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.

.

When executive editor Goujun had berated Dougan in his office for the fifth time for tardiness, slacking off in submitting manuscripts, absenting from meetings, and disappearing during an hour before noon, Dougan could only hang his head in shame.

"What's happening to you? You're not like this. Homura may have gotten you off the hook twice, but that will not work on me."

Today had been dreadful at best for Dougan. From having a huge chunk of snow falling on his head, to coming in late at Kinzan, to trying to sneak off to Houtou House, to 'Dragon King' Goujun catching him trying to enter an ongoing staff meeting from the back door—

He whimpered as he blocked out the editor-in-chief's words from his ears, and opted to cringe and jolt every time those pale fingers tapped on the table. The editor-in-chief was already frightening enough with his long and braided, silver hair, golden, almost slitted eyes, pale skin, and deep voice. The only contrast between him and the president was the editor-in-chief rarely yelled. The man called the Dragon King was calm in nature, and slow to anger. Hailed a man of few words, Goujun merely stared Dougan down with slitted eyes, and said nothing.

Goujun was rumored to have a paralyzing stare when dealing with obstinate people—and now Dougan knew that it was very true as he refused to look at the man in the eye.

When Homura had knocked and entered Goujun's office, he greeted the men, only to be met with Goujun's disapproving tut, and Dougan's repressed sigh. Dougan then hastily excused himself as soon as Homura entered the room, and did not fail to notice the look of indifference that flashed through Homura's eyes.

When Dougan returned to his cubicle, he avoided everyone's stares. Being called to the Dragon King's office was usually never a good thing. Dougan sighed, and rearranged his glasses as he tried to tame the baby hairs sticking out from his braid.

He had started with a promising career in Kinzan—

"I can't falter now," he mumbled, and he gulped as he noticed the marked date on his little calendar on his desk. Wiping his palms on his slacks, he grabbed his coat and stood up, and left the office, leaving a trail of muttered whispers and disbelieving looks behind.

When Goujun and Homura went down to the Fiction department to check on Dougan, the people there told him that Dougan had left.

Irritated at Dougan's constant defiance, Goujun dragged Homura with him, and they went straight to the president to complain. And when they notified Sanzo, he agreed that Dougan had been negligent of his duties lately.

Goujun snorted in response, crossing his arms as he tutted, "President, we haven't had an employee like this since that fiasco with Kami. I highly suggest we terminate him immediately, and replace him with one of the more deserving people in the field. Either that, or put up another ad."

Sanzo clicked his tongue and cursed as he rubbed his temples. Glancing at his monitor screen decorated with sticky notes and rushed scrawls, he opened his drawer, and took two tablets and washed them down with a cup of tea, all the while ignoring the sudden spike of ire rushing through him. "I am trying not to strangle anyone right now," Sanzo hissed as soon as he set the empty cup down. "I will think about what to do with him. Just—return to your offices for the meantime."

"Yes, sir," Goujun replied with a salute, and made his way for the door. Homura, meanwhile, stood firm in front of the president, both of them having a silent conversation with their eyes.

"Goujun, you go ahead," Homura called out without looking at the man, "I have to talk to the president."

Goujun shrugged, and left without a word as he closed the door behind him.

Homura smiled, tightlipped, at the president, "I see our little pet is not around."

"What do you mean 'our'? Shut the fuck up," Sanzo snapped. "If you came here just to riddle me with shitty questions, then you'll be disappointed because I won't answer shit."

Homura's lips twitched, the smile straining to remain in place, "I am just wondering why he is off from work today when he lives in the premises. It is not like him to leave you alone on a cold, winter day."

The blond snorted, tapped his fingers restlessly on the armchair, and kept glancing at his watch. Without looking at him, the president pursed his lips, brows furrowing as he spoke. "Goku gets bouts of fevers during this time of the year, it's why he hates the cold. I got him a few days off." When Homura opened his mouth and raised a finger, Sanzo interrupted, "And yes, I forbid you to visit him. If you try to do as such, I will know it immediately and I'll kick you out. Immediately."

A wry grin crept to the editor's face, and he laughed, "Well, aren't you protective."

"Want me to shoot you in the head?"

Homura chortled, "If you can, though it will be a waste of time. Anyway, I want to talk about Go Dougan's odd behavior—"

"I thought we just talked about that."

"We did, but still. Be wary of him."

"Feh. Look who's talking. Weren't you the one who convinced me to let him to the job? And now you suspect him?"

"President, I just want to say—that his job of going into Houtou is irrelevant. What I'm concerned about is his obvious hatred for Son Goku. Don't pretend you don't know it because I know that you know very well what I'm talking about."

Homura watched as Sanzo bit the inside of his cheek and stared listlessly at the monitor, and when the blond spoke, Homura almost huffed.

"I'll check on him, then. Here," Sanzo whipped out his gold card and tossed it to Homura's hands, "go buy something to fill his appetite." He stood up and put on his coat, his back facing the editor, and paused.

When Homura noticed that the man didn't move an inch for a few moments, he looked at his boss with a raised eyebrow, and opted to voice his thoughts.

"Are... you forgetting something, Konzen?"

Sanzo jolted with a start, and muttered curses as he pulled his suit straight with a bit too much force, and Homura bit back a laugh as Sanzo stormed off and did not spare him a glance. The heterochromatic-eyed man grinned as he noticed Sanzo's pink-dusted cheeks on his way out, and Homura remembered Son Goku always smoothing out the president's suit whenever the man donned it on.

Humming, Homura went around the table, and smiled upon seeing the notes stuck on Sanzo's monitor, all written by Goku.

