Warnings: shounen-ai, some citrus, some Japanese, tense changes, TWT ("Timeline? What timeline?")
Writing Conventions: * * * = scene change; emphasis/in-text translations, 'thoughts', "speech"
Disclaimer: Gensomaden Saiyuki belongs to Kazuya Minekura, Enix, etc.
Notes: A first fic for Saiyuki. Though for the most part drivel, this is also a character study. So don't mind the varying characterizations. TWT warning is for time-shifting and omitting of when scenes take place. Speaking of which, the scenes are in no particular order, though looking closely at it, I suppose you could see them as taking place in a linear fashion. Whatever you like.

Through and Through
by Kagetsuya

Love. A feeling of warm, personal attachment or deep affection. A person toward whom love is felt. A love affair. Affectionate concern for the well being of others. A strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking. The benevolent affection of God for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.

A score of zero, as in tennis.

Just what exactly is this thing termed 'love?' The dictionary lists seventeen definitions - five as transitive verbs, one as intransitive - and two idioms.

So much unspoken. So much undefined, so much with no need to be defined. So much of it indescribable, so much of it one can explain. And many have tried; much has been researched, written, gone over, researched again, rewritten.

But books are unnecessary. The poking and the prodding to uncover the meaning are unnecessary.

To feel.

One only has to feel.

~*~
Sleeping in the jeep never really was too comfortable. In fact, it was downright uncomfortable. They had all learned to cope, however, if there was no town where they could get proper lodgings. Though it was just as well, so no innocents would be harmed when - they'd also learned not to say 'if' anymore - another youkai ambush came for them.

Gojyo stood this current sleeping arrangement because by the time to hit the hay came, he was tired out by the combination of youkai fights, the constant arguing with Goku, the just as constant - almost - blows from Sanzo's harisen.

Goku stood it for generally the same reasons, compounded by his perpetual hunger being sated for the time being. He would more than likely end up using Gojyo as a pillow or backrest, anyway, making his respite that much more comfortable. Then there was the fact that nothing short of a youkai war going on right in their midst or the smell of breakfast could wake him.

Sanzo stood it because... well, because he was Sanzo. That was reason enough.

Hakkai was accustomed to it and so endured with the rest of them. However, he was never one to pass up an opportunity to rest elsewhere when it came.

Tonight, for example.

The sky was cloudless, allowing for a clear view of the stars sprinkled over the endless expanse. The moon was half full, providing enough light to see by but not imposing on the other, tinier lights it shared the heavens with. The place where they parked could not have been better, either, right beside a great lake, deep, dark, and calm, the boundaries of the surrounding forest well away from its shores.

Hakkai lay not two meters away from the jeep, arms crossed beneath his head as a pillow. The night was just cool enough to be comfortable, only a slight, gentle breeze blowing from time to time. The grass he lay on was soft and thick, the kind that tickled you through your clothing but not enough that it became an annoyance. The sound of the lake waters made a sort of lullaby, lapping against the shores with a light, peaceful rhythm.

At the moment, he was of two minds. He should have been asleep already, it being nearly midnight. They had a long drive ahead of them before getting to the next town, and who knew what sort of delays they might encounter. On the other hand, what were the chances of stopping at a place like this again? And if the answer to that question was 'moot,' then what were the chances of coming back? There was that possibility that the end of their gods-given mission would also mean the end of them. Though Hakkai hoped that would not be so and had the utmost faith in his and his companions' abilities as a whole, there was still that chance. They were not invulnerable, after all. They were not gods.

As it was, he was dozing lightly, some part of himself convincing him that he would fall asleep eventually and the few hours of rest he got would last him until he and the others reached their next destination. It would not be much different from the amount of sleep he got on rainy nights, anyway - never mind that he stayed up those times for completely different reasons - and he could still function after them.

He barely noted the slightest vibrations of approaching footsteps, not even bothering to open his eyes. After months on this journey, of course he should be able to recognize the strides of his own companions by now. Goku's had a perpetual bounce to his step and the feeling of high amounts of energy being subdued just the slightest bit, ready to be let loose when the time called for it. Gojyo never merely walked, he strut around - a claim made by the red-haired youkai himself - an easy glide, lazy, jaunty, and self-assured all at the same time. Sanzo moved with an effortless, natural grace that befit his station, his steps even and sure, proud, with no hesitation at all.

It was the latter that Hakkai heard tonight, slightly lighter than usual, as if the monk was taking pains not to wake him. He gave a slight smile, but otherwise continued to lie still as Sanzo sat beside him. There was the slight crackle of a cigarette pack, the flick of a lighter, the barest hiss of flame. Soon, the familiar scent of the nicotine-laden smoke reached the youkai's nose.

"Konban wa, Sanzo," he greeted softly, finally opening his eyes to look at his companion.

As was to be expected, the blonde's only reply was a noncommittal grunt coupled with a long drag on his cigarette. His typical response, as always, Hakkai noted as he turned back to the stars. He'd gotten used to that, too.

Companionable silence settled over the both of them, a relaxing atmosphere that seemed to exist only when the two of them were together. Which, like nearly everything else that concerned his companions, did not surprise the dark-haired youkai. He and Sanzo both treasured that quiet, it being a part of their background as it was in their personalities, the blonde a monk and he a scholar. (1) Or perhaps merely because it was in shortage when Goku and Gojyo were around, teasing, complaining, celebrating, bickering. Much as they were the life of the group, sometimes things just got too lively.

"...Nemukunai desu ka...?" he murmured, as if to himself. Aren't you sleepy?

Without having to look, he knew the moment his companion's amethyst gaze alighted on him. "Aa." A long pause. "You, too..."

A statement, not a question, never mind that he trailed off. It wasn't as if Hakkai denied anything, anyway. So he just gave a shrug.

"It's a nice night out. And the scenery is beautiful."

Sanzo took one last drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out on the ground beside him, then brought another out and lit it. "Just be sure you can drive tomorrow."

"Hai, hai." The youkai glanced at his companion and gave a teasing smile. "Be careful with that, ne? It wouldn't do for such a place as this to go up in smoke. Besides, we didn't bring any marshmallows to roast."

The glare that was sent his way would have sent a lesser man running for his life. As it was, it gave him all the more reason to keep smiling, even venture a light chuckle. It wasn't often that he could coax any considerable sort of emotion from the monk; that privilege usually belong to the other two of their team, never mind that it was for the most part unintentional and the response they got was not something that could be termed 'positive.' Not that Sanzo was ever really as pissed off as he seemed to be, they all knew.

