[Generic Disclaimer: Saiyuki and all the affiliated characters are copyright to Kazuya Minekura. No profit has or will be made off of this fiction.]

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~The Monkey is Reaching for the Moon…~

Summary:

(Sanzo+Goku) Because I've always thought Gokuu understands more than we think.

Warnings:
PG-13, shonen ai, language

===

Sanzou flipped the lid of his lighter open and lifted it to the tip of his cigarette, breathing in to make the paper catch light. “There,” he said to the merchant, snapping the lighter shut and stuffing it back into his robes. “Did you see that? You’re cheating me with your paper quality. Don’t think I wouldn’t notice. Now, do you actually have any of the ‘high-quality cigarettes’ you keep howling about, or is your whole operation a fraud?”

The merchant’s face went yellow, eyes moving shiftily to either side before settling back on Sanzou. “Eh, ah, excuse me, Sanzou-sama,” he said, giving a great bow, “but I’ve told you, like before, that I don’t know what you’re talking about. I get my papers from the merchant over there; I just provide the tobacco and roll them. It’s not under my control....”

“Figures.” That damned smug expression on the merchant’s face pissed him off. Sanzou fished in his pockets, withdrew the pack of cigarettes and held them in front of the man’s face, shaking them a little. “This,” he said, “is the last time you try to cheat me, got that?” He flipped open his lighter again and touched the flame to the pack of cigarettes, and dropped it onto the ground as the whole package went up.

“Sanzou-sama!” The merchant bent over his stall, face nearly crumbling as he watched the package burn and shrivel up. “Sanzou-sama... that was my last pack, and you haven’t paid me for it....”

“I’ll pray for your soul,” said Sanzou, stepping around the small fire and pointedly ignoring the fish-eyes of the market-goers. “That’s my payment. Have a good day, you bastard.”

The cigarette suppliers were becoming more stingy lately. Sanzou hated buying brand cigarettes–that was way too much money for a bad taste–but this was the third time this month that someone had cheated him in one way or another. The first time, the pack had been half-full (and Sanzou thought he almost deserved that one, for not checking in the first place). The second time, it was bad tobacco–probably weeds, for all he knew. And now they were using shitty rolling paper.

Honestly, he was surprised they’d lasted this long without trying to skim money off him.

Exhaling, Sanzou stepped absently around a group of children, reaching into his robes as he sidestepped. He shook a Marlboro out of the pack and pressed it between his lips, made a face at the smell as he lit it and sucked in his first jolt of nicotine for the day.

The marketplace was crowded with people, some stalls packed with them hip-to-hip like the cigarettes in his packs; a storm was rolling in, filled with water from the ocean, and it looked like by this afternoon shopping would be impossible. So everyone was doing it now.

Sanzou hated to be lumped in with everyone, but they’d been out of snacks and cigarettes, so it had been a necessary endeavor.

He lifted his eyes to the sky and checked the clouds. They were gathering in big, fat lumps over the temple, and spreading here; he gave it thirty minutes, maybe an hour and the whole place would be a river. Sanzou blew his own cloud out into the sky, then ducked his head down and lifted a hand to rifle through his robes and make sure he’d gotten enough cigarettes. Ten packs, he thought, should be enough to last him a while.

“Sanzou-sama!” He gave a nod to the baker’s wife, who was standing in front him of holding a bundle and beaming at him as if he were the Buddha reincarnated before her very eyes. Maybe she thought he was, who knew. “Sanzou-sama, I just saw your little Gokuu,” she said, nodding over in the direction of the meats stall. “My, my, he just gets bigger every day, doesn’t he? Amazing how fast they grow, seems my own boys were just knee-high to grasshoppers yesterday. And so sweet! My, how sweet that boy is. He’s a blessing from the gods.”

Sanzou looked over at the stall dourly. Sure enough, he could make out the tiniest splash of brown amid the mash of people, and if he listened hard enough he could hear a little fluting voice. It sounded cute, until he was right next to your ear and screaming that he was hungry, Sanzou, why didn’t he have any foooood? “Aa,” he said, standing, and dropping his cigarette to crush beneath his sandal. “He is getting bigger.”

She put her pudgy hand to her mouth and smiled–coyly, was the only word he could use to describe it. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Even you’ve grown so much since you first came here, Sanzou-sama.”

“Try not to drown today,” said Sanzou, and beat a strategic retreat away from the butcher’s wife. Even if he hadn’t taken vows of chastity (not that he cared much for honoring his vows), a woman who looked exactly like the rolls her husband baked would not the one to warm him on a cold night.

