“Man, there'd better be some hot babes in town.” Flecks of white ash spun on the air, tugged from the end of the cigarette that was dangling precariously from the corner of Gojyo's mouth. Sanzo had suffered almost half an hour of bitching and whining early that morning, when Gojyo had attempted to get his Hi-Lite lit using only Hakkai's monocle and a piss-weak sunray. “I don't wanna walk all this way for nothing.”
Sanzo wished he'd just go the hell away. There wasn't a cork big enough in the universe to stopper Gojyo's inane chatter. As for the complaining, it was rapidly cultivating a killer urge to reach for his gun. “We're going for groceries, you idiot, not so you can pick up dates. Don't forget that.”
“Eh, how am I gonna forget the runt refusing to come in my place? I've gotta have some incentive. I swear the monkey gets like you more and more every day.” Gojyo plucked his spent cigarette from his mouth and tossed it into a pothole on the dirt track they were following, giving the butt a regretful look as they passed. “Jeez, is it me, or is it even hotter today than it was yesterday?”
“We've only just left the desert and today is the longest day of the year. What did you expect – a winter wonderland?” Tugging at his sleeves, Sanzo shrugged the top half of his robe off his shoulders, letting the linen hang around his waist. It was only minimally cooler, but it would have to do. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Gojyo pulling his vest up over his head and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans, letting it swing against his thighs like a great white tail.
If the guy had no idea how ridiculous he looked, Sanzo wasn't about to point it out to him.
“Well, maybe I'll get a nice deep tan to contrast your milky white ass.” Reaching up with a smirk, Gojyo linked his hands behind his head, either unaware of or flat-out ignoring Sanzo's sudden, sharp glare. The man strolled like he owned the fucking world. “Anyway, don't bitch at me just because you can't have a ciggie.”
“I refuse to look like a complete idiot trying to light one the hard way.”
“Could've lit one off mine.”
“And be a complete idiot by proxy? I'll wait.”
“Because patience is one of your biggest virtues, cherry-chan.”
Gojyo's barbs never got any less annoying, no matter how many and varied he threw at Sanzo. With a little effort, Sanzo managed to push his rising temper aside. It was too hot to bother with the kappa's jibes, even if Sanzo did sense a familiar twinge in his forearm that spread down to his fingers – one that signalled a desire to smack the red-headed git.
“Y'know, it sucks being us right now,” Gojyo said. Sanzo couldn't have voiced the sentiment any better, though he chose not to tell Gojyo that. “We can't stay in any fuckin' towns because we attract the youkai, so we get left camping in all kinds of shitty places, having to walk miles each day to pick up a bunch of food that'll taste gross in this heat anyway.”
“Like you don't scarf the umeboshi without any complaints,” Sanzo pointed out, only half paying attention. There was something up ahead, but it was too far to make out just yet. It looked to him like figures moving about further down towards the end of the path, where the forest began to thin and taper, sloping down into rough fieldland.
“Yeah, if I don't grab my share, you go putting honey and shit all over 'em.” Gojyo kicked at a rock in the road. It went scattering off into the shadowy trees to their left, hitting a trunk with a clack. “The hell is that, anyway?” he added, pointing ahead.
“Who knows.” The figures ahead were still indistinct and still nothing to do with Sanzo, so he was in no mind to give them concern. With an unconscious slide of his hand, he drew out his Marlboros, before remembering – once again – that their last working lighter had exploded the day before. Some idiot had left it too close to the camp fire. With a clenched jaw, Sanzo slid his cigarettes back into his pocket. “They taste better with honey.”
“My ass tastes better with honey. You must have some seriously messed up tastebuds, man.”
“My tastebuds are none of your damn business.” If Sanzo had come on this excursion alone, at least he would have got some peace, even if it would've meant lugging the shopping bags back with him. Trust Hakkai to play the 'I cook and clean and drive and do everything' card. Such a sneaky bastard with poor timing. Sanzo could imagine it: Hakkai currently off in a clearing doing that Tai Chi nonsense he loved, before taking a nice long soak in one of the little rockpools that were clustered near their camp.
Ch, and here Sanzo was with Gojyo, on a rough, stony track leading to a poxy little town that'd no doubt be devoid of decent working lighters. Not to mention the trek back to camp afterwards.