If he was truly angry, he would not deign to waste any time yelling, just cut to the shooting.

Sanzo turned his contemplation back to the stars with nothing else but a heavy exhaling of breath that gave the impression of semi-annoyance. Hakkai knew better, read plenty into that one brief release of air. Still smiling to himself, he followed the monk's example.

* * * * *

There are three general types of love that people agree upon. One is familial, the affection for family members or those close enough that they may as well be family members. Another is fraternal -- brotherly love. This is the bond that is most common, the bond between friends, The third, the one most people seek to define, is romantic love. It is this that one does not easily find, that one cannot truly grasp until they themselves feel it.

Many have wondered if we choose love or if it chooses us. Everyone is familiar with the saying 'Love is blind.' What a cliché it has become, but only because the truth in it has been experienced countless times by countless people. Sill, it does not answer the question. Just as many people find that what they have been searching for is what they were meant to have.

Perhaps it reaches out to the subject of fate, of destiny, of foreordination. Is there but one road for one to travel, one soul chosen to match his? Or are there many paths, endless choices, infinite possibilities, and does one choose his other half? Or is it some mix of both, with soul mates already chosen but given free reign of their lives and the task to find each other?

But that could turn to an entirely different type of discussion.

~*~
He sits at the window and contemplates a sky devoid of clouds. The countless stars wink at him while the round, the full moon bathes him in her benevolent glow, the wind whispers to him all the secrets of the world. It is past midnight, but not late enough to be considered 'early morning.' It is a time of transition, when a town finally settles into the quietest it can get. The last of the drunkards stumble on home or, if that is not possible, into some convenient alley to tide the night over. The stray dogs and stray cats, the vermin and the nocturnal predators, all are out and about, for they know that the humans are at rest and so now is the time to prowl, to hunt, to feed, free of the wariness of people that they have during the day.

He sits in a position that matches the familiar one of a certain blonde monk he knows. Sans cigarette, of course, for he does not smoke. Even if -- and he will never admit this to anyone -- sometimes he gets the faintest feeling that he needs one. (2) But it is not present tonight, so he has no need to wonder about it and can turn his mind to other things.

He turns his head slightly and casts his forest-colored gaze around the moonlit room. Of course, the first thing it alights on is his own bed. Rumpled sheets give testament to fruitless attempts to get some rest, but attempts they were so he feels no misgiving about skipping a few hours of sleep. Of late his dreams have been troubled, anyway, always that same pair of green eyes, mirrors of his own down to their soul-deep sorrow. The helplessness is there, too, as fresh as on that fateful day, compounded with the plea for forgiveness that he knew belonged in his own eyes. And if it is not those particular dreams, then it is the alternative, a hard violet gaze, deep, piercing, reminding him of cold, gleaming amethysts. Far different from his own but for the pain he all-too-well recognizes in himself whenever he gazes upon a mirror. These particular dreams he avoided more than the others, for he feared what they meant, what following them may lead to.

Next is the figure whose pose he is currently making use of. The high priest Genjo Sanzo sleeps still as a corpse, save for the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. He lies on his right side, facing the window, so the moonlight illumines his features quite nicely. His face lacks its usual scowls and frowns, skin peacefully smooth. A smile touches his lips faintly, oh so faintly, and perhaps it is because he is dreaming.

The one at the window lets a smile alight on his own lips at the thought of that; good dreams are so hard to come by for the monk. Briefly, he entertains the thought that perhaps it is him in those dreams, making the man smile like he never does while awake. Briefly, he discounts the more-than-likely possibility that the blonde merely dreams of a time before tragedy touched him.

Then he lets his gaze travel to the next bed, where soft, barely there snores could be heard and where crimson hair spills over the pillows like blood that does not soak through the cloth. He dreams, too, from the mumbles of nonsense that occasionally interrupt the snores, perhaps of fighting battles to come, perhaps of battles that have nothing to do with fighting. He is pale in the moonlight and his hair is darker for it, almost matching the rust color of the scars on his cheek, scars that he can discard concern for in the sanctuary of slumber. There is nothing lewd in his expression, nothing teasing, nothing challenging. Indeed, there is nothing in it but satisfaction and content, that he still has a place to go where the world cannot touch him.

In the fourth and final bed sleeps one who cannot stay still even when he is at rest. He dreams in a position upside-down from that he initially had, head at the foot of the bed and feet at the head. He tosses and turns at random intervals, but not because of dreams, no, merely the way he is, and the sheets are tangled up in his sprawl of limbs. Here is one who is plagued not by dreams, but by lack of them. The figure watches him and wonders what it is like to remember nothing besides current times than centuries behind bars for a crime he cannot recall. Which leads him to wonder what sort of heinous deed could this boy -- in appearance only, he reminds himself even if he has no need to -- have committed to have exacted a imprisonment of both body and mind.

The young one shifts, murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like, "Meshi...", which makes his observer chuckle despite himself. (3) Ah, to be a careless youth again, to relive that time so far away into the past now.

The man turns his gaze back to the sky, lets his mirth melt away from his face. Was it real? He poses this question to the silent, milky orb set against the endless darkness. For one moment, did he truly feel happiness or was it just another reflex?

For these are the sorts of questions that nag at him in the hours when he has too much time to think. Three long years has he worn the facade of emotion, enforced by barriers in the forms of smiles and politeness. Three long, long years. Sometimes he is not even sure if he has ever felt anything in his life. That is when the dreams answer their insistent, emphatic "Yes." and show him those green eyes again, the color of dark emeralds, dancing in abundant joy, shimmering with unshed sorrow, that make his heart alternately race and ache.

But nowadays... He remembers the pain of three years before, sometimes as vividly as if it were now and not then he remembers defeat, in the failure to protect, in the failure of losing the chance at one last goodbye, in the failure of not dying when he knew he should have. He remembers the effort to forget, the plan to discard the knowledge of how to feel, to adopt the ways of the stage and to learn the skill of affecting emotion. He remembers how it had worked almost too well, how he now schools his expression based on the faintest wisps of feeling that float about in the corners of his mind, how he has taught himself to extend the act to his eyes so they can twinkle and harden with the laughter and the anger that may or may not be real any longer.

And when he remembers, he regrets. It has been the wrong defense mechanism to employ, to block off the last remnant of the lost humanity he had originally vowed to keep alive. To feel means to live, he had said to himself once before, though he does not remember when, and he owed it to his continuing existence to likewise continue to feel.

Which showed a lot how far those words went.