Gokuu’s voice got louder as Sanzou picked his way through the crowds. “–in trouble, but I didn’t do it.” Sanzou paused in front of the meat stall, where the little brat couldn’t see him. Gokuu was seated on one of their highest stools, a plate in front of him, a knife and a fork in either hand and a beatific expression on his round face. “Mouuu, the monks are so mean to me! Kai Lei, I swear I didn’t do it. But they locked me up in the basement anyway! But Sanzou came and got me,” Gokuu finished, stuffing a meatbun into his mouth and talking around it–dammit, Sanzou thought he’d cured him of doing that. “Sanzou always comes and gets me.”

Sanzou fingered the harisen, and paused to savor the moment.

“OW!” Gokuu lifted his hands to rub his head and spun the stool around to see who had attacked him. His great big eyes got even bigger when he saw Sanzou standing there, calmly folding the harisen back into his robes. “San-zou!” He rubbed his head so hard Sanzou could almost see the sparks. “What’d you do that for?”

“Oh, Sanzou-sama,” said Kai Lei, coming around to the front of the stall. “Are you here to pick up Gokuu? Don’t worry, he’s been a lovely customer–and, ah... he was telling me how much he enjoys the sweet meatbuns?” Her smile widened as she pointed to the selection.

Sanzou covered his nose delicately. “I hate sweet meatbuns,” he said; Gokuu drooped and Kai Lei just dropped her hand back to her side, unperturbed. “Get your ass up, monkey, we’re leaving before we get flooded out.”

“But Sanzooou.....”

Sanzou made an undiscreet move towards his harisen, and Gokuu fairly flew off the chair, coming to stand by Sanzou. He tipped back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waved goodbye to Kai Lei. Sanzou nodded to her and turned, hurrying back to the temple, glancing back to see if Gokuu was following. He was, like usual.

“Sanzou.” Gokuu was panting a little; he was growing, like everyone said, but his legs were still shorter compared to Sanzou’s and he hadn’t gotten much sleep, chained in the basement. “Sanzou, did you get your cigarettes? And the snacks I asked you for?”

“Yes.” Sanzou dragged the last bit of nicotine from his stubby cigarette, then dropped it to the ground and let the wind carry it off. “I hope you weren’t bothering all the stall owners. I told you not to beg like that.”

Gokuu folded his arms. “I wasn’t begging,” he said, in stiffly adult tones. “I was talking to them. Kai Lei was telling me about her baby. She said I could meet her, the next time she brought her to market.” His face scrunched up, the brief adult air vanishing. “I’ve never seen a girl baby before. Wonder what they look like.”

“Exactly like boy babies,” said Sanzou, who wasn’t much for babies at all.

“Is the storm going to be bad? Do you think I can play in it without getting carried off?”

Sanzou turned and glared at him. “You,” he said, “are not going to play in any rain. The last time I let you you tracked your muddy paw prints all over the damn temple.” The screaming and the moaning and the bitching he’d had to put up with over that... ‘Sanzou-sama, please discipline your pet.’ ‘Sanzou-sama, at least wash his feet.’ ‘Sanzou-sama, can’t you put a chain on that abominable monster?’

His eye twitched. Irritably, Sanzou smacked it.

“I couldn’t help that! The pond was all muddy and I couldn’t wash my feet in it, like I usually do.”

When the village doctor had come to visit the temple last spring, he’d told Sanzou that he’d ground at least an inch from his teeth since the last time he’d seen him. Sanzou caught himself grinding and carefully bit down on his tongue. “Come on,” he said, opening the gate to the temple. “Listen, just don’t play outside tonight. You probably would get washed away. And your soup-for-brains certainly couldn’t think up a way to get your ass back here.”

“Sanzou–“ Gokuu started to protest, but he cut himself off when Sanzou pushed him through the gate with a kick.

“Go play,” Sanzou said, then blinked as something hit his head. He looked up just as the first deluges came falling down from the sky. Sighing, he pulled his robes up and took the short-cut through the garden to get to his room.

[~:.:~]

The monks wouldn’t let him drink beer–he had to sneak out to get that–but they did bring him coffee. Sanzou moved his head from watching the window to nod at the young acolyte who knelt on the floor and carefully set down the mug and pot, handling it like he thought Sanzou would cut off his head if he broke it.

“Sanzou-sama, Master Shu told me to tell you that the inquiry into, uh, Gokuu-san’s misbehavior has been postponed because of the storm.” The acolyte dared to look up a little, dark inky eyes reflecting the clouds outside.

Sanzou nodded, set down his cigarette to pour himself a cup of the coffee. “And,” he said, blowing on it, “did he deign to say when the inquiry will occur?”

