told him that he could finally make molten lava cake, Goku took notice of the way Sanzo's eyes narrowed and glimmered, and Goku giggled.

"Got ya."

"Fuck off."

Goku covered his mouth, giggling the same time as Kanzeon did. "Konzen, my child is just helping you make friends. Isn't that right, Goku dear?" She laughed as she hugged Goku tightly to her bosom, and blatantly ignored her nephew's yells.

"I don't need your coddling, hag. Why are you even here in my room? Go back to your mansion!"

Kanzeon laughed, and whispered to Goku not-so-quietly, "Isn't it adorable? My little nephew is acting like a teenager who just read Freud for the first time. Oh, Konzen is so lucky to have you as his, my child! Let me hug you again!"

Sanzo gritted his teeth at his aunt's words and scratched at his hair in irritation. "I swear, one of these days I'll strangle you with your stupid hair."

She giggled, ignoring Sanzo's empty threat, and released Goku. Smiling at the golden necklace around his neck, she hummed. "You still wear it, I see."

Goku blinked, and peered down at his necklace, and grinned at Kanzeon, "Of course I always wear this! It's a gift from you and Sanzo!"

An amused smile painted her lips as she hugged him once more, "Such a sweet angel you are! Such a far cry from my demon of a nephew—!"

"Hey, what the fuck? Who are you calling a demon, you—"

"—always keep it with you," Kanzeon said softly as she smoothed Goku's unruly locks. "It is a special necklace just for you. It keeps bad people away from you, my little one."

"'ow?" Goku mumbled, his voice muffled against her bosom. He had quite gotten used to her sudden hugs for quite some time—the act never bothered him at all.

"Why, that's a secret that only I know, dear Goku," she giggled, tapping his nose as she did so. "Just always keep your promise about wearing it all the time."

"Yes, Auntie!" Goku cheered, hugging her back with much enthusiasm, much to Sanzo's exasperation from the sight of it all.

"Yeah, sure. Ignore my fucking question. Don't bother me and carry on with your sappiness. Are you two done yet?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Konzen. You want to join us?"

"Shut up, hag. Tell me why you're here."

She hummed, and tapped a painted nail on her red lips. Patting Goku's hair, she sent her nephew a wink, "I wanted to know how our guest is doing. He's a valuable witness to our case, after all."

"The dipshit is fine. Goku and Homura are overseeing them from time to time. He's just having problems with writing up scenes that don't involve the macabre."

"Well, if he's doing his job in keeping his hands to himself, then it's a great progress. Keep monitoring his work and his behavior. He tends to use his experiences as sources for his material. If his tone in his writing changed, be on guard and double the security. But—from what I'm seeing, Zakuro is amenable. He cooperates well and does as what he's told. He would've been a great asset if he had started here."

"True," mumbled Sanzo as he briefly looked at Zakuro's first draft laid out on the table. "Did Goku report to you about him?"

"No, I just know," Kanzeon smiled, her eyes narrowed and glinting at her nephew's silent curiosity. She waved off Sanzo's suspicious glare with a coy laugh, "Never you mind about the trivial things, I just want to tell you that Homura's influence is all over protecting Zakuro from Houtou now. You know how Shien and Zenon do their jobs."

"I don't give a shit about Homura's flunkies howling to me about giving protective custody to the fucker and put him in solitary confinement. They can suck Odd Eyes's shoes for all I care. The pissface will be under my watch and that's that. Also, I'm not badgering Zakuro, if that's what you're saying."

"I know you don't, Konzen. I simply want to tell you to be alert at all times. Even if Zakuro is on our side now, someone else might be planning to stab you in the back. Figuratively, this time. Oh, and don't call those two his flunkies, dear. One of them is a great lawyer—your lawyer—and the other one controls the army. Remember that."

.

Dougan scribbled notes on his small notebook. In Chief Ni's office that was decorated with a number of framed shunga paintings on the white walls, Dougan sat and forced himself to be comfortable on a sofa as his eyes unintentionally landed at the erotic artworks from time to time. Beside him was the chief, observing him discreetly behind his glasses.