But now he acknowledges his mistake, acknowledges that his balm of unfeeling had done nothing to heal his wounds, only to give the appearance of rightness while the pain and blood still flowed underneath the facade. Now he strives to chance, to actually live his life. Even if sometimes it becomes difficult and he contemplates dropping it all again.

He does not want to live a lie of lies anymore, no matter the difficulty of breaking the three-year-old habits. So for those times, the ones like this, when he considers reconsidering these matters he should not have considered in the first place, he calls up the most important reasons that say why he is finally traveling the right path.

His three companions, bound together by fate, the gods, and their own individual sorrows.

And when even this does not work, he resorts to his surefire defense. His heart flutters when he does so, sometimes aches with a pain that has nothing to do with being hurt and everything to do with happiness. For, he knows because he has felt it once before, he is in love, and unlike anything else this convinces him that he should not turn back now, that he is healing finally and perhaps with time completely.

He heaves a sigh and rises from his place to go back to his bed. He chides himself that the schedule he and his companions seem to be running on is unforgiving of idleness. So he pulls the covers up around him and forces himself to sleep.

He dreams of violet eyes, shining in purest joy, free of the shadows that plague them. And of himself as the source of the happiness.

* * * * *

Has anyone ever asked you what you would do for a loved one? What would you do to save him or her? What would you do for the sake of someone you loved? What would you give up if it meant your loved one would be all right?

Has anyone ever asked you if you would give your life for someone you loved? Did you answer 'yes?' Was it really the truth? If you think about it, seriously consider it, would you really die for love?

If you still say 'yes,' you should probably be applauded.

But really, it is all foolishness. How do you know, really know, what you would do if it came to such a choice? How do you know until it is presented to you? The self-preservation part of human nature would be difficult to overcome. Would you truly be strong enough to do so?

~*~
Blood. There was too much of it.

Sanzo could ignore all but that thought as he continued to shoot at the giant shikigami, cursing as all his attempts were to no avail. Nearly as tall as a house, it stood on four legs and was covered in plated armor like that of an armadillo, a thick line of wickedly sharp spikes running from the top of his head down the length of his back, a scythed tail reminiscent of a scorpion's -- and just as deadly -- arched high above it, ready to strike.

This should not have happened, some inner voice raged in him for what must have been the millionth time. The youkai that had called up the shiki had long been vanquished. Following that, the shiki should have disappeared as well. But here it still was.

The monk paused to reload his gun, discarding the used shells and sliding in new bullets with practiced ease. He used this opportunity to dart a quick glance across the courtyard of the ancient, ruined castle that was their battleground, where Hakkai defended against the shiki's battering blows with his ki shield. Strain showed on the brown-haired youkai's face; he had been keeping it up for what must have seemed to him like hours, but he continued on against all better judgment, be it his or his companions'. Behind him lay the reason for his persistence: Gojyo, lying unconscious at the base of a halfway crumbled wall, blood pooling from severe injuries on his left side and probably from the back of his head when the momentum from the shikigami's attack that had wounded him so badly sent him flying into the wall.

Showing an unusual amount of intelligence, the shiki had immediately gone after Gojyo after it had immobilized him and thus rendered him an easy target to kill. Its armor, it must have known, would protect it from Goku's blows with his Nyoibou and Sanzo's gunshots. Only Hakkai stood in its way, defending his fallen friend but unable to do anything else. Even now, the monk noticed as he sized up their dilemma, Hakkai was weakening, shown not in the wavering of his shield -- for it had not yet flickered once -- but in the way a lucky sort of blow to the glowing barrier pushed him back a centimeter or two at a time. And the youkai would not give up, Sanzo knew, not until the last possible moment, and even then it would be more likely he collapse from exhaustion instead of stopping in acknowledgement of the fact that he had little or no strength left.

Briefly, Sanzo felt a twinge of... well, something. Whether it passed to quickly for him to identify or he refused to identify it, he would only admit to the former. Hakkai's devotion to the defense of their comrade seemed far too fatalistic for comfort. If the situation were not so grave, it would be a wonder that the shikigami still took its chances against his will and determination.

"Sanzo!" Goku landed beside him in his usual neat, nimble manner. "Hakkai said he's going to try something, so close your eyes."

Somehow, the youth had gotten past the shiki -- which was amazingly fast enough to give him trouble -- to the other side. Somehow, he had even managed a brief exchange with the green-eyed man. Sanzo glanced at the youkai in question, who seemed to have sensed it and spared a split-second to meet his gaze and give one of those trademark smiles. It was an expression that requested trust and showed nothing of what Hakkai was planning to do.

Contrary to popular belief, also known as the teasing complaints of Goku and Gojyo, the monk had plenty of faith in his three companions. Idiotic, incompetent, and annoying he claimed them to be, but they knew that he knew better. That was, after all, why they were not dead yet.

So he closed his eyes.

The flash of light that came then was not even enough to be called brief, though it seemed to last longer, the glare hurting his eyes from behind his eyelids. The shikigami gave a loud roar of surprise and frustration. Beside him, there was a rush of air that proceeded after Goku's leaving his side. From there, the pieces fell in. It was a diversion, so Goku could get Gojyo and come back without having to worry about the shiki attacking, hampered as he would be by the half-youkai's weight.

It worked. Goku was back a few heartbeats later. Sanzo opened his eyes and turned his head slightly to watch as the youth lowered the unconscious Gojyo to the ground. There were, the blonde realized, at least two things wrong with the whole thing: that perhaps the red-haired youkai should not have been moved lest his injuries be aggravated and that since it could not be helped anymore it would be just as well to take him to Hakkuryu, who was awaiting them in the safety beyond the castle's walls.

Goku grinned then, a sign that he had thought as much, and gave a noncommittal shrug. "Catch my breath first."

Had they really been at this for so long?

"Sanzo! Goku! Abunai!" (3)

The shiki had turned in their direction and lowered its head as if to ram them. That was the only thing that Sanzo managed to register before a blur of green -- Hakkai, his mind provided for him -- flew into him and knocked him down. Dazed, he could only stare heavenwards as a ki shield shimmered into place above them, just in time to deflect the large spikes that had been fired toward them. The projectiles made odd pinging sounds against the barrier, then clattered to the ground all around them. They gleamed dully, not with the sharpness of metal but more like the soft shine of polished wood, though they were made of neither material.

The shield above abruptly flickered out about the same time the barrage ended. As if that had been some sort of trigger, Sanzo came back to himself, acutely aware of Hakkai's weight on top of him and several rocks that were digging sharply into his back. Or perhaps it was the way the brunette's heavy breathing suddenly turned into a choked gasp or the alarm in Goku's voice when he cried out the youkai's name.

