Title: Night Falls on Desperate Eyes
Author: Mosh
Pairing: Sanzo/Hazel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When illusions are shattered, all that's left is to face reality.
Disclaimer: Minekura Kazuya owns these boys. No money being made, no copyright or trademark infringement intended.
Email: moshesque(at)gmail(dot)com
Website: http://mosh.snarky-slytherin.net/
Author Notes: Written for Epiphanytiff as part of Valentine Smut on LJ. This story takes place just after the oasis chapters in volumes 7/8 of Reload. It's also compliant with the more recent chapters (namely, the Sunspot arc and beyond) - set right before Sanzo's confrontation. Massive thanks to Akuni for the beta and for tolerating my wibbles. :D 9000 words. :)

Night falls on desperate eyes
While scavengers scurry about for the prize
Chasing images of my own grand design
Illusions, of a different kind
-Brianna Austin.


"Why, Sanzo-han, I didn't know you cared."

Hazel's beaming gaze followed Sanzo all the way across the room, his porcelain features smoothed out beneath the spread of his smile. Sanzo turned a purposefully icy stare on him; he could never tell whether Hazel was intentionally trying to piss him off, or whether he really was this fucking annoying.

He had a feeling it was a bit of both.

Hazel pointed to the cup of steaming coffee Sanzo was holding, punctuating his previous teasing statement. "That for me?"

"Like hell." Sanzo went to the hotel's breakfast table and sat down, arranging his robes and his temper at the same time. He took a deep drink of the strong black caffeine; that was all it was to him - something to obliterate the remnants of an uneasy sleep.

Undeterred, Hazel leaned back in his chair, watching Sanzo closely across the table. "It's quite all right. I'm more of a tea man, myself." He let out an audible, pleased sigh. "My, what a glorious morning it is, too. I believe we'll make decent headway on our travels today."

Sanzo grunted a rough "I should hope so," and took another mouthful of coffee. The only thing he was truly glad about was that they were finally rid of the desert. All that sand getting fucking everywhere, the dire temperature shifts that were impossible to prepare for. It was lucky they'd been leaving the oasis at the same time a carriage was heading out for medical supplies, or they would've had to camp out.

Travelling from town to town with Hazel was one thing. Being trapped in the middle of an ocean of sand for days on end, with nothing to do but tolerate his presence and ignore his pointed comments was another. If asked, Sanzo couldn't have counted the amount of times he'd had to take a deep breath and remind himself exactly why he was heading to India with Hazel and not making better progress alone.

He thought about blood-spattered cobble stones, Goku sprawled still as death in his arms; of a sharp, unforgiving glint of light off glasses; a dark, observant presence, unseen but near by.

Sanzo shook off the shivers creeping up his spine, glaring down into his coffee.

"Why don't I tell Gat to pack up our things? We can leave as soon as you're done with your drink." Still smiling at Sanzo, Hazel swung his hand up and waved vaguely over the back of the chair. Gat, who formed a solid, imposing wall behind, turned wordlessly and headed out of the breakfast parlour to do as Hazel bid. As he did so, he caught Sanzo's gaze - just a quick flash of his stoic, deep-set eyes.

Sanzo's attention wandered down to one of the holsters hanging on Gat's hip, the leather pouch shifting as Gat walked through the door. Over the past few days, Sanzo had tried not to fixate on those guns, but they still bothered him, regardless.

The last youkai attack had been a shambles, though Sanzo was glad for one thing - that he'd been given the chance to fire one of Gat's guns. The thing was, his shots had been unlike anything Sanzo had ever felt before. They had shaken him, all the way along his arm, over his shoulder, down to his core. He'd ached for hours afterwards.

No matter how many times Sanzo turned it over in his head, he kept coming to the same conclusion. So often, in fact, that he was almost certain there was more to Gat's weapons than met the eye.

Though whether they'd had anything to do with Goku-

"Sanzo-han? Hello?" Hazel was leaning across the polished table, clicking his thumb and forefinger together in Sanzo's direction. Thoughts flying apart, Sanzo blinked and looked away from the empty doorway, though he kept one ear on Gat moving around in the adjoining room, gathering Hazel's things. "You almost spilled your coffee there," Hazel pointed out, his tone light, his eyes calculating. "Thought I'd warn you."

Sanzo set his quarter-finished cup on the table and rose from his seat. "I'm ready. Let's go."

"As you wish," said Hazel with a jovial smile, rising too and matching Sanzo's pace towards the door.

* * *

The town's lavish hotel was a far cry from the rest of the place. Upon arrival, Hazel had mentioned he knew the proprietor, having met him during a previous visit, which was how they'd ended up with the best rooms, access to the finer of the two lobbies, and absolute privacy.

Stepping into an expensive setting like that had been like stepping onto another planet. Sanzo hated pomp at the best of times, but watching the ease with which Hazel surrounded himself with sumptuous and wholly unnecessary luxuries was almost too much for him. Although Sanzo was well aware Hazel had been brought up in a completely different culture and lifestyle, it was something he knew he'd never get used to, not that he had any interest in such things.

As the hotel door closed behind them, Sanzo immediately felt more in his element. The street was near empty so early in the morning, its dusty expanse stretching into the distance, only a few merchants lugging carts towards the market further down that was just starting to set up for the day's business.

Gat was standing on the road waiting for them, a large sack slung over his shoulder that no doubt contained Hazel's belongings.

"Lovely, lovely day," Hazel said, almost in repeat of his earlier observation. "Well, Sanzo-han, since you're kindly gracing us with your presence, you can lead the way." He swept his arm out in a wide gesture for Sanzo to go before him.