"Let me repeat it again for the sake of clarity, Chief Ni. Houtou is expanding to provide more work and houses for the employees?"

"Why, yes," said the chief, rearranging his glasses for the umpteenth time as he smoked and grinned, "Houtou and the sister company, Godworks, are providing work and places where the workers can live comfortably, all within a small community. Events related to the companies are held there, and everyone knows everyone. It's a very friendly place. You should drop by sometime. You can cite it as another source, too."

Dougan then beamed, eyes wide and almost sparkling as he sat upright with exclamation. His prior nervousness about seeing the paintings that made him squirm seemed forgotten. "Can I really? I—I will have to ask my professor about it! Um, he is very strict about deadlines, and I have to notify him about my progress."

The chief hummed—with the same snide grin in place—as he draped his arms on the back of the sofa, and looked at the ceiling, "Very strict, eh. Sure, you can ask him about it." He paused, and listened to Dougan now scribbling away on the notes on hand. Puffing the cigarette, he stretched out his legs, and gave Dougan a sidelong glance. "By the way, if you could, you can ask your professor about having you work here for part-time. You seem like a," he shrugged, palm outstretched at Dougan with a lopsided smile, "a responsible young man."

Dougan stopped writing, and scratched his head, "Ah, that's—thank you, Chief Ni, but I have to decline the offer. I already have a... part-time job, you see."

"Oh? Too bad, you would've been great if you were to work here. What type of work do you do?"

Dougan blinked, his eyes turning away for a moment before looking back at the chief. At the same time, he shuffled his hand inside his pocket briefly, and scratched his cheek, laughing softly, "I work at a coffee shop. I'm a barista there, you see."

Jien Yi hummed, his smile widening a tad more, "Really? That's nice. I could drop there sometime. Mind if you could—"

Just then, a phone rang, and Dougan straightened up automatically. He apologized to the chief for his rudeness, and discreetly took out his phone and checked the screen.

"Ah. Oh. Chief Ni, excuse me, I need to answer this real quick. I'm really sorry!"

Jien Yi shrugged and smiled as he took a drag of smoke, "I don't mind."

And so Dougan excused himself out and answered the call, leaving the chief in his office, grinning at the ceiling.

When Dougan returned, he bowed profusely, and told the Houtou chief that his professor was calling him over for a special class.

"It's all right," Jien Yi said, and he went over to Dougan and patted him on the shoulder. "We can talk again sometime."

Dougan's shoulders sagged at the chief's words, and tears seemed to pool from Dougan's eyes when he expressed his relief, and told the chief that he would return the following week. Jien Yi was fine with it, and Dougan left with a huge smile on his face.

Upon leaving, Chief Ni stubbed the cigarette on the ashtray, grinning to himself.

"Coffee shop, eh."

.

"Hey, Dougan. You seem kind of—...jittery lately. And you seem to be always missing during lunchtime. Even Mr. Son from the copyediting department is looking for you and has been coming here lately asking for you. Is there a problem?"

Dougan flinched at his seat, and looked at where his fellow editor beside his cubicle was giving him a concerned expression—all knotted brows and slightly parted lips, with a hand ready to reach out for a gesture of genuine worry.

He stared back at his computer screen, and noted the blank page on his document.

He mentally cried at the sight of the numerous sticky notes—all written by different people—stuck on top of his computer screen, and the enormous piles of papers stacked all over his desk made him want to bang his head on the wall—

—Dougan had been slacking off on his work. And most of them were two days overdue at least.

That wouldn't do him good. He took pride in always submitting everything two days before the deadline—!

Dougan gulped, and felt his heart race, "Oh, uh, something came up at home, you see—"

"But don't you live alone?"

"I do, but—I have my problems, too, okay?"

And Dougan returned his eyes on his screen, and said nothing more. He ignored his coworker's worried stare. He had to finish working on editing eight manuscripts—five novels and three novellas—before the end of the week and he was starting to feel restless. And there were also manuscripts he had to submit prior to that and he haven't even started on those yet.