"Goku..." Saying that one word seemed a great effort for Hakkai. "Run... Make noise. --Distract him..."

"But-- Hakkai--"

"Time... Just a little--"

His plea was interrupted by coughing. It was only a moment before Goku was off. It sounded like he chose his steps carefully, making sure to kick or tread over the rabble scattered all around the courtyard. The clatter this created gave the effect that there was more than one person moving. Taking the bait, the shiki turned, following the noise. (4)

Sanzo had managed to sit up during their exchange. From this position, he saw the cause for Goku's worry and the sudden change in Hakkai. Several of the shikigami's spikes were embedded in his back, blood from the wounds already soaking through his shirt. The ki shield he had formed had not been enough to defend them completely, as the shiki had fired so they would be hit directly and from above. Had he not been where he was, his three companions would have been hit.

The blonde moved closer and pulled the brunette toward him, careful not to jar the injuries any more than he would. Hakkai did not resist, leaning against him and breathing deeply, grateful for the support. His robes, Sanzo knew, would be stained with blood, but he could not find it in himself to care. His eyes traveled over to the spikes protruding from the youkai's back. They had to be removed.

The other man stopped the hand that had begun to travel to one of the spikes. "No -- I don't think..."

Hakkai breathed as if he fought for air and whatever he managed was not enough. Trembling, he pushed himself away. Green eyes clouded over with pain looked straight into Sanzo's violet ones. A trickle of blood ran unheeded from the corner of his mouth and down his chin.

"Sanzo."

"Don't talk, idiot," the monk chided him savagely. "You only strain yourself more."

"No, I..." A breath, and the brown-haired youkai seemed to steel himself against the pain. "He's blind. Can only -- hear. Maybe feel... vibrations--"

He coughed some more, and it was as if doing that took all of his strength, for he fell forward. Immediately, Sanzo caught and steadied the other man against him once more.

"Gomen."

The apology was a quiet one, but it was laden with many meanings. Sanzo wanted to say "Shut up." or "Don't apologize." or something else adequately scathing. A voice in his mind was screaming that this could not possibly be happening, it could not. Every moment that passed, life drained from the youkai's body. And all because of him. For his defense, for his weakness. Again. Like all those years ago.

So what he said instead was, "Why?"

A short, weak chuckle before an answer was mumbled against his shoulder. Something involving the words 'boku,' 'suki,' and 'hito.' But before he could say a thing, Hakkai lifted his head. (5)

"His eyes," he managed. "Shoot... his eyes... That way..."

The brunette's own eyes, now a hazy jade, fluttered closed. He slumped against Sanzo, a heavy, leaden weight. The monk himself merely sat there as if frozen, fighting the urge to shake his companion and yell at him to wake up. If anything, that would only serve to make things worse.

Sanzo wrapped an arm around Hakkai's body to support him before picking up his gun, which had fallen out of his hand when he was knocked down. Ignoring the pain that constricted around his heart and threatened to overwhelm him, he waved to get Goku's attention. The youth dodged another volley of spikes before waving back his acknowledgement from atop one of the more intact walls, to which the blonde motioned for him to come back. Confusion crossed Goku's expression, but he obeyed anyway.

The shikigami, of course, turned as it followed Goku's path back, attempting to fire more spikes at him. Slowly, Sanzo lifted his gun, forcing his hand to stop shaking, and took aim. As soon as the creature had turned enough that he could see its white, sightless eyes, he fired.

~*~
Sanzo could not for the life of him recall how he and Goku had gotten their companions to the town that sprawled from the base of the cliff on which the ancient castle stood, but they did it. The residents were only too glad to assist them, utterly grateful to the Sanzo-ikkou for ridding them of the youkai that had inhabited the castle ruins and, typical of youkai they had encountered, had been kidnapping fellow townspeople. Unheeding of the crowd that was their informal 'escort' into the town, they both went straight to looking for a physician.

Kirishima Reiko was a woman with deft hands, a no-nonsense manner, and a strong aura that belied her petite stature. She ushered them inside her clinic quickly and, unlike her fellow townspeople who gushed endless gratitude and praises, gave them a curt but utterly sincere offer of thanks. Her younger sister had been one of those who had been taken by the youkai. Luckily, the young woman had still been alive, found imprisoned with others in the levels of the castle that reached underground into the cliff, and had been returned safely to her family. Her husband, the Doctor Kirishima added, owned the inn across the street and would give Sanzo and his companions lodgings while they were in town.

Gojyo, she bandaged up quickly and diagnosed with only a mild concussion. Indeed he awoke that same night, and was for the most part all right if a little worse for wear. His immediate request for something, anything, containing alcohol so he would not have to put up with his splitting headache was the best indication of that.

Hakkai, on the other hand...

Sanzo and Goku had removed the spikes from his body and tried to stop the bleeding as best as they could before heading to the town. Reiko declared that had they been even ten minutes later, it probably would have been too late to do anything. As it was, she still had her work cut out for her. It was a harrowing fifteen hours before he gave any signs that he would recover.

And nearly a week before he woke up.

Goku and Gojyo had gone out to eat. By now they were either at some restaurant, bickering in the middle of some street, or Gojyo had found some pretty girl to accost. Whatever it was, Sanzo was glad to have opted out. Bad idea though it was to entrust them with the Three Aspects' gold card, it was far better than having those two around when they began to make trouble. It was not as if he had to worry about whatever they spent on, anyway, since he was not the one paying the bills.

So it was that Sanzo was sitting in a chair beside Hakkai's bed, a spot he found he had occupied for most of the days since the battle, cigarette in the corner of his mouth and newspaper in his hands. If he had been reading the same article about some disease that was slowly taking the sheep population of a town somewhere up north, well, he did not find that strange in the least. Up to an hour before that, it had been one on the apprehension of some bandits that had been plaguing the area. And before that, it had been on the success of some hybrid crop.

Curled up on Hakkai's pillow was Hakkuryu. If anyone had been more constant a presence in this room than the monk, it was the white dragon. After they had moved Hakkai here, he immediately took up the spot beside his master and had not left since.

The small creature lifted his head and gave a soft, curious, "Kyuu..."

This movement caught Sanzo's attention. The dragon had rarely moved in the time they had been here, let alone made a sound. His eyes then traveled to Hakkai.

Who was awake and gazing at him.

"Hakkai..."

The brunette gave a small smile, a faint shadow of his usual expression. "Good morning."