Which Sanzo did, striding past Gat and down the main street that lead directly through the town. Past the boundaries, tall tallow trees lined the dirt road they walked, their heart-shaped leaves spiralling on the air towards the ground, catching on Sanzo's robe. Beyond that, sprawling fields could be seen through the sparser clusters of trees. Once out in the solitude of the countryside, Sanzo tapped out a cigarette and lit up, blowing out a long plume of smoke that curled back over his shoulder on the light breeze.

At the sound of Hazel's quaint and very pointed cough, Sanzo clenched his jaw, flicking ash onto the dirt road at his feet.

"You know, they say that's a bad habit to take up," Hazel commented from behind. His boots crunched on the ground, out of sync with Sanzo's footsteps. Gat's tread was surprisingly light for such a big guy, fainter than Sanzo's - he could barely hear it at all. "Dangerous for one's health."

Sanzo ignored him, already wound up enough from a lack of sleep and the dark, tumultuous dreams he'd climbed into when he'd finally passed out in the early hours of the morning.

Dreams of blood and gun oil and old parchment and black feathers.

"I've often wondered why and how one starts smoking in the first place," Hazel continued, quickening his pace until he fell in beside Sanzo. Out of the corner of his eye, Sanzo could see Hazel observing him curiously. "Did you consciously decide to try one, Sanzo-han? Or was it offered to you, or forced upon-"

"Nobody forces me to do anything." Sanzo perched his Marlboro between his lips, drawing on it deeply.

"Ah, of course. Then, why did you start?" Hazel let out a soft sigh when Sanzo didn't answer. "Come on, humour me. I'm genuinely curious."

Sanzo thought back to his time at Keiun, in the early days; of his restless nights, the moonlit walks through the temple, his encounters with Priest Jikaku. Karma. Accepting the weight of karma willingly.

"Someone in my past smoked these," he finally answered, not looking at Hazel. There was no way he was going to relay the events of his past, but he had to give Hazel something to shut him up. Sanzo opted for a much more vague version of the actual conversation with the Head Priest. "He imparted something to me once I don't plan to forget, that to bear the burden of your actions is like inhaling smoke-" Right then, Sanzo was cut off by a rough holler from the trees to their left.

"Halt, Bishop Hazel Grouse!"

Sanzo spun around, Smith and Wesson out in a heartbeat. At the same time, he heard the clink of Gat's twins, both no doubt pointed in the same direction. Sanzo slowly relaxed his arm, slipping his gun back into his robes. The voice had called for Hazel after all - what the fuck business was it of his?

Hazel was staring intently into the shadowed trees. "Who goes there? Show yourself!"

"I'm not here to fight you," the voice said. An unspoken 'this time' hung in the air and Sanzo wondered if Hazel was aware of it, too. "I've come on behalf of Lady Gyokumen Koushu, who wishes to speak with you." Sanzo caught movement, far back in the recesses. "Tell your giant ape to lower his steel."

Sanzo glanced at Hazel. The bishop had narrowed his eyes, a tenseness about him even though he had Gat covering him. He was no doubt aware there could still be trouble, but after a few moments he indicated to Gat, who slowly lowered his aim. "All right, I've done as you asked, now do as I ask and show yourself."

The last thing Sanzo expected was for a tall youkai male to step out of the shadows, striding up to the roadside and stopping at the verge. He appeared weaponless, if you didn't count the sharp talons attached to each of his fingers. Sanzo had put his Smith and Wesson away, but he remained on guard. The guy appeared to be alone, but it was highly likely more youkai were lurking in the area.

"A youkai," Hazel muttered with mild incredulity, sounding just as perplexed as Sanzo felt at the youkai's calm advance.

Sanzo couldn't remember the last time a youkai had opened a dialogue that didn't consist of the words 'die', 'to', and 'prepare', not necessarily in that order. In fact, Sanzo couldn't recall a time when a single youkai had dared to approach him, let alone him, Hazel and Gat.

"Like I said, I'm not here for trouble. My lady implores you to listen to what I have to say." The youkai actually had the nerve to hold up his hands in a sign of peace.

Sanzo snorted lightly under his breath. He noted the way Hazel inclined his head minimally in his direction, acknowledging Sanzo's suspicion, no doubt sensing the barely repressed hatred radiating from the youkai, too.

However, Hazel was obviously in the mood to humour Gyokumen Koushu's lackey. "Well, Mr Youkai Messenger, you have my undivided attention. Why don't you explain what all this is about?"

The youkai's eyes gleamed in the sunlight, although he did a fair job of keeping his voice steady and neutral. "My lady has learned of your great power, Bishop Hazel, and she's aware that you wander Shangri-la using it to carry out your… work, shall I say?"

Hazel visibly inflated at that. "I only came to rid the land of the evil that has tainted it, setting things to right, as it were."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Sanzo drew out his Marlboro packet and tapped out another one. The youkai's gaze slid from Hazel, setting on him for a few moments. Sanzo was sure he noticed a flash of loathing and - what was that? Apprehension? - cross the guy's face, before he quickly returned his attention to Hazel.

Sanzo tried to ignore the small, smug curl that took place in his pride at the fact the youkai was wary of him and not just Hazel. He knew he shouldn't give a shit whether Hazel was more notorious the further west they headed - Sanzo had always disliked being recognised, by humans and youkai alike. To him, it wasn't about the fame, but getting the job done as quickly as possible.

His mind unhelpfully reminded him that Goku and Gojyo had goaded him into showing off his sutra at one point. Sanzo told himself he'd only done it to shut Hazel up.

He stopped his thoughts from splitting further to the others, to where they were right now and what they were doing, instead focusing on the exchange before him.

From the waver of the youkai's mouth, Sanzo realised he was attempting to offer Hazel a smile. "The lady feels the calamity is a terrible thing to befall Shangri-la," the guy said. "She's lost many of her people to the negative wave that's swept our country and she wishes to work with you to… what was it you said? 'Rid the land of the evil that has tainted it'."

