Archive of Our Own

The sign over the new cafe in town had a picture of a pink pig on it. Gojyo stopped one night on his way home from the bar to study it. It was smiling, appropriately, since the place was called The Happy Pig. There was cream all over its snout, and a debauched cream puff in front of it. Gojyo wondered if it was some comment by the owner on his patrons.

The owner was the first youkai to move back to town since, well, since they'd stopped eating people. Business had been a little slow at first, Gojyo was guessing. He wouldn't called it crowded even now, but it was still there. Must be doing okay. It was funny how fast people forgot shit they didn't want to remember.

It was about half a mile from town to Gojyo's little house, and another mile past that was the new youkai town. They'd come back, the ones who were still alive, but not actually back to town, like they knew that could set off some bad shit that nobody wanted.

Gojyo'd talked to a few of them. They blamed themselves, mostly, for not being strong enough. Hearing that gave Gojyo a sick feeling in his stomach, and he wasn't even sure why.

The stars were thick and bright on the way home. Tonight was the new moon, which meant no moon at all. Even crowded with stars, the sky was just a lot of empty space without the moon up there.

Gojyo ducked inside, away from the empty sky. He needed to change his sheets again. Must've been three, four weeks since the last time. Laundry, too. He was running out of socks. He closed his eyes and dropped into sleep.

***

It was easy to put off the laundry another day. In the morning, he washed some stuff in the sink, socks and underwear, and a shirt. His jeans were fine. Washing them just made them stiff all over again.

He drank coffee on his little front porch. The middle step needed fixing, and the railing too. After so many years of weather, the wood was just giving up.

It was early, only eleven. He had about a million years before he could reasonably show up at the bar, and he refused to be one of those sad losers who spent all damn day there, like they had nothing better to do. Even if he did have nothing better to do.

He poked at the edges of the rotten board below with his foot. It squeaked at him, rusty nails pulling a fraction looser.

He remembered Banri putting in these steps. For the longest time, there'd just been a plank laid down like a ramp, but Banri had fallen off it one too many times coming home smashed and had got up the next morning with a glint in his eyes that usually promised violence. Gojyo'd listened to him bang away for hours and been honestly shocked when he finally went outside to find that Banri had done a reasonable job.

"I can build shit," Banri'd said, sweaty and cross, with a spreading bruise on his thumbnail. "Fuck. They're just stairs."

Gojyo missed Banri, despite everything. If that didn't make him a sad loser, he didn't know what did.

He stood up and started for town, coffee left behind on the steps. He needed food anyway, and there was fuck-all in the fridge. Maybe he'd get some vegetables this time. The farther he got past forty, the less tolerance his body had for his preferred diet of beer, chips, and greasy street-stall noodles.

The sun was stupid-hot, a white blotch on a pale sky. The world was turning towards autumn, but not there yet. Cracks laced the dirt road he walked on. Step on a crack and break your mother's back, he thought. He smiled, not because it was funny at all, but because it wasn't. Sometimes, he missed Jien too. Sometimes, he even missed her.

Mrs. Cheng sold him a steamed bun for breakfast, and he ate it as he walked. The market was doing better than he'd seen it in a long time. It still wasn't up to pre-weirdness levels, but the shortages were over. There were even a couple youkai-manned stalls neared the edges.

The stalls were all rickety constructions of bamboo and canvas, but the cloth was dyed deep blue, or purple, or vermillion, or a hundred other colors. Each seller flew a flag to advertise what he or she sold; hand-stitched pictures of apples and fish and rutabagas flapped in the light breeze.

Gojyo wandered past stall after stall, without a clue what to buy. When he did do serious shopping, it always ended up turning to green slime in his fridge. There had to be a way to avoid that. Yeah, he thought. Cooking and eating it would be a start. But for cooking, he'd need oil and sauce and ginger and stuff, and god, it was such a pain. Plus, carrying it all back home would suck, and after all that, it would probably still taste like shit. He bought a single carrot and ate it raw, standing in the shade of the red-striped bakery awning.

There were no vendors on the main street. The garbage was confined to the alleys, and all the paint jobs were fresh. This part of town was for solid, established businesses, or at least businesses that could cough up enough cash to look solid and established. The bakery was in its third generation. Shen's Bar, down the street on the edge of the town square, had been there even longer, though no one seemed to remember who the hell Shen was anymore.

Across the street were the sparkling plate glass windows of The Happy Pig. He could see himself reflected in them, hair half over his face, carrot like an overlarge cigar protruding from his mouth. On the far side of his reflection, the tables had white tablecloths and white vases on them, each with a stem that bore a bunch of little purple flowers. He moved closer.

The menu, posted outside by the door, filled his mouth with a rush of saliva. Despite the pastry on the sign, most of it was real food, vegetables and beef and chicken, just the kind of healthy shit he'd been craving recently. He pressed his lips together to make sure he wasn't drooling.

"We are open," said a soft voice behind him. "If you'd like to come in. You look hungry."

Gojyo turned and looked and had to keep looking. His hair was dark and shaggy and wind-blown. Those fucking vines went everywhere, face and hands and everything, wow. Gojyo'd never seen anyone with markings that extensive. In contrast, he wore a neat, white, button-up shirt and dark jeans that looked like they'd been ironed. He also had an apron on, with a little pink pig embroidered on the corner.

Gojyo cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. Sounds good."

The guy smiled. His teeth looked sharper than Gojyo was entirely comfortable with. "Excellent. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. I've made some revisions to the menu. You'll be the first to test it out."

Gojyo got a look at his claws when the guy pulled a chair out for him. They were trimmed and all, but claws was the right word. He smiled and gave a little bow as he whipped out a notepad and pencil. "Now, what would you like?"

Gojyo's stomach growled. "Anything, really. Your choice."

"Ah, good! Then you can try the curry." He hurried off to the back.

Gojyo wondered what the hell curry was. He guessed he'd find out soon enough. He put his feet up on a chair and then put them down again. He had a feeling the guy wouldn't appreciate it.

He peered at the little purple flowers, with their drooping star shape and bright yellow centers. It took him a second to recognize them as deadly nightshade. They wouldn't have been his first choice for a restaurant table, but okay.

The walls were painted a real pale green, almost white. The floor was wood, so polished he could see himself looking back from under his feet. He was the only one in the whole place. The waiters must be hiding out somewhere out of sight.

When a young couple came in a minute later, it turned out the waiters weren't hiding, or if they were, they were damn good at it. After watching the couple look around blankly for a few long seconds, Gojyo went over to them.

"Hey, have a seat," he said. "Anywhere you like. I'll get you a couple menus."

The looked much happier after that and sat at one of the window tables. He fetched them two menus, and then sort of accidentally took their drink order. Well, it was a little late to point out he wasn't really a waiter. Jeez. Did he look like a waiter? He hoped not.

Anyway, all they wanted was water, and they were happy when they got it. He slumped at his own table again just as the owner returned. He set down a bowl of something in front of Gojyo. It had a thick red sauce, with bits in, and the best smell Gojyo had ever had the privilege to inhale. He dug in without even remembering to say thank you, and the guy was gone when he looked up again, talking to the couple at the other table.

It had rice too, and little lumps of stuff that looked like tofu but obviously wasn't because it tasted good. Gojyo didn't notice much until his bowl was empty.

"You enjoyed it?" The owner was back and standing real close. Gojyo had to make himself not scoot his chair away. Don't be rude to the guy with the best food in town.

"Yeah, man. It's great. Thanks."

"Thank you, as well." He nodded towards the couple now enjoying food of their own.

"Don't you have any waiters?"

"I've had trouble keeping staff."

Well, you're kind of a creepy dude, Gojyo didn't say. "Sorry to hear that. So, what do I owe you?"

The owner held out his hand. "My name is Cho Hakkai."

"Oh. Uh. Hi, I'm Gojyo." They shook. Gojyo wondered how soon he could get back around to the part where he paid and left.

Hakkai sat down at his table. "They don't seem to like the idea of working for a youkai," he said. He smiled his toothy smile again. "I think I frighten them."

"Can't think why."

"Yes, I didn't think you'd have that problem. I can't pay you much at first, but since you don't seem to have a job at all--"

"Hey, hey, what? I'm not looking for work."

"Oh? You do have a job, then?"

"No. Sorta. I have enough money, okay? I don't do jobs."

"You must do something, and I don't see how you could hope to support yourself by illegal means in such a small community."

"Hey! I'm not a crook."

"Then what do you do, Gojyo?"

He wasn't just creepy. He was creepy and nosy. "I play cards. I'm good at it. I make plenty." He started to get up, but a light touch on his shoulder stopped him.

"Maybe you'd like to play cards with me," Hakkai said. "If you win, I'll leave you alone, which I imagine is what you most want right now."

Or I could just walk out and never come back, Gojyo thought. Easy. He looked at Hakkai's pleasant expression and saw something else entirely in his eyes. It was nothing to make waiters run for the hills. It was nothing special at all; just maybe something Gojyo recognized. Like the desire to fill up the day with something he hadn't done a thousand times before.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "Okay. I'll play you." Easy was starting to get boring.

"Do you have your own cards?"

Gojyo took out his pack and slapped it on the table. "What's your game?"

They didn't talk much as they played. Hakkai got up once or twice to tend to his customers. Gojyo looked deliberately away from his cards, left trustingly face-down on the table. Since you don't seem to have a job at all. He wondered how long Hakkai had been watching him.

"Is there something wrong, Gojyo?" Hakkai slipped back into his seat.

"Uh. Nah. You know those flowers are poisonous, right?"

"Yes, of course. They're pretty though, aren't they?" Hakkai touched one blossom with his finger a faint frown, like he was worried he might be wrong about that.

"Yeah, sure. They're pretty."

Hours passed with relatively little customer interference and equally little luck on Gojyo's part. He took it as long as he could.

"Fuck." Gojyo looked at the cards laid out on the table. "Fuck. I know you're not cheating. Again."

Hakkai turned over the next card. So did Gojyo. Hakkai's was higher.

They were playing war now. Hakkai'd already beat him at blackjack and poker and fucking go fish. You couldn't cheat at war, at least not with Gojyo watching as carefully as he now was. You just turned the damn cards over. But they'd gone through the deck three times, and Hakkai had beaten him on every single turn. It was eerie.

"Are you cheating? Just say if you are, okay? You still win."

"I'm not cheating. You know I'm not."

"Then you've got the freakiest luck I have ever seen."

"Yes. You can start tomorrow at eleven. In the morning."

"I never agreed--"

"It's good, steady work. I'm sure you'll come to enjoy it." Hakkai smiled and made his way back to the kitchen.