“I'm not liking what I'm seeing, are you?” With a nod, Gojyo indicated the diversion up ahead. Whatever it was had better clear off by the time they got there. Sanzo wasn't in the mood for detours or getting into things that weren't anything to do with him.
“I don't care whether you like it or not, just don't get involved,” he told Gojyo, wondering if it'd be worth heading into the forest and trekking the rest of the way parallel to the path. That way, they could avoid any unwanted and wholly unnecessary confrontations.
It was now possible to make out five people on the path – four adults and one half the size, no doubt a child. The fact that no matter where Sanzo and the others went they were recognised immediately and by almost everyone they met only made him want to skip the encounter even more.
“Oy, we're going into the forest.”
“Like hell we are,” Gojyo said, stepping up his pace. “Did you just see that?”
“See what?” asked Sanzo, but Gojyo ignored him and broke into a jog. With half a mind to just let the kappa deal with it himself, Sanzo bit out a curse. A cry rose up, cutting over Sanzo's muttered “Shit!” A cry that was high-pitched and distressed. “This is unbelievable.”
The last time Gojyo tried to help out a kid in trouble, it had resulted in them almost getting eaten by the kid's freaky monster brother. Sanzo was sorely tempted not to move, or to just turn back. Glancing behind him, he looked at the road that spread far and wavering, like a long golden-brown snakeskin speckled with stones and marred by potholes. Shimmering thermals made the path look like it was breathing, and the hot dirt was already giving him foot blisters, even through the soles of his boots. Sanzo didn't fancy hauling all that way back empty handed, plus the need for a lighter factored into the equation.
This was just typical. Getting into other people's business was not part of the plan, although the other three seemed to like doing so on a regular basis. As if it wasn't bad enough being youkai magnets.
“Hey, hey!” Gojyo shouted, now running toward the people in the road, his boots kicking up small explosions of dust and dirt.
Sanzo headed onward, walking briskly but with no intention of running in the heat. It was with vague acknowledgement that he watched Gojyo swing a punch – if the guy'd had 'barroom brawler' tattooed on his forehead Sanzo wouldn't have been surprised. The punch hit one of the four men in the nose with a crunch, sending him flailing backward to land in a heap on the dirt. A fine spray of blood rained around him, creating red speckles on his cheeks and chin. One of the other guys tried to grab Gojyo around the neck, but Gojyo spun and kicked up with his knee, planting a sharp one into the guy's solar plexus. The guy let out a high “Oof!” that was ridiculous considering how big he was.
Looked like Gojyo was doing okay by himself. Sanzo stopped and folded his arms over his chest, waiting on the outskirts of the fight.
“L-let's get out of here!” Broken-Nose man yelled, hacking up a mouthful of blood. With a lurch, he picked himself up from where he'd landed in a sprawl and limped off the road, disappearing into the trees. Two more took chase and Sanzo watched them with a lack of great surprise. Bullies were so predictable.
Gojyo had the remaining man in a headlock.
“Just let him go, idiot,” Sanzo said. “We don't have time for this.”
“Yeah, nice of you to help, you prick.” Gojyo glared up from between strands of dishevelled, dark red hair. The guy in his arm struggled and Gojyo finally turned him loose, turning to watch as the man darted in the same direction as his companions. Good riddance to piss-weak rubbish, thought Sanzo.
“I already told you not to get involved. You always do this.” Sanzo strode past Gojyo, making a point of not looking at him. “Do you ever wonder why it takes us so long getting to India?”
“Huh, ever the compassionate monk. You're an asshole, man. Grade-fuckin'-A.”
“Uh...” said a very small voice. A hand caught Sanzo's robe at the thigh and tugged.
Stopping, Sanzo clenched his jaw and cast a withering look over his shoulder. Then he lowered it a few feet.
The kid peered up at him with massive brown eyes, set in a round, merry face that worked a sudden jolt of nostalgia through Sanzo. In fact, that face reminded Sanzo so much of a young Goku it was almost startling. The kid shone a smile at him, released his robe, then looked over to where Gojyo was stood catching his breath.
“You saved me, mister.”
At that, Gojyo straightened and puffed out his chest, waving in an off-hand manner that Sanzo saw right through. “Well, y'know. Don't like to see kids in trouble and all. Just doing what I do best.” A smirk spread over his mouth and he stepped up to the kid, settling a hand on the top of the kid's head. “Don't suppose you've got a cute older sister who might feel like rewarding your brave Uncle Gojyo, eh?”