"'Your medicine is in your drawer on the right. Drink it with gingerroot tea (not coffee) and don't chew your medicine.' 'Stamp's on the left, inside your drawer.' 'Manuscripts are on the left on your desk. The one with the green sticky note. Already arranged them by author.' 'Already asked the lunchlady to bring you your food exactly how you want it and when you want it. I told them not to bring you any bowl of mayonnaise in my absence. If you do so, I told them to call Auntie over to your office.' 'Bring Gojyo if you're going outside.' 'Sanzo, take care, okay?'"

Homura smiled as he read some of the notes, and saw more of them stuck on other parts of the president's desk, all written with the assistant's rushed handwriting. He sighed, a small laugh slipping past his lips as he looked at the note-littered desk.

"I wonder how he'll function without the little ball of sunshine," Homura laughed, and went off on his errand.

.

When Sanzo heard no response from his assistant after ringing the buzzer for the umpteenth time, he took out his card key and tapped it above the handle—a privilege that he was the CEO, as he had the master key to all of the rooms in the building.

Entering Goku's flat, Sanzo was met with the sights of goldenrod-hued walls, small, baroque paintings of food and flowers adorned the inviting walls, and if Sanzo inhaled enough, he would smell the scent of rosemary and lemon—a constant in Goku's room, as it were. He took off his shoes at the entryway, and slipped on the soft, white slippers by the shoe stand.

"Monkey?" he called, and when he heard no reply, he entered the room, and went straight to the kitchen, and found it spotless and sparkling. Clicking his tongue, he called for Goku again as he made his way towards the bedroom.

Painted with the same goldenrod-hued walls, Goku's room was bathed in a soft, low light from the bedside lamp. And there on the bed too big for a single person to sleep on, Sanzo found a lumpy ball under a thick comforter, with two, rounded, fluffy, brown ears sticking from the covers.

Sighing, he went over to the curled up lump on the bed, and tapped it.

His little assistant have always had the habit of wearing onesies once winter arrived, and especially now that he had a fever.

"Goku," he breathed, and clicked his tongue when he felt Goku's fever through the sheets. He sat on the bed, his thumb soothing his slumbering assistant with light rubs. Leaning to the brunet, he placed his forehead to the sweat-slicked temple, and hissed at the teen's high temperature. Pecking him on the head through the bear onesie, he sat upright and chucked his slippers from his feet. His shoulders then stiffened when two, fluffy arms encircled around his shoulder and waist, and he huffed when a mop of messy, brown hair tickled his ear and cheek. "I thought you were sleeping?" Sanzo droned, and patted Goku on the head. "You're burning up, go back to sleep. Have you taken your medicine?"

"Uh hm. You? Did you take yours with the tea?" Goku croaked out, his voice muffled on Sanzo's shoulder.

"Yeah, now lie down and sleep. I'll wake you up when the food's here. Odd Eyes will bring it. It's only past noon, so you get to eat lunch."

The embrace tightened, and Sanzo sighed as he listened to Goku's aimless chatter about his scattered dreams since this morning—a normal occurrence for someone with fever, Sanzo supposed. By the time Goku had finished with the senseless storytelling, the buzzer rang, and Sanzo had to peel his whining and flushed patient from his back and forced him to lie down. Ignoring Goku's muffled and incomprehensible complaints from the pillow, Sanzo made his way to the door and opened it to see Homura handing him a bag of food.

"Put that shit on the table," Sanzo commanded, his voice clipped as he glared at the smiling editor.

"You now permit me to see Son Goku?"

There was a pregnant pause, with Sanzo opening and closing his mouth, and settled in a frown as he snatched the proffered bag from Homura's hand. "On second thought, I'll bring this shit to the kitchen. You go back to work." And Sanzo slammed the door on the grinning man's face.

"Yes, thank you and you're welcome, sir!" Homura called, and waited for a response. Hearing none, he shrugged, and returned to Floor 22, biting back a grin all the while.

Inside Goku's flat, Sanzo struggled to feed the whimpering teen on the bed. With sheer patience that the blond rarely displayed to anyone, he wiped the bits of soup and corn from Goku's lips with a washcloth, all the while alternating between wiping off the snivel that threatened to drip down Goku's nose, and the beads of sweat from his forehead and neck. At one point, Sanzo tried to unzip the ridiculous and one-size-too-large of a bear onesie from the brunet—to lower the temperature a bit, Sanzo reasoned—only to be stopped by Goku's feint cries and seemingly senseless babble. The blond didn't attempt a second try, and opted to cradle Goku's head between his shoulder and neck as he fed him.

"Don't throw it up, don't throw it up," he muttered in a mantra as the smaller man coughed. When Goku shook his head, Sanzo heaved a sigh and rubbed his back firmly, and urged him to take a sip of warm water. "With all that food you eat every day, one might think you'll never get sick," he grumbled, clicking his tongue when he heard nothing but Goku rasping with every ragged breath and trying not to cough. Sanzo closed his eyes at the sight, his eyes furrowed as he kissed him on the brow, "I know I like you silent and all, but not like this."

Sanzo felt Goku's shoulders shake, and heard him croak a little laugh, and Sanzo cracked a little grin. "Get well soon, idiot. That lunchlady's tea was lukewarm."

Sanzo felt a quiet tug of a smile and a stream of hot breath on the crook of his neck, and the blond held him closer and kept running his hand down the feverish back in reply. "Go to sleep, I'll be back in a few hours." He felt Goku nod, and Sanzo bit back a laugh when the onesie's fur tickled his chin. He laid Goku back on the bed and tucked him under the covers, and gave him one last peck on the brow before leaving the room with the tray of half-eaten soup in tow.

When Sanzo had finished washing the dishes and the washcloth, he checked on Goku one more time. "I'll be back in a few hours, okay?" He repeated, and heard a muffled grunt. Taking that as a yes, he went over to Goku, and kissed him on the lips, and did not move until the brunet reciprocated with a bit of a pucker. "Just take a rest, idiot. No fiddling with your phone," he warned, and Goku cracked an eye open and gave him a faint smile and a light brushing of fingers against the blond locks.