Steady work. Next thing he knew, he'd have a wife and a couple of kids. Great.

***

The next day at eleven, Hakkai sat him down and gave him some soupy rice thing before they opened. It had chicken, and vegetables Gojyo had never even seen before. It was even better than yesterday.

"Do I get this every morning?" Gojyo asked.

Hakkai looked pleased. "Three meals a day, if you like."

Gojyo agreed enthusiastically and only found out later that Hakkai'd meant instead of money, not in addition to. He didn't even care that much when he did find out. Not only was the food awesome, the job wasn't that hard. After a few hours, he sort of wished he'd brought a magazine.

By three, they'd had two customers. Gojyo stood next to Hakkai by the window and looked out at the busy street.

"There was an incident with my last waiter," Hakkai said, and went on before Gojyo had a chance to ask. "Things will pick up again, but I wasn't doing all that well even before. I need more customers if I'm going to earn an honest living."

There was something about the way he said 'honest living' that made Gojyo think he'd already tried the other kind. Gojyo tapped a chopstick against the window for a few seconds. "So. What did you used to do?"

"Oh, not very much. I traveled quite a bit."

Gojyo could imagine Banri saying that with no trouble at all. "Like where?"

"It's quite a long story."

Gojyo looked around the empty cafe. "Y'know, I think we've got enough time."

Of course, right then a couple old guys walked in and wanted menus and beer and to talk to Gojyo nonstop for twenty minutes before they ordered. They hung out at Shen's a lot, or sat on the bench outside in the square. They both knew his name, which he thought was kind of weird.

"Surprised to see you working here," one said. He had a pea-sized mole on his chin with a single curly hair growing out of it. Gojyo tried not to stare in case there was any chance of a tip.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Surprised to see you working," the other said. He wore a little silver ear cuff. Gojyo couldn't tell if it was just for decoration or for something else.

"Yeah," Mr. Mole said, "but here especially. That guy." He tipped his head toward the kitchen and bared his teeth. It might've been disgust, or International Old Guy speak for 'he's got fangs,' or almost anything. "Still, he can cook like a motherfucker."

"Your wife would smack you if she heard you talking like that," Mr. Earring said.

"That's why I'm out to lunch with you instead of her, you idiot."

"You'll like the food," Gojyo said, because otherwise he'd just be standing there eavesdropping.

"Been here before, sonny. For the novelty mostly, but it turned out so good we had to come back."

Mr. Earring sighed. "Don't call him sonny. You're not that old."

"I'm ancient," Mr. Mole said with relish.

Gojyo had to agree. "I don't mind," he said. "Why'd you think the food would be bad?" He could guess. He just wanted to see if they'd say it out loud. He wasn't sure he'd be able to blame them if they did. A lot of old folks had died when things went bad.

"Well, with those claws," Mr. Mole said, and laughed a rattly laugh.

"He's got them trimmed," Gojyo said. He wondered why he was bothering. Hakkai'd probably rather have him shut up and not alienate his customers. Right. He shook his head. "I better get your order in."

In the kitchen, Hakkai was frying something in a wok. Bits of brightly colored vegetables flew through the air as he shook it. The hiss and sizzle of hot oil filled the room.

Well used pans hung on the wall, carbonized completely black by years of oil and fire. There was a spice rack on the shelf, full of little glass bottles. No two of them matched, but they were all neatly labeled and alphabetized.

"They're right to worry, you know," Hakkai said, after Gojyo had given him the order. "Some things can't be trimmed away or blunted."

Banri's hearing hadn't been that good. Neither had Jien's. Gojyo stepped out into the alley for a smoke.

***

Gojyo had been working at The Happy Pig for almost two weeks now, but it was only three days since Hakkai had started sitting with him for meals. Not to eat. Just to stare.

Gojyo looked up from his rice and beef with green-tinted sauce. "Are you doing that on purpose?"

"Doing what?"

"Never mind."

Hakkai kept on staring.

There was a crash from the kitchen. Gojyo jumped. Hakkai didn't. "Hakkai!" a voice called. "Where the fuck are you?"

"We do have a front door, you know," Hakkai said mildly.

A slight, blond man emerged from the back. "Coffee," the man said, and sat down. A black crow swooped in from the kitchen and lit on his shoulder. Its wings were glossy blue-black, with a spread as wide as Gojyo's arm was long.

"Sanzo, this is my new waiter, Gojyo."

"Hey," Gojyo said. "Nice to meet you."

Sanzo grunted and shrugged off the crow. It squawked and settled on the back of a chair.

"I'll get your coffee," Hakkai said.

Sanzo pulled a newspaper out of his sleeve and unfolded it. He slipped on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. When he bent his head to read, sunlight caught the side of his face and showed Gojyo the shiny, pulled-tight skin there. The burns were well healed, but they covered almost the whole side of his face and down past the neck line of his shirt. There was something wrong with his ear, too, but Gojyo looked away. It seemed impolite to stare now.

"Look if you want to," Sanzo said. He was still reading his paper, but he wore a weird little smile. "I'm used to it."

"What happened?"

Sanzo gave him a flat look over the tops of his glasses. "I got burned."

"How?"

"How'd you end up with hair and eyes like that?"

Gojyo looked away first. No one here had ever realized, and Hakkai might take it badly. Youkai always seemed to take it worse than humans, maybe because they understood better what it meant.

Gojyo looked up as Hakkai started back from the kitchen. He must've heard, and of course he'd ask, and Sanzo wouldn't lie, not for a half-breed stranger. Gojyo braced himself, and then wondered why he even cared. He hadn't wanted this job to begin with, and even after two weeks, Hakkai wasn't much more than a stranger.

"He knows, you idiot," Sanzo said.

Hakkai set three cups of coffee and a plate of small cakes down on the table. "What do I know?"

"That your waiter's half-youkai."

"Oh, that. Yes, of course." He offered the plate of cakes to Sanzo, who pushed it away.

"You know I hate that sweet shit." He tapped out a cigarette, which Hakkai snatched from between his fingers and broke in half.

"And you know I don't allow smoking in my cafe."

Hakkai smiled, and Sanzo scowled back. Gojyo looked between them, but it was like staring at his own reflection on the surface of a well. It didn't tell him a damn thing about what was underneath.

"Well," Hakkai said. "How is Goku?"

Sanzo untied a roll of paper from one of the crow's legs. "This one's for you. He said he put in all the stuff I wouldn't be interested in."

That got a slightly softer smile from Hakkai, and he unfolded it. "Dear Hakkai," he read aloud. "Some of the food here is almost as good as yours. They really like cabbage and sausage and a bunch of stuff that I'm not sure what it is but it tastes good, I think you'd like it too. Tell Sanzo they don't have mayonnaise though. I met these people and they ride horses everywhere and this guy whose name I can't spell (it has lots of Z's) let me borrow one of his 'cause he has a lot. She's beautiful. I had a race with her, and she won! It was pretty short though, and I think I could win if it was longer. There's a lot of trees here."

Hakkai went on. Sanzo's expression was distant. His lighter flashed in the sun as he turned it over and over.

"The trees are everywhere, and so tall and thick, and the sun through them is so bright. It's like night and day at the same time, all day long. I'm saying it wrong, but you know what I mean, right?"

Sanzo snapped the lid of his lighter open and flicked it on. He watched the flame shiver and then snapped it shut again and hunched over his coffee.

"I miss you both lots," Hakkai read, voice steady and clear. "But don't tell Sanzo, okay? I bet he can figure out a way to whack me all the way from China." He folded the letter and tucked it in his pocket. "Love, Goku."

There was a brief silence, and then Sanzo pulled out another letter and pushed it across the table to Hakkai. "He wrote one for Zakuro too. You can give it him."

"Ah. Yes, of course."

A customer came in a few minutes later, and Sanzo left, through the back again, without so much as a goodbye. His crow followed him like a shadow.

The whole thing left Gojyo feeling a bit lost. He couldn't get his head around half of what had been going on in that little conversation. Social situations were easier than this for him. There was nothing a beer and a game of cards wouldn't fix, and he was never at a loss for what to say. He didn't manage another word to Hakkai for the rest of the day that wasn't work-related.

"We're closing early," Hakkai said.

"It's only four."

"Yes, I did say early."

"Okay. Fine. Whatever."

He watched Hakkai clean up in the kitchen and then went to sweep and put chairs on tables. He still didn't think the floor needed to be cleaned every single day, but it wasn't his floor. He got the mop and pushed it around. He'd cleaned more in the last two weeks than in the past few years put together, and he still suspected Hakkai of going over everything after he left to bring it up to his standards. Maybe some after-hours work with a floor buffer or something.

He'd never left the same time as Hakkai. It was a little weird when they both stepped out the front door. Hakkai smiled his pleasant smile--Gojyo wondered how many times he'd practiced that in a mirror to get it right--and walked away down the street. After taking a few seconds to tell himself what an idiot he was, Gojyo turned down the alley next to the cafe. He didn't have a hope of following Hakkai unnoticed on the main street, so he'd keep to parallel side streets. He could be a creepy, nosy bastard too.

It worked until his side street dead-ended in a laundromat near the western edge of town. He ducked back onto the main drag in time to see Hakkai heading up the narrow path that led around Wheatfall Hill. There was only one thing on the other side: the graveyard.

If Hakkai wanted to deliver letters to the dead, that was his business, and he should be left to do it in peace. Gojyo kept walking anyway. He didn't bother with justifications. It wasn't the first time he'd done something he knew was wrong.

He ignored the path and climbed Wheatfall straight up the side. The graveyard below was bright with fresh flowers and a few streams of incense, smoking to the sky. Most of the dead were too recent still to be forgotten.

Hakkai stopped at a small stone near the back corner. Gojyo saw him kneel, but beyond that it was impossible to make out what he was doing. Leaving the letter, having a little chat maybe. Gojyo lit a cigarette and wished he had Hakkai's hearing.

Hakkai stood, turned around, and looked straight at him. Shit. It would be useless--and cowardly--to run, so Gojyo stayed put while Hakkai climbed up to him.

When he got there though, Hakkai just sat on a rock, facing the sunset. He said nothing.

"You wanna--talk about it or something?" Gojyo offered.

"He died. There isn't much to talk about. You must have lost people as well." He nodded down at the graveyard.

"No," Gojyo said. "Not me. No one who mattered."

Hakkai looked at him for a long time, long enough for Gojyo to notice the red sunlight staining half his face and his one human eye, spring green to the other's autumn gold.

"I'm sorry," Hakkai said, at last.

