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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When Dougan had received permission to keep watch on Houtou, he had expected any form of recognition from his employer, but no.
President Genjo Sanzo, had been looking at no one but his frantic and fumbling assistant through the glass panes the whole time he had talked to Dougan.
That young assistant had been going around the departments to make up for his absences.
Dougan had tried getting the president's attention, but all he had gotten was a vague nod and a shrug, and with that, he had left the building looking quite dejected and grim, unaware of Gojyo tailing him—on Sanzo's orders.
Homura stood in the hallway, observing his fellow editors and some agents as he leaned on the water dispenser, and he saw the president's assistant running around.
With a small bottle of energy drink inside his suit, Goku went around the office in a flurry, leaving some of his fellow copyeditors behind. It was the hated part of the cycle where deadlines had to be met, and as he went along, he proofread the manuscripts. After his sick leave, he had to do twice as much work as he usually did, and no one was happier than Goku himself, oftentimes offering help to any new clients and other authors with a smile.
Homura sipped on his coffee and talked to an intern. His short coffee breaks were his small pieces of peace. Unlike the president, who was stuck in his office and stared at monitors and looked at papers all day long, Homura could go outside his cubicle and see other people—
Grinning, he observed the way Goku chatted with his fellow workers with big smiles and soft looks. "He's missing a lot."
"Who?"
Shrugging, Homura jerked his thumb behind him, "Heh, the president, of course. Such sights to behold on a Monday morning!"
The intern smiled a tad too wide and stepped back, bowing, "Good day, President Genjo."
Homura stopped and blinked, and craned his neck around to see Kinzan's president frowning. On the blond's right hand was an empty paper cup, his fingers tapping on the rim. Homura laughed off his realization, "That was you? Hello, Konzen. Nice day we're having, right?"
Sanzo hummed, his one brow raised as he glanced at Goku's retreating form. The copyeditor was armed with papers and folders, and Sanzo fought back a smirk. "Hm. If that nice day involves you staring wistfully at my assistant while gossiping around and proclaiming your fantasies to an innocent employee, then I don't think it's completely nice at all. Move."
Homura laughed and raised his palms as he moved away from the coffee machine, "I thought you have your coffee delivered to you every day?"
Sanzo's eye twitched as he poured coffee into his cup, all pretense of being as civil as he could kept at bay, "As you can see, the one who was supposed to bring me my coffee is running around like a headless chicken."
"In short, it's an excuse to get out of your office and check on our pet, right?" Homura laughed, and elbowed the intern beside him. "Don't harm the little pet, he'll bite back."
"If you're finished talking about private matters in front of me," Sanzo berated as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, "you can fuck off now." He scoffed—being civil was never his strong suit, anyway. Turning to the intern next to Homura, Sanzo noticed the boy looking a tad smaller than Goku, albeit with the same wide eyes and boundless optimism. Another notable thing was the intern's complete baldness. "Fresh face, huh. Good. This place needs a new editor soon. Who's supervising you? I have a hint who, I just want to make sure."
The intern straightened his back and puffed out his chest. With a radiant smile that could rival Goku's, the intern replied, "Elder Jikaku is supervising me, President Genjo! Ah. M-my name is Yōu—"
"I knew it," the president clicked his tongue and looked away for a fraction of a second, and turned his attention to the intern again. "Oh. Yōu, is it. Confusing name, if I must say. I'll call you Youmei. It's easier," Sanzo said with a shrug.
Youmei stammered babbles. Upon seeing that Homura wouldn't disagree with the president, however, the intern calmed himself and looked at Sanzo with awe and smiled. "In that case, President Genjo, let me reintroduce myself! I'm Yōu, but you can call me Youmei!"
Sanzo nodded and shrugged—a vague gesture that he acknowledged the introduction—and wiggled his pinky in his ear. After downing his coffee, he turned to a smiling Homura. "Hey, Odd Eyes. Did you get what I asked?"
"The security logs, right? I got them, and he leaves the same time everyday."
"The same habitual shit, huh. Fine." Sanzo clicked his tongue, and crushed the paper cup. Ignoring the scandalized look on Youmei's face as the CEO took out a cigarette and a lighter, he placed the stick between his lips, the lighter's little flame inching closer to the little stick and—
"Sanzo! No smoking outside your office!"
Sanzo hissed and stomped his foot once upon hearing the familiar yell, and in response, he stopped as a puffed up Goku marched from the end of the hallway and straight to where he was—
—and snatched the lighter and the cigarette from the blond. Waving the unlit stick on Sanzo's face, Goku scolded him, "No. Cigarettes! You can do it in your office, but not outside where there are other people. I'm confiscating these. Hand the others over."
Sanzo didn't move as he glared down at his assistant without a word. Not averting his glower from Goku's equally relentless glare, Sanzo dropped the pack on the opened palm with a minute jutting of the lip and much reluctance. All the while, he ignored Homura chortling beside him. He clicked his tongue, squinting at his younger subordinate, "That shit's coming out of your next paycheck."
Goku huffed, and stuck out his tongue with an impish grin, "Say what you want. I'm doing this for your health. It's either your cigarettes or your mayo."
"Fuck you, imp."
Goku grinned, and waved the lighter and the pack of cigarettes one last time before chucking them in his suit pocket. Leaning over to the scowling blond, he whispered something to Sanzo, and earned him a swift smack to the head. Goku winced, but grinned as he jogged away, giggling to himself.