"I won't," Goku rasped as he smoothed his hand on the pale man's face. "Hurry up and do your work so you can return here."

Sanzo snorted, and kissed the too warm palm. He ruffled Goku's hair, and with one last peck on the forehead, Sanzo left with a ghost of a smile.

He then left Goku's flat—

—and returned to his own to check on little Tama, who sat patiently by the entranceway, and greeted her owner with a string of mews and constant circling of her body around Sanzo's leg. He went to the kitchen, snapping his fingers along as Tama followed him, and he fed her. With a pat on her head as she ate on her bowl, Sanzo went over to the cabinet where the marbled, green and silver-coated urn was placed. He properly sat in front of it with his legs together and his feet tucked under his behind, and Sanzo looked at the picture where his foster father smiled and cradled a young Sanzo.

With palms placed on his lap, Sanzo bowed and smiled.

"Hello, Father. I just returned from feeding my pets. It's hard work at most, but I manage. I must say, I'm starting to hate winter because of the monkey's fever. This is the only time when he gets the stupid fever and colds and flu and—" Sanzo paused, and sighed roughly, "What I meant to say is that taking care of Goku is a pain. I know, I can just call someone over to check on him, but I can't do that. I'll get fuc—really restless and I don't like that shi—...thing. I don't like that thing. It has to be me or I'll go insane. You... haven't met him, have you? He's a handful. Too loud, too much of a glutton, too energetic. Heh, I'm pretty sure if you had met him, you'd dote over him like there's no tomorrow. He'd adorn your head with flowers until you sneeze. He did that to me often when we were kids. Thinking about it, you two would be both stupidly silly if you had met—I'd have to take care of both of you, then, from your frolicking around."

Sanzo casted his eyes down, looking pensive, and laughed to the empty room, "Even I have become ridiculous. You are gone, Father, and yet—here I am, talking to a picture and an urn. …Father, the only one who kept me sane after you died—was him. I came close to loathing winter since the—…since Aunt gave Goku to me and found out that he kept getting fevers during this time of year. Bothersome, right? But I still took care of him, and after some time I—well, he grew on me, I guess. That monkey of mine should always be a boundless energy—not… bedridden and silent and ill. I can never get used to it. It reminds me of seeing you dying on your bed all over again—without the ridiculous onesie he wears whenever he's sick. It's comical, really, but it's Goku, I expect nothing less than comical."

He closed his eyes and held a sigh, and bowed low to the floor, "Father, this is all I have to say right now. Thank you for listening." He sat straight, and looked at Koumyou's picture, all closed eyes and smiles as he held little Sanzo in his arms. Sanzo smiled, and his shoulders drooped free from the tension from minutes prior, "I know, I know. Why not give you offerings and incense, right. I'll eat them in the end, anyway, and you know how much I hate the smell of incense. You'll have to make do with me talk to you on moments like this, Father."

Sanzo glanced at this watch, and bowed once more, "I'll be taking my leave for now. Work starts in a few minutes. I'll talk to you later. For the meantime—" He heard meowing from behind, and saw Tama pattering over to him with small, quick steps, and she rubbed her face on Sanzo's knee. "For the meantime, Tama will keep you company. Cat, be a good pet to Father, all right?" The cat meowed, and Sanzo stood up and left the flat with a small smile.

Upon going to the elevator and pressing the button, the door opened and revealed Dougan clutching a bunch of stacked folders brimming with papers inside. Raising one eyebrow, Sanzo's mood immediately turned sour.

"You. Where have you been? No wait, shut it and don't answer. Follow me." Sanzo entered the elevator roughly pressed the close button and tapped the button for the 23rd floor. Not sparing the fumbling Dougan a glance, the short ride was filled with tension at most, and Sanzo ignored Dougan's futile attempts at trying to make conversation.

When they exited the elevator and made their way to Sanzo's office, Dougan had his head bowed throughout, and drowned the sounds of harsh whispering in their wake. Sanzo paid them no heed, and even stopped to talk to one of his secretaries about an annual gathering in a few months. Dougan felt his fingers slipping from his hold on the folders in his arms, but made no sound of complaint. From his left, Dougan noticed an empty cubicle behind legal editor Jien's, the small space devoid of a coat or any paper and pen in sight.

He tried asking the president about it, although upon seeing the president in deep discussion with his female secretary, Dougan remained silent, and ignored the way the secretary kept glancing at Dougan's wobbly form.

"—if that is all, then it's good. Cooperate with Yaone and her staff. They do the promotions and handle all things retail. You," Sanzo gave Dougan a sidelong glare, "follow me, and leave the door ajar."

Dougan gulped, glanced at the secretary giving him a sharp stare, and hastily went after the CEO. Pushing his foot at the door, he balanced the folders in his arms, and waited for further instructions—

"What, you're going to carry that shitload for the rest of the day? Place them over here and tell me what the fuck you've been up to lately. Because I am not the slightest bit amused with your shit." Sanzo leaned back on his desk with his arms crossed as he watched Dougan walk over to the desk to place the folder stacks in a pile—"Not there on the left, that's where the monkey's work is. Put them on the right."

Dougan fought back a whimper, and placed them as neatly as he could on the right side of the desk.

"Good, now stand over here and tell me why you're acting like shit lately."

Wiping his sweaty palms on the back of his slacks, Dougan stood in front of the silently fuming president. Choking back a stammer, he tried and failed at looking at the president in the eye, "I've been neglecting my work lately, President Genjo—"

"No shit."