Gojyo swallowed and stared at the setting sun until he felt half blind. Some unnamed emotion stuck in throat and choked him. "Tell me about him. Tell me-- Tell me something. Anything."

"He was Goku's friend, really. Goku makes friends so easily. But I suppose I got used to him, too, towards the end."

"Did he get--you know. Eaten?" There was no graceful way to ask. Gojyo had given up trying to find one a long time ago.

"Oh, no. He was youkai. A traveling companion."

"You and Goku and Sanzo and him."

"That's right."

"Where'd you go?"

"Far away."

"How far's that?"

Hakkai pointed, and he could've meant the hills across the valley or the mountains beyond, or the far horizon.

"Long way," Gojyo said.

"Oh, yes."

"I didn't go that far." Shut up, he told himself. Hakkai doesn't want to hear all that.

"Where did you go?"

Gojyo pointed in the same direction Hakkai had, but lower. He could just about pinpoint the cave, even from here.

"In the forest?" Hakkai asked.

"Yeah."

"It'll be dark soon," Hakkai said. He was still watching Gojyo with his mismatched eyes. Gojyo wondered how that'd happened. He wasn't going to ask.

"We should get home before the monsters come out." Hakkai paused and looked out over the forested hills. "Or," he said, "you could show me. Monsters don't seem to worry you."

It was a long walk, and they didn't talk much on the way. It was past dark when they reached Gojyo's cave. The pine needles were thick underfoot, browned and crackling and sending up their sharp resin to fill Gojyo's lungs.

His things were still there; the little oil lamp, now-tattered bedroll, fire pit at the cave mouth circled by stones.

"You lived here," Hakkai said.

"For a couple years."

"Hm," Hakkai said, and set about making a fire.

Gojyo found a can of beans at the back of the cave, and Hakkai supplemented it with a few brown speckled mushrooms. There was a package of ginger biscuits, too, a bit stale, but not moldy or anything. Hakkai found a bottle of sake under the bedroll, which was funny, because Gojyo didn't remember ever bringing one up here.

The moon rose. They drank.

"There was this guy, friend of mine, used to live with me. Banri."

"Yes?"

"He got in with these dudes, see. Bad news guys. I mean, Banri was kind of no good, either, but. So." He swallowed. "He took off. Left me with these guys as, like, a hostage. They thought he'd come back for me."

"And he didn't."

"Nah. Never thought he would."

"What did you do?"

Hakkai didn't sound concerned, or even particularly sympathetic. Gojyo relaxed marginally and shrugged.

"Got away. Eventually." That was a nice three word summary. There must've been close to thirty guys there. He'd killed a lot of them. He mostly remembered the way their blood had looked on the concrete floor, sinking right in and turning almost black in the dim light. That and wondering why he was fighting at all.

"And then you came up here," Hakkai said. He sounded like he was filling in the blanks just fine by himself.

In the end, he'd fought because he knew Banri expected him to fight, and maybe because he thought Banri might be sorry if he got himself dead. Banri'd never come back to find out.

"Yeah. Then I came up here." He'd run up here. Or, really, he'd just run, and here was where he'd ended up. The sake of unknown origin burned on the way down. "Stole most of this stuff. It got easier when...you know. With the eating people and all. Things got confused. No one noticed much if stuff was missing."

"You stayed up here the whole time?"

"Close to. But no. Not the whole time." He might as well have stayed, for all the good he'd done when he went back.

Hakkai didn't ask any questions. They stayed until sunrise. The level on the sake bottle sank and sank until they were left staring, hypnotized, by the little waves the last half inch made when Hakkai sloshed it from side to side.

"It's almost gone," Hakkai said.

"S'okay," Gojyo told him. "We can have the rest for breakfast."

***

A month after Gojyo started working at The Happy Pig, they started getting more customers. A lot more. So many that Gojyo actually had to stay on his feet for more than five minutes at a time and he started to feel that soup wasn't enough payment.

It was right about then that Hakkai handed Gojyo his first paycheck.

Gojyo looked at it. "What's this?"

"We're doing so much better now," Hakkai said. "There's enough money. Don't you want it?"

"I guess," Gojyo said. He wondered where he'd get it cashed. He'd never had a paycheck before. He'd never wanted one. He didn't, he reminded himself for the fiftieth time, actually want this job. Unfortunately, it was harder to lie to himself these days than it used to be, and some part of him answered back: Yeah, funny that you haven't quit then, isn't it? Fuck off, he told himself.

It made his job seem more...job-like, too. He wasn't happy about that. He didn't want Hakkai as his boss. He didn't want a boss at all.

Anyway, it turned out the bartender at Shen's was happy to take it off his hands. Gojyo bought drinks for the whole bar and felt oddly relieved when the last of the money was gone and they were all kicked out into the street. He sang to himself as he weaved home through stripy tree shadows and moonlight.

The next morning, he was late for the first time. He was late enough that it was, in fact, the next afternoon. He stumbled in through the back door at two, sick, caffeine-deprived, and shaky. He didn't even know why he'd come in at all, except that it was what he did now.

"You're late," Hakkai said. There was a bloody cleaver in his hand and a light flush on his cheeks that might've been from anger or just the heat of the kitchen.

"Sorry," Gojyo said, aware that he didn't sound sorry at all.

Whunk. The cleaver bit down into a plucked chicken and cracked its breastbone in half. Its head was lying a little way down the counter, looking blankly at Gojyo with beady little eyes.

Hakkai smiled brightly at him. "I'm sure you have a very good reason for being late."

Gojyo crossed his arms over his chest. "I got wasted and overslept. Thanks for the money. Everyone had a great time last night. Too bad you weren't there."

Hakkai's smile developed a sort of bowstring tension. His knuckles were perfectly white around the cleaver's handle. "I'm sure it won't happen again."

Maybe this was the real reason his other waiters had quit. Gojyo eyed the cleaver. He hoped they'd just quit.

"You should come next time," Gojyo heard himself say. "To the bar. I never see you there."

Hakkai blinked and frowned, and his grip on the cleaver eased. "I don't do well in company."

"Whatever. I'm gonna get to work. Make me some goddamn tea before I die, okay?" Gojyo left without waiting for an answer and tried not to look like he was going to be sick on people while he took their orders.

His head throbbed when he tried to think beyond #14 with-no-carrots, #3 with-brown-rice, two beers. His handwriting was worse than usual, and there was sweat on the back of his neck. He hadn't been this hung-over in forever.

He was already starting to wonder, yet again, what he was doing here, when some kid's flailing arm knocked a glass over right onto Gojyo's crotch.

Gojyo swore loudly as ice water seeped through his pants.

The kid's father snickered, and an older man at the table said, "Huh, so much for service." Let him try not swearing when his balls were getting frozen off.

"Look who's running the place," the father said, and then he glanced at Gojyo, an unpleasant sneer twisting his mouth. "And look what he's hiring."

Gojyo didn't hit him, not even a little. He stiffened his back and walked away. He wondered, and hated that he had to wonder, whether the father was talking about the halfbreed thing or the fact that Gojyo'd run for the hills, literally, at the first sign of trouble.

He retreated to the men's room and tried to make it look less like he'd wet himself, possibly from the excitement of this fucking job. He didn't need this. He didn't need any of this. He should've stuck to playing goddamn cards. Or to his cave.

There was a knock on the door.

"What?" Gojyo shouted. "Go away!"

Hakkai just walked in, and Gojyo was glad he wasn't actually taking a leak. Hakkai set a steaming cup on the counter and handed Gojyo a pair of pants. "I think they'll fit you," he said. He looked like he might say something else, but only shook his head a little and left.

Gojyo locked the door and picked up the tea. The cup was so hot it almost burned, but he held it tight anyway. Jasmine scented steam soothed his tired eyes, and after a few sips his stomach started to calm down. He took a breath. And changed his pants.

He could find Hakkai another waiter, maybe stay a couple weeks to train him up. Somebody who actually needed the money and wouldn't blow it all on booze. Yeah. It'd be better for everyone. He nodded and headed back out.

At the edge of the dining room, he paused, frowning. He went to find Hakkai.

"What happened to table eight?" Table eight had been the family with the crotch-wetting kid and his bastard father.

"I asked them to leave," Hakkai said, without looking up from his wok.

"You-- What? Why?"

"That man shouldn't have laughed. It was very impolite."

"You threw them out for...laughing at me?" Because if Hakkai wasn't going to mention what the guy had said, Gojyo sure as shit wasn't either.

"Here." Hakkai pushed a loaded tray at him. "For table three."

Gojyo took it automatically and headed out to the main room. When he thought about it, he was grateful for the distraction. There was no way that conversation could've been anything but hugely embarrassing. His response had been bad enough on its own, honestly. He hoped to god Hakkai hadn't heard that slightly pathetic undercurrent of you did that for me? Not much chance of that, he guessed. Not with those ears.

By the time he got off work that night, he wasn't thinking about quitting anymore. Too irritated with himself to play cards with half a hope of winning, he sat on one of the benches across from the bar and lit a cigarette.

A couple people waved to him as they passed. He let his cigarette hang at the corner of his mouth and watched the smoke stream thinly towards the darkening sky.

Sucker, he thought.

"You're not inside with your friends," Hakkai said, about three inches from his right ear.

Gojyo jumped. "Gah! Fuck. Make a little noise, what's wrong with you?"

"Too many things to mention, Sanzo would say."

Crickets chirped over a background of music and laughter from the bar across the street. Cicadas whined in the distance.

"You're not married," Hakkai said.

Gojyo turned to blink at him. "Uh. No. Good observational skills, there."

"Most people are by the time they're your age."

"Hey, you're my age too, buddy." He wondered suddenly if Hakkai really was. Youkai often looked younger than they were.

"Yes, but I meant normal people."

"Oh." Gojyo shrugged. "Just never found the right girl, I guess." It sounded so lame after he said it that he had to laugh. "Shit. Sorry. It's state the obvious night, I guess."

"I don't think it's obvious at all."

"How's that?"

"Well, your wife could've died. Or you could prefer men. Although I supposed that wouldn't necessarily mean you couldn't get married."

Gojyo frowned. He was suddenly really glad he didn't need this job, and a bunch of stuff came clear all at once. Especially this afternoon. "Look, uh, I'm flattered and all and I'm sure you're a nice guy, but I'm not... I like chicks."

"I'm not hitting on you," Hakkai said.

"Oh." Gojyo swallowed. "You're not?"

Hakkai shook his head, and actually, maybe he wasn't. He didn't look even a little bit embarrassed.