Homura, as soon as Goku was out of earshot, glanced discreetly at a distracted Youmei, and leaned over to Sanzo, who had been flushed from whatever Son Goku had whispered to the blond and composed himself in a few moments. "I'm going to pretend I didn't see anything just now. The logs are on your desk, by the way. In front of your monitor," he muttered to the blond. "Sha Gojyo is on the move as we speak. Did you actually do it, Konzen? Bugging him, I mean?"
Sanzo shrugged, his face passive as he spoke, "Not my entire orders. It's the hag. You know how she is."
"Son Goku actually managed to do it?" Homura breathed, surprise evident through his blue and golden eyes. "Let me guess. He did his usual round of flailing arms and distracted Go Dougan long enough to plant a bug on him?"
Sanzo shrugged, although the ghost of a tug on the corner of his lip betrayed his apathy about Goku's accomplishment. "Let Dougan do what he wants. As long as the prick's not doing anything harmful to this place, we're all good."
Youmei, who silently watched the exchange with a small smile, puffed out his chest and declared with a grin, "President Genjo, is there anything I can help you with? I-if there's anything at all, that is. Um."
"You can start with shutting Odd Eyes's trap here. That'll help me a lot," Sanzo huffed, jabbing a thumb to where Homura stood with a lopsided grin. Youmei cheered a determined affirmative, and the blond went away.
"That will be your boss until you retire," Homura whispered to Youmei. "That is, if you can stand his attitude. He's secretly a softie, or so I've been told," he let out with a little laugh as Youmei smiled, bashful at the information. It didn't escape Homura that on his way back to his office, Sanzo's eyes followed Goku for a moment too long, something that Youmei didn't notice.
"I can accept whatever challenge he throws at me, sir. If it's from President Genjo, then I'll give it my best!"
Homura blinked, patted the intern on the shoulder, and shook his head with a tightlipped smile, "What is it with that man that he attracts everyone?"
.
"...so, what say you, Mr. Dougan? I can call you that right? We have been talking for quite some time now."
Dougan sat back on the plush chair that felt a tad too stiff for his liking. It did not help that he didn't remove his heavy coat, in fact, it only added fire to his steadily rising temperature. The leather beneath his thighs squeaked against his slight movements, and the dried sweat from his back beaded once more under Chief Ni's cunning gaze and crooked smile.
Chief Ni's office suddenly felt too small.
"I have to—talk it over with my professor—"
"Ah, but you are considering it, aren't you?" the chief chortled, grinning behind the stick of cigarette that seemed to be a permanent thing in between the man's lips. "Wouldn't it be nice, if, for once, you could decide for your own? Your professor doesn't have to know!" He laughed and stood, and went over to Dougan to pat him firmly on the shoulder. "Also, you can get comfortable with me. The thermostat is quite adjusted nicely." Chief Ni fiddled with the hood of the coat, and ruffled his fingers in between the faux fur, "You really like this coat, huh? It has a nice look to it. I've never seen you without it."
Dougan fidgeted in his seat, and Ni noticed Dougan looking around his coat, eyes fervently looking for something.
"Something the matter?" Ni asked Dougan, his grin growing toothier by the second as he observed the man with a shrewd eye.
Dougan swallowed the spit in his mouth, and stared down at the pen, then at the document staring at him with its plain black print.
Chief Ni went around him, placed his cold hands on his coat, and leaned to his ear.
"Go on, sign it. No one will know, plus, you'll get all that you want—and more."
Dougan's breath hitched and felt his hands run cold. On the sheet of paper were words that passed by his mind in a blur, and beneath it was a long line, waiting for the man's signature.
His fingers trembled against his knees, felt a bead of sweat drip behind his ear, and felt Chief Ni's hands smooth across his coat-clad shoulder, sliding the garment down to his elbows.
Dougan heard a small ticking sound from behind him, and there was nothing more, save for hearing Chief Ni's breath down his ear.
"Now, Mr. Dougan—make your choice."
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Kanzeon lounged on her divan in her home. Sitting in front of her was her nephew, looking as grim as he had always been.
"What is the document about?" inquired Sanzo, who chucked the earbuds from his ears. "He returned to Kinzan, sure, but didn't mention any of this. Gojyo followed him on his return but he said that Dougan didn't act suspicious at all. Who saw the bug? Did Dougan squish it? Or was it Ukoku?"
Humming, Kanzeon stretched her right arm and stared at her holographic, lacquered nails with much fascination. "I honestly don't know the answers to your questions. But Konzen, dear, maybe he is trying to hide something from us? That Dougan, I mean. He's looking more and more suspicious than our little guest in Kinzan, and he's the one who had killed." Her low-cut and halter top dress shifted as she moved to sit up, and Sanzo rolled his eyes upon seeing a bit too much of his aunt's chest.
"Speaking of that, how is his case? Last time I checked, Shien was sniffing around the crime scene according to what Zakuro stated."
Kanzeon shrugged, and her eyebrows rose when she noticed her nephew, flushed in the face and neck, hissing as he drank only whiskey, and refusing to pair it with his favorite smokes. Stifling a smile, she plucked a grape from the fruit bowl on the coffee table and ate it. "Zakuro is doing good, according to Shien. That's why he's under lenient supervision in his house arrest. Even if he was not under orders, Zakuro seems to be doing well. He hasn't been committing anything bad since he was in Kinzan. I take it Gojyo is treating him well, too?"