His breathing became shallower, and felt his blood run cold.

He had thought that juggling his time between working in Kinzan and infiltrating Houtou would be a breeze, but he thought wrong—

—and now, that Son Goku had caught wind of his recent, short disappearances at work. Knowing Son Goku, the teen might probably be gossiping to President Genjo by now, telling the CEO about how lousy Dougan had become. And why had Son Goku been going to Dougan's floor?

Dougan stopped, and his eyes widened.

Maybe Son Goku had caught wind about him going over to Houtou—!

Dougan's vision slipped from focus as he stared at his twitching and suddenly cold hands.

He remembered President Genjo's words flash in his head—

'Obedience is absolute.'

He loosened his tie from his neck just a tad, and felt cold sweat run down his back. Surely, he had been doing his task of researching about Houtou. Wasn't that what he was told to do?

Yes.

His task was to get that list of people from Houtou and Godworks—and the only way to do it was to get to the chief of the company itself.

Yes. That was it.

Dougan nodded to himself. He was doing the right thing.

And so he buried his nose in his work until late in the night, when all of his coworkers were gone and have retired to their rooms and their homes. When he had finished, he realized it was well past nine at night.

Dougan sighed, and stretched out his limbs. He had finished three of the eight manuscripts, and he felt his stomach going up in knots.

"I need to submit these now—but office hours ended... ah."

He got up and cleaned up his desk, put all manuscripts in their respective manila envelopes, and checked everything in the office to make sure that nothing was out of place. Turning off the lights and closing the office doors, Dougan went to the elevator, and picked the 28th floor, and when he got there, he stood, dazed and confused at the many doors under the warm lighting. All the doors looked the same—same glazed, walnut wood doors lined the halls, and Dougan sighed, his shoulders sagging as he mentally counted the amount of rooms he had to search. He had no card key aside from the one in his office floor. And not to mention, he had only gotten a copy of the card key for two days before he had to relinquish it because he was transferred—

He hadn't been in this area of the building for so long—but he had long memorized it from a folded piece of paper in his wallet since his first day in Kinzan.

He went over to a room, and rang the buzzer. He really hoped he got the right room. As he looked closely at it, the door was a shade darker than the other doors. With its deep, rich red tones, this had to be the room, right?

The door opened just the slightest, and Dougan stepped back on instinct.

This man was blond, but with a tan, and had green-yellow eyes. Was he a new employee? Was Kinzan even hiring this month—?

"Yes?" asked the man, and Dougan jolted at the unknown voice.

"Um, yes. Is—is President Genjo here? Because I have to give him my manuscripts and he's probably looking for it because it was overdue and—"

"He's not here."

Dougan's instinctive smile fell, "Oh. I see. Um, thank you. I'll just check it downstairs. Sorry for disturbing you."

The man nodded weakly, and silently closed the door. Dougan took out the piece of paper from his wallet, and noted that the room in front of him was the marked place. "Maybe I read it wrong?"

.

Inside the room, Zakuro returned to the living room and sat beside Goku, and they played with Sanzo's cat.

"Zakuro, who was it?"

Zakuro shrugged, "Some guy looking for Genjo Sanzo. Said he needed to submit his late paperwork. Hah. What a disgrace."

Goku hummed as he laughed when Tama's tail flicked by his face, "Well, whoever he is, he has to submit them another day. Sanzo's out with Gojyo buying cigarettes."

"Oh, is that why I'm here and you're on guard duty?"

"Yup. Might as well make yourself comfortable. Say, Sanzo said that your work is going well. This calls for a celebration!"

"Eh?"

And so Goku talked to Zakuro with much enthusiasm, and they ended up playing with Tama and laughing over her chasing her tail—

"We're back—oh. Having fun, eh?" Gojyo laughed, and struggled to remove his shoes as he balanced two huge paper bags in his arms. Behind him was Sanzo, calmly chewing on gum as he removed his shoes. "Hey, Goku. Your owner over here didn't even lift a finger! Help me here!"