The kid stared at him. “No.”
“Ehh, too bad. Too bad.”
“Let's get moving,” said Sanzo, not least because his throat was getting tickly for a cigarette. Plus the sooner they restocked, the sooner they could be on the road again. The kid glanced up at him once more, giving Sanzo a little grin that didn't quite match the strange, knowing glimmer eclipsing the relief in his eyes.
The hell was with that? Sanzo stared back at him, a fizzing, vaguely pulsing sensation forming in his stomach – how he would imagine the beginnings of motion sickness to feel. Maybe it was something to do with the berries Hakkai had picked them for breakfast.
“Aw, c'mon, man. Don't be a killjoy all your life. He's all alone out here.” It would seem Gojyo was a slave to not just women and cards, but children, too. Sanzo eyed the kid a moment longer, his gut twisting uncomfortably, then he glared at the kappa. Gojyo still had his hand perched on top of the kid's head, like he was some kind of proud father. What an idiot.
“It's okay, mister. I'm not far from home.” The kid's smile never faltered, although Sanzo thought he saw that smug look creep higher on his face. The expression was way too adult for a child his size and apparent age. Sanzo cleared his throat to get Gojyo's attention, but failed. “But I wanted to thank you first. My parents said I had to remember to be polite to grown-ups.”
“Well, there ya go. If only some of the grown-ups I know were as polite as that.” Gojyo hitched a finger in Sanzo's direction. The kid giggled, but the sound was loud and a little too sharp. Sanzo winced.
“'Cause you stopped those guys from hurting me, I'm going to give you a present. Mother and father said it's best to give people something nice when they do something nice in return.”
“Ehh, you know what, little man? That's all right,” said Gojyo. “We've gotta get to town and we'll have enough shi– junk to carry back here anyway. You keep it.”
“No, really,” said the kid, the weird smile now plastered firmly to his face, his brown eyes glittering and no longer resembling Goku's at all; in fact, the closer Sanzo looked, the more they appeared to be changing colour, from deep earthy brown to a cool green. That didn't bode well. “You'll want this present.”
“Gojyo,” Sanzo said in a low, warning tone. He took a step toward the kid, intending to smack him to the ground if he had to.
“I grant you both your one desire.”
Sanzo didn't know what he was expecting – some kind of explosion or flash of light. It didn't come. Eyeing the kid, he waited for him to suddenly sprout wings and a tail and little demon horns or something, but none appeared.
“Oookay,” said Gojyo, with a quick ruffle of the kid's hair. “Run along, little man. And stay outta trouble!”
“Thanks, mister!” the kid called, scampering across the path and heading into the trees. “I will!”
As soon as the kid was out of sight, Sanzo blew out a silent breath. “You are an idiot.”
Stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets, Gojyo scowled at him. “The fuck, man? A good deed never did anyone any harm. Oh, but you wouldn't know that, would you? You've never bothered with good deeds.”
“Ask yourself this, baka. Why was a small child like him alone out here in the forest anyway?”
“I don't fuckin' know. Maybe he got lost wandering or something. You didn't ever go wandering when you were young?”
“Not so far from the temple, no.” Not until I was forced to, he didn't add. “Also, why did he head into the forest instead of to town?” Sanzo matched Gojyo's scowl, then let out a curse under his breath. “Whatever. Let's just go. No more distractions.”
“Feh! Fine.”
Resuming his pace, Sanzo attempted to zone out the idle scuff-scuff of Gojyo's boots on the dirt behind him. The guy remained thankfully quiet, although it was only a matter of time. A sultry breeze picked up, rustling tree leaves, a sound like whispers and barely concealed laughter. A shiver worked its way up Sanzo's back, spreading over his shoulders in a series of cool prickles, which was ridiculous considering how damn hot it was.
From behind, Gojyo sniffed. The scuffing faltered slightly and Sanzo resisted the temptation to look over his shoulder and check what Gojyo was doing. Maybe it was time to slip his robe back on. Or maybe not. Sanzo wasn't sure what he wanted to do, and as the shiver reappeared and traversed the length of his back again, he wondered if he was perhaps coming down with something. Which would just top off an already fucking stupid day.