Sanzo nodded, and swallowed another gulp of the amber liquid before speaking, "He's doing good. Zakuro's drafts are going well, and at this rate, he'll get to earn his keep as a writer in Kinzan as promised. That is, if he'll pass our standards."
"I trust your judgment," Kanzeon said with a flippant wave of her hand, smiling as she pointed a long nail at her nephew, "but the issue at hand is: do you trust your underling's judgment? That Dougan seems to be standing on two boats at once. He can't decide which task to focus on."
"What I'm also worried about is this document Ukoku seems to be making Dougan to sign. I'll look more into it." He glanced at Goku, who sat in front of the console, simultaneously eating chicken nuggets as he played a game. Sighing, Sanzo leaned back on the sofa, and patted the inside of his coat. He glanced at Goku at the corner of his eye once more, then at his smiling aunt, and Sanzo clicked his tongue, muttering about stupid family members.
He couldn't smoke inside Kanzeon's home, after all.
"You're still doing your shooting practice, right?" Kanzeon inquired as she took another grape in her mouth, smiling at the way her nephew seemed to be torn between going out of the room to smoke or to stay and drink to his heart's content. When Sanzo grunted his response, Kanzeon puffed out her almost bare chest, and glanced at the brunet playing his time away at the TV. "Goku dear, do you still practice with Konzen?"
"Uh huh," said the teen, his eyes glued to the screen as he spoke. "One time Gojyo's balls almost got shot because he made fun of Sanzo's gun—"
Kanzeon guffawed until her eyes sprang tears, her fingers shaking as she pointed at her growling nephew. "P-pretty sure he meant that literally? Hahaha!" She ignored her nephew's icy glares and empty threats, and joined in with Goku's peals of laughter and Jiroushin's chuckles from across the room.
Goku returned to the scowling man, coiling his arms around him, laughing and pecking him on the cheek when Sanzo tried cursing him off. Sanzo tried pulling at his hair, only to end up ruffling the wayward brown locks instead with a click of the tongue.
And Sanzo, in all his inebriated self, kissed Goku on the full on the lips, a gesture that the teen reciprocated by burying his hands on the golden locks and deepening the kiss.
It was then that Jiroushin, who had been laughing while pouring tea for his mistress, let out a breathless gasp, the tea forgotten, unaware that it missed the cup and spilled to the tray and onto the table. Kanzeon, meanwhile, bit her lower lip and took out her phone and took quick snapshots of the short-lived moment.
Goku managed to salvage what little of drunken Sanzo's dignity was left by covering their faces with a throw pillow.
Kanzeon shed a tear and mumbled something about having her wish as a loving aunt fulfilled.
And their night went by like that—light, and carefree.
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Goku had his face half-buried in his turtleneck as he walked down the crowded, lamp-lit streets blanketed in snow.
Earlier, Sanzo had ordered him to get into Dougan's home, and he had done just as that. Talking with his fellow editor in his small but decent apartment had been nice at first—even the simple bowl of simmered pumpkin served to him was delicious—although there was a part in the older man's room that hit him as odd—
—a corkboard on the wall, filled with pictures and memos written in rushed, heavy scrawls.
At first, Goku had thought it was normal, as he had a corkboard filled with memos in his room, too, but Dougan's was another matter.
With shivering, glove-clad hands, Goku rummaged inside the pocket of his winter coat, and took out a photo and a note attached to it.
It was a picture of the annual function Kinzan had just last month. Most of the staff from the various departments were in the photo, huddled together under a sparkling chandelier—the men in stuffy suits and ties, and the women in gorgeous evening dresses.
One part of the picture made him frown, as his sights returned to the foreground, where he stood behind a frowning Sanzo—
—and his face scribbled on until it created a tiny, crude hole in the photo. Apart from him, there wasn't anyone else whose face had been vandalized, and that made him worry.
Sighing, he slid the photo back to his pocket, and inspected the note. It was an odd note among the rest, and Goku had made sure he took the note and the photo without Dougan's knowledge—
Biting his lip, the brunet chucked the note back in his pocket and made his way back to Kinzan.
Goku went to his floor and hurried out as he went to the floor above him. He tiptoed and peeked inside Sanzo's room, half-expecting the man to be nose-deep in his work. Instead, he found the blond's back facing him, sleeping, and already tucked in bed at 8pm.
Goku smiled, and returned to the kitchen to clean the few plates on the sink. He fed expectant, little Tama, and went to the small, glass cabinet with the urn inside, and sat in front of it with his feet tucked under his thighs. Bowing, he smiled, and paid his respects to Sanzo's late father.
"Good evening, Mr. Koumyou, sir. I take it you are well today?" Goku whispered with a smile. He had always done this whenever Sanzo was out of earshot or when the blond was asleep—it always calmed Goku down. "Mr. Koumyou, I... I have a problem. Um, how should I say this—um, have you met anyone who had been nice to you upfront, but secretly scratches your face out in pictures? Um—" He clenched his hands on his lap and curled his toes tucked behind him. "This person I'm talking about seems nice, but sometimes I feel like this person is mocking me when I turn my back. I don't know if I should be mad or worried. I mean, I don't want a confrontation—"
Tama crept up to Goku's side and curled up in front of him, meowing. The brunet smiled and patted her on the head. "Mr. Koumyou, what should I do...?"