Hazel's laugh was light and clear and sharp like the cut crystal flutes he drank his wine from. "I believe I see where you're heading with this, Mr Youkai Messenger." He paused, tilting his head to one side, a gesture he'd used on Sanzo once or twice. Hazel could be a really condescending bastard at times, making it apparent he was merely humouring someone rather than taking them seriously. "It truly is a terrible thing that your mistress has lost loved ones due to the spread of violence during recent times. Lord knows we've all felt such loss."

Here, Hazel flicked his gaze toward Sanzo before continuing. Sanzo ignored the sharp pang of unbidden memories, pissed off at Hazel for presuming to include him in this pointless banter, and for reminding Sanzo of things he had no damn right dredging up.

"However," Hazel went on, "the fact still remains you are a youkai, as I'm almost positive the lady is, too. And I do not work with, or help out, or in any other way associate myself with youkai. That is, except for exterminating them."

The silence that followed was punctuated only by the snick of Sanzo's lighter flint. He sucked in a lungful, then blew it out, looking between Hazel and the youkai, waiting for all hell to break loose.

It mildly surprised him when the youkai briefly pursed his mouth, then seemed to think it was worth another shot. "Be that as it may, you might want to consider that my Lady has certain resources that would aid you in your mission. Why spend years hunting down berserkers when you could accomplish it in half the time?"

Sanzo could tell Hazel was growing bored. "Be that as it may," he said in echo to the youkai, though in a much more deliberate tone. "I do not, nor do I ever plan to aid the youkai, no matter how big a sob story they tell me, and certainly no matter what weapons or tracking devices they might have to offer. In any case, as you've probably noticed, I'm not working alone here."

Sanzo frowned at him, pulling at a loose thread on his robe sleeve. "Don't drag me into this." He had enough on his plate with the constant attacks, he didn't need random appeals from piss-weak youkai. A handful had already attempted a shift of loyalties, no doubt figuring if you can't beat them, join them.

Sanzo inwardly snorted at that. As if it made a difference which side they fought on - a coward was a coward. This Lady Gyokumen Koushu sounded to Sanzo like all the rest: greedy for a taste of power, willing to lie through her teeth - or rather, the messenger's teeth - to attain it.

"I see," said the youkai after a moment, setting his jaw. It didn't escape Sanzo how his fists clenched at his sides, how he was careful to get himself under control and unclench them. "That's not good. The Lady will be most displeased by your answer, Bishop Hazel Grouse." The youkai's eyes had darkened, his brows knotted. Sanzo sensed he was hovering on the edge of violence. That, or he was about to explode on the spot.

Then, the guy curved his mouth up into a sharp grin. "Most displeased, indeed," he repeated.

"I've had enough of this shit. We won't make the next town at this rate." As Sanzo turned on his heel, he made a point of catching Hazel's eye before heading a few metres down the track. There, he slowed his pace for Hazel to lose the youkai - or waste him, Sanzo didn't care either way - and catch up.

"Well, what an unexpected twist to our little stroll, don't you think?" said Hazel, once again falling into stride with Sanzo. "If you're worried about making time, we can always camp out. Looks to be a nice night to match the day, clear skies abound."

Sanzo flicked his cigarette butt to the dirt, stepping on it as he walked. "We'll be attacked soon."

"Yes." Hazel sighed, adjusting his hat. "It certainly looks that way. Well, I suppose we should be more careful than usual. Gat, keep your eyes and ears peeled."

"You don't sound particularly worried," Sanzo observed. Even though he himself assumed this 'Lady' was nothing but a power leech, it was always possible that wasn't the case. Sanzo at least figured it worth reaching the next town, but then again, Hazel's easy arrogance often dictated his actions, so Sanzo wasn't entirely surprised.

"Well, as I said to Mr Youkai Messenger back there, I've got you by my side, Sanzo-han." Hazel turned a smile at him, leaning in closer as they walked until his arm was brushing Sanzo's. Sanzo felt the skim of Hazel's hand against his wrist and pulled away.

"Don't make it sound like we're in this together," Sanzo warned, throwing daggers at Hazel with his glare. "I've already told you I'm not a team player."

"Whatever you say," Hazel chimed, his smile not diminishing a whit.

* * *

Two days passed, during which Sanzo moved through various stages of irritability. By nightfall the second day, he was veering into outright frustration, having expected an attack long before now. Or if not an attack, at least for something to happen; he couldn't believe the youkai had retreated and that was that.

As yet, there had been nothing - no hints that they were being followed, no indication or sense of being observed. Just silent, frustrating nothing. The youkai had either given up - which Sanzo seriously doubted - or they were ridiculously patient.

The small fire Gat had built crackled softly, its flames gradually dying beneath the cool spill of moonlight high above, as if the silver was quenching the yellow second by second. Sanzo no longer felt the weight of the moon like he had when he was a boy, though he still felt its cool resonance when it was full and plump in the sky.

Once or twice in the past he'd entertained the notion that the moon was watching him, slipping out from behind the clouds during his arduous descent from Kinzan temple. He knew now that had been nothing but stupid fancies of a boy still deep in mourning, and yet… there had been something, a sense of being under a microscope, a perpetual prickle at the back of Sanzo's neck.

Since then, Sanzo had wondered how much of that had been his own paranoia at the time, and how much had been the stalking presence from the west - the watchful eyes of the monk he sought foremost right now.

To Sanzo's left, Hazel swilled the dregs of his wine around his glass, before tipping it back. A bead of red liquid caught at the corner of his mouth and Sanzo watched Hazel flick out his tongue cobra-quick to catch it. He looked away, clenching his jaw.