"Oh," Gojyo said again. He really didn't know where to go from there. "Then why'd you...say that?"

There was a barely noticeably pause before Hakkai said, "No reason."

It occurred to Gojyo that maybe what Hakkai had said hadn't been meant to apply to him at all. "What, you like guys, but you don't like me?"

Hakkai's brows drew together, and he adjusted his glasses. "...Pardon?"

"Okay, I'm just gonna shut up now."

"This is why I don't often talk to people," Hakkai said quietly. "I suppose I was trying to tell you something about myself." He laughed a little. "In the most awkward manner possible."

Gojyo looked over at him. He sat with his legs together and his hands folded in his lap, looking down at the ground. His glasses slid down to rest on the very tip of his nose, and the points of his ears were faintly pink.

"Tell me," Gojyo said.

"Oh."

"What, now you don't want to?"

"I thought you would've left by now."

"Hakkai!"

"All right! All right. There was someone. We weren't married. We couldn't be."

"Why? Her family disapprove or something?"

"Oh, no. I was her family. She was my sister."

Gojyo picked at the flaking green paint on the bench. "You could've just not told people. You know, the priest or whoever."

"She was Catholic. Lying to priests--she wouldn't have approved."

"Oh. Well, then." Why are you telling me this, Gojyo wanted to ask. But Hakkai hadn't asked him inconvenient questions when he was spilling his guts out in that cave. "You really loved her, huh?" he said instead.

"Well, she was my sister."

Gojyo wasn't sure whether that was meant to be funny or not, and he jammed his knuckles up against his teeth to keep from laughing. When he risked a look at Hakkai, though, he saw only warmth and a little amusement.

"It's all right," Hakkai said. He touched Gojyo's shoulder.

There was a pause. The hills in the west had almost cut off the sun now, and it was getting harder to see Hakkai's face.

"I had sex with Sanzo once," Hakkai said. "It didn't work out very well. For either of us."

Gojyo held up the smoldering stub of his cigarette and tossed it to the ground, grinding it under his heel. "Are you trying to shock me?"

"Yes. No. Again, I thought you would've left by now. But this is just my life."

Gojyo nodded. That was fair enough.

"Well," Hakkai said. "I'm going home." He rubbed his hands down his thighs and stood. "We live in the same direction, don't we?"

Gojyo looked over at the bar. Things would just be getting warmed up. It was jarring to realize just how much he didn't give a shit. "Yeah, guess we do."

Hakkai's house sat at the halfway point between Gojyo's place and town. It was low, made of stone, with a weird white roof that reflected the lingering pink traces of sunset. Hakkai shook his hand at the door.

Gojyo went home and put his lingering headache to bed.

***

The next day, Gojyo was back to wishing for a magazine. A book, even. Porn. Something. The Pig was so empty he thought he might see tumbleweeds rolling past any second.

He yawned and crossed his arms over his chest, gearing up for a nap. Naturally, that was when Mr. Mole and Mr. Earring walked in.

"Nice to have the place all to ourselves," Mr. Earring said, after Gojyo got them seated. "It was getting quite busy for a while."

"Yeah, real nice." Mr. Mole grinned, displaying his unsavory collection of remaining teeth. "I think I like it better this way. Bet it'll last too."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?" Gojyo did his best to sound casual. He thought he probably failed.

"Your boss bit someone," Mr. Mole said, with obvious relish. "You think it's catching, like werewolves? I never knew anyone who got bit and didn't get eaten or his head ripped or something."

"He did not," Gojyo said.

"I'm sure that's an exaggeration," Mr. Earring said. "You were here. You must've seen something?"

"Uh," Gojyo said. He glanced back towards the kitchen. "What do you wanna eat?"

It wasn't the most gracious exchange he'd ever had with a customer, but it got him away from them and into the back with Hakkai.

Hakkai had been cooking all day, despite the lack of people to eat his food. Steaming dishes filled all the available counter space. Plates rested on the rims of other plates, piled high, like a costly and breakable house of cards. Gojyo paused. He should give Hakkai the order and go.

"Did you seriously bite that guy?" he blurted.

"I didn't bite anyone."

"Oh."

Hakkai half-turned. The bright lights over the stove bleached his face and whited out the nuances of his expression. "Is that not the answer you wanted?"

"Just. He said..."

"Yes, I heard."

"When you threw that guy out..."

Hakkai set down the long chopsticks he was using to poke at the stuff in the wok. "I didn't hurt him." He pushed Gojyo back, palm warm on Gojyo's chest. "But he didn't want to leave."

"So you--"

"Helped him along."

Gojyo's back hit the wall with a hollow thump. He could feel claws pricking his skin, even through his shirt. Hakkai's smile wasn't polite or pleasant. It showed a hint of fang.

"Of course, the door was behind him at this point," Hakkai said. "Whereas you have nowhere to go."

"Don't want to go nowhere."

"Anywhere."

"That either."

Hakkai watched him, eyes shifting at every tiny movement Gojyo made, like he was waiting for him to run. Gojyo could see where the biting rumors had come from.

"Should I let you go?" Hakkai asked.

Gojyo shrugged one shoulder, carefully. "Whatever."

"You don't care?"

"No. Except, your food's kind of on fire. A little."

Hakkai blinked and looked over his shoulder.

"Oh. Oh, dear." He hurried over to pour baking soda on the fire, looking a lot less like a big predator and a lot more like someone's mom. He even had the apron.

"They'll come back," Gojyo said. "It's no big deal."

"I'm sure." Hakkai walked his wok over to the trash and scraped out its charred contents.

"It'll be okay," Gojyo said, louder, like that would make it happen.

"Perhaps this wasn't a good idea." Hakkai still stood over the garbage can, wok hanging from one hand.

"Hey, you're good at this. It's not your fault they're jerks."

"No, they're quite right. I am dangerous. I understand why they don't want to be around me."

Gojyo took the wok from him and set it aside. "I'm around you."

"I think you're fairly dangerous yourself. Aren't you?" Hakkai looked up from the burnt noodles and gave him a small smile.

Gojyo thought about Banri's business associates, about their intestines all over the floor. Messy.

"Maybe. But I don't look it." He shifted. This was probably a bad thing to say, but that hadn't stopped him so far. "You know, you could--" He gestured at his own ear, miming putting on limiters.

"I could." Hakkai dug in his pocket. When he spread his palm open, there were three dull metal ear cuffs on it.

"You carry them with you?"

"In case of emergencies."

Gojyo didn't ask what kind of emergencies.

"But I haven't worn them since I got back. I decided not to."

"Eh. Probably wouldn't help that much now anyway." He stepped closer and touched Hakkai's palm. He hadn't really planned on it, but his fingers were there anyway, two of them, resting near the heel of his hand. It was a tiny distance from there to those grey half moons. He inched one finger over Hakkai's skin to touch one.

They were warm, like his palm, smooth, like his palm. Hakkai had no calluses, and his skin was soft. Gojyo poked at the nearest limiter and, when Hakkai didn't stop him or growl or anything, picked it up.

"What's it like wearing them?

The vent over the stove hummed, and the bell on the front door of the cafe jingled in the distance. Gojyo kept his eyes down and rolled the limiter between thumb and forefinger.

"Nothing like being human," Hakkai said, at last.

It sounded almost like a joke, but it didn't take a brainiac to notice that Hakkai wasn't big on jokes. "How do you know?" Gojyo asked.

Hakkai gave him a bright smile. "I should get that order started."

Gojyo nearly pushed it. He nearly pushed Hakkai right up against the wall and demanded some answers. But he didn't have any right. Maybe he didn't want to know, anyway.

***

The first snow that year was in October, and it was a big one. Gojyo woke up to a world of sugar-white valleys and peaks where the road and trees used to be. He groaned at the thought of forcing his way through it, but he'd have to. He didn't keep coffee or tea in the house anymore. Hakkai's was so much better.

He'd just managed to find his boots when there was a knock on the door. Who was nuts enough to be out in this?

Hakkai was, it turned out. Hakkai's smile faded to pursed lips and a frown as he surveyed Gojyo's lack of housekeeping. "Everything's closed today," he said. "Including the Pig. I just came to see if you were all right. Here." He pushed two bags of groceries into Gojyo's arms and marched inside. "I'd take off my boots, but what would be the point?"

"Uh, I'm fine," Gojyo said.

"I think that's debatable."

Gojyo knew what was coming next. "I don't have any cleaning stuff," he said.

"Not any?"

"Sorry."

"That's all right. Quite effective household cleansers can be made from vinegar--"

Gojyo shook his head.

"Lemon juice?"

"Nope."

Hakkai crossed his arms over his chest. "I suppose baking soda is too much to hope for."

"You guess right."

"What do you have in this...place?"

"Beer. Salt. Um. Frozen hot dog buns. Mustard. Maybe some ice cream and frozen peas, but they're really old."

Hakkai opened his mouth, raised his hands and lowered them again. "How can you--" He looked around. "Come on. Carry those bags."

"Hakkai!"

"Yes?"

"You can't order me out of my own house!"

Hakkai put his hands on his hips and gave Gojyo an exasperated look. "You can't think I'd let you stay here."

Gojyo's insides twisted in an unexpectedly pleasant way. I get along fine, he wanted to say. He didn't, because Hakkai might believe him.

He got his coat and picked up the bags, and they stepped out into the snow.

"There'll be more before nightfall," Hakkai said. "You might have to stay over."

Gojyo hunched his shoulders against the cutting wind and smiled down at his boots. The cold made him shiver in his old leather jacket, and the flash of sun on snow was nearly blinding.

It wasn't long before they stood outside Hakkai's front door. Hakkai had the key in the lock when his roof unfolded and shook a metric fuck-ton of snow right down on Gojyo's head.

"F-- What the-- Hakkai! What the shit is--" Gojyo made himself stop. He hated asking stupid questions, and it was pretty obviously a dragon. It was white as the snow, with eyes as red as Gojyo's own, small through the body, but with wings large enough to cover most of the visible roof area. That explained Hakkai's odd white roof, but totally failed to explain why he had a dragon who habitually slept on it.

"Kyu?" said the dragon. It fluttered down from the roof and landed in front of Gojyo. It snuffled at him. Gojyo tried to shuffle backwards, but was hampered by the pile of snow the damn thing had dumped on him. It stuck in his hair and came up nearly to his knees.

"Ah. Nice dragon?"

"It's not polite to surprise guests," Hakkai said to the dragon. "This is Gojyo. Gojyo, this is Hakuryuu."

Gojyo swallowed. "Nice to meet you." It seemed like the safe thing to say.