Tama stretched out in front of him and climbed on his lap, and wrapped her soft paws around his neck. Goku let out a giggle when her rough tongue licked his jaw. "Mr. Koumyou, I—haha—ah."
He noted the way Tama's brown eyes looked at him, her pupils wide—and they closed, the glossy orbs hidden behind two, tiny lines for eyes. And Goku laughed.
"This is your answer, isn't it...?" he paused, and looked at how Koumyou looked—always smiling, serene, and carefree—
At one point, Goku thought how similar Sanzo might be if Sanzo were from Koumyou's blood. Would he be gentle and kind, would he smile a lot and joke a lot? Goku could only imagine—and as he looked at how grumpy little Sanzo had been in the picture, Goku shook his head, mumbled, "no", and bowed to the urn and the portrait with a smile. "Sanzo wouldn't be Sanzo if he smiled a lot, Mr. Koumyou. I like him the way he is."
He placed Tama back on the floor, and bowed to Koumyou's portrait one last time, and he went inside Sanzo's room. The room was lit with the small bedside lamp, dimmed, as Sanzo preferred during sleep—and Goku clambered on the bed and draped himself on top of the sleeping blond, kissing him once on the temple and twice on the ear.
The man beneath him shuffled and took a deep breath with his eyes still closed.
"If I didn't know that was you, I would've shot you in the head."
Goku grinned and hummed, and noted Sanzo's hand stuck under the pillow. "Reaching out for your gun again, I see. You worry too much," he joked, and planted his cheek to Sanzo's.
"Took you too damn long to return. What gives?" Sanzo groaned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Goku said nothing, and rolled over him and slid under the covers, grinning. "What's wrong?" Sanzo asked the moment he realized Goku was burying himself under his chin. Sanzo bit back a comment about the sudden cold, and stayed silent when he felt goosebumps from Goku's cold hands sliding inside the back of his sweater. "Goku," he muttered close to the smaller man's ears, ruffling the hickory locks as he did so. He blew on it until Goku squirmed and whined. The pale man hummed when he felt Goku's face and body grow hot—
"...dunno what to do..."
"What?"
And Goku told him what happened, about his talk with Dougan, his quick looks in the apartment, the things he found and how he felt.
When Goku was done with his story, Sanzo clicked his tongue, patted Goku on the head, and muttered through clenched teeth, "What did I say about shitty people?"
Goku's words were muffled on Sanzo's sweater, and the blond sighed—
"I can't hear you, idiot."
Goku breathed in deep, and finally craned his neck, looking at those purple eyes with his worried ones, "'Don't mind their shit', and 'They're all shit.' But Sanzo, I didn't do anything wrong to make him mad! I just wanted to be friends with him—"
"Goku, you can't please everyone. Because most people are pricks and only want what's ideal for them. Anyone they see who don't resemble anything like their ideal image will be scrapped. Dougan, for example, has a silly idea in his head about me being his sugar daddy or something—"
"...Ew."
"I know. So. What did I do? I transferred the hell out of him into the department he's in now. You replaced him, and we're left to where we are now. Do you get where I'm getting at?"
"...that he's jealous?"
"And?"
"He wants to be your assistant again so you can be his sugar daddy again!"
"Goku, don't say that shit with a happy face, stupid. I am not his fucking sugar, and not even close to a father!"
Goku fell silent, stared at the indignation on Sanzo's face, and burst out laughing, "Sanzo, you're funny! Ahahaha!" And he rolled Sanzo over to his back and hugged him, grinning all the while. "Thanks for making me laugh, Sanzo—" he let out in between giggles and quick kisses to the older man's jaw, much to the other's chagrin.
"I wasn't trying to make you laugh, idiot—!"
"Ah, which reminds me!" Goku sat upright, straddling Sanzo beneath him, and he left the bed, scampering from the room. "Lemme show you that picture I was talking about!" he hollered from the living room. Sanzo, meanwhile, sighed and hauled himself upwards, and scratched his already messy hair.
Glancing at the bedside clock that read 8:45, he sighed.
"So much for sleep."
Goku returned to the bedroom and jumped on the bed, ignoring Sanzo's howls of pain from his thighs as he straddled him once more. "Sanzo, here!" he said with newfound enthusiasm as he dug into his winter coat and pulled out the photo and the note and shoved it on Sanzo's face.
"What is this note? ...what do you mean, 'notify' me?" Sanzo turned the note over, looking for more clues. Seeing none, read out the note once more, "'Ni Jien Yi, chief of Houtou — notify Pres. Genjo'." He squinted at the bottom of the paper, noting the asterisk behind the words, "'Kind man'. Well, I don't suppose he's planning on feeding me this bullshit, right? What part of that lecher is kind?"
Goku shrugged, and mirrored Sanzo's confusion. "Maybe Ukoku has a kind side we don't know?"
Sanzo gave him a blank stare and a raised brow, "Monkey, he's the head of a company that orders his subordinates to kill their fellow subordinates. What kind of kindness is that?"
"Oh. Right. So uh, what do we do now?"
.
Goku noticed Dougan coming to Kinzan less and less. When he notified Sanzo, he was told he was well aware of it, and Goku didn't need to worry.
When Dougan did return to Kinzan after the publishing's hell cycle, Goku made sure to observe the man when the timing was right.