He'd shoot someone for a bowl of sake about now. Or better yet, a cold beer. Sanzo briefly wondered whether the others were propped up in a bar somewhere, wiling away the night-time, playing cards, or mahjong, or whatever other inane pastime they cared to entertain themselves with. Or maybe they were in Hakuryuu, speeding to their next destination, wherever that may be.

Sanzo swallowed thickly, careful not to alert Hazel to the sound. He needed something to take his mind off things, make him forget that they'd walked fuck-knew how many miles and yet Sanzo felt just as far away from his goals as ever. He was starting to wonder if it'd been worth sticking with Hazel and Gat. For all he knew, the raven-haired monk he'd met as a boy had no intention of meeting up with Hazel again.

His ire welling anew, Sanzo silently watched Gat stoking the smouldering logs in the fire, trying to tempt the flames to rise again. It didn't work. They were out of burnable wood and Sanzo wasn't in the mood to trek over to the distant trees; night had descended fast and although clear, the temperature had dropped significantly since sunset, bringing in a moist breath of air.

"Just look at that, Sanzo-han," muttered Hazel from beside him, after countless moments that may have been minutes or may have been hours for all Sanzo knew.

"What?" he grumbled, looking at Hazel out of the corner of his eye.

Reaching one arm up, Hazel extended his fingers to the sky above. Sanzo glanced up, frowning. He couldn't see anything particularly out of the ordinary. "What is it?" he asked again.

"Just that the nights out here are so beautiful, untainted by industrial smog and high rising buildings." Hazel tipped his head back, exposing a cream-smooth column of pale, clean skin. "An endless black blanket with stars hung upon it."

"I always knew you were weird, but this is fucking ridiculous." Sanzo tossed a stone towards the dying fire and rose to his feet. His calf muscles ached from walking so many hours in one go and his head was starting to pulse vaguely as a headache set in. He hadn't had enough to drink today and their water supply was rapidly diminishing. The land was still dusty and hot enough during the day that the small brooks they encountered were all but dried up.

Hazel made a light clicking sound with his tongue. "Do you have to be such a spoil-sport? I was only complimenting the nice evening. It could've been much worse - blizzards or thunderstorms like on the mountains further back east."

At least a storm would've been something, Sanzo didn't say. Instead of this tedious, restrained waiting game.

Absently scratching the back of his neck, Sanzo moved away from the fire, settling down on the ground next to a cluster of rocks and pulling his robe around himself. If Hazel planned to star-gaze and wax poetic all night, then Sanzo figured he was better off asleep, or at the very least pretending to be asleep.

Eyes closed, he steadily allowed the sounds of the night wash over him; bugs chirruping a shrill symphony all around, Gat still slowly stabbing at the fire wood, the clink of Hazel's glass against the ground as he set it down. Few words passed between the other two men; Sanzo didn't pay much mind to the things they did say to each other. Gat wasn't the biggest conversationalist, for which Sanzo supposed he should be grateful. Dealing with Hazel was enough.

His thoughts started slipping back to the encounter, what the youkai had said on the roadside. Whoever this witch was, she seemed very interested in using Hazel. Sanzo supposed he could see why - after all, she wouldn't be the first person to appeal to Hazel to fulfil a nefarious plan.

That wasn't what bothered him. The fact that it was a youkai was the problem. Sanzo's mind wandered to the current calamity, the sudden escalation of the Minus Wave. Why would a youkai care? It'd been countless weeks since he'd met an adult youkai that wasn't already berserk.

The other thing he couldn't forget was that he didn't know for sure whether the Minus Wave was woven with the resurrection he was heading to India to stop, but the two things were constants at the back of his mind, like pieces of a larger jigsaw that he just couldn't fit together properly.

He supposed the current tedium of the journey was only making these things stand out more, although he had a feeling when - or if - he could find the raven-haired monk, he may be able to snap the pieces together. The other sanzo was definitely playing a part in this mess, Sanzo was certain of that. He had sensed him before; could remember the man's presence from when he was a child. Or rather, remember the distinct lack of presence, stark like a deathly silence - perceptibly there, almost palpable in its intensity, but unreachable at the same time.

As the evening wore on, Sanzo pushed aside his heavy thoughts, and in turn his headache finally faded as he achieved stillness of body and mind. As he let himself relax, he focused on his breathing and the faint noises further out, half-listening for any hint of unusual movement in the distance.

The hiss of the light breeze was oddly soothing in the darkness, occasionally interrupted by Hazel or Gat randomly shifting. Some distance away, in the direction of the surrounding trees, crows called out hungrily in the night. Sanzo fell asleep with their voices in his head and the comforting weight of his Smith and Wesson settled against his hip.

* * *

Sanzo was wrenched from sleep by the sound of Gat cocking his twins. He instinctively went for his gun, forefinger curling around the trigger, just as a footstep crunched on the dirt nearby. A footstep that was too heavy to be Gat's, and too light to be Hazel's.

"The attack." Gat's rumbling voice floated out of the shadows. In that instant, Sanzo found himself simultaneously relieved Gat didn't sleep, and pissed off that he'd fallen asleep so easily himself. Up until tonight he'd been on his guard, but the monotony of the landscape and the company and how fucking long this leg of the journey was taking…

Fuck it, there was no point beating himself up over it now.

The fire had dwindled to nothing, no light but the cool glow from the full moon overhead, making everything look unreal. Gat's massive frame was highlighted beside the charcoal mess, like an ethereal statue of marble and onyx. Sanzo could see figures swarming in the shadows beyond, growing closer, whispering, laughing, taunting.

On his feet now, Sanzo aimed his gun and stepped forward.

"How many?" came Hazel's voice from behind as he rose too and joined them.

Sanzo didn't turn. "Too fucking many."

