The Crow's Funeral

by Daegaer

Summary:

After Koumyou is murdered, the very new Genjo Sanzo finds that he needs proper training . . . and that his old master had asked his good friend Ukoku to step in. Neither of them feels they can escape the request, much as they'd like to.

Notes:

• For Hokuto.

Thank you to my skilled and speedy beta-reader!

"He looks just like a girl."

"Damn it, not again! You've gotta get another hobby, man. Just make it fast."

The hand in Genjo's hair was painful, holding him in place as the man fumbled with his belt with his other hand.

"Don't you worry, sweetie," he crooned. "Daddy'll make it good for you." He unzipped his jeans, his hardening penis visible in a shock of dark hair.

The horror of what was happening hit Genjo all at once and he found the energy to belatedly struggle again.

"You got a wriggler, dude!" the third man laughed.

"Makes it sweeter," the man grinned, shaking Genjo roughly by the hair. "Wanna give Daddy's special place a nice sloppy kiss, sweetie?" Something hard hit against Genjo's ribs. The gun. The gun. He reached into his robe, still being shaken like a rat . . . "Yeah, strip for Daddy -"

. . . and pulled it out. It was easy for a kid to use, and easy to hit a target at this distance even for a kid who'd never fired a shot before.

The noise was louder than anything he could have imagined. The man looked surprised, just surprised, and then he fell. The birds all took off, cawing in a mass of black-feathered chaos. The other men stood still, shocked, the only sound the multitude of crows, more crows than Genjo had imagined there were in the world.

"The fucking brat's got a gun! Let's go!"

He didn't see them go. All he saw was the body of the man who had wanted to - wanted to - He was lying face down, the back of his head a ruin of red and grey. His hand was across Genjo's ankle, his lifeblood on Genjo's face. He wouldn't take his hand away. He still wanted - wanted -

With a shriek Genjo shot the corpse again and again and again and -

At last he stopped, the gun clicking emptily as he pulled the trigger, and he covered his face, weeping. Only when the sound of clapping penetrated his tears did he manage to look up, still clutching the empty gun.

"Did that make you feel better?" the man facing him said. "You may as well put that down, you're long since out of bullets." He cocked his head to one side, like a curious bird. "Remember me, Kouryuu?"

He was dressed like a sanzo. He had black hair and glasses. The voice was familiar from half-remembered nighttime conversations when Master Koumyou - Master Koumyou . . . He remembered this man visiting, his sardonic face and snide comments.

"You're my mas- the late Koumyou-Sanzo's friend."

"Yeah. Ukoku. And you're his disciple."

"I'm his successor. Genjo-Sanzo."

Ukoku snorted a little. "Yeah. So I hear. How's that going, kid? Real good on current evidence, I'd say."

"I'm doing all right," Genjo said, trying to force his voice to stop shaking. "I just need to find the Seiten Sutra."

"Yeeeaaah." Ukoku squatted opposite him, staring intently into his face. "You look like shit. I'd say sorry for not arriving before the shitballs tried it on, but you did OK and I never say sorry. That was a rookie mistake shooting someone already dead."

"I don't need your help," Genjo said, stung by the criticism. "You weren't there to help Koumyou-Sanzo."

Ukoku stood and looked down, his face unreadable.

"No," he said at last, "I wasn't. Tell me, Genjo, why the fuck did someone as strong as Koumyou die due to a few youkai robbers? That old fool of an abbot said he was getting more insistent on not taking life and sacrificed himself to save you. Bullshit."

"He stepped right into the sword blow," Genjo said, briefly closing his eyes as if it would block out the remembered sight. "He put a spell on me to keep me safe and out of the fight."

Something flickered across Ukoku's face, a succession of emotions so fast that Genjo couldn't decode them. Then all that was left was cold blankness.

"I killed the man who taught me," Ukoku said. "Goudai said that every sanzo steps over the body of his predecessor. I want you to know, really know, that I could kill you right now with the ease and lack of thought I put into squashing a bug, and I'd take the Maten Sutra by right." He smiled as Genjo edged backwards. It was an awful thing to see. "But Koumyou really wanted you to live and just for today I find I really want to honour his wishes. Up you get. You're coming with me."

"No, I'm travelling alone," Genjo objected as Ukoku grabbed his upper arm and hauled him to his feet.

"Nope. We're going back to Kinzan where you can be safe and taken care of."

He had to think of an adult reason to dissuade Ukoku. He remembered him always sending his awful little disciple to play with him so that their masters would have time alone for proper, adult conversation.

"That will take you five days, Ukoku-Sanzo. I'm sure your time could be more profitably spent -"

"Hah! Nice try, kid. I see Koumyou told you nothing about the Muten. Damn, you're light - have you been eating?"

"Not for five days," Genjo muttered.

"Kids," Ukoku sighed. "Don't puke on me."

Something happened. Genjo's vision darkened and his stomach roiled. The Maten Sutra growled in displeasure deep in his soul and then he was standing before the abbot's house in Kinzan. His knees buckled and he retched as Ukoku stepped quickly away. Nothing came up but thin bile, leaving Genjo miserable and sore.

"I got him," Ukoku said over his head. "The moment the funeral's over, I'm off."

Genjo concentrated on staring at the grass and breathing as the abbot and Ukoku discussed him. Only when Master Koumyou's name was mentioned did he look up.

"Master Koumyou said what?" he said.

"Yeah, fucking repeat that," Ukoku snapped.

The abbot looked uneasily between them.

"Papers were found amongst the late Sanzo-sama's writing in which he hoped that should he die whilst his dear Kouryuu, to be known by the houmyou Genjo, was still of tender years, that his successor in bearing the Sutras would take guidance from others of the exalted rank . . ."

"Fine. Send him to India, or New Zealand or wherever that Uten loser has got to by now," Ukoku said.

"Higai-Sanzo is advanced in years," the abbot said meekly, "and India is far away."

"Haven't you heard?" Ukoku said. "There's a new Kouten Sanzo: some girl or other. I'm sure she has a great maternal instinct."

"A woman," the abbot said, blinking. "How truly advanced our Buddhist faith is! . . . but no. And the revered Uten Sanzo hasn't been heard of for some time."

"The dream," Ukoku said, lighting a cigarette.

"While you are the dear, bosom friend of Koumyou-Sanzo-Houshi-sama."

"My master," Genjo interjected and paused, struck afresh by grief. The abbot had told him that he wasn't supposed to say that, not any more. "Koumyou-Sanzo," he said more harshly, "just put up with his company."

"He abandoned you for a year to travel with me," Ukoku said, his voice like a knife.

"When you needed Koumyou-sama's great wisdom he did not abandon you, Ukoku-Sanzo," the abbot said. "He was a man who paid his debts. Are you?"

"You have some balls," Ukoku said slowly. "I should warn you, I'm not in a good mood."

"I'll have dinner and leave again in the morning," Genjo said and walked away, or tried to. He found himself frozen in place as Ukoku flicked a glance at him.

"Hold it, kid. The adults aren't done here. You know he can't be my disciple, not if he's been recognised by those assholes in heaven."

"I don't want to be his disciple!"

"But you can train him, Ukoku-sama. You can give him what Koumyou-sama surely would have."

"I don't need training!"

"Shut up," Ukoku said without looking at him, "or I'll shut you up. Koumyou didn't train me, you moron. He just -" He shrugged. "You know how he was."

"But Goudai-Sanzo -" the abbot said.

Genjo looked from one to the other, finding his eyes were the only thing he could move. They couldn't be serious. They couldn't really want him to be another sanzo's disciple, not when Master Koumyou had proclaimed him a sanzo already!

"It'd never work," Ukoku said after a long moment. "Our sutras would get pissy around each other. Koumyou kept the Seiten and Maten under control, but this little shrimp?"

"My name's Genjo-Sanzo! I'm the Thirty-First Seiten Sanzo, and -"

"Yeah? Where is it? Why aren't you wearing the Maten? Where have you put it?"

"It's in my pack," he said, suddenly ashamed. It had felt like second prize, even though he knew Master Koumyou had intended him to carry it first, as a gift before his death.

"In his pack," Ukoku said, as if to himself. "You see how it is, Abbot. No."

"There's a way to make your sutras accept each other," the abbot said. As Ukoku looked at him, he added, "The Chigo Kanjo ceremony, creating a spiritual bond between you."

"The Chigo Kanjo," Ukoku said, a slight frown on his face. "You've got to be kidding. Are we in the Stone Age or something? I know my reputation precedes me, but I didn't think it had melded with Koumyou's."

The abbot looked at him in disapproval. "It would be a spiritual bond, of course."

"Of course. Right. Sure."

"And you would fulfil Koumyou-Sanzo-Houshi-sama's last request."

No! His last request had been to him.

"Koumyou helped you," the abbot said. "Won't you help him?"

Ukoku looked down at Genjo, who found himself able to move again. He glared up at the sallow face as Ukoku stared at him with an odd, lost expression.

"I'll consider it," Ukoku said, and walked away.

"What does he mean?" Genjo asked.

"He will train you," the abbot said, "as Koumyou-sama would have."

"I don't want that. I need to leave."

"Genjo-Sanzo, I was wrong to send you out, not taking your youth into account. Please stay, let us have Koumyou-Sanzo's funeral. No auspicious day could be found with you gone."

It was a service, one last service he could do for Master Koumyou, though he dreaded seeing the funeral bier. Genjo reluctantly nodded. He looked around a little hesitantly, as if Kinzan were a strange place and unknown to him.

"Where should I stay?"

"Rooms will be made ready in the guest house," the abbot said. "It isn't fitting for you to have your boyhood room, and regretfully - as you know - Koumyou-Sanzo's house was badly damaged."

It was a relief to know that he wouldn't be expected to sleep in the room where Master Koumyou had died. He nodded, and went to the prayer hall, his steps slowing as he drew near to the coffin placed at the top, lamps surrounding it. No. He couldn't look.

"Don't be a fucking baby."

Ukoku strode past, right up to the coffin, and drew back the cloth over Master Koumyou's face, just staring down in silence. Genjo walked up, his heart hammering. He'd hoped that his master might somehow look as if he were sleeping, but there could be no denying he was dead. His skin was too pale, his eyes and cheeks sunken. The smell of incense was very heavy about the coffin, enough to make Genjo's eyes start to water.

"It's hiding the smell of decomposition," Ukoku said as if remarking on the time of day. "Good thing he didn't die in the height of summer or this place would be a mass of flies."

Genjo hated him. Hated him. He could use magic to travel over miles and yet he hadn't done so on the night it truly was needed. He hated himself more. He should have fought. He should have died with his master so they could be reborn together. What good did it do to blame a man who couldn't possibly have known his help was needed?

Genjo still blamed him.

"I've seen enough," Ukoku said and turned away. He turned back suddenly, angrily, grabbing up a handful of incense sticks. They smouldered alight by themselves as he bent in perfect propriety to the Lord Buddha and the gods, and then placed them with the rest of the incense. "You idiot," he said to Master Koumyou's body, and stalked out.

Genjo waited until the sound of footsteps died away.

Master," he whispered. "Please. What do I do? How do I find the Seiten? Should I listen to the abbot or Ukoku-Sanzo? Master . . . if I joined you, could you forgive me?" He knelt, resting his face against the coffin, wishing he still had bullets for his gun.

He spent a sleepless night by the coffin praying for Master Koumyou. Surely he would be reborn in the Pure Land if indeed he was to be subject to rebirth at all. It would be a good thing, Genjo reminded himself, for his master to be free of the wheel, but all he wanted was a future life in which they could perhaps be together again. In the morning he made sure his gun was reloaded; after the funeral he'd be able to decide if he was strong enough to go on living without his master.