Goku laughed, and took the groceries from Gojyo's hands. Rummaging in the bags as soon as he placed them in the kitchen, Goku gasped in surprise. "I thought you two were only going to get cigarette—oh! The huge churros! Sanzo, you remembered!"

"What's up with churros? Moreover, when did you snuck that in there?"

"None of your business, shithead. Goku. Is it done yet?"

Goku tried and failed to stifle his grin, "It'll be done when they're—" The buzzer rang, and Goku leapt to his feet with a screech as he went over to the door and greeted Hakkai and Kanzeon. "Auntie! Hakkai! Ah, Grandpa Jiroushin, too. Is—ah. Homura, I didn't know you're coming, I only invited Jien and Yaone over and—oh, well. Come in, come in!"

"Hey, Monkey! Stop inviting people over like this is your damn place! How many did you bring over, you—"

"Never mind Sanzo, he hasn't eaten yet. Dinner's already prepared, Auntie!"

While Goku entertained the guests in Sanzo's flat and Gojyo and Hakkai helped with the preparations, Zakuro sat still, his body rigid as people unknown to him entered the room. He had already met Hakkai and Homura, but the others were new to him.

Introductions were made, all done by Goku, and Zakuro had replied to all of them with a stiff smile and a bow.

"What happened to him? Are you sure he's the same guy I patched up before?" Hakkai whispered to Gojyo as he helped him with the servings, and when the redhead nodded, Hakkai's brows rose in amazement. "I suppose Sanzo did not brainwash him or anything?"

"Nah, he went into a deep transformation. Did a lot of reading the books in my room—he tried rearranging them, but failed, don't be mad at me, it was his fault—and the next thing I knew, I got a call from Sanzo telling me to keep an even closer eye on the guy. Told him that Zakuro over there wanted to be a part of Kinzan—"

"He wanted to be a Kinzan writer—mmph!?"

"Ssh! Not so loud, 'Kai. Yeah. A fucking Kinzan writer. He wants to do the whole shebang, but Sanzo didn't let him. Zakuro's supposed to be dead, you know. So His Highness said to make him undergo trial if he could be a proper Kinzan writer."

"Ah. Yes, he was. Is that why Ms. Kanzeon is here?"

"Yeah. Said she wanted to meet him in person. You know how she is. She knows everything. I wouldn't doubt it if she already has an entire lifetime's worth of backstory to change his identity just to make him work in Kinz—oh, heh heh. H-hi, Vice President. Um. Seafood Nicoise?"

"Thank you, Gojyo," Kanzeon smiled as she took the plate of grilled salmon from Gojyo's hands. "I haven't thought about giving him a backstory, but thanks for the tip. I think I'll be doing that in the future."

Gojyo forced a laugh and apologized. Behind them, Sanzo hovered on the desserts, glaring daggers at everything, his lower lip jutted the slightest in an almost unnoticeable pout as he idly tapped his plate on his leg.

"Where's my lava cake."

"Behind the—here, lemme get it." Goku reached out behind the large plate of Turkish delights, and gave Sanzo a rather large plate of the cake, "I made the biggest one for you. And an even bigger one for me!"

"...Thanks." And Sanzo placed the empty plate on the countertop and took the cake from Goku's hands. Upon taking a forkful of the cake, Sanzo nodded without a word, and dared not to look at Goku.

Goku bit his grin and giggled. He looked around and took the empty plate from the counter, covered his and Sanzo's plate with him, and pecked him on the lips as quickly as he could, and ran away to the living room chortling before Sanzo could even react.

The small gathering caught up with each other. Kanzeon talked and got to know bits of Zakuro's personality. Homura pestered Sanzo to no end. Hakkai and Yaone chatted about medicine, while Gojyo butted in from time to time about the causes of certain injuries. Jiroushin gave Goku timeless wisdom about taking everything in moderation, and that included eating too much chocolate, something that Goku brushed off with a laugh.