"—and I apologize," Dougan muttered, opting to look at the floor and scratch at his arm, and only then had he noticed that he had not even taken off his coat. He gulped, and glanced at Sanzo's disinterested stare, and looked away once more. "I-I'll never do it again…!"

Silence hung heavily in the air. At one point, Sanzo noticed a few pairs of eyes peering through door and the glass panes of his office, but said nothing. Tapping his forefinger on his elbow, he thought about his next words with care, and forced himself not to pull out a cigarette and smoke to his heart's content.

"You say you'll never do it again, but I heard from old man Jikaku—your editor-in-chief, and only the oldest man in this building—from Homura, and from Goujun, that they have been told the same thing. Odd Eyes left you off the hook twice by talking it over with the old man. The least you could do is pay some fucking respect to the elderly by not being a pain in the fucking shithole. You not giving a shit to the old man's warnings means you don't give a shit to this place. If you want to, you can fucking leave right now—"

"No, please!" Dougan begged, his knees planted on the floor as he bowed to the unfazed employer. "I'll do things right, sir! I'll—"

"Fuck off," Sanzo huffed with a dismissive wave. "Jien! Get Gojyo over here and have him drag this thing away from the building—"

"No, no! President Genjo, don't do this! I'm only doing what you asked me to—to search information about Houtou, I swear!"

"Feh, did I also tell you to slack off? You're not the only one with the jobs piling up on a daily basis, Dougan. If you can't balance your work, you're not cut to be in Kinzan," Sanzo cursed as he took out and lit a cigarette—his first for the day—"You're making my work shittier than usual."

Jien knocked and peeked from the door, and when he was granted permission, he entered and grabbed Dougan by the armpits, and struggled when Dougan fought back and tried biting Jien's fingers off—"I-I know who Houtou's president is! Chief Ni Jien Yi…!"

Jien and Sanzo stilled, eyes wide at Dougan's revelation. Purple eyes met blue ones, and Jien stared at the blond with wide-eyed in confusion.

"I know Houtou's president. I finally found his real identity, President Genjo. I did what you asked of me," Dougan croaked, defeated, as he hung limply from Jien's hold.

It had taken a while before the blond could respond, his lips formed in a slight slack, at a loss of words. "From where did you hear that name…?" Sanzo breathed after a few moments of silence, and his cigarette was left perched and untouched in between his index and middle finger, unaware about the bits of ash that fell to the floor.

"I… researched about it, sir. Did my own investigation and all…"

Sanzo's brow raised at the muttered confession, and without averting his gaze from Dougan, he ordered, "Get Homura over here, Jien—and close the door on your way out."

.

When Goku woke up to a cold hand running over his synthetic fur-covered arm, he ignored the gesture, and buried his face deeper on the pillow warmed by his fever. When he felt a hand smoothing and tucking away his messy strands of hair behind his ear, he let out a low hum, and smiled when that hand smoothed over his cheek, and he whispered Sanzo's name.

"Hmm—hi, Sanzo… Work's done…?" Goku mumbled, his voice a faint rumble and a scratchy hoarse to Sanzo's ears.

"Yeah. And you missed a lot of shit." Sanzo huffed, his voice low, and seeped like a dulcet tune to Goku's currently oversensitive hearing.

The brunet took a deep breath and let the pale, cold hand thread itself in his wayward locks, and he mustered a smile, half-hidden on the pillow too big for his head, "Good thing I'm absent, then." He laughed, and winced upon pushing his lungs a bit too far as he wracked a cough.

"Sit up, you need your food and medicine. You're going to need it after my news," Sanzo directed with the same, raspy tone. When Sanzo had finished feeding Goku with potato potage soup, a roasted mutton leg, and a small kettle of green tea, Goku flashed him a wide grin, and Sanzo tutted as he wiped a stray bit of parsley from the corners of the teen's mouth.

"Now I'm done. Tell me what happened, Sanzo, tell me," the brunet cheered with much enthusiasm he could muster under his fever-laden self. Sanzo noted the familiar sparkle returning to those golden eyes, and he heaved a silent sigh of relief.

"That new friend of yours, that Dougan—he said he 'investigated' Houtou, and found out about our suspect of a shadow president."

"How?" Goku asked, confused of it all as he downed his medicine with his last cup of tea, wincing at the bitter aftertaste. "That information wasn't supposed to be revealed yet, and you haven't told him about the target."

"I know. Homura said he didn't tell him anything, and he knows better than to lie to my face. The Sha brothers are out of the question—Jien, especially. I've never seen them talk even once. Dougan said he 'asked around'. Pretty damn fucking sure you can't just ask fucking Google or ask random passersby on the streets about a serial killer disguising himself as a 'respectable' puppet president of a well-known publishing house at a tip of the hat. That's just not fucking possible. He's lying through his teeth and I know it. But I can't call Dougan out just like that—I need proof."

"In that case, how about—nah. It can't be. Zakuro doesn't even know him. Remember that time when I invited everyone over to your place? Hours before, Zakuro opened the door—not fully, just enough to take a peek—and saw Dougan. But that happened in just seconds, it can't be that—Sanzo? Where are you going?"

"To ask that dipshit mooching of that undine's food supply. Goku, if someone rings the buzzer five times nonstop, that's me. If it's not, then get your gun ready and shoot the fucker in the face."

"But what if it's Auntie?" Goku blanched at the thought, and glanced at his Curve lying on the bedside drawer.

"Then tell her there's a worm trying to crawl its way in. She'll know what it means." Sanzo came up to Goku and ruffled his hair, "Take care while I'm out." Goku nodded, and Sanzo turned around and left, aware of the pair of sad-looking eyes trailing after him.

When Sanzo went to the 29th floor, he banged on Gojyo's door and called for his bodyguard. And when the door opened, the blond went straight to where Zakuro sat in the living room, hunched over a book. Kinzan's president interrogated Zakuro, with Gojyo hovering just behind the tanned blond the whole time.