"Ten," said Gat, then amended as more figures appeared behind the rapidly advancing first lot. "Twenty. Twenty-five."

"Oh dear, it's going to be quite a busy night, then," Hazel pointed out needlessly.

"Che," hissed Sanzo. "Let's just get this the hell over with."

"My, you're enthusiastic, Sanzo-han." Hazel sounded like he was enjoying this way too much for Sanzo's liking. "Well, Gat, you heard the man."

Sanzo heard the clink of Hazel's pendant chain, a split-second before Gat opened fire on the nearest youkai silhouette. The sound of tearing flesh, followed by the dull thump as a body hit the hard ground signalled the start of the youkai's charge.

After that, the hell Sanzo had been waiting to break loose crashed in on him in a rage of razor-sharp talons, growling and spitting, the scrape of teeth on his shoulder, a barrage of bodies bearing down on him. Round after round he fired off, his shots ringing so loud in his ears they blurred into one long drone. Beneath that, he could hear Gat's guns calling out, the click-snap as Gat reloaded, the sound growing fainter as Sanzo traversed the dark landscape to take down as many attackers as he could and find a safe place to reload his own gun.

Eventually, Sanzo found his way back to the dead campfire. He spun around the cluster of rocks he'd been using as a wind-break earlier, crouching low in the darkness. Taking a quick respite, he slipped fresh bullets into his Smith and Wesson, snapping the chamber back into place.

"Get the bishop!" he heard someone hiss as they approached. Three different sets of footsteps thudded towards the rocks, moving fast in Sanzo's direction. A curse rose as someone stumbled, then, "Go for the silver-haired guy with the pendant - he's the one the Lady needs for the experiments."

"But what about the sutra?" another voice called.

"No, you idiots - forget the damn sutra! We don't need the priest as long as we have the bishop."

At that, Sanzo's blood ran cold.

He had to get to Hazel.

Now.

Rising fluidly, Sanzo aimed his gun barrel at the nearest youkai, squeezing the trigger hard. The side of the youkai's head exploded in a rain of black, his blood spraying darkly over his back and the ground as he fell.

Sanzo knew his best bet for finding Hazel was to find Gat. To do that, he scanned the area as best he could, using the moon's glow to pick up movement, any shapes large enough to be recognisable. Gat's gunshots had ceased moments ago, which either meant he'd been injured, or he was once again reloading.

Countless heartbeats later, he caught the sound of a shot reverberating through the darkness. Sanzo took off, sprinting in the sound's direction, stumbling over the uneven terrain, almost tripping on the many youkai corpses littering the ground. He heard another shot, this one much closer - coming from his right. Sanzo switched direction and made a beeline for it, now picking up voices in the distance. He had long ago been forced to admit Hazel was a more than adequate fighter. But if the youkai working for this Gyokumen Koushu got past Gat, if they got to Hazel, if they took him…

As he leapt over a gnarled fallen tree branch, a solid, heavy weight smashed into Sanzo, sending him flying to the ground. He landed hard on his side, his robe tearing as he skidded across the cold dirt. The skin of his shoulder was scraped raw as he tried to steady himself and put most of his bulk behind his strongest muscles. He heard something click, instantly followed by a violent pain that went shooting through his left hand and up his wrist. Sanzo knew he could deal with a sprained finger. He just hoped to all hell it wasn't broken. But he didn't have time to consider it further - his back twisted painfully as he slowed to a sprawling heap and he let out a broken "Fuck!" under his breath.

Before he was given the chance to regain his footing, the same weight landed on him again, pushing him back down to the uneven earth with a thump. Sanzo kicked out, snapping his knee up sharply and catching whoever was shoving at him in the groin. The smell of rotten meat and old, ferrous blood beat out against his face, making him want to gag as the youkai let out a shriek of pain that rang in Sanzo's ears.

"Get the fuck off me!" Sanzo shoved up with his Smith and Wesson, pushing it against the youkai's neck. He fired once - twice. Droplets of blood fell on him like searing, foul rain, but Sanzo didn't care, as long as the youkai was dead.

"Sanzo-han!" That was Hazel's voice. Good, he was still there, still fighting.

Using all his weight, Sanzo rolled the youkai off and forced himself into a sitting position, but when he tried to rise a blanket of pain swept through him, a livid combination of the damage he'd just sustained. He cursed again, gritting his teeth, finally managing to pull himself to his feet, more unsteady than he'd like.

His pulse beat a crazed rhythm, thumping like thunder in his ears. Sanzo tried to push aside the distracting noise, listening for anyone in close proximity. The night had fallen quiet, but for a strange subdued kind of hum, as remnants of the fight still pulsed in the atmosphere. Blinking sweat out of his eyes, Sanzo squinted at the surrounding area, only able to make out dark blobs dotted over the ground - bodies strewn here and there in an ugly black mural. A little way off, more footsteps pounded the ground, retreating or so it sounded to him.

Trying to catch his breath, Sanzo clutched his shoulder where the material of his robe was torn, fingers slipping in fresh blood - his own blood. His limbs were sluggish, joints feeling raw and uncooperative within his skin. Sanzo wanted nothing more than to double over, but he forced himself to stand straight. The danger wasn't over yet, not until he was certain all the youkai were dead or gone.

Then, to his left, Sanzo caught sight of a flash of movement under the milky spill of the moonlight.

"Shit, not again," he muttered, willing his screaming body into a defensive stance. He raised his gun through sheer will alone, barely able to feel his arm beneath the wild mix of adrenaline and pain. Holding his breath, Sanzo finally picked up the tread of the person advancing on him, quickly surmising it was Hazel by the weight and speed of the steps.

Thank fuck.