The day of the funeral was a long and blurred nightmare. He was given a place of honour as his master's chosen successor and suffered through the hours of chanting until his voice gave out and he simply sat there blank-eyed and silent. He felt it was wrong to hold the funeral so soon. Master Koumyou should have lain in state long enough for all the sangha to come to mourn him. When he was finally cremated it should have been upon a pyre a hundred foot high of the most rare and fragrant woods all gilded so that it shone as brightly as his name. His coffin should have been a work of art and riches as befit his status as the foremost priest in the world, a sight that all those assembled marvelled at and wept to see consigned to the flames. But Master Koumyou had always been mild-mannered and uncaring of display, and had left instructions that his funeral be held at the first auspicious occasion and quietly, so as to spare his dear disciple grief. Beside Genjo, Ukoku's voice went on and on, each syllable of the sutras falling perfectly from his lips. Genjo wanted to look away when the pyre was lit but forced himself to watch as the monks kept chanting. He stared, dry-eyed and desolate at the simple coffin as the flames climbed higher. He wanted nothing more than to leap into the fire. Finally the abbot gently shook his shoulder and led him away, not to the guesthouse, but to his own rooms.

"You must rest, Genjo-Sanzo," he said. "The ashes won't be cool until morning."

"I want to keep vigil," he said.

The abbot paused, but who could gainsay a sanzo?

"He'd want you to eat," he said at last. "Even if it's a little later than noon."

"He liked to eat in the evening," Genjo said, looking at the ground. It seemed a terrible thing to admit that Master Koumyou had been so careless.

"Then eat. As he would have."

He didn't want to, but the tiny bowl of cold rice the abbot put before him hardly counted for food at all, Master Koumyou would have said. Genjo wept silently as he ate slowly, then bowed in thanks.

"I'm going back now."

"Yes," the abbot said sadly.

The night was cold, but the heat from the collapsed pyre was more than enough. He didn't pray or chant, just stared at the ashes, now grey with red still underneath. In the depths of the night he turned as steps came up beside him.

"Go away," he said ungraciously.

"No," Ukoku said, his eyes fixed on the pyre.

"He was my master."

"You're a brat, you know that? He was my fucking friend."

Ukoku's gaze was flat in the dim light cast by the dying torches about the pyre. He didn't have even the pretence of friendliness he'd had the previous year when he'd come on his official visit.

"He couldn't wait to get back to you," he said. "Some little toddler he never fucking shut up about. Kouryuu this, Kouryuu that. When I finally got a good look at you I thought, Ah, now I see. Koumyou, you naughty boy, I guess the rumours are true."

Genjo was on his feet before he was fully aware he was going to move. That old bullshit again. He'd ignored it for years from the novices but to hear it now, in front of his master's bones and ashes -

"How's your little boy, Ukoku-Sanzo? Still cuddling you every chance he gets?"

Ukoku looked at him, his eyes widening slightly. "Meow," he said. "Haven't you got claws? Maybe I should teach you when to draw them in, little kitten-sanzo."

Genjo scowled, opening his mouth to call his master's so-called friend a weirdo asshole to his face. A shout of alarm forestalled him, and screams came from the novices' sleeping quarters. Ignoring Ukoku's frown, Genjo spun and ran, unhindered by the darkness. He knew every inch of Kinzan.

He found a group of youkai, twenty or more, fighting their way through the monastery courtyards. Novices lay facedown, slain as they attempted to flee. The experienced monks hadn't had time to get weapons and were fighting bare-handed against swords and spears. Shuuei was one of the few casting spells. As Genjo watched, the abbot took a spear in the shoulder and fell. In white hot fury, he pulled his gun out and fired wildly into the crowd of youkai.

Out of nowhere Ukoku was there, his sutra swirling about him, a halo of utter nothingness. With a tiny smile on his lips he pointed at the youkai and they simply vanished. All of them. Genjo stared in astonishment at the place they'd been and back to Ukoku, who looked as if he'd just had something utterly delicious to eat. Genjo stepped back in horror.

Silence fell. As the Muten Sutra quietly settled back onto Ukoku's shoulders the surviving monks started bowing deeply to him.

"Yeah," he said casually. "No problem. Let me see that shoulder, Abbot."

"Don't touch him," Genjo hissed, the horror of Ukoku's satisfied expression still etched in his memory.

"Cool it, kid," Ukoku said, and gave a dry, short laugh. "I've worked my frustrations out for the moment." The abbot went pale as Ukoku prodded at his shoulder, then he made a bitten-off noise as the wound was grasped firmly. Genjo surged forwards and tried to dislodge Ukoku's hand. "I told you to calm down."

"Sanzo-sama!" the abbot gasped, his eyes huge. "What -" He went to his knees, lifting his hands reverently. "A miracle!"

"Really, no prob. Just a little reordering of reality."

"What was that magic?" Genjo said loudly. The abbot was no longer wounded, but was the holder of the Muten Sutra really a healer? Ukoku didn't strike him as one.

"Some of us know how to use our sutras," Ukoku said, and turned his attention back to the abbot. "I see now that Koumyou's murderers aren't going to be satisfied until they have the Maten Sutra in their possession and have killed its bearer too. Genjo-Sanzo is too young to use it or protect it as he should. Abbot, I will follow your advice as a senior monk of much experience and train him for the continuation of the safety of the world and to fulfil the wishes of my dearest friend. Whom I knew better than any other person might claim to."

"No way!" Genjo yelled.

Ukoku turned to him, a mean smile on his face. "Boy," he said clearly. "You have a choice, right now, only because Koumyou would have wanted me to give you one. I can take the Maten and guard it until you can take it from me. Or I can take it and bestow it on my disciple. Or we can go through the ceremony to bind us together and I'll train you to carry it. Ten seconds. Decide."

"You can't take it," Genjo said, appalled.

"I wouldn't even have to kill you," Ukoku said, bored. "Three seconds left."

"Stop!" Genjo said. "Stop! You can't - don't take it. Don't."

All the surviving monks were staring at them. They'd known him all his life, and all had at least known of Ukoku-Sanzo. Now they were just curious, waiting for a duel between sanzos. He couldn't fight, he just couldn't. It was too much on top of everything and - he couldn't hope to win. Not even if Ukoku went easy on him. He thought of some of the sanitised stories Master Koumyou had told of the walk to India. There was no way he could win.

"That's not an actual decision," Ukoku said. "It's just a wish."

"Genjo-sama," the abbot said. "It's for the best, Koumyou-sama would want you to be properly trained."

He couldn't take being called Genjo-sama by a man his master had been so scrupulously polite to all the years of Genjo's life. His shoulders sagged and he only managed to nod by fixing a fierce glower on his face.

"Say it," Ukoku said, quite gently. "First lesson: words have power."

"I would appreciate your training, Ukoku-Sanzo-Houshi-sama," Genjo grated out. "If you would."

"I'd be delighted," Ukoku said. "Could someone please ensure this child is properly fed and medically treated before the ceremony? Grief has put him through many hardships."

"I'm fine."

"Second lesson," Ukoku said. "I speak, you act. Capisce?"

"Huh?"

"Right. Do you understand?"

Genjo sighed and reluctantly nodded. Ukoku walked away without a backwards look, the abbot's gaze lingering on him for a moment. Then the other monks surrounded him, giving thanks for his healing and the great powers of the sanzohood.

"When you're old enough, you'll come back to Kinzan, won't you, Genjo-Sanzo?" Shuuei said. "Our monastery's fame as the home of a sanzo stretches all across China."

What was Kinzan without Master Koumyou? Just a place like any other. Genjo stared at Shuuei and belatedly nodded, just to have something to do.

"Come and rest," Shuuei said.

"I should help," Genjo said, looking at monks lifting the dead and injured.

"The Sanzo-sama wants you taken care of," Shuuei said. "Come on."

Shuuei had always been all right, so he trailed after him to the undamaged refectory and sat as a bowl of cold rice was scavenged from the kitchen. Shuuei poured hot tea over it and set it before him; the simple food was just what he needed after the shock of the fight and he found himself eating eagerly.

"What do you know about Ukoku-Sanzo?" he said, mouth full.

Shuuei turned his hands up. "He seems OK, I guess. A bit rude at times in the way he says things, but he's from a big city and he's joking when he comes out with anything shocking. That accent of his makes it worse; he sounds like he's swallowed an entire row of dictionaries."

"He was a shit to me last year," Genjo said.

"Really? He was OK with me. He gave some really fascinating dharma talks. Weren't you mostly entertaining his disciple?"

"Ugh. Thanks for the reminder. What a drip."

Shuuei tried to smile and poured tea over the next bowl of rice, sliding it across the table.

"Hey, he'll be your senior disciple now."

"Oh, God. Really?"

"Maybe? I can't see how that will work, I mean, you're a sanzo and he's . . . is he a novice? He was always wearing lay clothing last year."

"Maybe that stupid dolly's the novice," Genjo said snippily. Shuuei did laugh then and he felt the tiniest bit better. Master Koumyou had always said he was funny, even when he wasn't trying to be . . . he covered his eyes with his hands and sobbed.

"Hey," Shuuei said cautiously. "Genjo-Sanzo? Genjo?" After a pause, "Kouryuu?"

Genjo cried harder. He wanted to hear Master Koumyou call him that. Shuuei awkwardly put a hand on his shoulder and patted him roughly.

"You need to be a man now," he said. "I know it's hard, but just think - Koumyou-Sanzo would want you to give up your attachment to him. It's causing you pain, and he'd never want that for you."

Master Koumyou would never, never want Genjo to give him up. His face had shone like a lamp every time he looked down at him. If there was one thing Genjo knew for truth, one thing he had utter faith in, it was Master Koumyou's love. But maybe Shuuei was a bit right. Master Koumyou wouldn't want him to be in such pain, though he couldn't see a way out of it. Perhaps by staying with awful Ukoku for a year, learning everything that he and Master Koumyou had seen on their travels, the pain would lessen. He took a deep breath.

"What's the ceremony the abbot wants us to perform?"

"I don't know," Shuuei said. "One that makes your sutras safe around each other. I can find out, but why don't you just ask Ukoku-Sanzo?"

"Because I know I can trust your answer," Genjo said. "Ukoku-Sanzo thinks I'm a stupid brat he's humouring for Master Koumyou's sake."

Shuuei looked at him weirdly, then nodded and left him to it, which Genjo didn't blame him for. He wouldn't want to put up with a crying kid either, especially not one meant to be a sanzo but who couldn't control their emotions. He looked down at his formal robe, hastily cut down for the funeral from a set of Master Koumyou's, and felt nothing but disgust. What a joke. He was a sanzo in name only, playing dress-up in the dead's clothes.

Exhausted and sick at heart he went not to the guest house but the room that had been his for such a short time as a sanzo's youthful disciple. "You must have your own chamber, Kouryuu, you're more than old enough." "I don't mind sleeping at your feet, Master." "Let me give you this gift. You let me give you so little." The floor was dusty, as if no one had been in since that terrible night. The moment he was properly trained he'd find the Seiten - or perhaps he and Ukoku could look for it together - and then he'd come back here. He'd come back to Kinzan and lay the sutra on Master Koumyou's grave.

After that? There was nothing after that. He lay on the dusty floor and slept.

* * *

He drifted through the next day, a pale small ghost that no one quite knew what to do with. It was near the time of the afternoon dharma talk that Shuuei found him, his face set in uncharacteristically grim lines.

"Kou- that is, Genjo-Sanzo. Can we step aside? I need to talk to you."

He followed Shuuei, dully noting that he still had the red beads about his neck. It seemed an eternity ago now, that evening when he'd pressed them into the Talisman Master's hands. Shuuei's touch on his fingers had been warm, gentle - Genjo shoved the memory down, down with all the other things that now could never be.

Shuuei led him to the temple, chasing away the junior monk who was lighting the lamps. A sanzo and a master of Kinzan would be given their privacy, especially as Ukoku and the other masters were in the teaching hall.

"What is it?" Genjo said.

"I found out about the ceremony," Shuuei said without preamble. "Genjo, you can't do it."

"What? Why?"

"It'll make your sutras cooperate, sure," Shuuei said. "By making you tantrically one."

"What does that mean?"

Shuuei seemed to struggle for words. "If he's to train you," he said at last, "you have to - submit to him in certain ways. And afterwards, if he says you have to do something, you have to do it, Genjo."

"Yes? Master Koumyou told me to do things, and I always obeyed."

That wasn't strictly true. Master Koumyou had been one to make gentle suggestions, or to demonstrate how much more easier a combat move was if performed slowly until perfected. He had never chastised, simply blinked in astonishment if he heard Genjo being particularly forthright, as he put it, so that Genjo naturally spoke in a better mode of speech thereafter. At least whilst Master Koumyou was in earshot. He'd never had to tell Genjo to do anything.