The party lasted until past midnight, with liquor and food flowing from the table. At one point, Kanzeon had declared war on her nephew through beer pong, a war that Sanzo had lost. He sulked in a corner muttering to himself as he ate more of the lava cake, and when he had drunk himself to sleep, Gojyo and Goku hauled Sanzo back to the bedroom. Homura and Gojyo took pictures of the sleeping blond, while Jiroushin and Hakkai tried to stop them.

In the parlor, Yaone and Jien listened intently to every word that Kanzeon said. Zakuro, too, had clung to her words, and once it was two in the morning, Hakkai called it a night, telling them that he had to be early for the hospital. Gojyo offered to assist him home, something that Kanzeon found amusing.

On their way to the foyer, the buzzer rang, and Zakuro, out of instinct, leapt up and opened the door before Hakkai did.

"Yes? Oh, it's you."

Outside, Dougan stood, with the same puzzled expression as he looked at a piece of paper in his hand, at the room number, then at Zakuro. "Are you sure this isn't President Genjo's room? Because the receptionist said—"

Zakuro didn't get a chance to speak as he was shuffled out of the way. The door opened wide, and this time, Homura took the reins from Zakuro. Blocking the view of the room, he smiled, "Hello, Go Dougan. What brings you here at this time of night?"

"Ah, Mr. Homura. I just wanted to ask where President Genjo's room is. I seem to have a problem with—"

"The president is not here," Homura said with a stern voice. "You can go talk to him tomorrow. It's late."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Y-you're right. It is rather late. I-I'll talk to him tomorrow, then. I'm sorry for the disturbance." Dougan bowed and briskly walked away, aware of Homura's gaze searing on his back.

"What was that about? We could've made Sanzo get up and shit," Gojyo commented, and Homura huffed, narrowed eyes still glaring at where Dougan had disappeared behind the elevator.

"I can't have that man enter this room. Not now, not ever. He has a tendency to be... covertly volatile."

.

The following morning was no different.

Dougan made numerous attempts throughout the whole day trying to find the CEO, but to no avail. When one of Sanzo's secretaries noticed Dougan loitering a bit too long in front of the president's office, she called for his attention and told him that the president was in a meeting. Dougan looked dejected.

He had then returned late in the afternoon, a few minutes before office hours were over, and discovered that he had inadvertently stumbled upon seeing Kinzan's president, sleeping soundly on his chair.

He had burned that memory in his mind shortly before the president's assistant came in with a tray of tea and a blanket on one arm. Dougan had, yet again, failed to give the manuscripts, and refused to hand them in to Goku, stating that it had to be the president. The brunet didn't mind, and was completely unaware of Dougan glaring at him from behind as he roused the president from sleep.

Frothing at the mouth in envy at the way Goku had tried waking the president up—with a gentle touch and nudge on the shoulder—Dougan walked away without addressing Goku, leaving the assistant puzzled.

That was the last day of the week, and Dougan had to submit them to the president—personally. "I can't do it when I saw the president sleeping. That would be rude of me. I can't do it with people around either," he muttered to himself as he punched on the elevator buttons. "Especially not that Son Goku. Gets in the way every time...!"

.

"Goku...! Remove it this instant...!"

"No—can't... ah—do that...!"

"Fuck. Stop—squirmi...—hn...!"

The sound of lips locking and flesh slapping against flesh rebounded from the walls as a blindfolded Goku rode on an equally blindfolded—and bed-bound—Sanzo, both panting and sweating as Goku slammed down and Sanzo lunged up. Tanned hands sought support on Sanzo's heaving chest as he bounced, tongue darting out as the sounds of their heavy breathing reached his ears.

Arms quivering, Goku clawed at the pale chest, and leaned forward slowly, and blindly felt Sanzo's chin with his nose. Pecking him on the chin, he sent a hot trail of sucks to the bobbing throat, and panted at Sanzo's groans. This whole thing was entirely new, with both of them blindfolded, and with Goku's leaking cock tied crudely with one of Sanzo's silk sashes from his bathrobe, both felt their other senses heightened from the lack of sight.