His voice was barely a whisper, dry and raspy with disuse. Without his saying anything else, Sanzo rose and poured a glassful of water from a pitcher that had been set on the bedside table. Stubbing his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray, he sat down on the bed, slipped an arm under Hakkai's shoulders, and lifted him up a little from the pillows he was resting against so he could drink. After two glasses, the youkai shook his head no and Sanzo let him lie back again.

"Arigatou, Sanzo."

The monk did not leave the spot beside him. "Aa."

There were a few moments of silence before Hakkai asked," How long?"

"Almost a week."

Forest green eyes widened a little. "Sou ka... And Gojyo?"

"Mild concussion and blood loss. He's out with Goku somewhere."

Hakkai said nothing, merely nodded. His gaze became unfocused, as if he was mulling over what he had been told. In time, his eyes closed. Sanzo, suspecting he had fallen asleep, made to rise, but those green eyes opened again at the movement.

Finally, the brown-haired man murmured, "I'm sorry." When all he received in return was a stare, he added, "For worrying you."

Sanzo was incredulous. "Idiot. You save us, then apologize?"

"And let me guess: 'What makes you think I was worried?'"

He glared, to which he received soft laughter in reply. But he did not deny anything. The brunette knew him so well, to know that he was going to ask that question next.

"I did expect to die, you know," Hakkai said softly, as if to himself. "I hoped that I wouldn't, but..." An odd, somewhat self-deprecating smile. "And then I told myself that I couldn't. Not unless you ordered me to."

This was ridiculous enough an idea to Sanzo to earn him another, "Idiot." from the blonde monk.

Silence.

Then, "It was the youkai, not the shiki." Hakkai closed his eyes halfway, as if suddenly the light hurt them. "Obviously you noticed that the shiki didn't disappear when he died. And you saw how quick it was to pull a feint on Gojyo, then hit him."

Sanzo merely nodded, though it was only in affirmation to the former. In truth, he had not seen the connection to the latter. He had battled the youkai while his three companions took on the summoned creature. He had easily shot his opponent, who cackled madly as he died, as if he were unafraid. Then Sanzo had turned to the shiki, just as Gojyo dodged a swipe of its tail. Up until then, that had been the monster's chosen form of attacking. There was a moment's confusion as to why it was still there in the first place when it should have disappeared after its master died. It swung its tail at Gojyo again, just then, an attack he evaded as easily as he did the previous one. And then the shiki lunged, a move no one would have had expected, and succeeded in the attack, scoring the half-youkai's side with the spikes on its head and sending him crashing into the wall.

It had been a move so unlike the shiki's style. Sanzo had filed the curiosity away, the more pressing matter of the monster itself having to take priority by far. In the events that followed, he had managed to forget about it completely.

"It was like Chin Iisou," Hakkai said, voice going even quieter at the name. "He used his magic to extend his life, separating his soul and imbuing it into his shikigami."

That made sense. Shikigami were creatures of magic, beings summoned -- or created, depending on the theory one stuck to -- to serve the one who called them. They disappeared when they were banished or their master died or was weakened enough that the magical bond broke. Some had no consciousness, while others did, depending on the summoner's intentions and, sometimes, power. They only possessed the basest of instincts, which were usually supplemented by a master's commands -- not that those changed much, as they were usually limited to one word like 'Attack.' On opponents weaker than them, these creatures were quite formidable. With others, they were usually used to stall, to buy time for escape or as a distraction in order to attack when one's opponent was occupied.

The shikigami they had battled had been all of those things. At least, at first. And then came the sudden changes after the youkai died. Increased focus and sense of self, in the way it fixated on Gojyo instead of going for the others after immobilizing him, the knowledge that it did not have to bother with defending itself; before that, it had swiped at whoever had come within range. Then there was the memory that was definitely not short term. When Hakkai blinded it, it had whipped around too quickly and too precisely for a normal shiki. It had guessed the purpose of the diversion tactic, and knowing that Gojyo would at least be taken to safety, it had gone for a target it was more or less sure of -- namely, Sanzo. It was only luck on its part that there was still a target for it to hit. Having never figured out what exactly had happened with the shiki, he had not moved. Still, that it remembered his location had been strange. Deficient in its sight, it had immediately relied on its other senses instead of attacking in all directions.

"My turn."

Sanzo pulled himself out of his thoughts to glance at Hakkai, who was gazing at him in contemplation. He raised an eyebrow at the youkai.

"To ask you a question," Hakkai clarified.

The monk was silent for a while, turning over this request in his mind. What could the brunette possibly have to ask him about? He could not recall anything about the battle, the youkai, or even the days before that seemed even remotely possible.

So he inclined his head in wary affirmation, giving the excuse to himself that he was curious as to the question to be asked of him. "Aa."

Hakkai took a deep breath before asking quietly, "What is it that made you so angry? Before I..." He paused. "...fell asleep."

Something must have shown on his face then, because the other man turned away and murmured, "Never mind. You don't have to say anything. I knew I shouldn't..."

Perhaps it had been burning within him for the longest time. Perhaps it was just time for him to say something of it. Perhaps it was because he felt relaxed here, alone but for Hakkai. Perhaps it was that odd way the brunette occasionally reminded him of his mentor Komyo, the Sanzo before him, in that unconscious grace with which he moved, in that collected way he used to deal with most things that came their way, in the way he smiled. Perhaps it was the way the threads of their past wove, along with Gojyo's and Goku's, the tapestry of their present and future. Perhaps it was that overwhelming sense of relief he felt at Hakkai's being all right. Perhaps it was the way the youkai nearly died, so similar to the way Komyo gave his life for him.

Perhaps he would never know what it was.

"Years ago, on the night I was named Genjo Sanzo, my master died protecting me." He knew he was speaking, but it seemed as if someone else was using his voice. "We were attacked by youkai who were after the sutras. They took his, but I had the Maten Sutra and he shielded me."

He had always suspected it was pity he would hate the most from his companions that he had never spoken a word about this to anyone. Even after that incident with Shuei months ago, when he himself had almost died protecting Goku. Compounded by his belief he alone would shoulder his burden and had no need of letting anyone else know, he was surprised that he had not left in offended rage.

"What an ironic world we live in," Hakkai commented, gazing at him and voicing the thought that had run through his head not a moment earlier. "So that time, with Goku..."

Sanzo gave a slight nod.

"I understand."