"That's not it!" Shuuei said loudly. "Of course you'd need to follow his guidance in training. What I'm talking about is -"

"What he means," Ukoku's pleasant, light voice said from the doorway, "is that you could consider this arrangement along the lines of a mystical marriage." He chuckled as Genjo and Shuuei both jumped, like conspirators caught out in the midst of their plans. "It's terribly romantic, don't you think?" he said, strolling up. "Formal robes, public vows, and -" The grin was wide and cheerful. " - consummation. And make no mistake, dear Genjo, you'll be the one getting fucked."

"Sanzo-sama, such language is unworthy -" Shuuei started, anger on his face.

Ukoku held up a hand; no magic apparent in the gesture, just the whole authority of a sanzo that Master Koumyou had been too gentle to wield.

"Quiet. Out, Talisman Master. I will speak with my fellow sanzo, not a provincial monastic."

"Shuuei is my friend," Genjo said, angry as he saw that Shuuei was fighting not to fall on his knees under Ukoku's will.

"Then you should consider his well-being. By all means, dismiss him."

Genjo saw Shuuei shakingly open his mouth and feared what Ukoku would do if he said anything. He stepped between then quickly.

"It's OK, Shuuei," he said in a rush. "We'll talk later."

As if a huge weight was taken from him, Shuuei gulped a lungful of air.

"Kou - I mean, Genjo. I can't leave you alone -"

"Such impudence," Ukoku murmured, wandering around, examining the images of the gods. "That doesn't happen at Zenou. Koumyou was too soft with all of you."

"Please, Shuuei," Genjo said, sure he was about to lose another person who loved him. He tried to control his breathing. Shuuei loved him. How could he never have seen that before? Please, he implored him silently, flicking his eyes towards the door. Shuuei's lips thinned and he walked away, reluctance in every line of his retreating figure. The temple doors shut behind him.

"You were expected at the dharma talk," Ukoku said. "So was he. If you want to plot, be less obvious." He whirled about. "Time for a chat. Here I was, hoping it would all be a lovely surprise at the actual ceremony and then that idiot spills the beans. What a party pooper."

"Get out," Genjo said, hating how high and shaky his voice was.

"Make me. Oh wait, you can't. Here's the thing, kid - I'm really not the kind of man who's into little boys. All the rumours say that Koumyou was -"

Genjo surprised them both by slapping him across the face, the sound echoing in the quiet temple. Ukoku threw back his head and laughed. Genjo's next blow, a punch, was caught easily and Ukoku's eyes sparkled with malice.

"Good for you! You defend his honour, kid. I would too, if I believed in honour. In case you care, I don't believe the rumours, at least not the version where he was fucking you from your winsome toddler years on. I have never met a man harder to seduce than our dear lost Koumyou. But who knows? Maybe he was into young teens and was waiting for you to get to this age. Maybe he wanted to go through this ceremony with little Genjo-Sanzo."

"Stop telling lies about him," Genjo said in outrage, pulling at his hand. "You lying bastard!"

Ukoku let go unexpectedly and Genjo staggered, almost falling over.

"You can't even stay on your feet properly," he said contemptuously. "I'm your best chance of living up to Koumyou's expectations. And because he was my friend I will train you. Which means I have to go through this damn ceremony and you will consent, do you hear me?"

"You're just like those men in the forest!" Genjo yelled in sickened fury.

Ukoku looked at him, then looked away, taking out a pack of cigarettes. The smell of the smoke was so familiar Genjo thought he'd start crying again; they were Master Koumyou's.

"No," Ukoku said at last. "That was attempted rape. This is a magical ritual and it needs us both to consent. Don't you understand, kid? I don't actually want to consent either, but I'll put my feelings aside. It's not really sex, it just uses it. It's magic, it's necessary." He took a long drag on the cigarette. "Look, I'll be considerate. I'll make it as -" A pause. "- as bearable as possible for you."

Genjo regarded him with suspicion. "A monk was expelled last year for seducing a novice. The novice said he promised him pleasure."

Ukoku rolled his eyes. "What can I say? Grief and being required to be shackled to a damn thirteen-year-old virgin have shocked me into honesty. Let's put expectations of pleasure aside. Bearable will have to do."

It was a terrible thought; Genjo knew afresh the man's grasp in his hair, the unwashed scent of his body, the sick fear he had felt as he sprawled, stunned, the man unbuckling his belt -

"I won't be thirteen for almost two more months," he said, and shuddered. "I can't do it."

Ukoku looked at him with something like horror in his eyes. "You're not even a fucking teenager," he said flatly. He turned away. "Koumyou raised you better than to say can't," he said calmly. "Think about it. If you decline, I will take the Maten. Out of respect I'll let you live, but it'll be a duel between sanzos. The sutra will rightfully be mine."

"It's mine," Genjo said. He could feel the sutra in his soul. He wasn't giving it up to anyone.

"Maybe you'd like me to just guard it for a few years," Ukoku said, facing him again. "You and my disciple can fight it out when you're eighteen or so."

"That little twerp?"

Ukoku laughed uproariously. "He is, isn't he? But he's a skilled little twerp, kid. He'd give you a run for your money, trust me."

"I am the bearer of the Seiten and Maten Sutras," Genjo said. "I am the successor of Koumyou-Sanzo, the Thirty-First Seiten Sanzo and the Twenty-Seventh Maten Sanzo of China." He gritted his teeth. "I will do whatever it takes to be a worthy bearer."

Ukoku's black eyes were fixed on his face as he finished his cigarette. "Maybe Koumyou saw more to you than just a pretty face. Good." He ground the butt out on the polished temple floor. "Get some rest over the coming week. The ceremony will be at the full moon in eight days time."

Genjo numbly watched him leave. The thought of what he'd agreed to weighed on him like a mountain. He could endure it. He would endure it and find the Seiten. It couldn't be that bad; lay people committed the act willingly. The man in the forest had wanted - had wanted - he put his hands over his mouth. If he breathed evenly and calmly he wouldn't vomit. He'd be all right.

* * *

The days passed too quickly. There were chants to learn, ritual purifications to carry out. Genjo moved from his room to the temple, barely speaking unless to chant from the texts unearthed from the library. Why did Kinzan even have such texts? Master Koumyou would never have demanded he prepare for such a ceremony. It was bad enough when he was alone, worse when he had company, Ukoku sitting by him, chanting steadily, his eyes fixed on the book in his lap. For the entire week Ukoku's conduct was painfully correct, his speech polite if he ever happened to say more than the ritual words needed. It made Genjo want to scream.

For his own sanity he avoided Shuuei although he desperately wanted the comfort of a familiar friendly presence. He knew, though, that Shuuei would try to persuade him not to go through with the ritual, and he had to learn to be a proper sanzo. It was that or watch Ukoku take the Maten and lose all his inheritance, the very last link to Master Koumyou.

On the day of the ceremony he woke late, finding the room full of senior monks. He rose, astonished at himself: how had he slept? He stood, allowing himself to be dressed as formally as Master Koumyou had ever been attired, his belt knotted more neatly than Master Koumyou had usually bothered doing himself. Then he followed them out of the guest house and soon found himself ritually disrobed again, for yet another day of ritual bathing and purification, being re-dressed and then walking, eyes on the back of the monk before him, to the temple. He felt his heart beat irregularly as he saw the monks with Ukoku coming from the direction that had been deemed auspicious for his approach. The lines of monks merged and Ukoku was walking beside him, looking straight ahead.

They entered the temple and knelt before the gods, then started the chant again. Genjo no longer needed the books; every syllable was engraved in his mind. After what seemed hours he sank down in prostration, registering Ukoku by his side touching his forehead to the floor. They sat up and faced each other. Ukoku reached out and removed Genjo's crown and veil, his face completely blank. Genjo reached up and removed Ukoku's. They set each other's crowns before them and went back to chanting. After another hour they prostrated themselves again and pulled off the inner sleeves of their robes. Ukoku silently held out his right hand, palm up, and Genjo laid his left hand, palm down, on it. They resumed chanting. The temple was quieter, the monks about them fewer. At every stage, more left. As they rose from their third prostration, Genjo felt his hands shake. He couldn't - didn't want to - untie Ukoku's belt. Saying nothing, Ukoku flicked his forefinger hard against Genjo's waist, just enough to recall his control. He undid the knot and rolled the belt up neatly. They chanted the rest of the text, their voices alone in the temple, dying into silence. Both of them knelt there, not saying anything, then Ukoku turned his head.

"Just us now, kid," he said. "Let's get this over with."

Genjo swallowed. He should still leave, still say no.

"This part's easy," Ukoku said, like he could read minds. "You know it's just a bit more chanting. Stay there." He stood.

Genjo bent his head as Ukoku chanted the final sutra, lifting the Muten crown from in front of Genjo. Carely, gently, he set it on Genjo's brow and bent to whisper the final mantra in his ear. Then he knelt and Genjo repeated the process, placing the Seiten crown on Ukoku's black hair. Ukoku rose, stretching his back, looking tired. Genjo chewed his lip; he felt - something like the slightest pull somewhere he couldn't define. Ukoku rolled his shoulders and stared at him curiously, then bent to kiss him. Genjo started back, eyes wide.

"What? Koumyou never kissed you?"

"When I was little! Not on the mouth!"

Ukoku shook his head. "I'm just trying to be polite," he said. "OK, come here - don't look at me like that, I promise I'm offering only the purest of embraces that Koumyou himself would have approved of, may he appear with a damn magic vajra to strike me down if I'm lying."

Master Koumyou didn't, so Genjo warily allowed himself to be reeled in. It wasn't anywhere as comforting as Master Koumyou's hugs were, but Ukoku at least kept his hands at shoulder level.

"Remember my little disciple?" he said.

"Yeah?" Genjo said, still wary. What, had he done this ritual too? Gross.

"He's got a trick he told me about that you might find useful this evening. You know, he's even more skittish about this sort of thing than you are. He knows all about it, young as he is. God, the night terrors the first couple of weeks . . . trust me, you'll get a performance of the screeching sooner or later."

"Does he want you saying anything about him?" Genjo said in horrified disgust. The man in the forest - Ukoku's disciple who was even smaller and younger than him . . .

"He doesn't get a say in what I say about him - that's an important lesson for you. We're sanzos: we do as we please. Anyway, I'm getting distracted. The trick is: think about something else so hard that your consciousness is diverted from the present and you are impervious to everything. A filthy street urchin managing advanced meditation techniques? I saw the potential in him right away."

"What?" Genjo said, looking up at the flat, black gaze.

"Meditate your inner self away from the shock of being fucked," Ukoku said, each word dropping into the temple's stillness. "We're still fucking. It's the final part of the ritual."

Genjo shook in his arms. He was going to cry from sheer weak terror and would never be able to hold his head up again. "I can't," he said.

"Look," Ukoku sighed. "We've gone through a whole week of purifications, all those stupid chants, we've spent the whole day in here. Do you want to go out there and tell all of Kinzan we've failed? I've never failed at anything in my entire life and I'm not starting now. I know you hate me, kid, that was clear last year. I always thought you were just a distraction to Koumyou, but here we damn well are. We'll just have to get over ourselves for a few minutes."

"You were jealous of me," Genjo said, half-remembered conversations falling into place. "That's fucking pathetic."

"Don't make me fucking laugh," Ukoku snapped. "Jealous? Of a little snot? You're failing Koumyou right now - are you going to live up to his expectations for you or not?"

"Yes," Genjo snarled.

"Good," Ukoku said and kissed him again. Genjo struggled back at the feel of someone else's tongue in his mouth.

"Stop! I don't like that."

"Seriously, things will be easier if I can get us both in the mood. It's not like kids do it for me."

Ugh, how disgusting. Genjo didn't see how anyone could ever be in the mood for such a thing. Master Koumyou had explained it was how babies came to be, and that lay people and animals liked it. Genjo had listened to the temple cats shrieking in the night and thought that perhaps Master Koumyou for once had been mistaken. So undignified and horrible! Master Koumyou would never have wanted anyone to do anything horrible to him, not even a friend of his.