Grinding on Sanzo's thrusts, Goku sucked on the pale neck, leaving a trail of red splotches on the feverish skin—

"Goku, fucking untie me right n—...hn—"

A pliant tongue slipped past Sanzo's mouth, and swallowed the halfhearted protests with a languid laugh. Goku squeezed the hardness inside him with all his might as he moved, fluid and rapid. Teeth clamped in blindness, Sanzo bit down and sucked on Goku's shoulder, earning Sanzo a rough tug on his bedraggled, blond locks. Panting against the flushed shell of Sanzo's ear, he ground his hips down and stayed there, clenching his insides, and waited long until Sanzo gasped and cursed, telling him to fucking move

Goku's body snapped upright with a yelp as Sanzo plunged upwards in a series of quick and deep thrusts, growling and huffing against his clothed restraints. Curling his white-knuckled hands into fists, Sanzo stretched out his legs, head thrown back in a sweaty mess, and all reserve was shoved aside as drool slipped past his lips and felt something smooth prodding him—

"Fuck! Warn me, at least!"

"You don't seem to mind—I—ah—already lubed it—"

As Goku gyrated on Sanzo's cock, he carefully buried the vibrating dildo deep inside Sanzo, giggling when the blond had to stop completely and wait for it to sheathe inside and—

A steady string of muttered curses sang through Goku's ears, and he grinned when he felt the body beneath him undulate and shiver. Gone were the streams of curses when Sanzo felt the vibrations wrack his insides. Breathless gasps slid from Sanzo's parted mouth as Goku slammed down and the vibrator dug deeper inside.

Goku imagined what Sanzo might look like beneath him—brows furrowed, nostrils flaring with each sharp intake of breath, jaw clenching and slackening, with bits of dribble pooling from his mouth, lips red and swollen from bites and kisses, neck and shoulders sweaty and flushed red, with bites and hickeys littered all over the chiseled features—

Sanzo felt a tear slip from his blindfolded eyes and dribble drip from his mouth as he squirmed and fought against his restraints, uncaring for the lack of blood flow to his hands as he gasped Goku's name in a breathless mantra, cursing all the while.

He didn't need this damn blindfold, he could clearly see what the feisty brunet looked like in his mind's eye—

Tanned skin riddled with numerous streaks of red running down from his torso to his inked stomach. Wiry muscles pulled taut as he leaned back and undulated his hickey-riddled body. Jaw clenched as hisses slipped from a mouth whispering only Sanzo's name. Honeyed eyes darkening as they slid close behind damp lashes. Brows curling upwards as his chest shook with little jolts. Sweat trickling and sticking to hickory-hued locks—

And when a sharp lunge met Goku's, Sanzo's toes curled and he came, his guttural growls sending Goku mewling and clawing at the flushed chest beneath him. Hastily ripping off his blindfold, Goku's hands quivered as he unwound the sash from his leaking erection—

"Make me come, Sanzo. Make me come—"

Growling, Sanzo lunged thrust after thrust, licking his lips at the feel of Goku's slick insides and the dampness of the sweat trickling from his brow and nape—

"Blind—fold... Goku—"

Goku panted as he draped his weight on Sanzo's heaving form, clammy hands shaking and fumbling to remove the blindfold from Sanzo's eyes—

—the thoroughly disheveled blond locks, the unfocused, purple eyes, the sweat-slicked lashes, and the tear-stained cheeks made Goku's mouth water and slide his hands through Sanzo's messy hair—

And they kissed—rough and demanding—as Goku gyrated and ground his hips. Their teeth nibbled at every bit of flesh they could, and their mouths sucked on each other's tongues—

With one languid thrust and a deep kiss, Goku came, with Sanzo grinning and swallowing their moans.

Their kisses became soft and unhurried, lips moving lazily with each labored breath, tongues lapping up on sweat from their necks and shoulders—

With a soft hum and a kiss to Goku's ear, Sanzo's eyes slid close, and he soon fell into a deep sleep. Goku, on the other hand, pecked him on the forehead, and removed Sanzo's restraints from his arms, and the vibrator from his butt. Going over to the bathroom, Goku took a quick shower and returned to Sanzo, and washed him with a damp washcloth—

The buzzer rang, and Goku checked the time. It was well past nine—

The buzzer rang again. Clicking his tongue, Goku kissed Sanzo on the forehead and tucked him under the sheets. Running to the bathroom and muttering curses, he placed the vibrator upright on the counter and he put on a robe, and when the buzzer rang for a third time, he ran to the bedside table and took his gun, cocked it, and checked the door's peephole.