It was all he said. That was Hakkai. Calm, soft-spoken, and polite almost to a fault -- except on the extremely rare occasion when he was pissed off, something that Sanzo only heard of from Goku and had yet to see for himself (6) -- but he never said anything useless. In this case, anyone else would have said "I'm sorry." or some other inane statement of condolence, just for the sake of saying something or to make themselves feel better and shake off the gravity of what they were told on the pretense of comforting the person they were addressing.

But with the brown-haired youkai, it was a simple "I understand." And he did, perhaps was the only one who truly could. Sanzo knew all about what had happened with him before fate destined them to meet, and from what he told Hakkai, the other man could fill in the blanks. Maybe he already had.

It was uncanny how similar they were in terms of what had happened in the past. They had each lost the most important people in their lives, those whom they had loved the most. And to youkai, no less. It had also been raining, those nights when life handed them the cards to play. That, Sanzo knew, was why they both hated rainy nights.

Both had even decided to keep everything to themselves, hiding it all, Hakkai beneath his smiles and he behind his glares. Whether it was because no one else knew or could know what it was like, or because they viewed it as useless and selfish to burden anyone else with matters that were theirs alone, or they went through their lives with the memories ever-present in their minds as they searched for some sort of penance, or they just could not let go, that was what they did. To Sanzo, it was only right; he had always kept himself detached so why stop that when it worked so well? And if Hakkai questioned himself on his choices, then obviously it was still the answer for him, though his was a different separation from the world, and even if his companions knew his story, even if it was fresh in his mind, he would never say a thing.

Fingers threaded through those of the hand closest to Hakkai. Startled out of his reverie, his gaze flew to the green-eyed youkai, who merely smiled at him.

"I'll admit that it -- what I did -- was selfish and stupid." Some unreadable expression flashed through his emerald-colored eyes, then was gone just as quickly. "When I realized what he was going to do, the only thing I though was that I couldn't lose you, any of you, not like... not like I lost Kanan. And then when I got hit, and I thought I would die, I knew it would still be the same." The barest of pauses. "And it was too late, but if the three of you lived, then it wouldn't be worth nothing."

He said this all quickly, as if forcing it all out. Sanzo's first reaction had been to pull his hand away and leave or berate the other man -- and then leave -- but he had managed to master himself before he did anything. Not that he knew why he even bothered, but there it was. Now, on some instinct, he turned his hand over so he could grasp Hakkai's properly. The brunette's smile widened, turning somewhat sheepish.

"No, that's not it," he amended. "It was just you. I could shield them from above, but you would have been hurt. You were in front and..."

"Urusee na," Sanzo interrupted, though he didn't use the usual caustic tone he reserved for Goku and Gojyo. "If you're going to ramble, you might as well not say anything."

This drew a laugh from Hakkai, who ignored his words and went on. "Suki dakara. I knew I should have told you a long time ago, but I was never sure of it for what it really was. Then when I did know, I wasn't sure I should say anything and I didn't really care for all the complications it would bring." (3)

Sanzo did not answer, merely listened to the uncharacteristic rambling. He attributed it to exhaustion, the strain to keep awake, and the painkillers the youkai had been dosed with. However, that did not mean that he didn't speak the truth, which was probably the only lucid thing to his speech.

He brushed bangs away from those forest green eyes, effectively stopping the youkai in midsentence. "I said stop rambling," he chided gently. "You need to go back to sleep."

"Aa, I guess I do." Feigning obedience, Hakkai hooded his twinkling eyes behind his eyelids. "As my Genjo Sanzo houshi-sama commands." (3)

Sanzo raised an eyebrow at his inflection, even if his companion could not see it. "Yours, am I?"

Hakkai laughed softly. "Your lack of Sanzo-ish reaction is encouraging, you know."

"It just needs time to register," he replied, almost seriously. "Wait until you get better."

"Is that a promise, Sanzo houshi-sama?"

"Baka."

He did not realize that their hands were still entwined until Hakkai squeezed his gently. He looked at their hands, mildly surprised at the fact that he didn't want to pull away. Perhaps it was the warmth of the clasp. Perhaps it was the belief that it was his presence that was reassurance for the youkai, was one more reason for him to relax and let himself recover from his injuries.

In any case, in the time it took him to mull it over, Hakkai had fallen into a deep sleep. Sanzo considered going back to his chair, but he was loath to leave his spot. Any movement could disturb his companion -- or so he compelled himself to believe -- and disrupt the healing rest his body so needed. Besides, sometime during their talk, Hakkuryu had relocated to his chair and had curled up there, just as fast asleep as his master.

So the monk swung his legs up on the bed and leaned back against the pillows, each move a delicate operation. Not once did Hakkai stir, let alone give any indication that he was disturbed. Of its own accord, Sanzo's free hand rose to once again brush the youkai's bangs from his forehead. The blonde halted, stared at it in consternation for a moment, but was unable to discern a reason for his actions. His fingers trailed a cool almost-caress down Hakkai's cheek, down skin so pale but slowly regaining color.

"Just get well," he muttered to the brunette. "Maybe then we'll see."

* * * * *

Love is an innate connection we have to others, ranging from affectionate to intimate, that gives us a sense of belonging by defining those closest to us.

Love is merely a human excuse to justify lust for one another or to be close to others in order to dispel the loneliness they so hate or fear.

~*~
The rain beat a heavy percussion against the tarpaulin of the tent, drumming in steady rhythm. It was only sometime close to dusk, but it seemed so much later. The canopy of the forest they were trekking through in this latest leg of their journey west was thick, letting in little sunlight even at midday. That the skies had been overcast the whole day had made it seem like dusk had already settled beneath the cover of the trees.

And then it began to rain.

Beside the half-blood youkai was Goku, curled up in his bedroll, snoring away. He felt like kicking the stupid monkey, if only to wake him up even if it would most likely not work. Having been fed and rapidly growing bored with having to sit around in the tent, the youth had declared himself to be turning in for the night. And drop off to sleep he did, almost immediately. If it rained harder and flooded the place, he probably would not wake.

If only Gojyo had such luck in his own attempts to sleep.

On his other side came the muffled thump of an object falling onto blankets. Presumably, that was Hakkai putting down the book he had taken out to read after everything had settled down. Gojyo remembered the brunette's discovery and purchase of the semi-worn copy of 'Gensomaden Saiyuki' in the last town they passed through, a book he claimed to have been his favorite when he was young. The half-youkai had merely stared at the thick, leather bound thing. Well, it was not a surprising thing for Hakkai; he was their resident scholar, after all, so it was not quite unexpected that he had spent his childhood inside reading things like that instead of out building a collection of scrapes and bruises like other kids. (7)

But to each his own, Gojyo shrugged. He himself had spent his time avoiding books thicker than his thumb.