"Sanzo-han…"

There was smooth, pale skin and silver hair, before Sanzo's vision wobbled, clouding at the edges. Suddenly, Hazel's presence was all around - the smell of him, a mix of exotic aftershave and his natural, unusual scent. The heat of his skin curled around Sanzo like an unwanted embrace and, underlying it all, Sanzo was aware of Hazel's concern, so strong it was almost tangible.

Hazel reached for him and he almost recoiled - he wasn't down yet, damnit - but his body wouldn't fucking work properly. Taking Sanzo by the shoulder in a firm grip, Hazel steadied him. "I've sent Gat out to dispose of the stragglers. Are you all right?" he asked, a little breathlessly.

"I'm fine," barked Sanzo roughly, trying to shrug Hazel off. He didn't want Hazel pandering to him like this, but the other man didn't relinquish his grip around Sanzo's shoulder. From far off, Gat's guns cried out like birds of prey, one after the other. The yelling sounded displaced in the distance, the voices of the remaining youkai echoing faintly, thankfully far off.

"You're not a very good liar, if I may say. Come on, let's find a safe place to assess the damage." With that, Hazel started guiding him toward a row of conifer trees nearby, their tall outline jagged black against the grey sky. Sanzo opened his mouth to protest, to tell Hazel to fuck off, to tell Hazel to unhand him, but his side throbbed wildly where he'd landed, his ankle twinged every time he took a step, his head felt like it was splitting in half, and he was now sure he'd sprained more than one finger.

Fuck, what a total fiasco that'd been, though Sanzo supposed he should be glad the worst was over. As they stopped under the shady tree branches, Sanzo managed to pry Hazel's well-manicured hands off. Pushing Hazel back, Sanzo leaned against the nearest trunk, letting his body finally rest and easing up some of the pressure on his ankle.

Every inch of him pulsed with a sharp persistency, though not all of it was the pain of his injuries. Sanzo closed his eyes, his teeth clenched as he focused on levelling his breathing, as he tried to will his racing heartbeat to steady. The ferocity and speed of the fight had pushed energy through him; it was still prickling over his skin in waves, still coursing beneath.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to tolerate me a little while longer," Hazel said from beside him, the merest hint of amusement in his voice. He had moved closer.

"What's so funny?" Sanzo opened his eyes and turned to stare at the other man. He could just make out Hazel's face in the scattered spill of silver moonlight breaking through the sparse tree branches above, his mouth set in a soft line, slightly curved at the corners. His eyes were large and clear, icy-blue and although open, they were oddly guarded at the same time.

"Nothing's funny, per se," Hazel answered, taking another small step closer and letting his gaze settle on Sanzo's face. "I just find it interesting how much you hate physical closeness, even when all I'm trying to do is help."

"I don't need your help." Sanzo could see Hazel was staring at the smarting scrape on his cheek from where he'd landed on the ground. The skin there felt raw, stinging from the dirt and grit that was still embedded in the scratches.

"Maybe 'help' is too strong a word." Hazel slowly, carefully reached up, his movements very measured, his eyes still locked on Sanzo's face. He touched a white-gloved fingertip to Sanzo's cheek, before drawing his hand away. "Assist, then? Aide? Whichever you prefer, Sanzo-han. Either way, team player or not, I don't want to see you hurt. Or see you beat yourself up over this."

"The fuck would you know how I feel?" Sanzo knew his defensiveness was unnecessary, that he shouldn't let himself get wound up by Hazel so easily. He simply hated how the bishop always managed to grate on him, presuming to know more about Sanzo than he actually did - it was an irritation Sanzo was finding increasingly hard to ignore.

"Tell me you're not angry at yourself for getting hurt, then." A hint of challenge crept into Hazel's tone and expression, his mouth drawing a little tighter at the corners. "We may have power - an awful lot of power; the power to touch those who need us, to help the weak. But underneath it all we're still human men, are we not?"

Sanzo merely grunted in response, turning his face and spitting out a mouthful of dirty, bloody saliva on the ground. When he allowed his eyes to slide back to Hazel, the other man appeared vaguely put-out by his action, but then Hazel quickly drew up his mask, a soft smile blooming anew.

"So, if you would…" Slipping off his gloves and pushing them into his coat pockets, Hazel reached up once again, this time touching Sanzo's torn robe. "Allow me? You've got blood all over you - we're going to have to get this cleaned."

"It's nothing," said Sanzo, tugging at his robe as he spoke. However, for some reason he couldn't find purchase on the material, the bones in his left hand throbbing dully as he hopelessly tried to clench his fingers. He managed to get his robe up to his chest, before his muscles seized up and all he could do was utter a curse.

Hazel didn't hesitate, stepping closer to stand directly in front of Sanzo, pulling the soiled clothing the rest of the way over Sanzo's head. Sanzo couldn't hide a wince as he raised his arms; he wondered if Hazel had caught it.

Judging by how Hazel was watching him carefully, the wince had been noticeable.

Sanzo used his good hand to reach into his jeans pocket, drawing out his Marlboros. He didn't look up, but out of the corner of his eye he noted Hazel setting his ruined robe down on the ground.

A hot hand settled on Sanzo's hip, where the waist of his jeans ended and met the hem of his leather undergarment. The fingers of that hand were slow but intent as they curled over Sanzo's hipbone, then stroked up a little way.

Sanzo's adrenaline hadn't wilted, although his injuries were more pronounced now, his nerves sending darts through his system. The two sensations merged into a confusing ache - Sanzo's hyper-awareness rose, every touch of Hazel's fingers resulting in bolts of responsiveness, as if Hazel was conducting the symphony of his pain as well as heightening his post-battle rush.

"Does it hurt here?" Hazel asked.