Damn, if he had a lighter to hand he could have a smoke. Clear his mind a bit. The kid and the ruckus on the road had also set him off course.
Gojyo cleared his throat, a deep, gravelly sound that seemed too loud.
Or was the forest too quiet?
Quickening his steps, Sanzo led them out of the cradle of the trees, to the brow of the hill leading to town. Below sprawled the small, compact buildings, their slanted roofs red in colour and shimmering in the heat. Sanzo's guts tightened inexplicably and he took a deep breath, hoping to calm whatever the hell was wrong with him. It had to be food poisoning. Surely?
But if so, why wasn't Gojyo complaining of the same thing? The man liked to publicly broadcast whenever his body did something new. The phrase 'too much information' wasn't in his repertoire, as far as Sanzo could tell.
Sanzo sensed him catch up, stopping just to his right, in all his irritating glory.
“Thank fuck we're off the road. Hey, man, do you feel a bit... weird?”
“I think it's food poisoning,” Sanzo said, somehow glad his suspicion had been confirmed.
“Uh, I don't know about that. Hakkai's not the type to pick us dodgy shit from the forest. The man knows his plants and stuff. He's got some inner survivalist gene or something.” Hawking a mouth of spit on the ground, Gojyo smacked his lips together. “I got me this taste in my mouth, kinda like ... I don't know. Can't get rid of it. Wish I had a smoke.”
“Hn.”
There was a sniff, close to Sanzo's shoulder, followed by a wave of heat. “What the hell are you doing?” he barked, pulling away when he realised Gojyo had suddenly leaned in close.
“Are you wearing some new deodorant or something, man? That taste, it's kinda like your smell.”
“What?” Sanzo stared at him incredulously, an indefinable pressure spreading through his system. If he was going to throw up, he was tempted to not even turn away – it'd serve Gojyo right for invading his personal space. “No I'm not. Get away from me.”
“Hey, it's not my fault if you put on too much perfume. You should take tips from the ladies. Oh, I forgot, you don't like those, do you?” Although Gojyo's tone was only weakly mocking, he was heading for a smack in the mouth. Sanzo didn't smack him, though – Gojyo was starting to look a little grey, his eyes darting from Sanzo to the path they'd just followed, then back to Sanzo.
“Let's just go to town. They'll have medicine there. Probably.” Sanzo swallowed a lump that'd begun crawling up this throat, wiped a line of sweat beads from his forehead, and turned to look down the hill again. The red roof houses seemed to swim in his line of vision, bubbling in the distance. Suddenly, the ground lurched beneath him.
“Whoa, hey–!”
Sanzo attempted shrugging off Gojyo's hands, but they were clenched too firmly around the tops of his arms, like vices, like they would turn Sanzo inside out at any moment. A jolt passed through him like a lightning bolt, but whether Gojyo felt it or whether it was his imagination was unclear. The pressure inside grew, turning his muscles like screws.
“Let go of me. I'm fine.” Why did the words seem to clog in his mouth? Why was it such an effort getting them out? “Get your damn hands off me,” Sanzo gritted, above the shrill whirring sound that had begun playing. Possibly only in his head.
“J-jeez, I can't.” If anything, Gojyo's grip tightened. “Fuckin' hell, I can't. What the fuck is going on, man?”
Sanzo processed the words, putting them together and trying to figure out the meaning. Gojyo was refusing to let him go? Then Gojyo would suck steel – easy as that. Though when Sanzo went to reach for his gun, his fingers refused to cooperate.
“Damnit, it was that kid. You asshole – why did you have to get involved?”
Gojyo's body was radiating heat like a furnace. If Sanzo's immediate space got any hotter he would surely pass out, or melt. Legs shaking, he tried stepping back. Tried, but failed. The heat was smothering, tainted with a mannish sweat and smoky quality that made his cigarette craving notch up a little higher. Made everything seem to notch up a little higher.
“Fuck, Sanzo. Your mouth looks wet.”
“S-shut up.” Lowering his voice to a mere ragged whisper, Sanzo let out another curse. “Think about your hands. Get them to move.”
“I told you, I can't–”
“I wasn't talking to you.” Sanzo closed his eyes, focused on getting his body moving, getting it as far away from Gojyo as it would go. A little shift, only on the spot but it was a start. It was also a stop, too, as Sanzo's denims moved over his cock and a streak of pleasure ran the length, sweeping through his balls and spreading around his groin like wildfire. Fuck – he couldn't even remember getting hard. Except he could; it'd been building slowly, the tightness in his stomach and lower down. Building for a while.