The dragon snorted at him. It folded its wings tightly to its slim body and pushed through the door into the house.

"Uh...Hakkai?"

"I'm sorry. He doesn't come inside often anymore, since he had his growth spurt, but it is awfully cold outside."

"Growth spurt?" Gojyo said weakly.

"Yes, he used to be able to ride on my shoulder. Now I can nearly ride on his." Hakkai brushed snow clumps out of Gojyo's hair and herded him inside.

"When did he..."

The dragon curled up on the small bed wedged into the far corner, taking up most of it. His wings drooped over the sides and brushed the floor.

"It was on the way back. It would've been more useful a week earlier, but one can't have everything. Clothes off, please."

Gojyo forgot about the dragon. "What?"

"You'll catch cold. Hang them by the fire, and I'll get you something dry." He disappeared behind a screen with a scene of some ruined castled painted on it.

Gojyo looked at the growing puddle by his feet, sighed, and pulled his shirt off. He started shivering when his jeans hit the floor. Icy rivulets of snow-melt ran down the ends of his hair and over his skin.

Hakkai pushed jeans and a large, lumpy-looking purple sweater into his arms.

"I made it for Sanzo," he said, as Gojyo pulled it on. "But he wouldn't touch it. I didn't expect him to, really." He pulled at the shoulder seams and tugged the hem down sharply. "Hm. It would've been much too large for him anyway, apparently."

"You knit?"

"Yes. I find it calming."

Gojyo had gotten used to the vines, and the claws and teeth, and the aura of slight menace and grounded power. Somehow, the image of Hakkai with knitting needles and, like, baby booties brought it all back. "You are one crazy motherfucker," he said.

"No, I didn't do that."

"Didn't wh--" Oh, right. His sister, not his mom. Gojyo got the dry jeans on and sat in front of the fire. Hakkai draped a white, fluffy towel over his head and headed for the kitchen.

Gojyo rubbed at his hair and looked around. The floors were polished wood like at the Pig, with a couple burnt spots near the edge of the hearth. The couch was rusty orange and worn at the arms. A chair stood next to it, bowed wooden legs and faded tapestry seat. Looked like someone had been trying to repair the stitching. Hakkai's kitchen sparkled at the far end of the room.

It looked so goddamned normal. Gojyo spotted a basket near the chair with a tangle of red yarn in it, sprouting two wooden knitting needles like antennae. The yarn was just about exactly the color of his hair. He wondered if the next lumpy sweater was meant for him.

Hakkai sat next to him on the couch and handed him a mug. The soup inside had noodles in it and beet rounds cut into flowers. Gojyo breathed in steam.

"You know, my brother did," he said. "Fucked my mom." He'd never told anyone, never even hinted at it. He'd only thought about it when he couldn't help it. He was sure it shouldn't be so easy to say it now.

Hakkai pushed the poker into the heart of the fire, sending up a fog of sparks . "Were they in love?" he asked.

"No. I think mostly he did it to stop her knocking me around."

"Did it work?"

"No. Not really." Gojyo took a sip of broth. "He killed her. To stop her killing me."

It wasn't a relief, exactly. But it was something. Gojyo held the mug of soup tight until it was almost burning his hands. The tips of his hair still lost the occasional drop of water down his cheek or the back of his neck.

Hakkai smiled, and it looked genuine for once. "There's always blood at the end, isn't there?"

Gojyo sucked one long noodle into his mouth. It whip-lashed and caught him in the nose with a hot spray of broth.

"Yeah. Guess there is."

Hakkai pulled out his knitting. It was weird how uncomfortable the quiet wasn't, Gojyo thought. Seemed like all the history in the room should make its own noise, something whiney and grumbling. The click of the needles, the crackle of the fire, and the slurp of noodles disappearing into Gojyo's mouth were the only sounds. The red yarn looked like blood to Gojyo, but it was a long way from the real thing.

He finished his soup and stretched out on the floor in front of the fire. He could see Hakkai's stocking feet in the corner of his vision on one side, the red-charred logs of the fire on the other.

"You think it's like this for everyone and nobody talks about it?" he asked.

"Like what?"

"Blood, bad stuff. Secrets you can't ever tell."

Hakkai was quiet for a long time. Even the click of his needles stopped. "Maybe not for everyone."

"There's more, right? Stuff you haven't told me."

"You've heard the worst--well, no. You haven't heard the worst of it." He frowned.

"What?"

"So much has happened that sometimes I forget where it started." He paused. "It's snowing again."

"So? Good time for stories."

"Not this sort."

"Hakkai--"

"You might want to leave after I've told you. And you shouldn't go out in this weather."

Gojyo crossed his arms behind his head and wriggled his toes. "Dunno. I'm pretty comfy where I am."

The click of Hakkai's knitting needles started up again. Gojyo drifted, warmed by the fire and the undemanding company. He wondered what had happened to Sanzo's face, what had happened to make him such a bastard, and if those two things were the same thing. He thought about the whole world being full of secrets like his, secrets that made people wary and wound them up tight inside against an accidental slip. Maybe none of them would sound so bad once they got said out loud.

"Do you remember an incident many years ago, before the trouble started? Hyakugan Mao's clan wiped out over the course of a month or so?"

"Yeah, sure. People still talk about that. Over a thousand of them, and they said it was just one guy--" Gojyo looked hard at the ceiling. One guy, right. Okay, maybe some secrets were every bit as bad as their owners thought they were.

"They took my sister, you see."

"They said he turned into some kind of monster, that guy."

"Ah. Well, as you can see, they were right."

Gojyo turned his head away from the heat of the fire. Hakkai's socks were sagging, and Gojyo could see the vine pattern twisted around his ankles. Blood of a thousand youkai. He'd been hearing that story his whole life. He'd thought about doing it once or twice on days when he couldn't stand being neither one thing or the other. But not seriously. Never seriously.

He reached touched one of the vines with a fingertip. Hakkai jumped so badly his knitting spilled off his lap and onto Gojyo's stomach. Gojyo held onto his ankle and kept a hold on the knitting, too, when Hakkai reached for it.

"What's your weapon?" he asked. "It's not these." He twitched the needles in Hakkai's direction.

Hakkai hesitated, lips slightly parted and hand still outstretched. "I... This." A little energy ball formed in his palm, white and pulsing. "I can use it to heal as well."

"Not bad."

"And this." The vine on his ankle unfurled and crawled over the back of Gojyo's hand to curl delicately around his wrist.

Gojyo didn't snatch his hand back, but only because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to. Or he'd break the vine. He didn't know which would be worse. He swallowed, and his hand clenched around Hakkai's knitting.

"Uh," he said.

"They're quite strong."

"...Thanks for the info."

The vine wound its slow way up Gojyo's forearm to his elbow. It was warm and prickly, but not uncomfortable. It thrummed, and he felt it particularly on the softer skin of his inner arm. It felt alive. He wondered if Hakkai really had complete control over it. The way it was wandering towards his shoulder suggested maybe not so much.

"Hakkai."

"Hm?"

"You wanna let go of me?"

"No." The tip made it up to Gojyo's neck and touched briefly behind his ear. "But I will." The vine unwound all at once and retracted, sinking back into Hakkai's skin like ink on paper.

Gojyo closed his eyes and fought down a shudder, suddenly aware of a stirring interest from his cock. He bit the inside of his cheek viciously hard until it receded. None of that shit. Hakkai confused him enough already. His cock was not allowed to register an opinion.

"Will you show me yours?"

Gojyo looked up sharply. "What?"

"Your weapon. And may I have my knitting back? You're tangling it."

"Oh. Oh, fuck, sorry." Gojyo disentangled his fingers from it and handed it back. "Uh...it's kinda big. My weapon."

Hakkai smiled down at the snarl of yarn in his hands. "I have no doubt."

"Hakkai!"

"Hm?"

"...Shut up. I just didn't wanna knock your stuff over."

"I'm sure you'll be careful."

Every sentence Hakkai started with 'I'm sure' came out sounding like a threat. Gojyo sighed. "Right. Sure."

He reached both hands into the air to let his shakujo materialize into them. They found their places easily on the worn shaft, fingers rubbing over small gouges where he'd blocked a sharper blow. He'd always thought that was funny, since the blade never dulled or nicked.

"Ta da. Like it?"

"Very much." Hakkai ran his fingers along the shaft and up around the curve of the blade. "How old were you?"

"Late. Seventeen. Didn't think I'd be able to do it at all. You know."

Hakkai nodded. "I was quite a bit older when I found out about the vines."

"Nice surprise."

"It was certainly surprising. Would you like to see if this fits?"

Gojyo looked up. The mess of red yarn had transformed into half a sock, from the toe to just below the heel. "It's for me?"

Hakkai nodded. Gojyo let his weapon dissipate and eased the sock on his foot, careful of the needles. "Hey, fits pretty good. I think you're getting better."

"I've killed a lot of people," Hakkai said, too soft to be casual. "Honestly a lot. I don't remember how many."

"More than a thousand."

"Probably more than twice that."

That was honestly a lot. It was so many Gojyo didn't know how to think about it, especially with half Hakkai's sock clinging to the end of his foot. He stuck his leg up in the air so the yarn ends dangled down towards his nose.

"Gojyo! Be careful with that, please. It took a lot of work." Hakkai reached for it, and Gojyo let him slip it off.

There was a knock at the door.

"Ah, that'll be Sanzo. He doesn't like staying at the temple when it snows." Hakkai put his knitting aside and rose. "His monks get in snowball fights, and it makes him cross."

Sanzo pushed through when Hakkai opened the door and kicked the snow off his boots. He wasn't wearing a coat or hat, but there was a rather lumpy purple scarf around his neck. Gojyo couldn't help smiling, but he looked away and did it at the fire instead.

"What are you doing here?" Sanzo asked. He didn't sound real upset about it. Just, like Hakkai had said, cross.

"Hakkai came to rescue me from a life without coffee and cleaning products."

"Oh!" Hakkai said. "I forgot the coffee." He headed for the kitchen while Sanzo slumped on the couch.

"Are you really hiding out from your monks?" Gojyo asked.

Sanzo lit a cigarette before he answered. Hakkai didn't say anything, so maybe the smoking ban didn't hold at home. "They're bad enough when they're not whooping and stuffing snow down each other's robes."

"Couldn't you just tell them not to?"

Sanzo shrugged. "Too much trouble."

"Yeah, why bother when you can come here and freeload instead?"

"Idiot." Sanzo leaned down to blow smoke in his face. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Hey, I was invited."

"You were picked up like a stray cat."