Zakuro stated no such thing to Dougan, claiming that he didn't even remember what he looked like, except that he had commented to Goku about the man "being a disgrace for trying to submit late paperwork after office hours."

"What details can you remember the most?" Sanzo urged with a clipped tone and bulging eyes, and Zakuro answered immediately with a shrug, unfazed as he closed the book in his hand.

"He wore glasses and had black hair. Too pale. Wore a too big of a beige jacket, I think. Didn't leave an impression on me, to be honest. He was like a waif, sweating all over the place when I first saw him."

"And you're sure that you did not tell him anything about Houtou?"

"Yes, Genjo Sanzo. I'm quite sure. I didn't even show him my full face when he first knocked on the door."

Sanzo bit the inside of his lip and looked away, muttering and cursing under his breath, and Gojyo, impatient and confused, scratched his ear in irritation.

"Hey, boss. The info's not easily accessed, right? The only logical shit he might have pulled off is him going straight into Houtou."

"I've thought about that," Sanzo hissed, his fingers tugging his blond locks as he paced around the room. "But it makes no sense. If he had gotten into Houtou, we would've been thrown into war with them by now."

"But Sanzo," Gojyo interrupted, and tried to come up with a decent retort and a question hanging from his lips, "maybe little ol' Glasses here didn't introduce himself as someone from here? Maybe, just maybe—he kept slacking off because… he's probably going over there all the time! Yeah, that's it. That's most likely the answer. You told us that he's been all over the place lately, and Goujun caught him trying to sneak in the middle of a meeting, from the back, in the afternoon, from what I heard from my bro. What if he's been trying to get inside Houtou and we have no knowledge of it?"

.

Dougan sat hunched on his bed, and rubbed at his swollen, tear-stained eyes as he glared at his laptop screen. Today had been a train-wreck of a day. From being scolded by Goujun, to being a hair's breadth away from being fired on the spot—and by the president, no less. It was all too much for Dougan to bear—

—but he clutched on, and had fought bravely with no punches thrown. He had answered truthfully, as what President Genjo had expected from him, and Dougan surmised that the president had been worried for his sake, commenting that—

"'You should stay still until I tell you to move where you're supposed to go,' was it? Ah, President Genjo is looking out for me!" he uttered with much joy as he held a pillow to his face, letting a wide smile erupt from his lips. "President Genjo will come through for me—he'll someday realize that I should be the one by his side. Haha!"

.

At night, a fever-stricken and onesie-clad Goku gripped the thick comforter around him and curled and huddled close to a grumbling Sanzo. Opting to voice no complaint, Sanzo took it all in stride and draped his arm over the shivering brunet, rearranging the covers to properly blanket them both in the process. In the dark, he felt a quivering and clammy hand clutching the back of his baggy sweater, and Sanzo, with his eyes closed, brushed and smoothed his hand over the back of Goku's hood, and placed a chaste kiss to his brow.

Hours seemed to pass when the distinct sound of the buzzer reverberated through the walls—and Sanzo, ever the light sleeper, tried ignoring it for a few seconds when he suddenly remembered that he wasn't sleeping in his room—

—a loud banging and yelling came, startling Tama, and she growled lowly from her basket by the foot of the bed—

The blond rolled his eyes and pulled away from a soundly sleeping Goku, and he turned on the lights, took his loaded gun, and blindly made his way towards the front door, and saw through the peephole that it was Gojyo knocking senseless on the door—

"Gojyo, what the fuck—?" Sanzo grumbled as he slammed the door wide open to reveal Gojyo, all wide-eyed and grinning like he had won the lottery. "What's up with you limp-dicked shitheads always knocking at the crackass of fucking dawn and not giving me a single, decent night's rest?" Sanzo gritted out in annoyance, and pushed Gojyo to the side and checked if any of the nearby occupants were disturbed. Seeing none, he hissed at the still beaming redhead, "This better be fucking good. I have a sleeping monkey in there and I can't have him waking up to find me gone because fuck it—it took me a long damn time before his grumbling and whining stopped and finally fell asleep and I finally fell asleep and I can't have you ruining my fucking sleep any further."

"Uh... you done now, boss?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Because you won't be getting any sleep after this," Gojyo declared with a lopsided grin and wagging eyebrows.

Sanzo's eyebrow rose and he frowned, his eyes narrowing at his bodyguard.

Gojyo gaped and raised his forefinger, and looked away from his employer's glare for a moment before cracking a forced laugh, shifting his sights from the skull-burning glare. "I-it's a joke! Haha! Get it? 'You won't be getting any sleep'? Haha! ...okay, I'm shutting up now."

Sanzo said nothing, and merely crossed his arms.

"Um. Right. Uh, you might want to wake Goku up if you don't want to leave him alone. I, uh, I was hoping that the little monkey was going to answer the door. Funny thing is, I went to your room and heard no answer whatsoever and so I thought that maybe Goku knew and so I went here and now you're here and it makes sense now since you're babysitting Goku and—"

"Get to the fucking point."

"Right," Gojyo then cleared his throat and looked intently at a spot above the blond's wavy bedhead. "Right. Well—on my way home from my nightly rounds around the perimeter—"

"The perimeter being the casinos and bars, right."

"—our goody-two-shoes editor went inside a seedy place, and Sanzo, you have to fucking see it to fucking believe it."

.

When a grinning Gojyo urged an irate Sanzo and a whimpering, flushed Goku to wear shades and led them to an empty, yet dirty table far from the smell of sweat and liquor and overpowering perfumes all over, Sanzo almost threw a nasty fit, if it weren't for his assistant clutching and sticking onto him like a lifeline since they exited Kinzan.