“Ah....” The acolyte wilted. “No, most honorable Sanzou-sama, he didn’t say.”

“All right, all right,” Sanzou waved his hand. “Get out.”

He heard footsteps pattering like the dogs of Hell were after them, and sighed to himself. The temple had a new batch of acolytes in, mostly from the countryside, and already they were terrified of him; the backs of their fathers’ hands probably didn’t scare them as much as Sanzou did.

It would have been even more unbearable if they’d adored Gokuu, but they hated him, too. At least they could write, or so went the whispers; this little kid, this little barbarian, could hardly even make out his own name; and he was so dirty, so hyper, always violating the tenets of the great Buddha and angering the other monks....

Ass kissers. They were all ass kissers. Sanzou set down his coffee and snatched up his cigarette again, taking a hard drag. At least they’d learned fast enough there was nothing to be gained if they tried to buddy up with him. The current Great Sanzou Houshi, unlike some of his fellows, did not hand out salvation in tiny doles.

The wind came, blew in through the open windows and brought with it little drops of moisture that settled on Sanzou’s face, dotted his cigarette. Pressing the cigarette between his teeth, Sanzou set his chin in his palm and leaned his face outside, and looked up at the sky. It wasn’t yet evening but the sky was a deep-blue color, nearly indigo, and clouds the color of the night sky raced west. And behind those clouds were the gray clouds that brought the moisture, seated comfortably near the ground as they belched out rain. Sanzou leaned his head back in just as a great sheet fell and gusted across the ground; then it let up again into the gentle pattern that had been falling for hours.

Sanzou spat out the cigarette, heard the hiss as it was put out by the rain. He drew out another and cupped his hands, ducked his head to light it.

“Sanzou?”

Sanzou turned to see his door open a crack, letting a bar of gold light pass through into the darkness of his room. Gokuu had his head peeking in, his expression sheepish. He was covered in head to toe with mud and soaking wet.

His teeth were grinding again, but this time Sanzou couldn’t be bothered to care. “Get out,” he ordered, pointing at the door. “And don’t come back until you’re clean and dry. No, wait–don’t come back at all. You have a room. Sleep in it.”

“I would,” said Gokuu, a pitiful smile stretching his lips, “but the monks want to lock me up again. Um, I kind of got my fingerprints on some book. Or something. It was really important. But I didn’t know that! How was I supposed to know that? Um. Can I stay with you tonight?”

“No. Close the door on your way out.”

“But Sanzou.” Gokuu leaned on the doorframe and his face became so sad that Sanzou knew it was fake; Gokuu could turn the waterworks off and on at will. A talent, he supposed. “You’ll just have to come and get me if they lock me in the basement again. And I can’t stay in my room; that’s the first place they’ll look.”

“Well, then,” said Sanzou, reaching for his coffee and wiping off the moisture from the porcelain, “you’ll just have to sleep outside, won’t you?”

Gokuu drooped. “You’re terrible.”

“Yeah. Now get out.” Sanzou crooked a thumb at the door and turned back to the window, keeping his ears tuned for the sound of a door shutting.

It didn’t come.

“Sanzou, please,” said Gokuu, and his voice came from further inside the room.

Sanzou turned a glare on him. Gokuu had closed the door and was halfway inside the room, on his knees and face arranged in his most lethally sad expression, eyes huge and mouth wobbling. Sighing, Sanzou dropped the glare and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, where the beginnings of a headache were beginning to pinch.

“Monkey,” he said, enunciating his words carefully. “You are not staying. So get out. Go sleep in a tree. Hell, go eat the holy fruit; for once I don’t give a shit.”

“I know. You just hate the monks yelling at you.” Gokuu tilted his head. “And,” he said, “if I stay here tonight, they won’t find me and you won’t hear any yelling all night. And if I don’t cause any trouble, you won’t hear them yelling tomorrow.” His face burst into a grin. “Eh, Sanzou? So can I?”

He liked the monkey stupid, Sanzou thought. Sometimes he thought Gokuu would never grow up; even as his body slid into puberty, his mind stayed the same–but occasionally there would be a spark of wit in those gold eyes, a hint of earthy comprehension.

Moments like those, Gokuu almost reminded him of....

“Fine,” Sanzou snapped, reaching for another cigarette. He turned towards Gokuu and regarded the kid, still kneeling on the floor bathed in blue light, face lit now that he had Sanzou’s attention. “But no talking. No whining. No eating. No making noise. And Buddha help me, if you snore–"

“I got it, Sanzou.” Gokuu grinned, showing a flash of pointed canines.