"Master Koumyou said there isn't really any standard for becoming a sanzo! He wouldn't think this ritual was the right way."

"He said that? He was coming around to my arguments?" Ukoku's voice was desolate. "Oh, Koumyou -" His face hardened. "He's not here and I have to make sure you turn into something worthwhile. I won't have you be a disgrace to his memory."

Genjo seized on his words. A disgrace? He'd show Ukoku a damn disgrace.

"You said you don't like kids this way," he said. "They don't do it for you."

"So?" Ukoku said. "I'll manage."

"So all the monks of Kinzan - and all the sangha, once this news gets out - are going to think you do. It doesn't matter about you saying this isn't sex, it's magic that uses it, I know the sort of rumours that can spread. If people can gossip about Master Koumyou, what are the history books going to say about you?"

Ukoku said nothing. Then he blinked, like a lizard in bright light. "Koumyou used to sigh about those rumours," he said, half to himself.

He did? Genjo had done his best to shield his master from all knowledge of the bullshit. If he'd ever noticed anything he'd always told Genjo not to worry, that it was all just sound and wind, soon forgotten. Ukoku's gaze sharpened, focusing on him.

"Maybe it's too soon," he said, like he was convincing himself. "Too close to that attack. You might psychologically regress under the added stress; God knows I don't need two of you acting that way."

Genjo had no idea what he meant but he knew the sound of someone coming around to a new line of thought when he heard it. Ukoku put his hands on his hips and scowled at him.

"We'll revisit this at a later time. It might be necessary at some point to complete the ritual."

"But not now," Genjo said.

"Not now," Ukoku agreed.

Genjo breathed out, the mountain of dread lifting from him at last.

* * *

After Kinzan, Zenou was cold and windswept. Genjo looked at the trees, so much barer than those surrounding his home, so many firs in the mix - it was his home no longer, he told himself harshly - and tried not to shiver. Unknown monks, their faces curious, bowed as Ukoku led him along. Most of the greetings called out were in northern accents, not the familiar sounds of Kinzan. Genjo still felt ill from the magic of travelling over such a distance and found it hard to concentrate on the layout of buildings and courtyards. He stared at his feet on the path, noting that the way was free of fallen leaves. Zenou's novices weren't lazy, that was something.

"Master!"

Genjo looked up to see a familiar form break from a crowd of shaven-headed boys and come running towards them, fair hair flying. Oh, great. The little twerp was in a novice's robe now, not that it suited him. Ukoku's disciple rocketed into his master, wrapping his arms about his waist. What a baby.

"You said you were only going out for the evening! I've been so worried!"

"Little worrywart," Ukoku laughed and kissed the top of his head. "Look who I brought to play."

Oh, God.

The twerp peered around Ukoku's body.

"Kouryuu? What are you doing here?" He grinned, looking Genjo up and down. "Why are you dressed like that? Master, Kouryuu's playing dress-up!" He looked about expectantly. "Where's Koumyou-Sanzo?"

Genjo glared at him. It was the only way not to cry shamefully yet again.

"He's not here, kiddo," Ukoku said. "Koumyou's dead." The twerp looked up at him sharply, as if suspecting some weird adult joke. "This isn't Kouryuu any more - his name is Genjo Sanzo now. I'm going to finish off his training."

"No way," the twerp breathed, eyes wide in his stupid, scarred face.

"Yup," Ukoku said.

"But he's just a kid! Like me!"

"You have a lot to live up to now."

"Don't fucking talk about me like I'm not here."

"He sounds like Kouryuu, Master."

"You're asking for another thumping," Genjo said, stepping forward and shoving one wide sleeve up.

Ukoku held out a hand. "Not that I particularly care, but Koumyou would think it beneath a sanzo's dignity to beat up a little kid so soon after meeting him again. Give it twenty-four hours."

"I told you he hit me last year," the twerp whined.

"And I told you to hit back," Ukoku said. "Let's get out of public, kids. I'm tired of being on display." He walked off, clearly expecting to be followed.

The sanzo's residence at Zenou was of course not as pleasant as at Kinzan. None of the civilised and sublime touches of Master Koumyou's presence were there, and it seemed smaller and more cluttered. The layout was not as refined. It did not have as good natural light. The wood used in its construction was too dark. The trees surrounding Ukoku's private lawn encroached too close upon the house. The lamps were squat and ugly. Genjo frowned at the large desk shoved in a corner, totally ignoring the feng shui, overflowing with papers and precariously topped with full ashtrays, at the window seat with childish drawings scattered on it, at the scuffed low table and the cabinets.

"What's your problem?" Ukoku's disciple whispered, looking at his expression.

Genjo ignored him, prowling further to the alcove where a wide low bed heaped with warm quilts stood. That looked far too comfortable for a monk - and there was that stupid doll sitting on one side. Gross. The little twerp should sleep at the foot of his master's bed, or have his own quarters. Genjo closed his eyes, allowing himself to remember the simple pleasure of spreading out his mat in the evening at the foot of Master Koumyou's narrow - properly hard - bed, and falling asleep listening to his even breaths. Sleeping in his bed had been for when he was tiny or ill.

"Tea," Ukoku said, and Genjo automatically took a step towards the cabinets. "Genjo, sit. Your serving days are over."

His disciple looked sour, but started setting out cups and put a kettle on the cold brazier. Genjo's eyes widened as he whispered a few words and the coals ignited brightly.

"He's come on this past year," Ukoku said, noting his reaction. "I expect you to do likewise."

"Master Koumyou didn't think it appropriate for children to learn magic, Ukoku-Sanzo."

The twerp made a disbelieving noise. Ukoku snorted.

"Quite so, kiddo. OK, Genjo, drop the Master K nonsense: you call him Koumyou. You call me Ukoku. We're nominally equals. Nominally."

"What do I call him?" Genjo said, jerking his chin at the twerp, who stiffened.

"Suit yourself."

"Sir," the twerp suggested.

"You wish, dipshit."

"Master! Don't let him call me that!"

"Who am I to interfere in another sanzo's business?" Ukoku said with a mean grin.

"Master! Please don't play dress-up as Koumyou-Sanzo!"

"Not dipshit," Ukoku said, relenting. He accepted the offered cup of tea, sighing. "I'm so soft-hearted."

Genjo pursed his lips at the first sip, not expecting such strong pu-erh. Master Koumyou had always preferred milder blends.

"Master always drinks this in the morning," the twerp said, looking evilly at him. "Does it displease you, Genjo-Sanzo? Should I heat some soy milk for you?"

"It's fine," he said shortly.

"Have you been putting your ointment on, kiddo?" Ukoku said suddenly. "I bet you haven't."

The twerp looked guilty and younger, somehow. "It stings, Master."

"So? It'll stop the scar contracting. Go get it now, kiddo."

His disciple's shoulders sagged as he retrieved a small pot from the bedside cabinet. Ukoku took a large dollop of the greasy light green ointment within and smeared it on the boy's face, working it into the angry red mark. Genjo caught an astringent herbal scent as the boy winced.

"Ugh, I'll stink for hours."

"It's for your own good. Hold still."

"It hurts."

"I'll show you what'll hurt if you don't stop squirming. There. All done."

The large scar on the boy's face glistened with the ointment and the massage from Ukoku's fingers. He looked miserable enough for Genjo to feel guilty about threatening to hit him. He hadn't realised the damage under the bandage the previous year was as bad as it seemed to have been. For all of Ukoku's threats, his disciple didn't seem the least bit afraid and was leaning on his master as if it were a comfort. Ukoku absently shoved him down to sit by his side and they all drank tea in silence until the pot ran dry.

"What happened to your face, anyway?" Genjo said curiously.

"I got hurt," the twerp said, resting his head against Ukoku's side.

"It's a burn," Ukoku said, which didn't really explain anything. "You're doing OK, aren't you, kiddo? You can still see with both eyes, even if the burnt one's a bit blurry."

"Yes, Master!" his disciple simpered. "Thanks to you!"

"I'm a living saint!" Ukoku laughed. "All little boys need a fairy godfather like me." He fluttered his eyelashes at Genjo. "Don't you believe I'm a fairy? Want to check for my wings?"

"I'll pass," Genjo said. "I'm going to look around."

"Good idea. I need to bring the masters up to speed about you. Kiddo, make sure Genjo doesn't get lost."

"I don't need company," he said quickly.

"Neither do I," Ukoku said. "Kiddo, accompany Genjo-Sanzo."

"Yes, Master," his disciple sighed. He gave Genjo a hostile glance. "Venerable and Holy Genjo-Sanzo-Houshi-sama, where would you like to go first?"

This was going to be a fantastic day, Genjo could see. They left the house to the sound of Ukoku's laughter. Outside, people stopped and stared. Genjo drew himself up so that he wouldn't shrink back.

"I want to see the temple," he said.

"Fine," the twerp said, and headed off. "This way, Ancient and Venerable Grey-Bearded Sage!"

At least the temple just looked like a temple. Genjo patted the stone lions on the head as he always had when he was a little kid in Kinzan and went in to yell at the gods. Useless. Why hadn't they saved his master? Maybe because he was an impious brat. He sagged and prostrated himself instead. Let Master Koumyou have a fortunate rebirth. Let him meet and know his master again.

"What happened, Kouryuu?"

" . . . what?"

"What's really going on? You aren't really a sanzo."

"I am," Genjo said. "My master proclaimed me one before he died."

"Really? Wait, he's really dead?"

"What did you think, you idiot?" Genjo rounded on him. "Did you think I'm here just because I wanted to visit you?"

"Maybe. I'm very loveable, you might have missed me. What sort of horrible monster killed him? Was it a really fearsome battle? Did he hold off an entire army?"

"Don't talk like it's some sort of entertainment!" Genjo yelled. "He was murdered! Murdered, you little bastard! Robbers broke in and -"

"Robbers?" Ukoku's disciple said disbelievingly. "My master wouldn't even have woken up to kill them."

"Your master would probably join up with robbers and steal things!"

"Don't you say bad things about my master!"

"You don't know what your master wanted to do to me!"

"Teach you manners? You need them! He always says you don't respect Koumyou-Sanzo - excuse me, didn't respect him!"

With a shriek Genjo threw himself on the little bastard. He got in a couple of heavy, furious punches, one landing squarely in the centre of the scar. The little bastard screamed and kicked him in the balls. As Genjo folded, shocked and in agony, the boy kept kicking him.

"Fuck you! Fuck your useless master! That really hurt! Fuck! You!"

Genjo dimly heard running feet and then he was being picked up. Through watering eyes he saw his opponent being held back by a middle-aged monk. He was being held by a teenage boy in a novice's robe.

"He started it, Master Ouqian!" Ukoku's disciple shrieked. "He hit me for no reason!"

"Boy, be quiet," the monk said. He looked at Genjo, raising an eyebrow. "So you're him," he said. "The new sanzo I'm on my way to hear about. Bai, let the Sanzo-sama go."

"Yes, Master," the boy said, releasing Genjo. "Are you all right?" he said quietly.

Genjo nodded, not trusting himself to speak. That little shit, fighting so dirty! He scowled at Ukoku's disciple who scowled back. Red-tinged liquid was seeping from the little shit's bad eye which made Genjo feel guilty suddenly; he'd hit where it hurt as well.

"We were both overcome by love for our masters, and misspoke somewhat," he said with bad grace. "It's nothing."

"Nothing," Master Ouqian said dryly. "I see. Pardon my intrusion, then. Bai, come."

"Bai, I didn't start it," Ukoku's disciple sniffled as he was released.

The teenager gave them both a small smile as he turned to follow his master.

"Try to not misspeak further until Ukoku-Sanzo-sama has instructed us," Master Ouqian said from the doorway, and then they were gone.

In the silence Genjo said, "Do you need to see someone about your eye?"

Ukoku's disciple patted his eyes dry with his sleeve. "No," he said, looking at the horrible smudge on his sleeve. "It's OK. You don't fight very well; I got you right in the nuts!"

"I learnt to fight with honour."

"Yeah? I'm learning to fight to win, that's what matters. You just lost your temper, haha! That's why you lost."

It was galling to hear the truth in such a sing-song manner.

"You shouldn't have laughed about my master being dead," Genjo said. "That's why I was angry."