The pressure had wound him up so tight his limbs screamed with an indefinable urge, screamed for him to... to dive forward. Everything hurt and became startlingly, strikingly too clear – Sanzo wanted to. No, there was no way he wanted to touch Gojyo. No. Fucking. Way.
Gojyo's fingernails began stinging, searing little crescent moons at the tops of Sanzo's arms. A groan fell from Sanzo's mouth, loud and there like a solid object, though he didn't intentionally make it.
Things were careening out of control.
“I said – get – your – hands–” Sanzo pulled all his strength and resolve from the depths, dragging it kicking and screaming up through pain and heat and arousal. “Off me!” With an almighty growl, he hit upward, catching Gojyo on the chin with his right fist.
Reeling backward, Gojyo finally – thankfully – released his hold and Sanzo let himself fall back, landing on the hard ground with a dizzying crunch.
Panting. Panting. Both of them, their breath harsh and grasping and loud, so loud. The single shining impulse in Sanzo right then was to crawl forward, to where Gojyo was kneeling clutching his chin in one cupped palm, but he managed to resist. His cock was pressed solid like a bar to his abdomen, damp and hot like it was about to catch alight. The most exquisite, aching tension shuffled and boiled in his groin, springing back and uncoiling like a cat mock-pouncing its prey before going in for the kill.
“Holy hell that fuckin' hurt,” Gojyo said, his words running together in a hurried stream. “Everything hurts.”
Sanzo couldn't catch his breath properly to tell him to shut up. All he knew was that he had to get away from there, get up and run like the wind, cigarettes and groceries and medicine be damned. Run somewhere nobody else was until this – this thing – had passed; he'd never been turned on like this, not like this, not in his life. The wiring in his brain that connected sensation to reaction must be broken, because there was no way he wanted Gojyo's hands on him. On his arms again, on his stomach, on his dick – pulling and pulling and tearing everything out of him. Gojyo's mouth.
Oh, hell.
Putting his palms flat against the dirt, Sanzo pushed himself up, rising onto his knees. From there, he was able to stagger to his feet, careful all the while not to look at Gojyo or even turn in his vague direction.
“Where d'you think you're – going – man?”
“Away. Don't you dare follow me,” Sanzo snarled, trying to persuade his body to get back on the path and head for the trees.
“Why are you resisting?”
That wasn't Gojyo's voice. Sanzo wheeled around.
The kid stepped forward, watching them as an alchemist might watch his latest experiment: a little concerned, infinitely interested in the outcome.
“You,” Sanzo bit out. “Little bastard. What did you do to me?”
“Thanked you,” said the boy, taking a step closer, but not close enough to grab. Sanzo thought he might throttle the kid if he could reach. “Why are you resisting my gift, though? Mother and father always said you should be grateful for what you're given.”
“I didn't ask for any gift.” Sanzo had to push the words out in short, ragged bursts.
“And I told you not to – not to bother, kid,” Gojyo said from Sanzo's left. Had he come closer? Sanzo didn't dare turn to check. “This ain't what we wanted. You get me? This is too much, man.”
The boy's face fell and those eyes flashed green, like little pools of viridian light. “You don't like this? But I thought... it was so simple! Mister Blond didn't want emotional ties and Mister Red wanted to be wanted!” His lower lip quivered. “Mother and father said my gifts would only work if they were meant to.”
“I'll have... words... with your mother and father,” Sanzo told him. “Now undo this. Undo it right now!”
“Aw fuck, don't piss him off,” Gojyo grated. “Hey, kid – come back here!”
The boy had started backstepping in the direction of the trees. Whatever kind of creature he was, he evidently had feelings like every other eight year old.
“Oy,” Sanzo called. “Come here!”
The kid ran.
“Shitting bastarding fuck!” Gojyo's body made a soft shuffling noise in the dirt as he moved. Sanzo could picture pale skin covered in sweat and grit and the taste – he could only imagine the taste. “I feel like my dick's about to vacate my fucking jeans. Aah – this kills.”