After a moment's stillness, Hakkai rose from his place beside the red-haired youkai and went to the entrance of the tent. Surprised, Gojyo turned his head slightly, watching through half-lidded eyes.

Sanzo had claimed the spot at the front of the tent immediately when they finished setting up and had not budged from there since. Just beyond the point were the rain came in, he had just sat there for hours, smoking cigarette after cigarette. Had they not restocked the supply of them at their previous stop, Gojyo was sure the monk would have run out of them. They all knew not to approach him at such times. Even Goku kept his distance. There was just something about rainy nights that worsened Sanzo's mood that remained known only to him. All Gojyo knew was that it was some incident in the past, something the blonde clearly kept at the fore of his memory, especially on nights like this.

Gojyo never pried, had never even thought of prying. For one thing, it was not his business and therefore he didn't care. For another, he knew the only answer he would get would be a cold shoulder, if not a bullet through the head. He had speculated once that perhaps it was similar to Hakkai's reasons for hating the rain, but decided after a short while that whatever it was it didn't matter, that it was all a part of who Sanzo was.

Hakkai sat down beside the monk, who seemed not to notice. If they were closer than was appropriate, Gojyo did not deign to note it. The brown-haired youkai murmured something, a question by his inflection, to which Sanzo made a noise that could be taken somewhat as an affirmative as he flicked out his cigarette butt into the rainy darkness outside. He did not take another out.

Gojyo heard his friend start up some monologue, lively despite his subdued tone. What the youkai was expecting it to do was anyone's guess. Aside from his initial permission to the brunette, Sanzo remained silent. But the blonde made no attempt to send his companion away. If anything, there was a little shift in his position, though Gojyo could not see what he did, which made Hakkai give a soft chuckle.

The half-youkai smiled to himself and rolled over so his back was to them. Well. Due to the weather, those two would get little sleep -- if they slept at all -- keeping their vigil. It was not as if he knew nothing of what was going on between the two of them, and he was happy for it, if just a tad jealous that it was not him that Hakkai chose. There were his reasons, Gojyo supposed, and he would not begrudge them whatever peace they could find in this journey.

Ah, if only he too had a companion to keep him warm on cold, wet nights like this.

* * * * *

Love is a dish that never tastes bland to the tongue, no matter how many times tasted.

Love is a book one never gets tired of reading.

Love is the spot under a tree, where the grass is flattened by years of sitting.

And sometimes, love is letting go of all these things.

~*~
"Fuck!!"

That one bit of eloquence was all Gojyo could spare on the mad dash through the twisting, torchlit corridors of the immense cave complex. It was surprising that he did, considering how long they had been running this exhausting circuit. Not to mention, the burden he carried in his arms.

"Kocchi!" (3)

A few paces ahead of him, Goku ducked into what looked to Gojyo as merely an alcove obscured by shadow. How that kid managed to run and maneuver so well even with an ankle that was sprained at the least, he didn't know. Probably by ignoring the pain, he guessed, like he was doing with the fiery ache of the gash on his left shoulder. In any case, alcove this was not, but some small passage that led to only Kami knew where.

"Gah, if only ki could be used for invisibility," Hakkai gasped out as he halted behind Gojyo.

He smelled of blood. The half-youkai did not even need Goku's nose to be able to tell. Most of it was from youkai already dead, but a good deal belonged to the brunette. He had been the last to leave the battle, stalling for the time his companions needed to escape. Going up against a horde of youkai while wounded was never really a good idea. That two of them -- the twins who had apparently been their leaders -- had more experience and techniques with ki made it all the more worse. Had Hakkai anything on them, it was the matter of sheer strength. That, perhaps, was the only thing that saved him when they made their escape.

"Are they after us?"

Hakkai smiled at the anticipatory tone in Goku's voice. "Enja's dead," he replied. "I blasted the ceiling in several places, so Anya and the other youkai will have a little trouble."

'And how much did all that cost you?' Gojyo wondered silently as he settled the blonde man he had been carrying on the ground so he could rest his arms awhile. 'Stupid, fatalistic...'

"Ch', all this for a stupid monk," he said aloud, standing up.

"I heard that."

"Sanzo!"

Hakkai and Goku were at the monk's side in an instant, but he brushed them off with a small noise of irritation. Sitting up, he blinked in the almost-darkness, a hand rising to touch the makeshift bandages wrapped around his forehead. Aside from some varied cuts and bruises, the wound at the back of his head was the only major one he sustained. Still, if it was anywhere near serious, he would need help getting out.

"Not worth all this trouble," Sanzo muttered.

The red-haired youkai raised a sardonic eyebrow at him. "You're the one that had to get yourself kidnapped, Sanzo houshi-sama," he retorted, giving the title a derogatory tone.

"Urusee."

Gojyo feigned surprise. "Ah, you must really be hurt if that's all you can come up with."

The blonde's glare could be felt even with the dim lighting. "Just be glad I don't have my gun."

"Maa, maa, you two, you can fight when we're all safe again," Hakkai interrupted before they could get any further. "Goku, can you find the way out?"

"Aa, I can smell fresh air from here."

"Gojyo, can you take Sanzo--"

"I can walk," the monk cut in. "And you're not staying."

Like Sanzo's glare earlier, Hakkai's grin was tangible. It was the sort of effect he always had. However, Gojyo could tell it was one of those false smiles; three years of living with the guy, how could he not tell? He wanted to slap the expression off his friend's face. Once more, the words 'stupid' and 'fatalistic' ran through his mind, strung along with 'thoughtless' and 'idiot' and other similar terms. The brunette was thinking of taking their opponents head-on. Again. Not to mention tired, alone, and wounded. Whatever sort of luck he'd had before could not possibly last him any longer. Even with one of the ki-using youkai dead, his twin would still be a force to be reckoned with.

Hakkai edged into the main corridor until his figure was no more than a silhouette edged in torchlight, ignoring the monk's hissed command to stay where he was. "It's all right," he assured them. "I won't die, not unless you allow me to."

Gojyo suspected that comment was intended for Sanzo, by the way the blonde gave a wordless growl.

"I'll join you as soon as I can," Hakkai went on. "Just trust me, ne? Gojyo, Goku."

As he spoke, the brunette moved behind Gojyo and put a hand on his shoulder. There was a brief flash of pain before a gentle energy spread through his shoulder on to the rest of his body. The healing took less than a moment, but the warmth lingered even after Hakkai left him and went to Goku. Briefly, the light of his ki illuminated the narrow passageway as he healed the youth's ankle. Then he pulled away and stood.