"Goku, don't you dare throw up on my coat—here. Don't touch—" Goku pulled up his hoodie and hid his face as much as he could from the dizzying lights and sudden flashes, and leaned his entire weight on the blond, clutching his arms around Sanzo's waist. "—anything. Ugh. Gojyo! You better not be toying with me or I'll shoot you in the nuts for dragging me all the way here at fucking 2am. A strip club? Really? A fucking strip club?"

They sat away from the noise of the crowd, next to an occupied blue and black booth seat. Gojyo tapped Sanzo's shoulder and leaned in, stage-whispering, "Yes. A fucking strip club. This is the seedy place I was talking about. Keep your glasses on, Your Highness. Target's next to us."

Sanzo grumbled a faint and begrudging harrumph as he scooted Goku over to him, his ears drowning in the deafening beat of the bass. Never mind that there were waitresses strutting around in skimpy and frilly fabrics that barely registered as clothes. Never mind that on the stage were several naked women dancing along to some tune that Sanzo considered trash—

—because sitting in a booth seat a few feet from them was one of Kinzan's Buddhist fiction editors, Go Dougan, hunched over in a deep discussion with Houtou House's Acting President, Ni Jien Yi—

"What. The fuck. Is Dougan doing here. Talking with fucking Ukoku?" Sanzo snapped his head to Gojyo, who shrugged and grinned. And if Sanzo could see those eyes blocked by the shades, he'd say that Gojyo was practically brimming with mischief upon the discovery.

"I dunno, Boss. I was here at 11, after doing the nightly rounds, and then I saw that. There was a woman with Ukoku earlier when I left. A short-haired one. Pity, she could be hotter if she didn't have that sour look on her face the whole time. Then again, with sleazebags like Ukoku, who wouldn't look sour-faced? I called you on your phone, you know. You didn't answer the whole time, so I rushed back and thought you died over a bottle of mayo or something. Didn't know you became a nanny to the little chimp here! Haha!"

Sanzo glared Gojyo down, and rubbed small circles on the small of Goku's back as he did so. The thermal sweaters and the fluffy coat that the teen wore seemed to do little to alleviate his fever. And Sanzo bit back a curse, "If this were under normal circumstances, I would have chopped your hair off with my bullets by now." The redhead guffawed, and Sanzo's eye twitched in annoyance. Deciding that the conversation would lead nowhere, he raised his voice, trying to compete with the music. "Gojyo, they've been here for a long time, yeah? Did you get a hint on what they're talking about?"

Gojyo's grin faltered and shook his head, and cupped his mouth to Sanzo's ear, "Dougan had been doing all the talking the whole time since I left. I never once saw Ukoku's lips move. Maybe now he'll talk or something."

"'So the people in the coffeehouse you work in treat you unfairly because of your closeness with your employer?'"

"Goku, what are you talking about?" Sanzo scoffed at his assistant's whispered words to his ear, and noticed the brunet staring intently at the booth next to them, and Sanzo's lips curled in a smirk. "Oh. Finally putting that lip-reading you learned from Hakkai to good use?"

Gojyo craned his neck to the flushed teen, and he slapped Goku heartily on the back, making him cough. He went behind the two and hunched over them. "Okay, squirt. Show us what you learned from Hakkai."

Goku giggled and nodded, snuggling his cheek to Sanzo's left shoulder, his sights now set on Dougan's lips. "'Yes, I guess they are jealous with the closeness my employer and I have. He is a very unique individual,' Dougan said." Goku noticed Dougan pause, and covered his mouth, and Goku pouted, leaning close to Sanzo's ear, "I can't read them like that."

"I know, Monkey. Just look at them for clues."

"Wait, Dougan has another job other than in Kinzan? Damn. Talk about a hard worker," Gojyo praised with wide-eyed awe. "What more did he say?"

"I can't see it if he's hiding his mouth," Goku rasped—

Just then, a buxom woman half-covered in body glitter blocked their view. Jutting her hips to one side and leaning over the table, she not-so-subtly squished her chest closer with her elbows and winked at a scowling Sanzo, "Why, Gojyo. You brought back a handsome one. Hello, would you care for a drink?"

Sanzo grimaced at the proffered hand inching close to his personal space, and he leaned back, taking Goku—who still clung to his side—with him as well, "Fuck off, bimbo. If all I wanted was to see some sad pair of tits for entertainment, I would have stayed at home to look at my ballsacks, instead. At least they don't fuck my eyes blind with shitty glitter."

Goku immediately slapped a hand to his mouth to choke back his bubbling laughter, his fatigue and nausea temporarily forgotten from the sudden outburst. And the woman went pale, and soon turned a shade darker than her firetruck-red lipstain and opened her mouth with the beginnings of cursing Sanzo out—

"Hey, hey. Take it easy on the lady, boss. Heh, sorry, toots. The guy's grouchy—whoa. Easy on the coat, hon. That's new." Gojyo flashed a smile to the woman who grabbed his collar, and the woman glared at Sanzo, who glared back just as intensely as she did, and she backed down, and pointed at him as she asked Gojyo.

"Is he new here?"

"Uh," Gojyo stole a glance at Sanzo's unfazed expression, then back at the offended woman, "yeah. He's uh, new." He then leaned over to Sanzo and looked at him with wide, watery eyes, "Please don't tell this to Hakkai, guys. He'll castrate me this time for sur—"

"Too late. Already sent him what happened," Goku said in a lilting tone, and tucked away his phone and scooted closer to Sanzo before Gojyo could even snatch it away.

"Hey, dick for brains. While you were eye-fucking with sad sacks over there, our target got away. Nice going, shithead."