“Go change,” Sanzou said, looking away as he lit the cigarette. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gokuu shrug and strip out of his clothing as he went into Sanzou’s bedroom, where the closet was.

Then a cleaner, drier Gokuu, in jeans, chest bare, dumped himself next to Sanzou, turning his face to the window. Reaching out, he drew the screen open a little more, blinked innocently when Sanzou glared at him. “I like the colors,” he said, and craned his face to the rain and held out his hand to capture fat wet drops.

“I don’t care what you like.”

“I know,” said Gokuu, quietly. He shook his hand, spraying drops everywhere, then leaned over into the rain and reached down to touch something. “Pretty,” he said, straightening up and holding out his prize for Sanzou to see.

Sanzou looked at the flower sidelong, and curled his lip. “It’s dripping on my floor. Get rid of it.”

Gokuu didn’t reply, just bent his head over it and dried it carefully with the hem of his shirt; then pressed it, using his long fingernails–damn, Sanzou would have to trim those again soon–to straighten out the stubborn folds. “Here,” he said, thrusting it at Sanzou. “You can use it as a bookmark. And it smells nice, see? Like the pond.”

Sanzou took it, because he’d get no peace otherwise. “And what,” he asked, giving it a little twirl and turning it into a blue blur, “what does the pond smell like, pray tell?”

“Water. Duh.” Gokuu winced as the harisen struck. “Ow! Sanzo-ou, that hurts. I still have a lump on my head from the last time.”

“Then don’t,” Sanzou said, lovingly settling the harisen on the floor, “say stupid things to me anymore.”

Gokuu opened his mouth to retort, but he closed his mouth with a click when Sanzou’s hand strayed near the harisen. He drew up his knees and set his chin on top, and for a while, they sat in silence while the rain pattered down on the roof, overflowed the ponds and weighted down the trees. Sanzou finished his coffee, and poured himself another cup.

He looked over in time to see Gokuu screwing up his face in a huge yawn. The monkey could never keep them back no matter how hard he tried. “Go to bed,” Sanzou said, nudging him. “You’re disturbing the view with that face of yours.”

“I’m not tired,” Gokuu said, before another yawn cut off the rest of his protest. He drooped a little. “Can I stay in your room?”

“No,” said Sanzou, who remembered the last time that had happened. The snoring, the twitching, the talking–even asleep Gokuu couldn’t keep his damned self quiet. “You’ve got a pallet in the closet. Go sleep in there.”

“All right, all right.” Gokuu tried one more time with the sad eyes, but Sanzou refused to bow in. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Gokuu get up, stretch his arms till the tips of his fingers almost grazed the ceiling, and then scamper into Sanzou’s room, where the closet connected.

Sanzou rubbed his twitching eye and dragged hard on his cigarette. He looked down at the flower, pressed flat by those long nails; put it in the palm of his hand, moved his hand to the window, and watched the flower be blown away and come to rest in a still puddle.

No attachments, no ties.

[~:.:~]

Sanzou almost tripped on the kid when he went into his room. Arms halfway out of his robes, he stopped where he was and reached out a foot, nudging the still body. Gritting his teeth, he finished unrolling his robes, then went over to his bedside and lit the lamp.

Gokuu twitched but didn’t wake, just burrowing his head further into the crook of his arm. He was huddled like an animal, like a cub that’s lost its mother; he was probably cold, too, lying on the wood floor. One hand was outstretched, the nails lit by the moonlight, glowing.

Sanzou kicked him. “Get up,” he said when Gokuu stirred, and at the rumbling growl kicked him again. “Get your ass *up,* stupid monkey.”

He went over and dug through his bedside table; when he turned around again Gokuu was sitting up, rubbing his ribs. He pulled a sour face at Sanzou. “Mou, what was that for?” he asked, and did his little growl again as he stretched–what Sanzou had come to think of as his waking-up growl. Probably didn’t even know he was doing it; he really *was* an animal, even less than a youkai.

“Your nails,” Sanzou said, perching himself on the edge of the bed. “We’re cutting them. Come on.”

“What?” Gokuu protested even as he sprung up from the floor and hopped on the bed, bouncing everything and disturbing the pile of pillows. “Sanzou, it’s like, almost morning! Are you just now going to bed? I bet you were sitting up smoking, huh.”

Sanzou grabbed his left hand and pulled it towards him, resting it on his thigh. “Hold still.” Gokuu’s thumbnail was the longest; he clipped it off first, and it went sailing over the bed and onto the floor with a little clatter. Gokuu looked sheepish.