He noticed that some of the editors on Dougan's floor kept complaining in hushed tones about how Dougan had been slacking off and had been in complete absence during the end of the cycle. Goku couldn't blame them. He'd be mad, too.
Taking another gulp of his energy drink as he talked to one of Sanzo's secretaries, Goku kept a close eye on Dougan from outside the Buddhist fiction department, standing by as he talked from one person to another.
Dougan looked around his cubicle, making sure no one was looking his way, and he slipped a large binder on his desk, making sure to hide the logo on the cover with his fingers. Sneaking a quick peek in its contents, Dougan's palms broke out in a cold sweat, his breathing became labored, and his glasses slipped from his nose, trying to conceal his sudden jitters, his vibrating vocal chords, and the twitching edges of his lips—
He covered the binder with a stack of manuscripts when an agent walked by, and pretended to look at it. Once out of his sight, Dougan removed the manuscript and read the contents of the binder once more, and grinned.
"Hiya, what ya doing?"
Dougan jolted from his seat and bit his tongue from yelling in his seat. Turning around, glaring, Goku stood behind him with his ever cheerful smile, hands placed behind his back as Goku greeted him once more.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Goku," he muttered, breathless, as he placed the manuscript on the binder. He gulped when he noticed Goku glancing over his shoulder, golden eyes curious about the hidden thing. "What can I do for you today?" He swiveled his chair around, facing him with a smile through brows beading with cold sweat.
Goku noticed Dougan tried to conceal whatever it was that he hid behind his chair and draped coat on top of it, and so he let it be. "I just noticed we haven't talked lately since I went to your house. Um, have I done something wrong?"
Dougan blanched, and waved his hands about, "No, no! That's not it at all! I was just busy with what President Genjo assigned me on. I apologize if it came off as me ignoring you."
Goku beamed, his smile a tad too wide, and Dougan failed to see the lack of crow's feet on the corners of his eyes. "Oh, is that so," the assistant inquired with his shoulders raised as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "That's great!" he cheered, and they talked, with Dougan sitting—and refusing to stand up no matter how long Goku stood. So Goku took a vacant seat and sat in front of him, talking to no end during the quick break.
When Elder Jikaku interrupted on their conversation, he excused Dougan. Goku shrugged, and told them it was fine. Dougan looked torn—his gaze flitting between Goku and Jikaku, and as he stood, his fingers curled and splayed and lingered on the edges of the binder beneath the manuscript, and Jikaku urged Dougan away, leaving the folder behind.
"I'll return to my floor now, thanks for the time!" Goku cheered as he waved at the retreating Dougan. The older man nodded, stiff, his eyes guarded as he walked, before disappearing behind the door of the editor-in-chief's office.
Goku first caressed Dougan's coat, traced the soft fleece under the leather under the pretense of being fascinated with the softness of the material. Taking sharp glances at any nearby people, Goku planted another bug in one of the coat's crevices, and he looked at Dougan's desk.
He memorized the way the contents were arranged, and wasted no time in sifting under the manuscript to dig into what he was looking for.
The black binder was thick, and held no logos other than Houtou's logo the cover. Inside were many glossy pages of houses for sale, their amenities, their vicinities, and accommodations. There were also lists of what Goku assumed as prices at first glance.
He whipped out his phone in a flash and took pictures of the cover and the contents of the binder as he looked around and took bites out of a meat bun from his pocket. Once done, he stuffed his phone back, arranged the documents as how Dougan left them, and left the department, forwarding the attachments to Sanzo's email as he trekked back to the 23rd floor to report to Sanzo.
What they have seen was not what they expected.
Instead of seeing the list of names from Houtou as Sanzo ordered Dougan to do, he and Goku saw details of a large house, its features, amounts of salaries and incentives, weapons—
One figure from the list was highlighted in a wobbly streak of light green.
Goku asked what it was, and Sanzo stayed silent, his elbow perched on the swivel chair's armrest, his slender index finger poised and curled against his downturned lips as he carefully scrolled down and inspected every picture that Goku took. Once he reached the bottom of the page, he hummed, and scrolled back up to where Goku pointed.
"Oh, it's a salary, all right. Higher than what I give you and the others, from the looks of it."
"Why would Dougan have a list of salaries? Also, Sanzo, why don't you give all of us a raise?" Goku bellowed with a clenched fist, mouth scrunching in a comical downward curve as he furrowed his brows at his employer. "We could all need a raise!"
"Goku, shut up," Sanzo deadpanned, his eyes not leaving the screen as his fingers toyed with the laptop's touchpad. "You don't need a raise when you're practically living in my apartment every day and sponging on my wallet on a weekly basis." Goku laughed and stuck out his tongue, playful, and Sanzo spared him a glance, huffing through twitching lips. "Besides, there's hardly any reason for a raise. Majority of the people here reside in Kinzan. The only exception are the generals. Their salary is a bit higher because they don't live in Kinzan. They get to pay rent and food and transportation and other billing shit. Now, aside from the monthly salary I give to the gentry, you don't get to pay rent and any expenses aside from necessities in exchange of—"
"Keeping you and Kinzan safe on a daily basis, I know," Goku chimed in, laughing. "I'm just kidding. About the raise, I mean. Forgive me?"
Sanzo glanced at those fluttering eyelids, the amber eyes wide and impish, those lips curled in a suppressed leer, and he scoffed, looking back at the monitor with the air of nonchalance. "We're at work. Act modestly."