"Eh? Ah! Fuck! Uh, hey, sweet cheeks, uh—how about putting this on my tab? I already paid my last yen earlier. I'll pay you soon after two days. Whaddya say, love?" Gojyo grinned and winked at the stripper, who harrumphed and hastily went down from the table, and didn't spare the redhead a glance. "Sweet cheeks? Uh, babe? ...Fuck. Hey. Guys. Sanzo, Goku! Wait up! Fuuuck!"

Gojyo scratched his head in annoyance, looked at the booth seat, and sure enough, Ukoku and Dougan were not there anymore.

Somewhere during the time when the woman had talked to them, their targets had made their exit.

Stomping, Gojyo hollered and ran after the CEO and his assistant, muttering apologies in his wake as he bumped and shoved the dancers aside—

He found Sanzo still holding Goku close, and watched as Sanzo hailed a taxi, fighting the cold all the while by rubbing his knees every few seconds—"Hey, guys! I'm sorry—"

"Gojyo. Talk to me one more time tonight and I'll bury you in the snow until you get hypothermia, I fucking swear. Get in the trunk for all I care. Or—you know what, never mind." And Sanzo ushered a coughing Goku inside the cab and he followed, slamming the door on Gojyo's face. He ignored the livid man trying to open the locked doors. Failing to open them, Gojyo banged on the taxi's window instead, yelling all the while. Sanzo merely snorted and shrugged. "Old man, step on it, please."

"Hey, Sanzo! Don't fucking leave—Sanzo!"

The taxi drove away, leaving Gojyo to choke on dust.

.

When Dougan was called in to the president's office for questioning the following week, he kept denying that he had talked to Houtou's Ni Jien Yi in a strip club, although when Sanzo urged Goku to show a picture that he had taken, Dougan changed tune, saying that it was pure chance that they had met, and when Sanzo asked the braided man if he sought for Ni Jien Yi for financial support, Dougan was baffled.

"Why would I have financial troubles, sir?"

"I dunno. You tell me. Why didn't you tell me you're working in a coffeeshop? Is that why you've been running late lately?"

The question struck Dougan speechless. And a lone thought ran through his mind—

"Are—are you worried for me... sir?"

Sanzo glanced at a mask-covered Goku, who stood beside him, unmoving since he showed the photo in his phone earlier. The assistant shrugged at his employer, his hands laid flat against his back, and Sanzo noticed the slight twitch of a finger that Goku had been trying to hide.

"Worried... yeah, I guess," Sanzo mumbled in distraction as he stared intently at the beads of sweat appearing on Goku's brow. His little assistant had been catching up on his work despite the fever he still had.

And Sanzo missed the look on Dougan's face—eyes sparkling and wide, the sallow cheeks growing flushed, and lips parting in a wide smile—his very expression a cross between disbelief and sheer elation.

"Sanzo, your eyebrows are curled again. Also, you're spacing out."

Sanzo blinked, and barely registered Goku's muffled words. Beneath that face mask, the blond was sure that the little monkey grinned—

"Right." He coughed, and faced Dougan with his usual passive face, "Right. Are you seeking aid from the rival company? Because if you do, I can gladly fire you away."

The response was immediate.

Dougan strode to the desk, fingers curled and, twitching and damp. "No, please! I'll tell you everything, President Genjo, just please don't fire me!"

And tell them, he did—his days of going to Houtou, his days of seeking its chief, telling Ni Jien Yi straight lies that he worked in a coffeeshop—

"So, this is all just to get access to that list?" Sanzo asked, his words slow and deliberate. When Dougan nodded, Sanzo leaned back on his chair, and beckoned Goku over. Giving Dougan a sidelong look, the president whispered to his assistant, "Call all the people involved to the conference hall—the ghost not included. Bring the brothers, too." When Goku made a snappy salute and exited the office, Sanzo dismissed Dougan, a gesture that the editor obeyed with reluctance.

Goku returned minutes later, huffing and panting with his hands on his knees—

"Hey, Monkey. You'll barf yourself to death if you keep doing that."

Goku hid a smile beneath his white, face mask, and wiped his sweat from his brow as he went over behind the desk and stole a quick peck to Sanzo's cheek. "I feel less sick when I'm with you, though."

"Feh. Keep your barfs in. You're at work."

"Yes, sir."

The CEO and his assistant went to the conference hall, where they met up with two of Sanzo's secretaries, Homura, the Sha brothers, "Elder" Jikaku, Kanzeon and Jiroushin, along with other people who usually sat with Dougan in the Buddhist Fiction department. There, they all talked about what to do with the troublesome man. Only a few people knew about the inner circle of Houtou House—the gentry, as Homura had called; but even so, an even fewer number of people knew about the very people ordering the mass killings among the publishing houses and the businessmen.

"No way did he happen to know about just stumbling upon that information by chance! Everyone knows no one has ever seen Houtou Chief's face! Heck, even I have never seen it!" Jien exclaimed as he recalled Dougan's outburst. "He just can't."

"I agree. My fiancé used to work there and yet he had never seen the president's face—both the actual one and the acting one," said one secretary.

Another secretary raised her hand, her face contorted in confusion, "My uncle said he had only heard of the name, Dr. Yi. Or was it Ni? I can't remember. The police said my uncle died in a car accident, but I can tell that it was Houtou. Why? Because he found out about the killings. I then worked here to know about the company that wants to bring Houtou down. I'm pretty sure that if what Mr. Go claims that he goes in and out of Houtou easily is true, he would have been dead a long time ago. No outsider can freely talk to the shadow president himself and come out alive in one piece. That's just insane."

Kanzeon and Sanzo whispered among themselves, all the while, they listened to their subordinates' comments.

"I agree with that," Homura said, and he held back a choke as he talked, "my Rinrei was killed because she knew a bit too much about the company and refused to participate in what they called The Security." All eyes fell on him, and Homura shrugged, "President, you can ask the ghost about it. That is what they call the killings—as a means of securing and promoting their positions and getting more properties."