Behind him, Sanzo could hear Gojyo pounding on the ground with what sounded like fists and feet. As if it would help – Sanzo knew it wouldn't; his cock throbbed as if every drop of blood in his system had gathered there to torture him. The precarious hold he had on his muscles snapped and he was sent back to his knees in the dirt.
Gojyo, crawling to him, coughed hoarsely. “I've gotta – I can't, man. I've gotta. If I don't, this is gonna kill me.”
“Don't you dare.” Sanzo knew what Gojyo was talking about, because he too thought he was going to crumble to dust under the weight of his arousal, which had now peaked, making him feel like his nerves were on the outside of his body. Every breath of air plucked an excruciating note of pain-pleasure that sang and rushed over his skin. In the past, he'd been beaten and kicked and stabbed. Sanzo would've taken any of those over the rushing, twisting want wringing his guts like a wet rag.
A gasp wafted through his hair at the back, quick and desperate. At that moment Sanzo knew it was too late.
Gojyo's hands were on him in a heartbeat and Sanzo thought he was going to scream until his lungs erupted. The only thing he could do was fight, turn and fight it while at the same time he welcomed it, bucking fiercely against Gojyo's heat and hardness. In a rough, kicking tangle, they went down in a heap, knees knocking thighs – dangerously close to balls – and grunts and pleases and fuck yous and nows.
With a shove to clammy, bare skin, Sanzo managed to get Gojyo to ease off long enough for him to rearrange his angle. After that, it was difficult telling where he ended and were Gojyo began; their moans filled the universe and Sanzo moved on some wild autopilot, grabbing and taking and rocking upwards, his cock making his denims wet with precome at the front.
With no way to stop or temper the urges, he was forced to let go of all rational thought, forced to accept that he and Gojyo were totally screwed. That left one thing: to grasp for release and the end of this. Strands of long, tangled hair slipped into Sanzo's mouth and he spat them back out, groaned out a swear, licked sweat from Gojyo's neck – a line of flesh that was a little rough with stubble. The taste coated his throat, all the way down, and he thought if he never tasted anything else it'd be too soon. Like a rushing tide, Gojyo's weight rose and fell, swelling and smothering him. Good sense said to resist, said Sanzo shouldn't be enjoying this, shouldn't let physical pleasure overrun his mind and make him weak, but it was too small a voice under the kid's nefarious spell, too much a whisper.
Teeth latched onto Sanzo's earlobe at one point, making him arch into a still, rigid position. “Stop that,” he barked, his earlobe stinging, dulling to a tingle that was quickly overwhelmed by every other fucking sensation, from the dirt below that grazed his bare shoulders, to the thick, hard line of Gojyo's cock connecting with his own through their denims. Slick, naked skin dampened the leather Sanzo was wearing. Everything felt too close and yet not close enough.
Come. Sanzo had to come. Didn't want Gojyo to see, didn't want to witness the desperation of it himself.
At the point where he felt his resistance crack and begin to break, Sanzo shoved Gojyo hard in the shoulder, then again in the chest, his palm skidding over sweaty body.
“Get off! Get off!”
“What the – ah, what, man!” Gojyo rolled onto the ground, but their legs remained knotted.
Stuffing his hand down to his groin, Sanzo palmed his length, pushing at it, squeezing, kneading. A delirious cry escaped him and he bucked upward, turning his face to the side, away from Gojyo. Heat rose in wet bursts and it felt like all the tension in Sanzo's groin and limbs was trying to exit his body in one bone-shattering rush. At once bliss, and at once the most gut-wrenching thing in the world.
One of Gojyo's boots caught him in the knee, but the pain was distant, like he wasn't quite attached to his body. Through the din and the mad pounding that began to form at Sanzo's temples, he heard a vicious thumping noise and Gojyo grunting, then all noise ceased. Then the smell of it – of them – hit Sanzo and he pushed himself further away. Lay gasping, his cock still twitching weakly, a sensation he just couldn't tune out.
“I hate...” Gojyo croaked. “That kid.”
“He'll die if he makes a reappearance.” Everything had faded to a swimming kind of weightlessness. Sanzo's lips felt numb as he spoke. He wasn't sure if he liked the drifting, that lazy lurch like he was caught in a current and had no direction, no strength to right himself, but at the same time he didn't care. There was nothing left in him to care.