"Says the guy who swears at his subordinates on a weekly basis."
Sanzo's brow twitched.
And their light banter began. Throwing words and jabs and empty threats back and forth with humor that sounded crass and tongue-in-cheek to anyone who could hear them, save for the men speaking the words. It was their daily squabble, the closest the two of them could do with speaking privately in a public setting. For Goku, it relieved him from the tension of his daily life at work. For Sanzo, it fueled and ignited his brain, coming up with words that grew sharper and sharper the longer their banter got. Childish though it might seem, their small, daily bickering took Sanzo's mind off the things he dealt with on a daily basis. Anything that could take his mind off work was a welcomed bonus.
Plus, Sanzo got off of it.
"—and you know what, you can be quite the jerk! Yanking the blankets from me at night!"
"Hah? I put you to sleep every time you're sick, punk! The least you could do is give me my blanket!"
"But I was cold! And I had a fever! For a week!"
"So? I'm your fucking boss!"
"I know you're my fucking boss!"
The meaning slipped past Sanzo for a moment too long, and when he realized what Goku had rebutted, the two stared at each other, silent and unmoving—until the little imp snorted and snickered behind tanned hands, mirth pooling from the corners of his closed eyes. And Sanzo blinked, allowed the joke to settle in his mind, and joined in on the rounds of sniggering, shoulders shaking and abdomen jerking in spasms in between contained spurs of chortles.
Unbeknownst to them, a wide-eyed Dougan stood by the door, pausing in knocking on the CEO's office.
Upon hearing Goku raising his voice against Kinzan's president, Dougan took a step back in shock, and looked around, gauging if anyone had heard the nasty exchange through the minute cracks on the door. The continued talking of the people in the cubicles remained—some working and some talking, and most doing both, and he realized that no one had taken notice of the president's assistant yelling at the president himself.
He glanced at Goku's empty chair, and his teeth gnashed as his hands balled into tight fists—
—and he retreated from the office with long strides.
.
Kami guffawed as he cooed at the stone-faced receptionist behind the desk. Work for today was done. It had been quick, seamless, and downright boring. He concealed the mark on his face with a swift flip of his hair to the front, and smiled at the stoic receptionist.
His smile fell, however, when Dougan came swooping in beside him, commanding the receptionist to check if Chief Ni was available. Speechless, Kami glowered at the oblivious yet livid-looking Dougan tapping his fingers away on the desk.
"Excuse me," Kami crowed, indignation written on his face as he stared Dougan down, "do you have an appointment with the chief today?" His voice was clipped, the spite slipping through his teeth. Dougan then cut him off with a raised palm to his face.
"I will meet Chief Ni today."
And so he did.
Ignoring the stares from the receptionist and Kami, Dougan marched to Chief Ni's office, passing by Dr. Hwang's desk without a word—
"Ah, hey! The doctor is—"
Dougan slammed the door wide open, his hand gripping the knob, as he glared straight at Chief Ni's back, who stood in front of the desk, hunched over.
"Chief Ni! I have made the decision! I accept your offer."
Ni looked up from what he was doing, and craned his neck around to see Dougan standing by the doorway looking grim.
Puffing smoke from his cigarette, the man's face was dampened with sweat from the hairline to neck, and the chief craned his neck to look at him, and his usual grin twisted in a broad and eerie leer. His usual, crisp white coat was wrinkled, rumpled up and bunched inside his equally rumpled, white slacks—
—in front of him was a woman with long, green hair bunched in a bun, her half-clothed body bent over in a complete state of dishevelment.
"Ah, Mr. Dougan, how nice to see you!" cooed Chief Ni as he smoothed his tongue over his upper lip. "Just in time. I want you to meet the boss. But first, please, leave your coat to Dr. Hwang. The air around might be too... stuffy for your tastes."
.
Kanzeon's office was the window to her mind—with a sparkling chandelier illuminating the large room, lines of shelves filled with books about anything and everything stacked in neat rows upon the light green walls, her library reflected the immense amount of knowledge that she had. Behind her full but orderly desk, the large, closed windows loomed, shutting the cold, winter air away.
Kanzeon stared at her computer showing several screens of sound waves—the lines and bars dancing and vibrating on the monitor—and frowned, her manicured nails tapping on her cheekbone as she listened to a conversation attached to her earpiece.
"—leave your coat to Dr. Hwang—"
She bristled and whipped her head around, tendrils of her wavy, black hair kissing her cheeks, "Jiroushin. He knows—"
Jiroushin, who had been listening on his own earpiece, smiled at his mistress, "Mr. Gojyo is already at the building, investigating the area as we speak. Shall I notify the president?"
"No need. I'll call him—hm? My little nephew sent me a message! ...oh. Oh. Well, would you look at that."
Jiroushin peered over her shoulder, blinking at the screen, "What is it, Miss?"
"Salaries and benefits of working under Houtou, from the looks of it. Look, there's even properties provided."
Jiroushin took out his monocle, and squinted through the glass, "Hm? Twenty-two million yen for a house? And... Mistress Kanzeon, what is that highlighted number there?"
Kanzeon hummed, and bit her lip, "Also a salary, but..."
"It's higher than the amount we give to our employees, Mistress! Triple the amount! Does this mean—?"
.