That stung, mostly because it was true. Gojyo glared. "And why'd he pick you up? I know it wasn't for your pretty face."

Sanzo shot him a knife-edged grin. "Obviously."

Gojyo knew he was smack up against the past again. Sanzo's scars, Hakkai's second thousand dead bodies, the dragon's growth spurt, this Goku person. He still didn't have any right to ask, but Sanzo wasn't giving him any reason to be polite.

"So what happened to it? Your face."

"Didn't we do this last time? Where'd you get your hair and--"

"My dad fucked some human. Your turn."

Sanzo watched him, narrow-eyed, through a cloud of smoke. Gojyo tried to forget that Hakkai could hear every word of this.

"There was a fire."

"And?"

"And I got burned." He sat back and looked so smug that Gojyo nearly smacked him. He blew smoke rings that drifted towards the fire and were broken up by the hot air. "It was in India," he added, at last. "It's a good reminder."

"You like it," Gojyo guessed. "Looking like that."

"Yeah. I do."

"He thinks it makes him less attractive," Hakkai said, coming back with a tray of coffee and bread and butter. "Aren't women supposed to like men with scars?"

"Depends on the scars," Gojyo said. "And the men."

"The burn would've healed better if you'd let me treat it," Hakkai said.

"You were tired."

"Well, we'd had a long day."

"Doing what?" Gojyo asked.

Hakkai and Sanzo looked at each other. Hakkai shrugged and stirred cream into his coffee. Sanzo tipped his head back. He blew smoke at the ceiling. "Saving the world," he said.

Gojyo thought he was joking at first, but, like Hakkai, Sanzo wasn't really a joking person. Gojyo laid his head back on the floor and closed his eyes and smiled. After a while, he started to laugh.

Sanzo kicked him. At the same time, Hakkai said, "Are you all right? I poured you some coffee."

Sanzo kicked him again for good measure, though not as hard as he might have. Gojyo muffled the rest of his built-up giggles and cleared his throat.

"Saved the world, huh? The whole world?"

"Large parts of it, certainly," Hakkai said.

Sanzo snorted a laugh and turned it into a cough. "The parts we live in, definitely."

Gojyo sat up and took his coffee, and a piece of bread. "So tell me," he said.

"Tell you what?"

"Come on. You don't say something like, 'Oh yeah, and this one time we saved the world' and then not tell the story. You're itching to tell someone, both of you."

They told him. It was dinner time before they'd finished, and Gojyo had a mild headache from the number of times Sanzo had smacked him in the back of the head with this paper fan thing he whipped out of his sleeve.

Hakkai gave Sanzo ramen with mayo--while Gojyo made subtle gagging noises--and walked him to the door. And then Gojyo was alone with Hakkai again. They sat on the couch. The fire burned low.

"Are you staying the night?" Hakkai asked.

"Am I?"

"I think you should."

There was a bunch of things Gojyo wanted to say. Hell of a story. Thanks for doing all that. Good job. And most of all why me. Sanzo, Goku, Hakkai, those guys were epic. Good or bad, and Gojyo couldn't make that call, they were all larger than life, way larger than he was or ever would be.

"Maybe I should go."

"If that's what you want."

Gojyo was supposed to go home, go to sleep, get back to work when the snow cleared. Pretend everything was cool. Pretend nothing had changed. Lie.

"I don't. I don't want to go."

"Then stay. As long as you'd like. Please."

Gojyo slumped down against the couch cushions. His heart was beating too fast, and his palms were sweaty. "As long as I'd like, huh?"

"Yes."

"You shouldn't say stuff like that."

Hakkai looked at him, square on. "Would you like to move in with me, Gojyo?"

There was a long silence. Across the room, the dragon raised his head and looked over at them. The bed springs squeaked.

"Yeah," Gojyo said. His heart didn't stop and the world didn't end.

"All right. Would you like to borrow some pajamas?"

Gojyo nodded, dumb and grateful that they weren't going to talk about it. He was out of courage for the night.

***

Gojyo moved in bit by bit. Clean clothes came over; dirty clothes stayed and got washed. The half-full case of beer moved from Gojyo's fridge to Hakkai's. Shoes, leather jacket, cigarettes.

"Ashtray," Hakkai told him. "You should buy one."

"Yeah, when do I get that next paycheck again?"

He didn't get another paycheck, and he didn't buy an ashtray, but one materialized on the floor in front of the couch where he spent most of his time.

That first night, Hakkai had slept on the couch and Gojyo on the floor. The dragon had refused to get off the bed. After that, usually Gojyo got the couch, Hakkai the bed. Gojyo didn't mind. The fire was warm, even banked for the night, and the couch was long enough to stretch out on.

Hakkai was always gone when he got up, already cooking at the Pig. Sometimes they walked home together. Sometimes Gojyo went to the bar. Once or twice he dragged Hakkai along. His old house sat and moldered. Sometimes, like when Hakkai made him wash the dishes or pick up his beer cans, he pretended like he missed it.

Winter set in. Business picked up at the Pig until Gojyo was running nearly all day long, eleven in the morning till nine or ten at night and then clean up. Hell of a job not to get paid for. He bitched about it sometimes, but he didn't mean it.

One late night, he finished swabbing down the kitchen floor and watched Hakkai cook up some ginger and chicken thing from India, just enough for the two of them. His back ached, and his feet hurt, and he was starting to get new muscles from all the mop work. He got a smile on his face he couldn't get rid of and put a hand over his mouth to hide it. Hakkai saw it anyway and smiled back, hair falling over half his face, ear-tips bright pink.

The next morning when Gojyo came into work, there was a mob outside the Pig, complete with all the best accessories; weapons, surly expressions, and too much time on their hands.

He bypassed the crowd, sliding down the alley and in the back door. Hakkai was at the stove, poking at a pot of soup. An older youkai sat on a stool nearby. It took Gojyo a minute to realize it was Mr. Earring.

"Uh. Hey," Gojyo said. He still didn't know the guy's real name.

Earring gave him a weak wave.

"Mr. Wen has a few problems," Hakkai said.

"Yeah, I saw them outside. Some of them had pitchforks."

"How impolite."

"Not too smart either. They make crappy weapons. So what'd you do?" Gojyo asked Earring--Wen, rather.

"My friend, Tan, you remember him?"

"With the--" Gojyo gestured at his chin, hopefully getting across the atrocity of Mr. Mole's mole.

"Yes, that's him. I hit him."

"Well. Somebody was gonna, sooner or later."

"I hit him too hard."

"Oh. Uh. Is he..."

"I broke his arm." Wen leaned forward and put his hands over his face.

Gojyo relaxed slightly. Broken arm was way better than dead. "Better give me the whole story."

He did. It was short. An argument over the youkai town, a punch thrown. Tan fell back and hit the wall and then the edge of the table, and snap.

"I knelt to help him up and he pulled off my limiter and told his wife I was trying to kill him."

Gojyo cleared his throat and looked at Hakkai, but Hakkai was looking at his soup. Gojyo sighed. "Okay, that's dumb. I mean, you know that's dumb, right? He's your friend. His wife knows you. How'd you get from him being a jerk to morons with pitchforks?"

"She didn't recognize me at first, chased me out with a kitchen knife, there were people around-- I don't even know, really. I just ran."

"Here."

"You helped me last time."

Gojyo stared at him, trying to think what he might mean. "I did?"

"You don't remember? I thought... Well, you did look distracted. I was," he stopped and swallowed. "I was losing myself. It was the beginning of--everything. The bad years. Mrs Cheng short changed me on a steamed bun, and I was going to-- I was so angry. You stopped me. Thank you," he added.

Gojyo did remember it. He'd just come down to steal some food, meant to go right back to his cave. He remembered the horror in Wen's eyes and how he'd assumed it was directed at him, at his shredded clothes and matted hair and blood colored eyes. Wen had run for the hills, and Gojyo had run in the opposite direction. He'd ended up back at his little house. Eventually, he'd gone inside and cleaned himself up.

"I remember," he said.

"I didn't know where else to go," Wen said.

So he'd come here, like Gojyo could help him. But this wasn't a problem that would be fixed by a punch in the mouth, which was all the help he'd given Wen the first time around.

"Shit," Gojyo said. He sighed. "Shit. Did he give you tea? Have some tea." There was a pot on the counter and Gojyo poured some, pushing the mug into his hands. They were shaking. Gojyo tried not to notice. "Yo, Hakkai. A word?"

Hakkai ignored him until Gojyo took his elbow and pulled him away across the room where Wen couldn't hear, or at least would probably feel obligated to pretend he couldn't hear.

"Are you even paying attention?" Gojyo said.

"It's a simple misunderstanding."

"Hey, you weren't around for the bad stuff. This is the kind of misunderstanding that gets people killed. He's got to be over seventy!"

"I'm a hundred and twelve," Wen called.

"Drink your goddamn tea! Hakkai, do something."

"What would you suggest? I'm not a diplomat. I'm just a killer."

"You are so full of shit. You're not even gonna try to talk to them?"

"I don't think that would be wise." He pulled away and walked back to Wen. "You could leave through the back," he said. "They don't seem to be an overly bright mob."

"And go where? I was born in this town." He clutched his mug until his fingers were white, but he seemed oddly calmer now. "I'll go out after I finish this."

"Don't be stupid," Gojyo said. He waited for Hakkai to back him up, but Hakkai was looking at his damn soup again. "Fine. Fuck. Fine." He shoved at Hakkai's shoulder. "Gimme those limiters."

Hakkai blinked. "I don't know if they're interchangeable."

"And you never will know until you try. Hand them over."

"I-- I really only need one," Wen said. "I haven't got that much to limit."

Hakkai pressed his lips together in a way that suggested Gojyo would be washing his own socks for some time to come, but he did hand Wen one small, dull ear cuff. Wen put it on and lost his youkai ears and eyes so fast Gojyo barely saw it happen. He bent double and coughed afterwards.

"That was... I'd rather not do that again. Do you have a plan?" he asked Gojyo.

"No. Yeah. Come on."

The crowd stirred as they walked out the front door. Someone yelled something at the back, but Gojyo yelled louder, channeling Sanzo on a bad day. "Everyone shut up right the fuck now!"

Everyone did, and Gojyo was so surprised he almost missed his opportunity. "Tan," he said. "Where's Tan? Here?"

The men at the front looked confused. Gojyo recognized a lot of them; guys he'd played cards with or seen around the bar, or just around town. It was a shock. He'd seen mobs before, but not ones made up of people he knew. He didn't think he'd known enough people to make up a mob before.