Ukoku's disciple sat cross-legged, looking up at the statues. "Robbers. That's scary, Kouryuu - suppose any sanzo could be killed that easily? I'm sorry he's dead. He was all right to me last year."

"You have to call me Genjo. That's the houmyou he gave me."

"That name's too big for you!"

"Genjo," Genjo said stubbornly.

"Genyuu," the other boy giggled. "Koujo."

"It's good to see how much you've matured," Genjo said in disgust.

"I'm never going to grow up! It's much better being a kid, that way I'll be looked after."

"By Ukoku, ugh."

"Don't say ugh, he's lovely."

Genjo didn't answer, thinking of Ukoku's hands on him. He just had to be calm; they didn't need to finish the ritual. Ukoku knew that.

"Your face looks like three-day-old congee."

"Your face looks like your dolly's."

"I knew you weren't really a sanzo," Ukoku's disciple said with satisfaction. "That's not a very scripturally-based argument. And my doll has a very pretty face, so thank you."

Ugh.

"Show me the rest of this dump," Genjo said. "I don't want to be too easily found when they come to exclaim over having two sanzos of their very own."

By the end of the tour he decided he'd had enough and wanted to go back to Kinzan. He shoved the childish thought down and glumly followed his guide through a meandering set of paths that no senior monk in any self-respecting monastery would bother with. Master Koumyou would have loved them. Hearing voices, Ukoku's disciple pulled him into the woods, and they crept along until they could reappear and make a dash for the horrible, too-dark, too-small sanzo's residence. Genjo heard someone start to say "Genj-" behind them, but by then his hand had been seized and he'd been pulled inside, the door slammed shut.

"I told you I'd get you back without talking to anyone!"

"What's that, kiddo?" Ukoku said, turning round from the table. He frowned. "Are you two wearing your sandals indoors?"

"We were in a hurry, Master!"

"Take them off! This isn't Kinzan, we have manners here."

Genjo bristled, but then saw it wasn't malice, just a dumb adult joke. Great. Ukoku was mean and made stupid jokes at kids. He stamped over, barefoot, hoping for more tea.

"Everyone's very keen to meet you, to extend their condolences and to see what they can get out of you," Ukoku said, smoking indoors like a damn barbarian. "I told them they have to wait till tomorrow. You're up for the morning dharma talk."

"I'm what?"

"It comes with the territory," Ukoku said, and that was meanness in his voice. "Tell them to be nice to each other or something. They lap that pablum up."

"You can't expect me to -"

"Kiddo, when dear old Ukoku-Sanzo makes a teeny little suggestion, what's the correct answer?"

"Yes, Master!"

"I'm not your damn disciple!"

"Part of your training is addressing gatherings of monks."

"So tell me what to say!"

"I just did."

"Fuck," Genjo muttered. He turned away so that he couldn't see Ukoku laughing at him.

"Tomorrow you can start classes," Ukoku said. "I'll work out where to put you - you're not a bad fighter, I remember."

"I hold my own," Genjo said.

"Doctrine?"

"I've studied the sutras," Genjo said.

"But not the Sutras. We'll work up to that. I suppose I can stick you in with the novices just to see them squirm."

"That would be so funny, Master!"

There was a knock at the door, and Ukoku's disciple hurried over, coming back with a large basket filled with straw. He began to take out dishes packed carefully in, their contents kept hot.

"Kouryuu, get the bowls -" he started. He looked up, guiltily. "Sorry, Master," he whispered. "I didn't mean to be rude."

"Watch your mouth in public," Ukoku said. "Genjo, sit back down! You wait and he serves."

"You and Koumyou-Sanzo poured wine for each other," Genjo said, feeling lazy and useless.

Ukoku looked at him evenly. "Do you want me to pour wine for you?"

"No. Thank you."

He accepted a bowl of rice and picked at morsels from the bowls set out in the centre of the table. Zenou's kitchen had sent over a lot of food, clearly wanting to mark a day when two sanzos ate their cooking. Genjo felt a little better to see that Ukoku didn't make his disciple wait, for all his talk of serving, but seemed to expect the twerp to sit and eat with them. He stared silently into his rice until he was sure no tears would come. Master Koumyou had liked him to share his food as well, though Genjo had always properly hung back if anyone could see.

After they'd eaten the twerp piled the kitchen bowls in the basket and left it outside the door, and then went to wash the rice bowls they'd eaten from. Genjo followed him outside, watching him washing up at a tap at the back of the house.

"Private loo," the twerp said, nodding at an outhouse. "Take a light so you can see where the spiders are."

"I don't care about spiders."

"Ewww, they're gross."

"Whatever. Where am I meant to sleep?"

The twerp paused, up to his wrists in soapy water, and looked surprised.

"I don't know. Master didn't say. Didn't he tell you?"

"That's why I'm asking, moron."

"You're so rude," the twerp muttered going back to his task. "Go and ask him, then, if you don't like my answer."

Genjo glowered, stamped to the outhouse and glared at the inside of it. He collected a spider and flicked it at the twerp on the way back, enjoying the high-pitched shrieking. Then he stamped inside.

"Hey, you!"

"Oh, the joys of children," Ukoku said, looking towards the ceiling. "Piss off outside, come back in and address me with some semblance of courtesy."

The door opened again and a wet, red-faced twerp entered at high speed. It looked like he'd dumped the bowl of water over himself.

"Master, Kouryuu threw a spider on me!"

"You mean Genjo-Sanzo threw a spider on you, kiddo."

"Argh! Yes! Master, Genjo-Sanzo-Houshi-sama threw a spider on me!"

"If he did it every day and twice on festivals maybe it'd cure the phobia," Ukoku said. "Genjo, don't throw spiders on my kiddo. That's my job."

"Master!"

"You haven't answered my question," Genjo said.

"You didn't ask one, you just burst in and Hey, you'd me," Ukoku said. "I note you haven't pissed off and come back in yet."

"Where do I sleep?" Genjo said, ignoring him. "Where are my quarters?"

Ukoku frowned slightly, as if this wasn't something he'd actually considered. He looked from Genjo to his disciple and shrugged. "Huh," he said. "There's only one house set aside for a sanzo here. I guess we're sharing. You're both shrimps, and the bed's big enough, so -"

"Master!" the twerp wailed. "I don't want him to share with us!"

"I'm not sleeping with you!" Genjo said, his fists balling.

"Relax," Ukoku said. "I'm taking about sleeping arrangements, not fucking." He shook his head sadly. "Genjo-Sanzo has a one-track mind, kiddo."

His disciple rounded on Genjo, sheer outrage in his face. "You're horrible! How could you think such a thing? My master would never, ever even think of -"

"Oh, yeah?" Genjo said. "Let me just fill you in on that."

"Enough!" Ukoku snapped. "It's too late to hunt around for a damn bed to be brought in tonight. I'll do it tomorrow. For tonight, we'll all just have to endure each other's company. Kiddo, you're in the middle, to make sure Genjo's chastity doesn't feel under too much strain."

"Make him say sorry about the spider, Master," the twerp said in his annoying little-kid voice.

"Nope. Sanzos don't apologise. Go and bring the bowls in."

When he was gone, Genjo looked askance at Ukoku. "You don't want me telling him about the ritual."

"Tell him what you want, I don't care."

Ukoku sat back and turned his attention to a booklet printed with small, dense-set characters. Genjo craned his head to look at the title and wondered what bio-engineering was and why it had a journal devoted to it.

"What should I do now?"

"Whatever you want. After dinner is our free time. When I finish this article I'm going to bed. Which means we all are." Ukoku looked up. "To sleep. Fuck, you're jumpy."

Genjo deliberately relaxed again, ashamed he was so easy to read. When the twerp came back he ostentatiously ignored Genjo, and played with his stupid doll, dressing her in a different outfit and making her dance on the window seat. Ugh. He had to be at least ten, maybe eleven. What a drip. Genjo sat quietly and meditated until Ukoku tossed down his booklet and stood.

"Bedtime," he said. "Teeth, kiddo. You too, Genjo."

"I don't need to be reminded to brush my teeth."

"Good, because I'm not taking you to a dentist. I hate sitting in waiting rooms. Go on, get your toothbrush and get brushing."

It was homely yet wrong to stand at the tap and brush his teeth with them. He thought of himself as a smaller boy, brushing his teeth beside Master Koumyou, and banished the thought as he remembered his master smiling down with a foamy, toothpastey smile to make him laugh. It would be better not to think of him; it would hurt less.

It was stranger yet to climb into the wide bed and flatten himself against the wall, leaving as much space as possible for the others. There was at least a foot of mattress between him and the twerp, who looked at him like he was invading a private domain. He had not, it seemed, been forgiven for the spider.

"If you need to wee in the night, climb out over the end," the twerp sniffed. "Don't wake us up." He pointedly turned his back.

Genjo closed his eyes and tried to think of nothing.

In the dead of night he woke screaming, Master Koumyou's blood on his face and hands as he tried to staunch the terrible wound, his dying breaths rattling in his ears. As he became aware of his surroundings he saw Ukoku's disciple staring at him, huge-eyed.

"Kiddo," Ukoku mumbled sleepily. "S'OK, it's just me, you're safe -" He rolled over, opening his eyes and seemed dumbfounded at the presence of two boys. "Oh."

"Master, Genjo had a bad dream," his disciple said, shrinking back against his master, like he thought nightmares were catching.

"Yeah," Ukoku said. He pursed his lips. "I'd normally give him a hug," he said to Genjo, "but -"

"No," Genjo said quickly.

"Right. Kiddo, give Genjo a hug. He needs it."

His disciple sighed, then grabbed Genjo in an embrace that seemed to have too many arms. He wrapped himself close and held on tight. It was mortifying. After a few seconds Genjo said,

"It's OK, you can let go now."

"No, Master hasn't said so."

"For fuck's sake."

"You are feeling better!"

"Seriously, let go."

"Nuh-huh."

"No more nighttime whispers, boys!" Ukoku said merrily from the other side of the bed. "Back to sleep!"

Before Genjo could protest that he could hardly sleep while he was being treated like a human dolly he felt his limbs grow heavy and limp, and the twerp slump against him, still hugging tight. When he woke again the thin morning sun was creeping in; he was forced to admit that maybe the comforting had been what he needed.

* * *

Ukoku's teaching style was nothing like Master Koumyou's. Genjo stood in the early morning light, looking dubiously at Ukoku's disciple as he bounced up and down, windmilling his thin arms.

"I can't fight him," he said. "He's smaller than me."

"Kiddo, did I tell you to fight Genjo?'

"Yes, Master!"

"Are you going to?

"Yes, Master!"

"What's the correct answer to the question of if you're going to fight, Genjo?"

"I'm not calling you master."

"You're not going to bother warming up either, huh?"

Ukoku clapped his hands and his disciple shot in, aiming a kick at Genjo's chest. It was easy to avoid; Genjo dealt a retaliatory slap, just enough to let the twerp know he should back down. It swished through thin air as the twerp ducked, grinning, rolled forwards under his defence and came up to tweak Genjo's nose.

"Got your nose!"

"You should have broken his nose! Stop fucking around, kiddo!"

The twerp stopped grinning and landed a solid punch. The little fucker was actually fighting. Genjo blocked the next flurry of blows and went for a kick on the brat's thigh. Put him down with a good bruising. The annoying creature sprang to the side, avoiding the kick by a fraction.

"Try harder," he jeered.

Genjo saw red, and went on the offensive. He chased the twerp around Ukoku's garden, the little idiot fighting defence all the way, blocking what he could, desperately avoiding the rest, until Genjo's greater skill won out and with a hard, swift blow he knocked the twerp flat on his back and stood on his wrist so he couldn't get up again. Then a wave of shame flooded him at the thought of Master Koumyou's face if he saw them and he stepped back, lifting the twerp to his feet.

"Sorry," he muttered. "You're better than I'd thought you'd be."

"If there's one thing I've learned it's how to dodge," the twerp said, wincing a little.

Genjo turned about, still red with shame. "I'm not fighting him again! It's not fair! I've trained for years, and he's been in Zenou for what, a year? And I'm older and bigger!"