In front of a quaint restaurant catering to different Mediterranean cuisine, Gojyo adjusted his shades, and blew smoke from his nose. Taking a bite off his brasato al barolo, he kept watch on the entrance to Houtou House, where Dougan had been in for the past few hours.
Sitting across Gojyo, with a calm smile on his face as he read a book of poems, was Hakkai. "I must say, this is not the day off I expected. Any news from Sanzo?"
Gojyo nodded with his mouth full. Swallowing his food, he tapped his phone on the table, "Yeah. Says they're gonna be here any minute. From the lack of smileys in Goku's text, I say His Highness is—"
The heady drone of a vehicle roaring from a distance pierced the city air, buffeting the roads with clouds of smoke as a black Bugatti Chiron careened and swerved through the streets with immense speed, deafening and scaring the people it passed by—
"Hm, I guess that is a troubling matter," Hakkai agreed, taking a sip of his tea. "Maybe that's why he asked me to come here?"
—vehicles paved way for the overspeeding car, the bicyclists steered away from the roads as the black car approached their direction—
Gojyo's laughter boomed, slapping his hand on his thigh, "Yeah, maybe there's gonna be a massive spillage of blood for you to stop. Hahaha!"
Stunned people nearby glared at the car's unseen driver, and some hollered out their complaints to dust—
The car, sleek and attention-grabbing in all its glory, slowed to a stop in front of the restaurant, where Gojyo and Hakkai laughed over tea and smokes.
The car's door opened, and Sanzo came out in a sharp, tailored wine-hued suit with a black tie and black boots. By the passenger's seat, Goku emerged dressed in a tailored, pewter-hued suit with a honey-colored tie and black shoes.
Hakkai took notice of them immediately, and waved to them over Goku's rather loud scolding to Sanzo smoking a cigarette with furrowed brows and a snarl—something about the police catching them—
"—your license would've been removed—!"
"Like I give a fuck what they think. Hey, Hakkai, Gojyo, where's the fucker?"
Any lingering laughs Hakkai and Gojyo had were gone when Sanzo approached them.
Behind Sanzo, Goku pouted, and looked around and smelled the food. His and Sanzo's mood have turned sour when Kanzeon had called. Goku didn't know all the details yet, as Sanzo had talked to Kanzeon over the phone, but Goku knew it had something to do with Dougan.
Goku fumed, his hands curling into fists. Whatever his Aunt Kanzeon had told to Sanzo, Goku was sure it was bad. The information on the files that he had taken pictures of—the amounts of salaries, the prices of houses and lots in the area, the questionable incentives of handling weapons that not even Kinzan employees have had taken a hold of, the prospect of getting "protection from the outside" (whatever it meant)—made Goku anxious. Sanzo had seen something that Goku hadn't, and it made him worry.
Sanzo had never been good with words regarding solving big problems, opting to keep things to his own until they blew up in his face.
Goku couldn't have that. That was what he applied for—to be Sanzo's helping hand, his confidant, the person he could talk his problems to—
He wouldn't be doing his job right if he couldn't make Sanzo speak up, and Goku wouldn't want that. He had to do his job right—to make Sanzo speak his mind about the heavy matters and solve the problem together.
The feeling like he had a rock sinking in his stomach increased when he glanced at Sanzo's pocket, then at the silhouette of the blond from behind. Goku noted the tightening of his superior's jaw, the tensed shoulders, the idle tapping of his forefinger on his pocket—small indications that Sanzo was prepared to at least maim someone to oblivion.
Goku heaved a withheld sigh as the noises around him buzzed through his ears, and he observed his surroundings. There was no time to eat, that could wait. People were around—families and couples and the elderly and the young. On the other side of the street stood Houtou House, with its towering, glass doors and thick, gray walls. The building looked taller and larger compared to Kinzan and Godworks.
Oddly enough, the other side of the street was devoid of any passersby, and any vehicle passing by on the road closer to Houtou's grounds quickly changed lanes, even the bicyclists seemed to avoid the vicinity around Houtou. One mother, Goku observed, pulled and carried her toddler away when her child patted the gray walls of the building. She pulled her child close to her chest and bowed as she hurriedly crossed the street and walked towards the restaurant where Goku stood by. Only when they have made it across did she put her child down and allowed her daughter to walk on her own again. Goku's sights never left the mother and daughter even they were far away, and he noticed—
—the mother and her child crossed the street again, and walked on the sidewalk without a care, even letting her child touch the walls of the buildings near where they walked, unlike minutes ago.
Goku frowned, feeling the bile in his throat clawing upwards to be vomited. If the people around this area avoided Houtou in a literal sense because of the killings Houtou did, then why did the company continue to exist? Why not just obliterate it completely?
He glanced at Sanzo, where the blond was in deep conversation with Gojyo and Hakkai.
Sanzo shouldn't be brash in public, not ever, if he wanted to keep his position in the public eye.
Goku knew what he signed up for—to protect Sanzo from any threat to his life.
Goku saw movement from the other side of the street, and saw Dougan emerge from the daunting building of Houtou, staring at a manila envelope with a huge, manic smile on his face.
He knew that envelope—had seen one just like it.
It was the same envelope—the one with Houtou's logo stamped on the cover—
It was the very same envelope that Kami had whenever he reported his killings to Ukoku.
Goku's blood ran cold.
How could he. How. Could. He.
Goku trusted him. Sanzo trusted him.