"Come on, guys. You know." He made the mole gesture again, and suddenly everyone was nodding. Ohhh, that Tan. "Wait," Gojyo said. "You're all out here looking to revenge a guy whose name you didn't even know?"

"Avenge," Wen murmured. Everyone ignored him.

"Everyone knows--" a guy at the front started.

"You don't know jack shit, Yao. You can't even remember how much a jack is worth, so just shut it." There were some unkind snickers from various parts of the crowd. "In fact, nobody gets to talk who hasn't beaten me at poker at least once." The snickers died. "Now where's Tan?"

"Home," someone said. "His neighbor went for the doctor."

"Fine. We'll all go see him." Gojyo pulled Wen forward. "One big fucking party."

They'd reached the far side of the crowd when somebody grabbed Gojyo's shoulder. He felt something hard and sharp bounce off his back. He pushed Wen clear, and his weapon settled solidly into his hands as he rounded the crowd.

"Yeah, that's a bright idea. You want to try me instead of him? I won't run, that's a promise." He was angrier than he should be. This was only what he'd expected.

There was some muttering, but to his surprise, no one stepped forward.

"Well. Fine. Come on, then."

The anger drained away. He'd really thought there would be a fight. A nice, simple fight, and this would turn into a problem he could fix with his fists after all. He would kick a couple key asses, get the doctor, maybe buy them a beer later, and everything would be settled. Easy. He hadn't expected everyone to follow along behind him like he knew what the hell he was doing.

"What are you doing?" Wen asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm supposed to know that, huh?"

"I think it would be helpful."

Hakkai would have a plan. He shook his head. Hakkai didn't have a plan, which was kind of the point. Right.

"Uh. Where's his house?" Gojyo whispered.

Wen led the way, but Gojyo was the first one in the door. Which was why he got clocked on the side of the head with Mrs. Tan's wok. He went down hard. The faint scent of ginger and spring onions followed him.

When he could blink fast enough to clear the blur from his eyes, he was sitting in a chair. A woman who looked like the grandmother he would've liked to have had held a bag of ice to his head.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know my own strength."

He groaned. His head throbbed.

"Oh, you poor boy." She patted his cheek with a gently wrinkled hand. Her skin was so soft. Like her wok, she also smelled of ginger. Like Hakkai. Gojyo felt himself drifting again and sat up straight.

"Wen," he croaked. "Where's Wen?"

"Here." Wen waved at him from across the room.

"Tan?" Gojyo said, suspicious now.

"Yo, sonny," Tan said.

"Don't say 'yo'," his wife told him. "You sound like an old fool."

"I do not."

"You really do," Gojyo and Wen said in unison.

Gojyo blinked, shook his head, and wished he hadn't. "Uh. Aren't we missing something? Like a mob?"

"I told them to go fuck themselves," Tan said. He grinned, once again displaying his sad dental remnants. His mole wobbled.

"And?" his wife said.

There was a pause.

"And that I'd made a mistake," Tan mumbled.

Made a mistake, right. Turning your best friend into a monster and then trying to get him crucified. Some mistake. Gojyo could see it, the limiters coming off and how easy it must've been to yell for help, knowing what everyone would think when they saw Wen all beclawed and pointy-eared.

"And that worked?" Gojyo said.

"Nuwa taught most of them how to read," Wen said. "I think that helped."

"My boys know enough to listen to their teacher," Nuwa said. "No matter how old they get. I really can't apologize enough," she added to Gojyo. "Those bad years, I got in the habit of overreacting."

Gojyo sighed. Wen seemed happy enough, and everyone was still alive. Maybe that was what mattered.

"Yeah," he said. "I guess everyone did."

***

It was snowing again.

Gojyo's sheets were the same ones that had been on the bed in October. They smelled of mold. He lay on top of them, stripped down to his boxers.

"Well, shit," he said to the ceiling. "That went well."

Things had been going so good up to the part where he hit Hakkai in the face.

He sort of hated Hakkai right now, in a totally unfair way that he'd recognized as soon as it slunk into his brain. It was the same way he'd hated Jien right after, for doing what he did, going ninety percent of way and then just flaking out and fucking off to nowheresville. What kind of a rescuer leaves a little kid alone with his mom's bloody body?

But that wasn't fair to Jien, even if it had taken Gojyo close to thirty years to admit it, and it was even less fair to Hakkai, who hadn't set out to rescue anybody.

Gojyo should apologize. He knew that. He just wasn't very sorry.

He'd come into the Pig to find Hakkai sitting at one of the many empty tables. Just the way he was hunched over and the grim, stoic line of his mouth had made Gojyo twitch.

"You could've done something," Gojyo had said.

"Sanzo always says doing nothing is doing something, too."

"Then it's doing a stupid something. What's wrong with you? They could've killed him."

"You took care of that."

"What if I hadn't? What if I hadn't shown up?"

"You always show up."

"You were betting his life on my perfect attendance record? That's just great."

"I would only have made it worse."

Gojyo had started getting seriously angry then. He recognized it in retrospect; the internal tightening and the mounting thunder of his pulse, beating in his ears and in the lump on the side of his head. He could still feel it there, a dull nagging, not nearly as gentle as Hakkai's usually was. It wouldn't stop if he made the bed either.

"Worse than dead? How could you make it worse than dead?"

Hakkai had smiled down at his hands on the shiny polished table top. "Worse than dead is something of a specialty of mine."

"If you think you're scaring me or something--"

"If you're not scared, I can only think you must be exceedingly stupid."

That wasn't when Gojyo had hit him, although, looking back on it, that would've been a good time, too.

Gojyo had just stared, more disbelieving than insulted. Hakkai didn't say stuff like that. "Yeah. That's me, sure. Did I tell you she hit me with a goddamn wok? Wham, right on the side of head. I'm okay, thanks for asking. Must be that thick skull."

Hakkai had taken a precise sip of his tea. "I broke a man's skull once. Well, not a man. A youkai. With my hand. His brain was more solid than you might think. It stood up to quite a bit of pressure."

"So you can't get into it with anyone in case you squish their brains? Fuck, Hakkai."

"I just want to live quietly."

"Every fucking body wants that! And guess what, no one gets it. There's always some fucking thing screwing shit up, and sometimes it's you screwing shit up for other people. That's just how it is."

"Did I tell you I died?" Hakkai's fingers had squeaked over polished wood. Gojyo could just about hear the sound even now. He'd picked up his teacup and set it back down, rattling his saucer. "I think it was a good thing."

That was when Gojyo'd hit him.

He'd left Hakkai all wide-eyed and bleeding a little from his nose and gone straight home and now here he was. Home, for a certain value of home that had no value at all, with a moldy bed and sentient life emerging from the remains of the mustard in the fridge.

He should apologize.

He tried that thought out in his head. No, it didn't work. It only ended with more punching and probably Hakkai--breaking up with him. Or whatever. If he hadn't already decided that he never wanted to see Gojyo again, which was totally possible.

Gojyo's stomach rumbled. He told it to shut up. Nothing was going to get better before morning, so he might as well sleep. He crawled between the damp sheets and closed his eyes.

***

There was someone in the house, someone close to the bed, reaching for him. His weapon was in his hands and he struck fast, but not fast enough. There was a flash of light, and his weapon rebounded back towards him, and then there was a warm weight pinning him to the bed. And prickly-hot vines winding around his wrists. He stilled.

"Hakkai?" he whispered.

"Yes."

"Lights. Turns on the lights." Hakkai didn't move. "Please," Gojyo said. The vines were tightening, pressing into his skin. He needed to know this was Hakkai holding him down in the dark.

There was a click as the bedside lamp turned on. Hakkai looked down at him, solemn and pale. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"This time," Gojyo said before he could stop himself.

"Yes. This time."

The pressure around his wrists eased, and Gojyo looked at his reddened skin.

"What are you doing here?"

"You were hurt."

Hakkai's nose was swollen, bruised across the ridge. Gojyo wondered if he'd broken it.

"Yeah. You knew that before."

"Yes." Hakkai bent his head like it was too heavy to hold up. The rest of his body followed until he was stretched out over Gojyo, one thigh between Gojyo's with only the sheet separating them. His hair tickled Gojyo's cheek.

Gojyo lifted a hand to touch his face, surprised when the vines stretched to let him do it. He ran his fingers over Hakkai's cheek and the soft, puffy heat of his injured nose. Hakkai didn't flinch.

"Thought you said you could heal stuff."

"I can."

"Why didn't you then?"

"You left too fast."

"I meant your nose, dumbass."

"I don't care about that," Hakkai said, very softly. His lips touched Gojyo's chest just below his collar bone and stayed there, not quite a kiss. He breathed moist puffs of air against Gojyo's skin.

"Well, I do." He pushed his fingers into Hakkai's hair and curled his hand around the back of his head. "I do, okay? So fix it already."

Hakkai nodded, and a pale light bloomed. It uplit Hakkai's face and sent weird shadows to crawl up the walls. It pulsed and faded. Gojyo examined Hakkai's nose. There were still spots of dried blood over his top lip, but the swelling and bruising was gone. Gojyo scratched the blood away with his thumbnail.

"Better," he said.

"Shall I do yours now?"

Gojyo felt like he should say no, but he wasn't sure what point he'd be proving. Anyway, it hurt. "Okay."

It made the same glow, and it felt a little warm, and then there was no more pain. He touched the lump, and it wasn't there anymore.

"Felt kinda good," he said.

"No one ever said that before."

"Maybe I'm just special."

"Mm," Hakkai said. He hooked an arm over Gojyo's shoulder and tucked his hand around the back of Gojyo's neck. "You're very warm."

"If you're cold, you should get under the covers. They're kinda gross though."

"I don't mind."

Hakkai got between the sheets. His hand stayed where it was, warm on Gojyo's neck. So did his vines. Without the sheet between them, Gojyo felt the slight scratch of Hakkai's pants and winter sweater against his bare chest and legs.

He felt the smooth curve of Hakkai's skull against his palm, scalp hot under his hair. He remembered Hakkai saying, I had sex with Sanzo once. He shifted and cleared his throat.

"I think I could sleep now," Hakkai said.

"Yeah. Sure."

Hakkai did sleep after a while. His breath was deep and even, anyway, and he probably wouldn't have nuzzled Gojyo's neck like that if he were awake. Gojyo closed his eyes and thought, I want you, very quietly to himself, like training wheels on a bike.

***

Gojyo's house looked oddly cleaner in the bright morning that should show up all of its flaws. Little refracted sunbeams scattered across the ceiling, broken by the heavy, wavy window glass. Hakkai sat on the edge of the bed, stroking Gojyo's hair. One of his vines was getting grabby with Gojyo's pinky finger, which was what had woken him.