"Dougan, hi!" Goku chirped, and he opened the door with a smile as he tucked the gun between the sash from behind. "What's up?"

Dougan stood frozen in place, with folders and envelopes in hand, and when he found the voice to speak, it was a stammered string of words, "So uh, I-I thought—uh..."

"What?"

And Dougan spilled, about how he had been slacking off at work, and how he had been searching for Sanzo for the past few days, and how he had been trying to find his room. "The receptionist and some of the people on this floor keep telling me he's in Room 2329, but I have never seen him. Last time I checked, Mr. Homura was here, and the time before that, there was a guy that I don't know. And now it's you."

Goku looked baffled, his eyes darting left and right, and he scratched his head. There was a lot of reasons why that happened, and he knew it would take him time to tell everything, but Goku bit back his story, and smiled at the older man. "Well, Sanzo's out cold for the meantime, haha...! M-maybe you could—"

"Could you accompany me to where he is? It's really important!" Dougan urged, and his eyes widened when he looked at Goku's appearance closely. "Um, are those—"

"Ah, these?" the brunet interrupted with a frozen smile as his fingertips brushed against the long lines of red welts down the exposed part of his torso. "They're from Tama! The cat! Ah, here!" Goku then turned around and picked up the calico cat that had been pawing at Goku's feet, "See? She's a fussy one!"

Dougan forced his smile to widen, and his eyes tried to look away from the spot on the left side of Goku's neck, where a hint of a purple mark bloomed in stark contrast against the teen's bronzed skin. "I-I see. A cat... Right."

"Right? Tried to claw herself at me earlier and I hit my shoulder on the coffee table in surprise. But I took care of it." Goku cheered, all smiles and laughs as Dougan observed him closely.

"I see," the pale man concluded, and he smiled, "that must have hurt you."

"It did, but I'll be fine—um. I can take those to Sanzo if you want. Your overdue work will drag on if you don't—"

Dougan almost took a step back as Goku held out his hand, "You will?"

"Of course I will, silly! I'm his assistant, after all—"

"Goku?"

Goku craned his neck and smiled at someone from out of Dougan's view, "Ah, I thought you were asleep? Oh, Dougan, I can hand them to him now."

Dougan looked confused for a moment, and when he saw a familiar face standing behind Goku, with his hair sticking out from all places and looking flushed—

"You took my robe, idiot. Now I have to drag myself around in a fucking bed sheet."

"Like I said, I thought you were sleeping. I'll wash the sheets if you want," Goku suggested with a grin. He returned his attention to Dougan and was surprised to see him gone. By his feet were the envelopes and folders Dougan had been carrying for the past few days, and Goku poked his head from the door and checked for any traces of the man, and he did not see even a shadow left behind. "That's odd..."

"Who was it?" Sanzo muttered, his voice hoarse as he yawned.

"Dougan. He said he tried going over here many times but can't find you," Goku explained as he picked up the manuscripts left on the floor. "Hey, Sanzo. Now that you're awake, we can eat! I'm hungry. I want mizutake!"

"There you are again deciding things for yourself. This is my place, idiot. I want smoked salmon while you're making mizutake."

"Sanzo, you just countered yourself with that. How about—" Goku closed the door, muffling their conversation in the safety of Sanzo's flat.

At the very corner of the now silent hallway, Dougan gritted his teeth, glaring intensely at the room that Sanzo occupied.

"So that is President Genjo's room. I was right. But why is Son Goku there, and in a bathrobe, no less?"

Hoping to get more answers, he stood by for a bit longer, and when he realized that no one would come out from the room, he took the elevator going down, and stormed out of Kinzan, biting his thumb until it bled.