Kinzan had one policy that was absolute, a policy that he learned from her Aunt Kanzeon at a young age—everyone under Kinzan's care must follow their present leader and keep him safe until another one takes over; tolerate no traitors.
"Tolerate no traitors."
His hand swooped inside his coat, his eyes locking on his walking target—
"Goku, what are you doing."
"Removing pests."
A large, pale hand enclosed over his, the touch light—and Goku looked at Sanzo, pain and anger written on his golden eyes—
"I've seen that before, Sanzo. That's the envelope Kami has when he gives his reports—his kills—to that creep!"
"I'm quite aware."
"Then why—!"
"Goku," Hakkai interrupted with a soft smile, nodding and speaking with care, "if we make a scene now, it'd be like us declaring war on them when they haven't done anything to us."
"But they kill people!" Goku hissed. "If we don't act now, then Dougan will—"
Hakkai shot Sanzo a look from the corner of his eye, frowning. "Sanzo, you just told Goku to stay calm. Why are you taking out your gun?"
"…for emergency."
Hakkai heaved a sigh, and glanced at Gojyo, who gave him a shrug. Hakkai tapped his finger on his knee, holding back another sigh.
Trust his companions to always succumb to their temper.
"Sanzo, Goku. There are things in this world that can be solved without the means of violence. It doesn't solve anything at all! Wars will only create more wars and—"
The sound of a scream startled the people in restaurant, halting Hakkai's words to a stop—
—and all eyes fell at a lone man, at Dougan, grinning and laughing while slicing at a woman's arm just in front of Houtou House.
Dougan pushed the woman back into her Mazda 3 and drove away as Goku finally took his gun out and shot at the car's window twice.
"Hakkai," Sanzo growled as he loaded his M-36 and strode to his car, "save your fucking bystander apathy talk and get on with it. That fucker's fired now." Goku followed after Sanzo and they drove away, chasing after Dougan and his hostage.
"Hoo boy, Shien will have a field day in defending those two in court after this. Well, there's room for two more. Maybe three," Gojyo laughed out, and revved up his Ducati. Throwing a helmet to Hakkai's hands, he donned his helmet and grinned, "Let's go, Hakkai. Can't just leave the fun to themselves, right?"
.
"Shoot his fucking head!"
"Sanzo, I can't do that! He's driving the car! The victim will get hurt! And others will get hurt! Which is what we've been trying to fucking avoid the whole fucking time!"
"Tch!"
Sanzo had his left arm stretched out, fingers grappling tight onto the back of Goku's suit and belt as he drove the car faster. Feeling the blood pumping in his ears, Sanzo tuned out the roar of the engine from his mind as Goku kept half of his body out of the window, shooting at the car's tires and hoping that it would stop Dougan from driving further.
It didn't.
In the middle of the highway, Sanzo chased Dougan and his hostage down, swerving around the vehicles, pulling Goku back inside when he thought a truck or a car might hit him. It had been like this for the past hour. What prompted Dougan to act like a criminal as soon as he left Houtou, Sanzo didn't know—
"I only needed a fucking list of names in the first place! Why'd he had to go and take a hostage like chickenshit?"
Goku returned to leaning half of his body out of the passenger side window—with Sanzo's hand bunched up on the back of his clothes once again—and shot at the car's left side mirror, "Sanzo, don't put chickens and shit together! Now I need to eat!"
"We can eat once this fuck-up is over—" Sanzo glared at the car, and noticed it stuttering from the flat tires. "Get him! But don't kill him yet!"
Goku grinned, aimed Sanzo's PS90 at Dougan's silhouette, and shot through the window, earning a bullet on the man's shoulder.
The car slowed to a stop, avoiding a post by a hair's breadth when it spiraled out of control—
Gojyo and Hakkai were already rounding up around the mangled vehicle by the time Sanzo and Goku got out, their guns raised as they waited for Dougan to come out—
When he did, Dougan greeted them with raised, quivering hands dyed in red, his blood-splattered face making Gojyo freeze.
The blood-dyed lips twitched as they stretched—Dougan's teeth bared. His laugh, hollow and shrill. His steps, unsteady, his legs bowed as his cackling grew louder—
Hakkai peered through the passenger side window, and bit his lip.
Time seemed to stop, its hands melting and bleeding into a phantasmagorical mess of colors mashed together, its ticking mingling into a jumbled echo of turmoil from all around as they saw what was inside—
The hostage, the innocent woman—whose only crime had been passing by a deranged man—laid limp on the passenger seat, her body bloodied and unmoving from the multiple stab wounds on her chest and neck.
"I did it... I—did it—my first kill!" Dougan cackled, the sweat and blood flowing from his face, his smile—toothy and bloody—sending shivers down their spines.
Goku swallowed the bile threatening to leave his throat, and shot a bullet that zoomed past Dougan's temple.
"Don't. Move."
The cackling stopped, and Dougan looked at him with wide, bloodshot eyes.
His eyes roved to a stone-faced Sanzo, who also had a gun raised to Dougan—
And Dougan cried as he laughed, and he ran his hands through his hair matted in blood and glass shards, sniffed it, and licked his digits—
—and he ran and stood on the edge of the bridge, with Gojyo acting on reflex, grabbing onto the killer—
Dougan's laugh rang in the open air as he shrugged off his winter coat, crying as he ignored the yells from his dear president—
—and jumped into the open sea.