Sanzo smacked Hazel's hand away. "Don't you-" He paused, swallowing thickly, trying to shake off the strange, unbidden feelings traversing his skin. "I'm not a fucking china doll. Got it?" Hazel's proximity was bothering him more than it should - Sanzo didn't usually let such things get to him. But there was something determined in Hazel's stance, in his calculated movements, the touches, like he was treating a wounded animal, like he wanted to temper it to his will.

Hazel wet his mouth, his tongue flicking out quickly, leaving a shining line of moisture over his lower lip. "I know you're not made of china." He smiled, but it didn't break the heavy atmosphere, not when his gaze moved down to stare intensely at the large, smarting scrape curving over Sanzo's bare shoulder.

An unbidden shiver roamed beneath Sanzo's skin, from the back of his neck all the way down to the base of his spine. He shrugged it off irritably; he should be indignant about the blatant staring - only, his mind was still reeling after the fight and he hurt too much to do anything but inwardly tense up under the scrutiny.

Although his breathing had finally returned to normal, it took Sanzo a moment to notice he was inhaling the tang of Hazel's cologne. It took him longer to realise that it wasn't as grating as before, but strangely welcoming over the taste of blood and gun oil that'd been in his mouth and assaulting his nose.

The power Hazel had spoken of earlier was making itself ever present, crossing back and forth, intense and electrifying between them. The cool breath of night had disappeared, replaced with something raw and hot - something like the after battle buzz, but different at the same time. Sanzo's injuries were a combined, keening pulse, something rhythmic and loud like a drum beat. They reminded him he was still alive, and at the same time not invincible.

Hazel's words replayed in his head. "But underneath it all, we're still human men, are we not?"

As Hazel shifted on his feet, the moonlight caught his gold pendant, then on the cufflinks of his coat sleeve as he reached up and paused, hand hovering above Sanzo's wounded shoulder.

"Nothing like china." Hazel blinked slowly. "I can sense your power, Sanzo-han. It's like a voice without sound, something I can hear but can't place. Or rather, like something I think I should be able to touch if I'm close enough, but I can't."

Sanzo's mind wandered to Goku, to the days at Keiun, to the insistent tugging voice calling him, every damn waking moment. He remembered how he'd wanted to touch the cause of the sound, grab it and ask it why the hell it was keeping on at him all the time.

Goku's voice had been nothing like the pulse of energy between him and Hazel, a much more pointed, fizzing kind of thrum. Sanzo released his cigarette packet, letting it slip back into his pocket, and caught Hazel's wrist in a firm grip, ignoring his own discomfort.

A sound rose from between Hazel's lips, short and low like a cut-off groan. "Sanzo-han," he whispered.

"Don't presume to think you can do what you want with me," Sanzo warned. "I'm only here because I want the man who told you about Seiten Taisei. Your 'power' means nothing to me." He tightened his grip around Hazel's wrist, drawing a gasp from Hazel's throat that wasn't a protest. That annoyed Sanzo. "You mean nothing to me."

"Nothing," Hazel echoed, his voice uncharacteristically raspy. "Then, why are you so hard, Sanzo-han?"

Sanzo hadn't even realised it, under the waves of energy prickling his skin - he hadn't noticed Hazel's hips, brushing his own, just lightly but enough. He hadn't dared think about his cock hardening in his denims, nor how wound up he was, how everything was taking on a surreal edge.

Sanzo froze.

"You're just as drawn to power as I am, only I can freely admit it. Why else would you keep that beast so close to you-"

"Shut the fuck up," Sanzo growled. Although he knew his own body would suffer for it, he yanked on Hazel's arm, adding a twist and turning him bodily until their positions were switched and Hazel's back connected hard with the withered tree trunk. Hazel's hat slipped from its place perched on his head, hitting the ground at their feet.

For a split-second, Hazel looked surprised, but then he lowered his thin, pale eyebrows. "With me, you wouldn't have to worry about waking up one night to find me tearing a hole through your chest. I'd never do that to you."

"You think that's what it's about?" Sanzo huffed, leaning in and speaking through tight-set teeth. "You think I'm secretly scared of Goku so I keep him close?"

"Yes, I do."

"Which just proves how little you know about me."

"Then let me know you." Hazel brashly pushed himself away from the tree, his hips connecting with Sanzo's and sending unpreventable shockwaves of arousal through him. Sanzo only just managed to rein in his reaction, a groan catching in his throat. He swallowed it.

"You don't want to know me," Sanzo stated plainly after a moment. "You just want my power - you said it yourself." He was growing sick of this. Something had to give, or he was going to pummel Hazel, injuries or no.

"I want your power," Hazel said softly. "I'll freely admit that. But to me, you are your power, shining bright and strong like the sunlight. I want that, and if it means doing anything within my power, then I'll do it."

Sanzo stared at him, face mere inches from Hazel's. "You think you want me." Determinedly reaching up with his bad hand, he forced his fingers to curve around the white column of Hazel's neck. Sanzo squeezed, just hard enough to still the rattling gasp that crawled up Hazel's throat. "You think it'd be a perfect match, all flowers and sunshine as we exterminate all the youkai?"

Fine, if this was what it'd take to shatter Hazel's illusions, then so be it.

"You've been living in a fucking dream world, Grouse. Probably since you were a kid."

Sanzo cut off Hazel's next argument, pushing his mouth so hard against Hazel's that their teeth knocked and Sanzo tasted the faintest hint of blood as someone's lip split - he wasn't sure whose. It didn't matter - he had long since moved beyond pain, and he didn't particularly give a shit right then anyway. He ached all over, mind swirling with fierce hatred and arousal and that incredible power still shifting around them.

Hazel let out a high-pitched noise into Sanzo's mouth that reminded Sanzo of a bird-call - a young bird crying out for help as it was wrenched from its nest by a strong gust of wind. Sanzo bit the corner of Hazel's mouth none too gently, then pushed his tongue unceremoniously past Hazel's teeth, fucking it in and out without relenting until Hazel was jerking forward, cock a solid rise beneath the material of his coat.