"Who's the ghost?" Jien asked, and Gojyo elbowed him on the ribs and told him to keep his mouth shut.

"I'll tell you in due time, bro."

One of Dougan's fellow editors raised his hand, "If I may, sirs, I have my concerns, too. About Dougan, I mean. He's usually a great guy, but lately, I've been seeing him acting strangely... Like biting his nails, for example—"

"—and muttering to himself!" exclaimed another—

"—and muttering to himself, yes. But not work-related, President Genjo. More like, 'I'll beat him, I'll beat him.' And I don't think he has an enemy on our floor. He's friendly to all of us."

Sanzo's face turned to that of doubt, and he took a quick glance at Homura's direction, "Is that so..."

Homura glanced back, his eyes narrowed at the blond.

"If I may, President?" the eldest man said in a low voice and a bow. Jikaku had a habit of touching his very bushy brows, smiling all the while. When Sanzo shrugged, Jikaku hummed, his face drooping and sagging from the cheeks. The smallest hint of a frown appeared beneath his thinning mustache, and he looked at the CEO and the vice president with half-lidded eyes.

"Is it not, the rule of the very foundation of this company, about absolute obedience and loyalty to its leader and fellow employees? If so, then why are we even discussing any of this when we know very well what we must do?"

Sanzo placed his elbows on the table, supported his clasped hands to his forehead, and closed his eyes. His shoulders tensed as he took a deep breath, and allowed the silence in the room to calm him down. When Sanzo felt a warm hand touch his right shoulder, his shoulders sagged, and faced the room with a cold stare.

The warmth from Goku's hand left him, and he held back a shiver from the sudden loss of that feverish warmth.

"We'll put him to the test, then. If he remains loyal even if he's away from Kinzan, then he can live in Kinzan. But if not—"

His calloused hands brushed against a discreet lump inside his suit pocket, and violet eyes narrowed.

"—then we all know what to do, don't we?"

Jikaku's smile widened, and he bowed, followed by the others, save for Kanzeon and Goku.

"Understood," they uttered in a calm unison.

.

Dougan arrived home to his rundown apartment, plopped down on the leather couch, shuffled out of his heavy, winter coat, and draped it over himself. Attempting to sleep after a long day at work, he his hid face beneath the fur hood of his coat, and scratched his pale cheek with much annoyance.

He rolled over the couch, and felt another itch tickling his face.

Scrunching his nose, he tried ignoring it, only for him to stop and flip the coat from his face, and discovered little things inside the hood.

Small, shiny, gray bugs with tiny, red eyes were stubbornly stuck on the hood, with their little antennas twitching every few seconds.

He turned his coat inside out, and noticed more of the inconspicuous, little bugs nestled and hidden inside the creases of the wool.

Feeling a sudden surge of embarrassment at the thought of his unkemptness being seen at work—and possibly in front of President Genjo, no less!—he bit his lip and felt his face grow hot.

Pushing embarrassment aside and letting curiosity take over, Dougan slowly took one with his index and thumb, and inspected the moving, little legs. Upon hearing a small sound that resembled ticking, Dougan tried squishing the little bug, and stopped when he felt hard, little strips that were like hair. Upon looking closer, he noticed that the little strips were not only hard, but also oddly shiny.

"Copper," he muttered as he twirled the little bent wires in his fingers. Brows furrowing, he inspected the bug's red eyes. His own eyes almost watered as he focused his sights on what the eyes were made of. There were no liquids of any kind, no little secretions, no small, white innards that were usually present in a bug's body.

Turning the eye over, Dougan's mouth fell open when he saw microchips inside the eye.

.

Ukoku had a smug smile the whole time he watched one of the many screens in front of him. A faint wisp of smoke wafted in the air as his sights drifted to the ceiling. The images on the monitors reflected on his spotless glasses, and he huffed another drag of cigarette smoke.

On the screen was a magnified projection of Dougan's face, where the man's nose filled the screen, the pores, and a bit of nose hair—and Ukoku laughed when the screen finally showed deafening static.

"Aah. It was fun while it lasted...!"

He stretched his arms upwards, and stood up and went to a table filled with little bugs of various shapes, some of them more inconspicuous than the others. He took a bug, a brown-hued one much like the color of Dougan's coat. The editor didn't have many color schemes on his wardrobe, Ukoku supposed, but it didn't stop him from making more bugs.

"Dr. Ni, surely you have other better things to do than to make more of your toys," a woman from behind him chided. She wore the same rectangular-framed glasses that Ukoku had, and had short, permed, black hair that reached up to her ears. Draped around her neck was the same ID that the other Houtou employees wore, and Ukoku turned around, and whistled at the way the ID leaned on the woman's ample bosom. She bristled upon realizing what he implied, and turned away with a huff, making Ukoku laugh.

"Now, now, Dr. Hwang. Don't pout. You know how I don't like it when you pout. It makes me want to do things to it."

Shoulders tensing, Dr. Hwang whipped around and stomped her foot, "Stop saying those things! This is why I can't stand you!"

"Hmph, be careful with your words, Dr. Hwang. Or I might just replace you." Ukoku sneered with a scoff, and peered at her through the askew glasses perched on his nose.

Dr. Hwang's teeth gnashed, her dark eyes glowering at her chief. Digging her nails into her palms, she spat, "You wouldn't dare!"

The chief barked a laugh too hollow and forced for it to sound real to his assistant, "Oh, but I just might. He could be a great asset to our Lady. You know how it works, don't you? He'll be the perfect stand-in. Maybe I could suggest for him to play with the Lady, too—"

The reverberating sound of palm hitting flesh stung in the air, and Dr. Hwang left Dr. Ni without a word, making the man rub his cheek with a toothy grin and barely stifled laughs in the darkness of the room.