Sanzou lifted his hand, inspecting the other nails, noting their varying lengths and thicknesses. Then he pressed down on the fingers, curling them so that they rested close to this skin. “You could cut me with these,” he said, tilting his head to see the way the nails touched his skin, to see how much harder he’d have to press to leave marks. “Could make me bleed, probably. Why don’t you?”

Gokuu’s eyes widened, eyes that in the dark glowed uncannily–unhuman, those eyes instantly made him stand out. No human had those eyes, and no youkai, either. They lowered, dark lashes coming down to cover them a little, and turned aside from him. Sanzou reached out and grabbed his chin, forced it towards him, and Gokuu’s eyes jumped back to his in startlement.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Sanzou said lowly.

“Sanzou,” whispered Gokuu. He curled the nails toward his own palms. “I can’t....”

“Can’t what?” Sanzou squeezed a little, feeling the bones in Gokuu’s jaw. Those, at least, were human. “Can’t talk? That’s a new one on me.”

“Can’t hurt you,” said Gokuu, and looked down again. “I can’t. I can’t, I can’t–I never would... Here!” He wrenched his hand out of Sanzou’s and let it fall on his thigh again, uncurling his fingers. “Cut them. If they could hurt you, I don’t want them.”

Sanzou stared at his face. He’d lowered his head so that his eyes were covered–and if you looked at him like this, he looked so human, so normal. But there was the diadem catching the moonlight, and those gold eyes just waiting to be lifted. Not human. But not youkai either.

“You’re hopeless,” he muttered, and lowered the clippers to Gokuu’s nails. In short time, they were all short, neat straight lengths. He let go of Gokuu’s hands and dropped the clippers back onto the table.

He felt those eyes on him as he untied his robes and dropped them, peeling out of the rest of his clothes and throwing them into a pile on the floor. “What are you looking at, monkey?” he finally asked as he drew back the bedcovers.

“Nothing.” Gokuu hesitated. “Sanzou....”

“What?” He dropped into the bed, laced his hands behind his head. It was still raining; he could hear the rain dancing on the roof.

“Nothing,” said Gokuu.

Sanzou sighed and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t sleep; he knew that. He never did when it rained, because if he slept, he would dream of things he didn’t want to see again. Of youkai killing his master, while a youkai slept in the closet next to his bed.

But not quite a youkai. Not with those eyes.

The bed dipped with another weight, and Sanzou’s eyes flew open. He propped himself up on one elbow and stared at Gokuu, who was already halfway under the covers. The kid just lifted his head and stared back; then, with an arrogance so overwhelming it raised Sanzou’s hackles, he slid the rest of the way under the covers, reached over and grabbed one of Sanzou’s pillows, and closed his eyes.

After a while, Sanzou lay back down. He could feel the monkey next to him, just a suggestion of weight and heat. To turn his head was to see Gokuu’s face too close to his, eyes and mouth lax with weariness–like he did anything at all during the day, just ate and cat-napped and made trouble.

Pretty soon he’d start snoring. And talking. And kicking.

He’d left the harisen by the window, Sanzou realized regretfully.

“Sanzou,” Gokuu whispered, gold eyes open again, heavy-lidded. “Can you cut my hair tomorrow?”

Sanzou turned his head, saw those long locks spilled out over the pillow, brushing Gokuu’s bare shoulders. They framed his face, made it seem even rounder and him younger. He tried to imagine him without them. “Sure,” he said, looking up at the ceiling.

“Go to sleep, Sanzou.” And when Sanzou turned again, it was the monkey who was asleep, just as deeply as if he’d been at it for hours.

This kid, he thought. This kid.

[~:.:~]

“You’re moving the bed again,” said Konzen.

Gokuu blinked, and stilled his limbs guiltily. “Sorry,” he said in a loud stage-whisper.

“Just don’t do it again.” Konzen turned narrowed eyes on him. “I’m doing you a favor,” he added, “letting you sleep in here. Honestly. Aren’t you too big to be scared of storms?”

“No!” Gokuu clutched his pillow tighter. “They’re *scary.*”

Konzen’s eyes lifted to the ceiling. “All right. All right, calm down–“ A crack of thunder drowned out his words, and the next moment he had an armful of limbs and long hair, and Gokuu’s head tucked under his chin. Konzen gritted his teeth. “We are *not* doing this. Ever. Again.”

“No,” Gokuu said fervently.

“And don’t forget,” said Konzen when the kid’s eyes had started to lid, “you owe me one, monkey.”

[~:.:~]

But Gokuu forgot.

[~:.:~]

[~owari~]

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