Ukoku nodded slowly. "Noted. You don't fight smaller opponents. Take a rest, kiddo." He looked at Genjo like a crow examining a fat, dead squirrel, then kicked off his sandals and stepped into the centre of the lawn. "Come on then. Try me for size."

Genjo felt his mouth open in surprise. Fight a sanzo? He'd sparred with older monks in training bouts. Not once had a trainer ever shouted for someone to break an opponent's nose. Not once had a master of Kinzan suggested that a child should fight someone of their level of skill, let alone a bearer of a foundation sutra. He swallowed.

Ukoku struck.

Genjo backflipped out of range. Oh, shit, he was fast.

Ukoku strolled towards him, like he was going to take his time in whatever was coming. Genjo launched a flying kick at his head, hoping to take him by surprise, but he simply wasn't there.

"Speed up, kid," Ukoku said to his side. "Did Koumyou teach you nothing?"

Genjo had no time to remember what he was taught as the next strike came in, the edge of Ukoku's hand aimed straight at his neck. He dropped and rolled inelegantly away as a foot stamped down, making a deep imprint in the ground. Finally he gave up and merely ran, knowing he was outpacing Ukoku only by chance. At last he zigged when he should have zagged and his arm was seized, held in extension.

"I could dislocate your shoulder from here," Ukoku said cheerfully, holding tight to his wrist. Then, horrifically, he jumped, Genjo's wrist still in his grasp. Genjo whimpered involuntarily as his arm was lifted and rotated fully. "But I know what I'm doing," Ukoku said from behind him. "You're fine."

Genjo registered at last that he was gone. He lifted his head and saw the twerp watching him.

"Are you going to puke?" the twerp said. "Sometimes I puke."

"No," Genjo said. "Does he make you fight him?"

The twerp nodded. "It's how I'm so good at dodging! Isn't it fun?" He looked around carefully. "It's scary, isn't it? But it's good for us."

"He liked frightening me."

"He's a sanzo! He can do anything he wants!" The twerp looked sulky. "I suppose you can too, now that you're a sanzo." He brightened. "Do you want to go to town and get candy? Say yes!"

"No," Genjo said, and the twerp looked sulkier.

Ukoku peered around the corner of the house and whistled sharply. "You two! Get your hairless asses in here and disappoint me with your scriptural knowledge! Genjo needs to be ready for his dharma talk!"

Crap. He hadn't been kidding.

As Genjo listlessly drank tea and swirled his spoon in a bowl of overly-sweet cereal, Ukoku quizzed him on basic points of scripture, seeming annoyed that he knew any sutras at all. Of course he did! He'd helped Master Koumyou revise when he absolutely couldn't get out of giving teachings in Kinzan!

"Start with the Heart Sutra," Ukoku said. "It's a crowd pleaser. You can say practically any bullshit after that and they'll kiss your feet."

"Thank you for your inestimable advice, Ukoku-Sanzo," Genjo said, shoving his bowl aside.

"Don't give me attitude, kid. You don't think Koumyou was religious, do you?"

"I think the depth of his spiritual wisdom exceeded that of all other sanzos," Genjo snapped.

"Are we talking about the same alcoholic?"

"How can you call yourself his friend?" Genjo yelled.

"Kid," Ukoku said. "I told you, no attitude. Or I might remember our unfinished business."

Genjo stared at the table, his knuckles white as he grasped the handle of the breakfast mug. He slid it across to the twerp.

"More tea."

He was disgusted by the amused noise Ukoku made.

The teaching hall was packed. Every monk and novice in Zenou knelt on the ancient, smooth floor. Genjo felt his heart pound as he walked to the head of the hall and sat, tucking his feet up onto his thighs. Ukoku sat to one side watching him expressionlessly, his head bare. The weight of the crown still felt strange to Genjo; he wished he were sitting bare-headed listening to Master Koumyou. Hell, to Ukoku. He raised a hand, keeping his eyes partially unfocused, and began to chant the Heart Sutra. A crowd pleaser. Right.

The sound of an entire monastery following his lead made his voice falter, but he managed not to lose the beat. Somehow he got to the end and sat in silence, collecting his thoughts.

"Koumyou-Sanzo," he said at last, "was my dear and revered master, and the beloved friend of Ukoku-Sanzo." Let the bastard remember it. "I cannot hope to reach his subtle and delicate mastery of teaching." He could see a tiny smile on Ukoku's lips. "Those of you who knew him know well how he clothed his lessons in speech even a child could comprehend, yet the meaning was profound." He paused, and all that he had been going to say deserted him. Of course he couldn't match up to Master Koumyou. He never would. "I will tell you of a conversation I held with him," he said at last, "when I was very young, before he and Ukoku-Sanzo met." Ukoku's eyes were on him, sharply interested. "I do not know how old I was, whether I was three, or four. I know only that this was before Koumyou-Sanzo left to see Goudai-Sanzo for the final time. There is a course of stone running around the base of the temple in Kinzan that slopes outward, just wide enough for a child's foot. I could walk along it; I was doing this, and the day was hot and very sunny. Master, I said. When will it be summer? He smiled and said, It's already summer. Then I walked all around the temple on that course of stone, with him by my side." He stopped, hearing again the cicadas, seeing Master Koumyou smiling down fondly, looking so young. He'd worn his hair in a ponytail! How had he only just remembered that? At a loss, he chanted the Heart Sutra again, then walked out.

Ukoku found him in the temple, and sank down beside him. Genjo looked over his shoulder to see monks at the doorway, peeping in at them.

"I told them to stay out," Ukoku said. "You really hated that, earlier. I'll have you do it until it's just boring."

"Not tomorrow," Genjo said dully.

"Definitely tomorrow."

"No, please."

Ukoku shifted to a casual position. "You think it went badly? They're all going on about Koumyou adapting teachings about mindfulness to a level that even a toddler could appreciate and calling him the greatest Buddhist mind of our generation. He'd laugh so much he'd choke."

"I don't even know why I said any of that," Genjo mumbled. "I'd forgotten about it until I opened my mouth."

"Must have been divine inspiration, kid. If there were any such things as the gods. Don't look so down, it's not like you lost your father and I lost my only friend."

"I fucking hate you," Genjo said, looking into his face. "You laugh at everything."

"Koumyou wasted his time with you," Ukoku said in a low, intense voice. "And you're wasting my time now. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You can have a couple of days to find your feet in Zenou. Then you take dharma talks again. You'll attend scripture classes with the senior monks; if you find yourself falling behind you'll just have to catch up on the novice curriculum in your own time. You train with me every morning, and you exercise with my kiddo daily as well. I'm not running a damn creche here."

"I could do most of that in Kinzan."

"Maybe. But you wouldn't have; you'd have run off on your doomed quest. Not to mention -" Ukoku looked at him curiously. " - I want you to activate the Maten."

"What? Why?"

"Go on, just do it."

"I . . . I'm not sure how."

"You've seen me use the Muten. I've seen Koumyou use the Seiten. Just make it respond to your will."

Genjo could feel the Maten, could feel it deep within him, but he had no idea how to make it respond to his will, not in the way he had seen the Muten simply leap from Ukoku's shoulders without the man saying a word. Master Koumyou had never used either sutra in his presence; he had merely asked Genjo to hold the Maten, to unroll it and roll it up again, saying it would become accustomed to his touch. He closed his eyes and focused, bending all his concentration to the task. After what seemed an eternity something hit against his leg. He opened his eyes and saw Ukoku watching him sardonically.

"You know," Ukoku said, taking out his cigarettes and blasphemously lighting up right there, "you're going to give yourself an aneurysm if you frown any harder. It's been fifteen minutes, you've failed."

"Fifteen minutes?"

"Try again, and this time don't fail. You don't eat until you can activate it."

"What?" Genjo said. "I've only had half a bowl of that gross cereal today -"

"There's enough sugar in that to fuel my kiddo for hours. Come and find me when you get that working." He walked off, yelling at the monks by the door. "Genjo-Sanzo requires solitude! No one is to enter the temple until I say so!"

Genjo took the Maten into his lap and stared at it in frustration. The Muten had just whirled up and dealt out destruction. Surely the Seiten would have been graceful and obedient for Master Koumyou? Why couldn't he use this?

He chanted the words of the sutra. He shouted at it. He buried his face in its folds and screamed, his voice muffled by the cloth, about the unfairness of the universe. He was so angry with himself: he was as useless as Ukoku said. Finally he just sat there, the temple at three AM dark about him as no one had entered to light the lamps, and thought of nothing at all, exhausted and hungry. He could at least chant a sutra for Master Koumyou. He put the Maten about his shoulders and, his mind focused on the enormity of how he had failed his master and his anger at their separation, chanted the Heart Sutra. The last words died away, and, clear as a bell he heard Master Koumyou's voice in his mind.

Makai Tenjo.

"Makai Tenjo," he snarled in fury and self-disgust, and the Maten spiralled upwards, filling the temple with light and power.

Genjo looked up in awe, and fainted.

* * *

A month later, he knew he hated Ukoku with all his heart.

Every morning he faced the man and fought until he was beaten, and Ukoku took pleasure in beating him. Genjo then limped to the teaching hall and mouthed platitudes to the assembled monks. He had to admit he was no longer nervous about dharma talks. He no longer cared about anything. He sat in the senior scripture classes, letting the discussions wash over his head, and then hurried to the novice class to catch up. The novices were at least politer than those at Kinzan. He shoved the Kinzan boys from his mind, not liking to remember how he'd last seen them, dead and bleeding on the ground. In Zenou they just looked at him in sidelong silence or shyly said Yes, Sanzo-sama to anything he said. They spoke to the twerp, and some of them even laughed with him and shoved him around in a friendly manner. Not that Genjo cared. Sanzos didn't need friends.

Whenever he least expected it, Ukoku would appear and quiz him. Discuss the Two Truths Doctrine. Explain the universe, giving three examples. What is the application of the paramarthra dharma to particle physics? Genjo dearly wanted to tell him where he could shove his questions. Especially the one that ran Why do you still have to chant to activate the Maten Sutra? The only benefit of seeing his unloved, unwanted teacher's face was that it infuriated him and the rage made it so much easier to call the Maten into action.

"Sanzo-sama?"

Genjo turned about, already scowling. The wide-eyed skinny novice with the unfortunately big ears shuffled a little, then held out a damp cloth. He was one of the two the little twerp usually hung around with.

"It's just cool water, Sanzo-sama," he said, not quite meeting Genjo's eyes. "It might be good for - for the . . " His voice died away, and he made a little gesture.

"I'm fine," Genjo snapped. Then, because no one had been kind for over a month, he gruffly swiped the cloth and muttered, "Thanks." It did feel good against his black eye, and he sighed a little. "Thanks," he said again, more genuinely.

"It's very brave of you to train with Ukoku-Sanzo-sama," the novice said. "His disciple says you train all the time."

"Yeah, he's getting a regular vacation now I'm here," Genjo said. "Ukoku's getting all his kid-beating jollies with me."

The boy's large eyes went wide and shocked, like he'd heard more than was safe. He stepped back, bowing and stuttering excuses. Genjo waved him off; he was dangerous to be around, he already knew that. Ukoku'd probably like to make the novices' lives miserable if he thought they were in any way a comfort to him. Or to his disciple, for that matter. He watched the boy hightailing it. The twerp never spoke about his friends back at the house, was in fact downright derogatory about the novices if he spoke about his classes at all. And yet when he was with them he was all smiles. Good for him, Genjo thought viciously. Let him have something for himself.

He'd had enough. He wasn't going to go to any more classes that day. He wandered in the woods for an hour then strolled back to sit by Zenou's pond and stare into the dark water. He felt himself tense at the sound of sandals on gravel.

"I have a question on scripture. And another on why you aren't in the training rooms with my kiddo where you should be."

For fuck's sake.

"I'm following Koumyou-Sanzo's example this afternoon."

"Really? And what might that be?"

Genjo looked up at the eternally amused, slightly contemptuous expression.

"I'm slacking the fuck off."

The bark of laughter surprised him. Ukoku sat by the pond with him, crossing his legs.

"Are you now? Well, who am I to interfere, as our dear dead friend would say? I think I'll slack off with you."

"Do you have to?"

"Yeah. I may decide to drown you."

