AN: Thanks for the reviews! Here's the next chapter. Enjoy. ~safarigirl

Night Rain

Chapter 4

Sanzo leaned against the wooden panel next to the doorframe, his head cast down, his eyes closed. He only returned for his smokes, which he left sitting on the bedside table. He stopped at the door when he heard Hakkai still in there, talking with the strange girl with eyes the color of ice – where had he seen eyes so blue before? – about how she came to be in her current situation. He waited, not wanting to interrupt a private moment, when he overheard her strife at her memory loss.

His suspicious rose.

Hakkai backed out of the room, sliding the door closed as he exited. Sanzo waited until he heard the click to be sure the girl wouldn't overhear.

"I don't like it."

"Really?" Hakkai replied as he tilted his head to look at the monk.

"She lost her memory. Don't you think that's a bit convenient?"

"Sanzo," replied the demon, "I think she hit her head and it caused some memory loss. I doubt it's some evil plot against us. Besides, she was running from a demon when we found her. If she's powerful enough to take on all of us, surely she would have just killed the demon."

"Hmp," Sanzo grunted, "It doesn't matter. We're leaving in the morning."

He started to open the door, but Hakkai stopped him. "She still needs our help. We can't leave yet."

Sanzo turned his gaze to his companion. "She's not our problem."

"We did hit her with our jeep."

A pause as the blond considered it. "We're leaving in the morning." With that, he opened the door and slipped into the room.

The girl was lying on her side, the sheet clutched in between her fists. One foot shifted under the covers and she moaned in her sleep. She rolled over, and Sanzo could better see her face. She was pale, almost ashen, and a thin glean of sweat covered her brow. She moaned again, her face scrunching in pain. Her caramel colored hair was splayed across the pillow, with bits sticking to her damp forehead.

Without thinking, Sanzo reached a hand out. Just before his hand made contact to brush the thin strands back, he came to his senses and stopped. What was it about this girl that he found so familiar, and so dangerous at the same time? Quickly, before he gave in to any more temptations, he grabbed his package of cigarettes and turned to leave.

"Amaya," she shouted as she bolted upright, the sheets pooling around her waist, her gray tank top twisted around her body. Her eyes were wide open, her pupils darting this way and that, although Sanzo couldn't tell what she was looking at.

"Excuse me?"

Piercing eyes were suddenly on him. He felt as if she could see through him, as if she were looking straight into his soul. He didn't like it.

"Amaya," she repeated. "My name. It's Amaya. I just…I was dreaming." Her eyes dropped back down to the bed. Sanzo let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. There was something about this girl, something that didn't sit well with Sanzo. The sooner they left her, the better.

He pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. The girl, Amaya, looked up as the first puffs of smoke were exhaled. Silently, he offered one to her, which she hesitantly took. She placed the stick between pink lips. Sanzo fished his lighter out of his sleeve. He lit hers with a flick of his wrist.

"So you remembered?" he asked after she took a long drag.

She nodded as she continued to stare at a spot on the sheets. Even though she wasn't looking at him, Sanzo could tell she was more worried than excited by the fact. Her shoulders slumped, her fingers twisted in the sheet. She moved only to remove the cigarette from her lips and flick the ash at the floor. "It just came to me."

He couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all. Instead he continued to the door. She didn't say anything as he pushed the door open, stepped through the threshold, and exited the small room.

He leaned back against the doorframe, silently finishing his smoke. His thoughts drifted to the girl on the other side of the thin sheet of wood. Amaya. With eyes like crystal clear water or ice under moonlight. With skin the color of ripe summer peaches. With hair the color of caramel. . With nothing except her name.

Sanzo ran a hand through his blond locks. The sooner they left her behind, the better.