"Hakkuryu should be waiting at the entrance. I'll be there as soon as possible."

Gojyo knelt to help Sanzo, but the blonde brushed him away and said, "Hakkai, wait."

The half-youkai shrugged, but stayed where he was. Let the monk figure out how stubborn Hakkai could be. Oh, it wasn't as if he liked any of this, but what could he do? If he offered to stay with the brunette, he would be declined. He knew Hakkai deliberately did not heal Sanzo, though if asked he would probably say something about conserving his energy. Bullshit, considering he had healed his other two companions. Goku had to be fit enough to lead them out. He had to be able to support the blonde during their escape. Sanzo, he suspected, would probably have also tried to stay, but on account of his injury, he would be more of a liability than anything else. They all knew this, Sanzo especially, rising anger rolling off him in near-tangible waves.

Hakkai knelt on the blonde's other side. "I can do this, Sanzo. I'd go with you if I weren't sure of it. You know that."

Laced within his words was a plea. A very small, very faint one, but it was there nonetheless. Stronger, though, was the conviction that he would stick to what he said he would do. Gojyo had no doubts that Hakkai would win this battle of wills. Sanzo's injury be damned; being physically hurt did not in any way affect his stubbornness, not unless he was rendered unconscious. Still, Hakkai was harder to sway when he made up his mind.

Besides, Gojyo reflected, there was some faint trace of personal vendetta in Hakkai. He'd seen the barely controlled rage that had sparked in the brunette's eyes when the youkai had taken Sanzo, seen how he'd worked with such a single-mindedness when they were coming up with a plan to free the monk. That the youkai were two more in a long line of assassins trying to take their lives was of little matter.

'Ah, love,' Gojyo said silently to himself, wondering if the thought was sardonic or not.

Sanzo's violet eyes seemed to blaze even in the near-darkness. They said nothing more, merely stared at each other, each wordlessly willing the other to back down. From somewhere deeper into the caves came faint tremors, and Gojyo wondered if their enemies would be the ones to make the decision for them.

Well. If they came, let them. He himself was itching for a rematch. Having been healed, he didn't have to worry about any distractions an injury would bring. The close quarters would be a problem, but that didn't faze him much. He'd fought in worse situations.

A quiet sigh sounded from Sanzo. "Gojyo, help me up."

'Congratulations, Hakkai. Maybe you have thawed out the Ice Prince. Somewhat.' Gojyo gave an inward smirk. 'Must be the sex.'

He held out a hand to the blonde, who took it, the strength of his grip belying the dizziness with which he stood. He knew Sanzo would never suffer the indignity of being carried as if he were an invalid, not while he was conscious. Gun or no, head injury or no, the man could still put up a good fight. Gojyo knew this from experience. So he merely wrapped an arm around the monk's waist in an assisting manner -- Kami only knew what kind of death he would suffer at the hands of both Sanzo and Hakkai if there was even a hint it was otherwise -- and let him lean against his side for support.

"Oi, saru," he addressed Goku. "Get us out of here." (3)

"I'll get you for that later," the youth promised before he was off.

It was slow going at first, it being pitch black, but Gojyo found that if he stayed close to the wall with his free hand on it, they could get through okay. He only hoped there was no part of their path where the ceiling suddenly dipped low.

Not twenty paces into the passageway, there was a mutter of "Never forgive him." from Sanzo, the rest of his words unintelligible.

Sanzo, talking civilly to him? Of his own free will? He must have been injured far worse than it seemed.

"Spare me the sap, Sanzo," he told the monk sarcastically. "That musta been some blow to the head."

"Kuso kappa," the blonde retorted, using one of Goku's more favored insults. "I should kill you." (3)

"Ah, but then you couldn't stand properly, let alone walk. And you don't have your gun."

"Just shut up and keep walking."

Just then, there was a large explosion behind them, the walls reverberating with the blast. Then came the sound of falling rock, followed by a wave of dust. Gojyo shut his eyes and held his breath, waiting for all of it to pass, hoping his two companions had the sense to do the same. Hakkai had blasted the ceiling, just as he said he'd done before. Judging from how close it sounded, he'd probably followed them for some distance in before creating the cave-in. If they were lucky, their enemies would not know they went this way. If they weren't, well, there was that blockade to deal with.

'You'd better come back, Hakkai,' he sent silently to his friend. 'Or the saru and I won't forgive you either.'

* * * * *

Love is 'Thank you.' and 'I'm sorry.' and 'I cherish you.'

Love is... not having to say a thing at all.

~*~
"Hakkai."

Dancing green eyes open and meet his gaze. "Hm?"

A slight tug of his lips upwards, just enough for a change of expression. Fingers reach up, trail their tips close to the fledgling smile, encouraging it to grow.

A lesser man than Genjo Sanzo would have succumbed immediately.

But he, being that Genjo Sanzo, brushes those fingers away...

...and satisfies their owner with a kiss and something more precious than his smile.

"Ai shiteru." (3)

* * * * *

But it's nice to hear it once in a while.

=====================================================

1: The 'scholar' assumption comes from Hakkai's being accepted into that one school. Didn't seem to me like it was a common instance from the Sister's reaction. Plus, he was a total bookworm at the orphanage, was a teacher, and overall seems to be more knowledgeable than your average guy.

2: Meh. Strange, very faint bouts of Tenpou-ness for Hakkai.

3: All the Japanese-English translations :: Meshi... - Food...; Abunai! - Watch out!; Urusee/Urusai - (roughly) Shut up.; Suki dakara. - (roughly) Because I love you.; houshi-sama - high priest; kocchi - here ("Over here!"); saru - monkey; kuso kappa - shitty kappa (kappa=water demon); ai shiteru - I love you

4: I don't really know about this, but it seemed a little unlike Goku to do this sort of thing. However. I figure he and Hakkai have this connection -- stemming from the way Hakkai acts elder-brotherly to him -- and in this sort of situation, he would understand exactly what Hakkai wanted him to do.

5: I/me, love/like (context usually puts it was 'love'), and person. Respectively. Kudos to those who can fill in the blanks.

6: Somewhere in the manga, there's this part with Hakkai and Goku where the former takes off his limiters and transforms to his youkai form. Though we only get to see that one tantalizing bit of those vines winding across his back. Then it switches to a post-battle scene with all this gore. And Goku tells him something like, "I like this Hakkai better."

7: Borrowing from 'Taciturnity' (ep 38). Chibi, unsmiling Hakkai reading a book of the same label. XD