"Hey," Gojyo said, voice rusty. He'd thought it might stop the movement of Hakkai's hand from the crown of his head down to the tips of his hair, but it didn't.

"Good morning. You really don't have anything to eat here?"

"Really."

"I see." Hakkai met his eyes then, with a handful of hair clasped in his fist. "Will you come home with me?"

Gojyo nodded. Hakkai released him, hand and vine, so he could dress.

The weather had turned overnight, from soft and snow-fogged to bright and clear and bitter cold. Gojyo stuck his hands into the sleeves of his coat, and the tip of his nose was numb by the time they got to Hakkai's. Hakkai made them eggs for breakfast and then hot sake that they drank on the floor in front of the fire. Their stocking feet pointed towards the flames.

"Where's the dragon?" Gojyo asked.

Hakkai hesitated before he answered. "I sent him to fetch Goku. I know Sanzo misses him..."

"And?"

"And I suppose I thought you might like to meet him. Or that he might like to meet you. Isn't that what one does in these situations?"

"These situations," Gojyo repeated slowly.

"Well, we are living together."

"Yeah. Yeah, we are." Gojyo let himself lean a little more heavily against Hakkai's shoulder.

Hakkai put an arm around his waist, and his hand pushed up the back of Gojyo's shirt. Gojyo let him do it, and then Hakkai's other hand was on his stomach. His fingertips were still chilly. Gojyo shivered.

"I like your skin," Hakkai said. His tone made it almost a question.

Gojyo breathed a laugh and shook his head. "Yeah. Okay."

He let Hakkai peel his shirt off over his head. He threw it out of sight over the back of the couch.

"Don't yell at me for not putting that in the laundry basket later," Gojyo said.

"I won't."

Hakkai pushed him down to the floor. "Ow," Gojyo said. "Hard."

"Yes." Hakkai's cheeks were a little flushed.

"The floor, Hakkai."

"Oh!"

They pulled the cushions down from the couch and lay on them, on their sides and facing each other. At some point, Hakkai had gotten his shirt off as well. His skin was silky smooth except for one patch on his stomach.

"You were really cut up, huh?"

"The doctor said half my intestines were lying on the ground."

The scar was long and pale and raised, twisted and swirled like wind-carved snow drifts. He rubbed his fingers over it and felt Hakkai shiver.

"Doesn't still hurt, does it?"

Hakkai shook his head. "No one's touched it since I was well enough to change the dressings myself."

"Should I stop?"

"Only if you want to."

He didn't, especially after he rubbed a little harder and watched Hakkai arch his back, saw the outline of his cock press against his jeans.

"Does it feel good?" he asked.

"No. It just feels."

Hakkai slid closer and worked his thigh between Gojyo's legs. Gojyo pushed up against it, cock stiff already. Hakkai lowered himself down until they found nearly the same position they'd found last night, fitted close together, maybe a little closer now. Gojyo rocked up again, and Hakkai ground his hips down and moaned.

Hakkai's mouth was on his neck, wet and open. Gojyo pulled him up to kiss him. Just a little. Again, like training wheels, because it suddenly seemed like it might be a long way to the ground if he fell. His lips slid across the soft corner of Hakkai's mouth and caught there. He closed his eyes.

One of Hakkai's hands settled into his hair, and the other settled right on his ass, and Gojyo had a moment of vertigo that felt very much like falling before Hakkai tilted his head and licked between Gojyo's lips, over his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Gojyo clutched at him, nails digging into his shoulder blades on either side of his spine.

"Your pants," he said, in a tight voice. "Can you-- Open."

Hakkai did, somehow, and Hakkai's cock was rubbing against Gojyo's bare stomach. It was hard and slick, and flushed dark. Gojyo stared down and got only glimpses of it as Hakkai shifted on top of him.

"Do that--move--more," he whispered.

Hakkai planted his hands on either side of Gojyo face and rocked his hips so his cock rubbed slowly back and forth over Gojyo's stomach. The head caught at the waist of his pants and at his navel. He bit his lip. His hands ran over the long curve of Hakkai's back.

"Good?" Hakkai murmured, and Gojyo nodded until he felt like his head was on a spring. Hakkai sat back on his thighs and unfastened Gojyo's pants as well. He stroked Gojyo's cock up out of them and scooted forward till they were pressed together. He watched Gojyo's face and rubbed the head of his cock along Gojyo's shaft.

"Please, fuck," Gojyo said, and it was impossible to keep anything he was feeling out of his voice. He didn't really want to try. He closed his eyes and slapped his palm against the floor as Hakkai's cock left sticky trails along the crease of his hip. "Fuck."

Hakkai whispered something that Gojyo didn't hear because his pulse was too loud and bent low to kiss him. His teeth were sharp, nipping along Gojyo's lower lip like he was hungry for him. He closed his hand around both their cocks at the same time and stroked them together, slick and hard and pushing against each other, and Gojyo lasted all of thirty seconds.

He lay back, aware of the rising heat in his cheeks, and watched as Hakkai kneeled up and jerked himself fast. Gojyo's come was on his hand and his cock, being rubbed into his skin. The sound Hakkai made as he came was a little choked, and his eyes squeezed shut and flew open again in time to watch himself come over Gojyo stomach.

"Oh," he said, breathless, "oh." And again and again as he sank down to lie on Gojyo's chest, until it wasn't a word anymore, just a warm rush of air against Gojyo's neck.

Oh, Gojyo thought. Yeah.

Hakkai's hand slid into his hair and stayed there, and Gojyo closed his eyes.

When he woke, the sun was coming through the windows on the west side of the house, and he had about fifty little vines wrapped loosely around his arms and legs. He shifted experimentally, and they let him move. The way they lingered on his skin made him weirdly reluctant to pull free, but he did. He and Hakkai were both sticky, and at least one of them smelled bad. Gojyo was pretty sure it was him.

He cleaned up and wiped Hakkai off a bit, but really, most of the mess had ended up on him. He sat on the couch and then gave in and lay down next to Hakkai again to feel all those little vines wind around him. He didn't think it should be comforting, but it was.

Hakkai's hands slid down to his ass and rested there. "We can do other things, later?" he asked.

"Other things, huh? You wanna fuck me?"

"Yes. I think I do."

"Is that what you did with Sanzo?"

"No. I only sucked his cock. I didn't mind it, but I think I'd rather suck yours."

"Glad to hear it."

"Gojyo?"

"Hm?"

"You did say you liked women."

"What, I gotta make sense? You sure as fuck don't."

"Mm. That's fair enough."

Gojyo poured himself some more sake, cold now, and propped himself up on one elbow to drink it. He did feel like he'd crossed some line here. Sex with someone he liked. Sex with strings attached. Literally. He looked at the vine looped lightly around his wrist. Good thing he liked the strings, then.

"You know, you could use these in the kitchen. To... I don't know, grab spices and stuff. Like having extra arms."

Hakkai stared at him, obviously surprised. No, more than surprised. He looked shocked.

"What?" Gojyo said. "You thought they were only good for killing people?"

"I... I suppose I hadn't given it a lot of thought."

"I can think of a lot of stuff you could use them for." He could, too. Not all of it involved cooking.

Hakkai blinked slowly at him. "It would be very irresponsible not to go into work tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely."

***

After two days of irresponsibility (sex), they were back at work. Gojyo was sweaty, sauce-stained, and ready for a lot more irresponsibility (not sex; maybe some ice water and a chair). The Pig was suddenly the hottest place in town.

"It's your own fault," Hakkai said, but at the end of the day even Hakkai was drooping. It was eleven, and the last customer had just left. Hakkai's arm shook a little as he poured the tea, and they both sat in the draft from the open back door as the kitchen cooled off.

"You need another waiter," Gojyo said.

"Well, maybe when Goku gets back--"

"You need another waiter now. What about--" The image of Sanzo as a waiter started off bad and only got worse. "Never mind."

Wen stuck his head through the door. "Excuse me?"

"There better not be another mob. I am way too tired for that shit."

"No, no. I only came to say thank you. And to apologize."

"Not your fault Tan's a jerk."

Wen sighed. "No, but I think it might have something to do with several years of watching his family and friends get eaten. Anyway, he apologized for overreacting."

"Not good enough," Gojyo muttered.

"Good enough for me," Wen said, a little sharply. "No one learns anything without a second chance."

"I guess."

"We all say things we don't mean sometimes," Wen said, and if he sounded like he was trying to convince himself, he also sounded like he might be succeeding. He set Hakkai's limiter on the table. "Thank you for that as well. Oh, and Nuwa says both of you must come to dinner next weekend. She's heard you used to be a school teacher too, Mr. Cho. Good night." He turned and walked out.

"Hey, any chance you wanna be a waiter?" Gojyo called after him.

"I'm a hundred and twelve," drifted back to them down the alley on the frigid wind.

"I think that's a no." Hakkai tucked the limiter away in his shirt pocket.

"School teacher, huh?"

"Oh, yes."

"Huh." Gojyo paused. "He's wearing his limiters again. I thought he might dump them after that."

"No one can be expected to change all at once," Hakkai said softly. "That's right, isn't it?"

Gojyo nodded slowly, searched for something to say and found nothing. The moment stretched--until Sanzo stomped through the door and kicked it shut behind him.

"Were both of you born in a fucking barn?"

"Might've been. Explains why I got no manners. What's your excuse, blondie?"

Sanzo ignored him and sat down. Hakkai poured tea for him, apparently materializing a third cup out of thin air.

"Goku's on his way. I got a letter," Sanzo said.

Gojyo swore and ducked when the damn crow swooped in through the window and right over his head. "That thing is fucking creepy."

"He's useful. And he likes intestines," Sanzo added to Hakkai. Hakkai waved a hand towards the counter and the remains of a rabbit. He looked a little pale, Gojyo thought, and kept a close eye on the bird.

"So what'd he say?" Gojyo asked. "Not the bird."

"That Kougaiji and his people were coming along. Apparently, his majesty feels out of touch with this part of his domain."

"Are they driving?" Hakkai asked.

Sanzo shrugged. "Depends how in touch he really wants to be."

"Probably not, then, or at least not all the way."

Gojyo had no idea what they were talking about--whose majesty? Driving? Like anyone had even seen a car since years before the trouble started. But it didn't matter. He let them talk and sipped his tea and watched Sanzo's crow as it ripped into the bits of rabbit on the cutting board. Hakkai would explain later, if Gojyo bothered to ask. He might not. Most of the surprises in his life lately had been good ones.