Thrusting back, Sanzo broke away and cursed hotly against Hazel's cheek.

"One moment, I… Sanzo-han, I-" Hazel squirmed as Sanzo sped up, rutting against him faster and faster, his cock now releasing wet precome he could feel in his denims. "Hang on, please- uh! Stop this - slow down, ohh…"

"Shut up," Sanzo grated, grazing his teeth over Hazel's jaw. He finally let go of Hazel's neck and instead took hold of his coat collar, yanking him roughly as leverage. Sanzo was aware of Hazel groaning, the noise rough, the sensation a physical shudder; it vibrated through Sanzo's chest, right to the centre of him as he forced Hazel against the rough tree over and over and over again.

There was a tearing sound, as one of Hazel's coat seams gave and cracked open. A cufflink popped from its thread, flying off into the shadows. Sanzo opened his eyes, locking on to Hazel and holding his gaze.

"This is the reality," he growled, pumping his hips in a vicious rhythm. "I'm using you."

With that, Hazel barked out a wounded moan, his face cracking with a mixture of pleasure and hurt as he came, body arching off the tree trunk, his precious fantasy crashing down around him in shards.

With one final, hard thrust, Sanzo's cock spluttered and he swore harshly, his release spreading within his denims. For a moment, all he could see was black; he let his head fall forward, resting his forehead against Hazel's shoulder while he rode through his release, cock pumping desperately the last few bursts of his orgasm.

Slick heat smeared his abdomen, dripping down to his contracting balls, but he was unable to move straight away. Sanzo drew in a ragged breath as after-tremors ran through him, but finally he could raise his head with a little effort.

The pale silver moonlight illuminated Hazel's face. The expression Sanzo saw was washed of the usual mild amusement. There wasn't even discomfort, or disappointment.

Hazel was simply blank.

Something in Sanzo twinged at that - the utterly hopeless look, the loss of all lustre in Hazel's eyes, but he would not apologise. There was no way of taking back what he'd just done, either, and he wouldn't even if he could.

Once sure he could trust his vocal chords, Sanzo found his voice. "Using my power is one thing, but I'm not delusional and I don't believe in your human utopia." Taking a step back, then another, Sanzo let out a long, calming breath. He was sticky and hot and felt vaguely dizzy, his injured limbs now reduced to a dull pang beneath the intensity of his release. "We're not a team. We'll never be a team."

Hazel opened his mouth, closed it again. He blinked, then sniffed. "You're leaving?"

Sanzo stared at him. "No."

Perhaps, if tonight's attack hadn't happened, this would've driven him to part ways. But after what Sanzo had heard when crouched behind the rocks he realised he had no choice but to stick beside Hazel. If his suspicions were correct, Hazel had surpassed him on the 'most wanted' scale. There was no way he was going to let the bishop out of his sight, and not just that - there was still the possibility the monk from Sanzo's past would eventually show.

No, he'd stay close, for now. But that didn't mean he was going to share in Hazel's vision.

Still panting quickly, Hazel lowered his gaze to the ground. "Sanzo-han," he murmured. "You…" But he didn't finish, merely winced and pushed himself away from the tree, unsteady as he passed Sanzo, smelling of sweat and faintly of come.

"Clean up." Sanzo didn't turn. "We leave at sunrise."

He listened until Hazel's footsteps had faded in the distance. Only then did Sanzo let himself sink to the ground, exhausted, numb, but most of all relieved.

* * *

"Sanzo-han?"

Sanzo was awake in a heartbeat, hand at his hip where his gun rested. When he realised it was just Hazel, he let his grip relax. The bandage he'd wound around his finger hampered his movement a little, but it was manageable. He'd have to get some fresh robes, though - his other one was torn to shreds from where he'd started patching himself up late the previous night.

Shortly after his and Hazel's confrontation.

Hazel was staring down at him with a plain, subdued expression, no hint of his usual mask of joviality. "Some water for you." He handed Sanzo a flask cup, then straightened.

"Thanks," Sanzo muttered, taking a deep drink of the cool liquid. "Where's Gat?"

"He's packing up. Sunrise was ten minutes ago, after all." Hazel started to turn, then paused. "I hear you loud and clear, Sanzo-han," he added. "You might not believe what I'm doing is possible or even right, but I still want you fighting beside me, even if I know you're not doing it for the same reasons."

Sanzo looked up at Hazel silhouetted against the giant golden sun still low on the horizon, recalling the blank face he'd seen last night in wake of their encounter, something akin to regret curling through him. He shrugged the feeling off - at the time, he'd simply used his resources accordingly to get through to Hazel once and for all. All it had cost Sanzo was a few brief, hot moments of physical contact.

Contact that had been paradoxically sobering as much as giddying.

In any case, Sanzo didn't have time for guilt. He'd managed to say what he'd been unable to get through to Hazel with words.

"I won't presume to- well," Hazel paused, clearing his throat gently. "I hear you loud and clear."

That was all Sanzo wanted. All he'd ever wanted. "Then we'll leave it at that," he said, calmly finishing his water as Hazel walked away.

Getting to his feet, Sanzo dusted off his jeans, the material still partly damp where he'd cleaned them last night - it was inconsequential; he felt like he'd finally reached a small turning point and the journey might not be as intolerable as before. At the very least, he hoped he wouldn't have to deal with any more of Hazel's nonsense, not when there were more important things weighing on Sanzo's mind.

Like whether today would be the day he'd finally meet the priest from his past - the man of silent darkness and razor smiles that Koumyou once introduced him to.

As a single black feather floated past on the morning breeze, Sanzo rose and went to join Hazel and Gat.

~Fin~

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