Even as he lay boneless in a shell of after-ripples, he knew it was time to get a grip. Thinking it was easier than doing it, though. Drawing on an old meditation method, he gradually began zoning his attention on his breathing, careful to blot out the shivers that danced and roiled at the base of his spine. Slowly, Sanzo found his centre, the steadfast truth of himself. After a minute, his wayward bearings spiralled back down around him like a well-worn cloak. “That'd better be the end of it.”
“I think it is.”
With a far stronger sense of self, Sanzo turned to pass a quick glance over Gojyo. The man was spread out a few feet away, one arm slung over his face. The hair under his armpit was glittering in the sun with sweat drops, darkening the red.
Sanzo didn't know why he gave a damn about Gojyo anyway. What was important was that he was no longer in pain, a bit of good news he clung to. The sticky, wet feeling in his jeans was another matter. Evidence, reminding him every time he moved of what he'd just done, no, what had just been done to him. No. What he'd just allowed to happen.
“Ugh, I need to clean up. Shit, that was–”
“Just don't say anything.” Once up on his feet, Sanzo was struck by a moment of vertigo. Pausing lest Gojyo spot it, he inhaled deeply and then headed over to the nearest bush, tearing off a fistful of soft leaves. It wouldn't be great, but it would have to suffice. There was still town to consider, but Sanzo figured if he didn't get too close to anyone, they wouldn't be able to smell sex and sweat on him.
Smell sex and sweat and Gojyo on him, more like. Sanzo grit his teeth, reminded himself what his mission was. No matter what got in the way, no matter who, he would keep moving, because that was what he always did. What was a quick tumble on a hill anyway, in the grand scheme of things? Nothing. Unimportant.
Right.
Finishing up his quick clean-job, he headed back over to where Gojyo was rebuttoning his jeans. There was a pile of damp-looking leaves at his feet, too.
“Let's just get the fucking groceries and get the hell out of here,” said Sanzo, looking down the hill to where the houses sat comfortably in a nest of wide fields.
“Sounds good to me,” mumbled Gojyo.
Any other day, Sanzo would've called Gojyo on his quiet compliance. Not this day, though. During the trek down the hill, Sanzo repeated to himself that he hadn't asked for what'd happened, that he hadn't even – technically – been a willing participant. Yet even as he ran it through his mind over and over like a mantra, his guts tightened again. For a moment he thought maybe the urges from before were coming back. There was no way in hell he was going to be played twice, not by some evil little kid who had seriously messed up ideas about one good turn deserving another.
The thing to do was try to put the incident out of his head. When Sanzo managed that, the churning in his stomach dissipated. Whenever he was reminded of Gojyo a couple of paces behind him, it returned.
Curse it! Sanzo quickened his pace, not bothering to wait for Gojyo to catch him up. As they entered the town from the south, Sanzo kept an eye out for the nearest building that looked like a shop. At the very least, it kept his mind from wandering.
“I'm going in the pub for cigarettes,” Gojyo muttered from somewhere behind.
“Whatever,” said Sanzo, and kept walking.
As he crossed the street and made his way to a general store for the group's necessities, he thought he spotted a recognisable figure further down the road, and for a split second it felt like his heart had stopped beating. But that was impossible – the kid couldn't have made it all the way down to town since they last saw him outside the forest. Not on those puny little legs of his.
A cold flush washed through Sanzo as he stared at the child further down. Brown spikes, wide eyes. The kid turned away from him and raised a short arm to hail two people approaching. A man and a woman. Could that be–?
“Got a spare lighter.”
Sanzo spun and caught the small metal object that came winging his way. Glancing down, he turned the lighter over in his palm, then quickly slid it into his pocket. “Hn, it'll do,” he said distractedly, flicking his eyes up to Gojyo, who wasn't looking at him but lingered nearby.
The more important thing at hand was the kid, but when Sanzo turned back, he found the street empty.
“What're you watching for?” Gojyo asked, voice more serious than Sanzo could recall ever hearing it.
“Parents,” Sanzo replied, irritated he'd lost sight of them. If it even had been the same kid from before – there was no way of knowing for sure.
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Let's get this done.”
With that, Sanzo headed into the store, the list of supplies vague in his head. If the kid and his folks were youkai in disguise, it was entirely possible they would run into them at some point on their way through town later that day.
If that happened, Sanzo planned to discuss the upbringing of their precious son. With his Smith and Wesson, if he had to.
~Fin~
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