They sat in silence, Genjo staring into the water's depths, Ukoku smoking, as the light drained from the sky. Ukoku stood, tossing his cigarette butt into the pond.

"Dinner time. Come on."

Genjo fished the butt out and followed him. Their food had already been brought to the house, and the twerp had set it out. Genjo sat in his usual place and accepted the bowl of rice passed to him.

"Stay away from my - associates," the twerp hissed as he passed it over.

"Whatever."

"What a lovely clear night," Ukoku said, looking out the window by his desk. "I think I'll have a nice drink outside after dinner."

"It's chilly, Master! Don't catch a cold!"

"Don't worry about me, kiddo! Worry about yourself, you'll be pouring the wine. Genjo, you'll join me."

"I don't drink wine," Genjo said in absolute contempt. "Monks are forbidden intoxicants."

"It's not a request."

"I do not drink wine."

Ukoku looked away from the moon through the window, his eyes unreadable as he focused on him. "You consented to my tuition."

"I don't consent," Genjo said, his mouth suddenly dry.

"You don't get to revoke it now."

"Is that what you're saying?" Genjo said, anger rising up, "I drink with you, or you -"

"I'm just saying you should share a drink with me."

The twerp looked between them, as if he knew there was something he wasn't understanding and didn't like it. After he had cleared away the bowls he set out a tray with wine cups and a bottle on it, and a small dish with tiny salted crackers.

"Good boy," Ukoku said, stroking his hair.

The twerp beamed, like he was a little lapdog being praised. Ugh. He carefully carried the tray outside and Ukoku rose smoothly from his kneeling position.

"Up, Genjo. Let's look at the moon and get plastered."

Genjo glared and stood, following him outside. Ukoku sat on the edge of his porch, as Master Koumyou had so many times, and patted the wood beside him.

"Sit."

Genjo reluctantly sat and even more reluctantly accepted the wine cup the twerp handed him. Ukoku was looking into his, like the moon's reflection was important or something.

"Have you ever made a toast?"

"No, of course not."

"Well, then, allow me." Ukoku raised his cup and looked up. "To the beauty of the moon." He drained the wine in one swallow and looked at Genjo. "Down in one, kid."

Master Koumyou had drunk wine. It had to be allowed for a sanzo. "Master the wine, do not allow it to master you." One cup would be all right. Genjo drank it swiftly and tried not to cough it back up. It was much stronger a taste than he'd expected. The twerp refilled the cups.

"Now you make one," Ukoku said. "That's how this works."

Genjo looked at him in astonishment. Oh. He supposed that made sense. One each. Ukoku's had been surprisingly harmless and poetic. His should recall them both to their duty.

"Ah - to the Three Jewels."

Ukoku nodded, looking a little amused. "Why not?"

The second cup burnt as much going down as the first, but left a pleasant warmth in its wake. They all sat in silence for a few minutes, then Ukoku nodded to the twerp, who refilled the cups.

"I've had enough -"

Ukoku picked his cup up, looking at the moon. "To absent friends," he said, his voice soft.

Genjo put a hand over his face. Then he picked his cup up. "To absent friends," he said and downed every drop, holding it out to be refilled.

"To my master."

"To your master."

"Master," the twerp said, "can I have some too?"

"Huh? No, kiddo, you're too small. Come on, fill up."

"Koumyou drank tea mixed with milk and butter on the roof of the world under a moon like this," Ukoku said, his gaze still upwards. Genjo stared at him. A story from their walk to India he hadn't heard! "And do you know what he said?"

"No, what?"

"A splash of whisky would go really well in this!" Ukoku laughed and downed his wine. "He wasn't wrong. Vile stuff, though he claimed he liked it. I thought we'd never stop walking. Then I wished we never would. Drink up."

"He said you met a goddess in the mountains."

Ukoku laughed and put an arm about his shoulders. Genjo stiffened, but nothing else happened. He sipped at his wine.

"Which one? The little youkai girl? Kanzeon Hirself? Not that Se'd speak to me. The various temple guardians? There were pretty little things, supernatural and not, at our feet for the whole trip."

The story wasn't very suitable, but Master Koumyou seemed to have been able to keep Ukoku under control, from what Genjo could make out. He was sure that Indian girls, be they humans or gods, weren't so undiscerning as to fancy a horrible person like Ukoku anyway. It was strangely pleasant to sit there, the wine heating him through and making him feel loose limbed, hearing about Master Koumyou's adventures from someone else. He looked about, wondering if he should eat some of the little crackers, and caught the twerp's gaze, fixed on him. Pure poison was in his face. Huh. What was his problem? Ukoku patted his shoulder to get his attention and went on to an even more unlikely story about Master Koumyou preaching to monkeys who had stolen the Seiten Sutra. Genjo put the twerp out of his mind and smiled, thinking of his master in the jungle telling monkeys of how to liberate themselves from suffering.

He woke face down in the narrow bed that had been brought in for him, a terrible creature shrieking in his ear.

" - and shine! Ge-et up, Kouryuu!"

"Wha'?"

He struggled upright and looked blearily at the twerp, who favoured him with an evil smile.

"Would you like pickled eggs for breakfast?"

"Urk. No," Genjo said weakly. "Maybe some boiled water."

"You're such a lush!"

Genjo staggered to the table and felt overcome by the scent of the tea. Ukoku pointed to the glasses of water, picked up pills and dropped one in each glass. They fizzed dramatically.

"Down the hatch," he said, and swallowed his.

"What is it?" Genjo said.

"Combination painkiller and antacid."

He sipped the water cautiously. It didn't taste too bad. After he'd finished it he just sat there and finally felt he could drink some tea.

"I should make you train twice as hard this morning to sweat it out."

"Oh, sweet Kanzeon."

Ukoku snorted into the horrible black coffee he drank in the morning.

"In celebration of your first hangover, you can rest. Kiddo, it's been a while. You're up after breakfast."

"Oh, goodie!" the twerp said, sounding like he meant it. He shot Genjo a mean glare when Ukoku wasn't looking.

Genjo sat glumly, drinking the rest of the tea when he was alone. Dim shrieks and pleas for mercy came from outside and then blessed silence. Finally he heard the door open and one set of footsteps coming closer.

"Could you get me some really cold water?" he said. "I'm not pushing the whole sanzo thing, I just can't move my head much."

"I hope your fucking head falls off and bursts," the twerp said, sounding like he was holding back tears. "He went really hard on me and it's all your fault! He said I was lazy and useless and had been slacking off!"

Genjo looked up and noted what was going to be a really impressive bruise on the unscarred side of the twerp's face. He shrugged.

"Maybe if you hadn't been sitting on your ass for a month eating that candy you think no one knows about, you wouldn't have got so fat and out of condition."

"What?" the twerp shrieked. "I'm in the practice rooms for two hours every day! I spar with the novices! I wouldn't be behind in my training if you weren't stealing all my master's time! You don't even appreciate it!"

"Shut up," Genjo said, wincing. "I don't appreciate you. Or him."

"Liar! I see the way you look at him! Oooh, teach me how to activate my sutra. Barf! Oooh, explain some more about this esoteric doctrine that you haven't told your disciple! You little sneak, Kouryuu. As for last night . . . I saw you snuggling up to him, looking at him with those big eyes of yours. You fancy him! You're just a little tart trying to seduce my master from the pure path of chastity and renunciation!"

"What?" Genjo said. "Go fuck yourself, you weirdo, I'd rather fancy a slug than Ukoku." He narrowed his eyes, seeing a chance to spread a little of his headache around. "What about you? Oh, Ma-aster! Cuddle me a bit more! Stick your hands up my tunic a bit further!"

"You're disgusting! He's not like that!"

"He fucking is - he wanted to fuck me back in Kinzan!"

"He didn't! He just said you looked like a girl, and you do!"

"You look like a girl with that doll! And I'm talking about this year, not last! He said it's a magic ritual to make the sutras able to be around each other, but he just wanted to fuck me because he knew Master Koumyou would have hated that!"

They were both standing now, yelling into each other's faces. The twerp's face was red with fury, his eyes green and shining. Genjo felt his headache swept away by his anger. He laughed in furious pleasure.

"I guess you just want to be the only one he does it to," he said. "You're the one who likes sleeping in his bed."

"He keeps me safe!"

"Safe for himself, from all the men who used to have you, he said!"

The twerp took a step back, his face going dead white. "He said what?"

"He said you know all about sex," Genjo said in vicious triumph. He hadn't thought it was possible for the twerp's face to get any paler, but it did. "I bet you do. I bet you flashed those big girly eyes at men from Tibet to Shanghai for candy! I bet you know all kinds of disgusting things and like being told to strip for Daddy - "

"You shut your mouth," the twerp said, his voice shaking. "You shut your fucking mouth."

"I bet you like it when you have some guy's tongue in your mouth."

"Who are you to talk?" the twerp shrieked, still looking ill. "Everyone knows about you, everyone! Look at you! Don't tell me you didn't use those looks to get what you wanted! All your life you loved being that old fart's bumboy! I bet Koumyou did it to you even when you were a little baby. I bet the moment he pulled you out of that stinky river he stuck his pinky up your little baby poophole and -"

Genjo flung himself on him, intent on murder. There was no art in their fight, no hint of training as they crashed down onto the table and rolled off. They both punched and kicked, rolling over and over on the floor, their breathing more like sobs. Without warning Genjo found himself lifted from the fray and dangled by the collar, facing his opponent.

"What," Ukoku said in a dangerously even tone, "is going on?" He set them down and stared implacably at them both.

"Nothing," Genjo said sullenly.

"Genjo-Sanzo took exception to my suggestion that he enjoyed it when Koumyou-Sanzo fingered him as a baby, Master," the twerp said in a voice of pure vitriol.

Ukoku yelped in what, Genjo realised later, was surprise. At the time he heard only the laughter, the way the man took no one's life or grief seriously.

"Fuck me, kiddo, you're feisty today."

"Don't let him talk about my master that way!" Genjo screamed. "Don't you laugh about him! You fucking bastard, you never cared about him! You call yourself his friend - he wasn't your friend, he just put up with you! He pitied you, because you're such a fucking loser!"

The slap took him by surprise. He'd never been hit in that way before, like a misbehaving novice. He stared at Ukoku, at the laughing, gleeful twerp, then spat in the man's face.

"He never thought of you when you weren't in front of him -"

The next blow took him right off his feet. Genjo landed on his back, his ears ringing. No one had ever hit him so hard before, not even Ukoku during their sparring. He thought he might have broken his arm when he fell. Before he could move, Ukoku was on him, his face blank and calm. He wrapped his hands around Genjo's neck and squeezed. Genjo scrabbled at him; only one of his arms worked. Shit, the other was broken.

"If you want to actually asphyxiate someone, kiddo," Ukoku said, like he was discussing the weather, "you have to put pressure on the front of their throat. Now, if it's just play, you squeeze the sides - just enough for them to feel, no more - it'll drive the girls wild, you can rely on that." His grip tightened. "But for killing someone, just hold on and don't - let - go -"

Genjo clawed at him one-handed, no breath to spare to beg for his life. Even if Ukoku hadn't had years of training, didn't have reserves of Buddhist skills to call on, his adult size and strength were enough to keep Genjo pinned, to darken Genjo's vision, to slacken his flailing limbs.

"If you kneel on their ribcage it speeds things up," Ukoku said, still calmly. "They can't inflate their lungs, you see, kiddo. Of course, when a grown-up does that with a kid, all their ribs break."

His knee was on Genjo's breastbone. The pressure and pain cut through the fog of growing unconsciousness and Genjo screamed, or thought he did, what remained of his breath wheezing past Ukoku's grasp.

"Master! Master, stop!"

Something was pulling Ukoku off his chest.

"Master, please! Koumyou-Sanzo would want you to stop!"

The darkness receded. Genjo's vision registered flashes that made little sense: Ukoku's disciple falling against the table and being grabbed back up, his hands covering his head. He heard the sound of screams and heavy thumps. There was a crash and then nothing at all. Genjo lay there, his lungs burning as the room came back into focus at last, and he could crawl towards the shaking form lying on the floor. Ukoku's disciple turned over before he reached him, his face bruised and defeated looking.

"Why did you say that about Master Koumyou?" Genjo whispered hoarsely.

"He was killing you," the twerp said and closed his eyes. "I'm so sore. I should have let him do it."

"Why didn't you?' Genjo said, feeling the fingers on his neck, the impossibility of dislodging them. "At least it'd be over. I could have been with Master Koumyou. We could have been reborn together." He curled up and wept. After a few moments he felt a hand on his shoulder, and then thin arms about him. He turned his head to see the boy looking at him from very close quarters. "Go away," he said. "You're so weird."

"I can't see so good except close up," the boy said. "My eye got burnt."

"Oh," Genjo said. "That sounds bad."

The boy shrugged. "Come on, let's get cleaned up. When he comes back the place will have to be tidy."

"So, what do we do? We pretend he didn't just try to kill me and didn't beat the shit out of you?"

"Yeah," the boy said. "That's it, you catch on quick! He'll be OK when he comes back. He'll have gone off to think about your master, that's what set him off."

Genjo looked at him askance, allowing himself to be helped up. "Right."

"Seriously. They were in love."

"Ugh. They were not."

"Says you. How bad are you hurt?"

"My arm," Genjo said reluctantly. "And I think at least one rib's broken. And my throat hurts like hell. What did he do to you?"

"Oh, if he was really trying to hurt me he'd have used a fist, not his open hand," the boy said airily, but Genjo could see the marks of the blows wherever there was exposed skin. "I did interfere in his actions, so I deserved it."

"Neither of us did."

The boy didn't answer that. After a moment he just took a breath.

"When he comes back, smile. Like this!" A happy, innocent smile. "Don't say anything about the fight. Not one word, OK? He won't say sorry, but he'll fix us up. That's what he always does."

"Always," Genjo said, appalled.

"Yeah! He doesn't really mean to do it, he just can't help himself."

"Let's just tidy up."

Genjo couldn't do much, so he set himself the task of putting Ukoku's desk in order. He wearily sat in the chair and stared at the mess. Master Koumyou's desk had always been pristine, both because he had owned very few things and because Genjo had cared for them impeccably. If Master Koumyou had - rarely - not put something away it was only because he was tired, and he'd never left his papers in a mess. A pity he hadn't, maybe his instructions for Ukoku wouldn't have been found so easily. His desk hadn't been this stupid western-style monstrosity but a low, elegant piece that Genjo had loved to polish. The memory rose up of sitting in Master Koumyou's lap, his hand in his master's as he was guided in grinding ink and writing. The touch had been light and never inappropriate. "Don't smush the bristles, Kouryuu: lightly, lightly. Now, let's write our names -" He wrenched his mind away from the memory of his own small, plump hand in his master's elegant fingers, and roughly stacked the papers on the desk before him. A photo fell from a book, dog-eared and colourful.

He stared at it dumbly. Master Koumyou, grinning sidelong at the camera, his hair in the ponytail Genjo faintly remembered. Squashed beside him, almost in his lap, was a younger Ukoku, looking up at him with a silly, soft smile. Ugh, what the hell? The creep was gross, looking at Master Koumyou like that.

"I told you they were in love."

Genjo frowned at the twerp. He didn't look pleased by the photo either. At least he had some sense.

"I told you they weren't. Your master's just weird."

"That's from when he was elevated. They walked to India and back. No one would do that if they didn't fancy someone. Look how young Master is! Just nineteen."

Genjo looked at the photo again, the two smiling faces, and felt a long-missing piece click into place. His master was looking down at him, and his expression was something like Ukoku's in the photo, but somehow sad, and he was - apologising? But Ukoku said sanzos didn't apologise and Master Koumyou had never done anything he'd need to apologise for.

"I'm so sorry, Kouryuu. I never meant it to be for so long. I thought Goudai-sama needed me just for a few weeks. Oh, Kouryuu -"

The walk to India had been explained to him as a marvellous adventure, one he was sorry he'd missed. Now the pain and misery of all the time without Master Koumyou flooded back. Why had he forgotten how much he had missed him? All that had been swept away by his return and his apology. But Master Koumyou couldn't come back now, he couldn't apologise this time. For a moment Genjo was so angry with him. He put the photo down, horrified, and left the desk as it was.

The door opened again after an hour or so and Ukoku came in, whistling.

"Would you like tea, Master?" the twerp sang out.

"Yeah." His eyes landed on Genjo. "Over here, kid."

Genjo reluctantly went over and suffered a hand placed on his throat. There was a sharp pain, like he'd swallowed something nasty, then an itchy feeling, then nothing at all. It felt fine.

"How's the breathing?"

"A bit painful."

You broke my ribs seemed inadvisable. Ukoku put a hand on his chest; there was another flare of pain, and then he felt all right. The hand brushed his arm and he felt he could move it properly; he was relieved and infuriated.

"Thank you for the healing magic," Genjo said, only because Master Koumyou would have expected him to. Then he gritted his teeth and said what he'd worked out with the twerp. "I'm sorry for my previous bad manners."

Ukoku waved a hand idly. "De nada. We were all a little over-stimulated."

His disciple stiffened and looked over his shoulder. Shit. Was that an apology? Genjo nodded casually as if, sure, his master's friends tried to kill him every day of the week, no big deal. They drank tea quietly, and Ukoku used the Muten to heal his disciple.

"About earlier," Ukoku said. "Don't ever say I wasn't Koumyou's friend again."

Genjo stilled, watching the twerp trying to make surreptitious signals to keep his mouth shut. He looked up.

"You called him an idiot to his face. I heard you."

"You don't know how men speak with each other," Ukoku said, looking at him over the rim of his tea cup. "You're just a kid."

"You tell me I have to be an adult now! I heard you: you laughed at him!" Genjo said hotly.

"He laughed at me," Ukoku said, and just sounded tired. "We were friends. We pushed each other. He wanted me to be - not me. I wanted him to be - well, it doesn't matter any more. He loved everyone, and I wish I could tell him I forgive him for that."

"What?"

Ukoku shook his head. "I'll release you. We won't be bound together and you can do whatever the hell you want. Go die in the forest if you like; just leave me and my kiddo be."

"Master," his disciple whispered. "He's just a kid like me."

"Defending him again?" Ukoku said. "What happened to Can't you drown him in the bath?"

The twerp flushed. "I was very upset when I said that! And it was a secret!"

"I need training," Genjo said. He hated to admit it, but he knew he'd do better if he trained in Zenou than if he left. After just a month he was fighting better and knew far more magic than before. He'd leave when he was sure he could find the Seiten and avenge Master Koumyou. He made himself bow. "Please don't stop training me. If we need to - if we need to perform the complete ritual -" He couldn't finish the sentence.

Ukoku looked at him in complete silence, then put down his cup.

"It's bad enough I have one child prostitute trying to get it on with me," he said icily. "I never knew before I came to Zenou just how perverted the monastic life really is."

He walked out, leaving Genjo and the twerp staring at each other.

"Don't you say anything," the twerp said, his eyes huge.

"No," Genjo said fervently. "It's not my business." He paused. "He just said that to be mean. I know you don't try to seduce him."

"Now we have to wait for him to come back again," the twerp said. "This time, can't you try to keep quiet?"

Genjo told himself it was probably good advice.

* * *

"Look! This letter's covered with stamps!"

Genjo took the envelope and gazed at the foreign stamps with interest. He had never seen the script the address was written in: a curling, looping sort of writing. It was very exotic.

"What do you think it says?" the twerp said.

"I guess if it's to Ukoku it must say Deliver to the hand of the High Priest Ukoku-Sanzo-sama," Genjo said. "That's what letters usually say, right? Unless it's to you or me."

"Maybe you're being sent to a monastery really, really far away! Like . . . in Madagascar."

"Where the hell's that?"

"I dunno. Master says it's safe from zombies, though. Do you want to look at this magazine?"

Genjo raised an eyebrow at the cover image of a girl in a far too small swimsuit.

"No, and neither should you."

"They're sort of boring. I don't know why Master gets them."

"Really?"

"I like the ones with pretty clothes! I'd like to go to a toy shop and get new clothes for my doll."

" . . . you know how weird you are, right?"

The twerp giggled. "You're weird! I'm adorable, Master says so."

"He treats you like a doll."

"I know," the twerp said, pleased.

"And a punching bag."

"You're mean. Give the letter back, I want to look at it again."

"Here. I'm going to study. You should too, unless you want to be a dolly with all its hair pulled out."

The twerp sighed and sat down with his scripture homework. Genjo glared his way through a debate that had been over for five hundred years and that no one had cared about even when it was going on. When Ukoku came in they were both as hard at work as he could have wished. He still frowned at both of them, obviously looking for something to complain about, then wandered over to examine his mail.

Ukoku tore the foreign envelope open carelessly, scanning the paper he pulled from inside. His eyebrows raised and he sat by the table, leaning his elbows on it in an uncouth manner as he read more carefully. Then he shrugged and tossed the paper aside. Genjo looked at the twerp, who was wide-eyed with nosy interest, his textbook discarded.

"Master, who is the letter from? Where's it from? What language is that? What do they want?"

"Whose business is it?" Ukoku said, then grinned. "C'mon, kiddo, I'm just teasing, don't look so sad. Another priest, in a faraway place, writing in English, and he wants the pleasure of my company."

The twerp took it as permission to be even nosier and hurried over to stare at the letter with avid curiosity, although he didn't go so far as to pick it up. Genjo was surprised to see he had that much self-control.

"What place, Master? What does he want to see you for?"

"Where do they speak English?" Genjo said. "In India?"

"The Kinzan educational system is sorely lacking," Ukoku murmured. "Maybe I will give this guy the benefit of my wisdom. God knows I could do with a holiday away from cute little blonds."

"You're going away?" the twerp said, like it was a tragedy and not the greatest statement ever made since human speech had been handed down by the gods. "Master, please don't! What will we do without you?"

"Slack off, I'm assuming," Ukoku said, going back to reading the letter. "Genjo's already a master of that, from his days with Koumyou."

"Stop making fun of him!"

Ukoku grinned sharply at the paper in his hand. "He fell asleep once while he was actually begging for food. I went and had dinner in a five-star restaurant, and signed an IOU to be directed to Kinzan. When I went back, Koumyou was still snoozing. I put a doggy bag of leftovers by his feet and woke him up, then told him I was fasting and he should eat all of the offering left by a pious passer-by. He was the laziest goddam man I ever knew."

"Master's joking with you," the twerp said in a loud whisper. Genjo shoved him. He shoved back. Stupid, irreligious, fuckwitted Zenou shitheads. He shoved the twerp a bit more.

They stopped at last, for it had become less of a demonstration of annoyance and was beginning to feel like a game, and Genjo had put such things behind him long before Master Koumyou had died. He looked up to see Ukoku watching them like they were two odd little bugs wandering across his table.

"The pre-pubescent male mind never ceases to amaze me," Ukoku said. "The two of you, just bumbling about the house like bumper cars - there must be some purpose, and yet I know there isn't a single thought between the two of you. I can tell you I never acted like that when I was your ages."

"Was that because your parents just turned over a rock and found you?" Genjo said rudely.

"Don't talk to my master like that!"

"I will! He's been awful about Koumyou-Sanzo!"

"I'm calculating the odds of you burning down my lovely shithole of a monastery while I'm away," Ukoku said, a thoughtful look on his face.

"I won't let him, Master!"

"I'm including you in the arson attempts, kiddo."

"Oh."

"Right," Ukoku said. "Genjo, you could do with some sanzo-ing experience, you're coming."

"Master!" the twerp wailed.

"Kiddo, you are going to provide a good object lesson. You're coming too."

"Yay!"

"I'll stay in Zenou," Genjo said quickly. Ukoku shot him a look. "I won't burn it down."

"Kid, this is part of your training. This foreigner, Filbert, he needs help with demons in his area, and he's reached out to me. Don't look at me like that, Genjo. Let's help this poor uncivilised barbarian. You can try to convert him or the laypeople of the area if you like. Mostly we'll travel, you'll see a bit of the world, meet some interesting foreign demons and kill them."

"I only want to kill the youkai who murdered Master Koumyou." Genjo sighed. "Who murdered Koumyou-Sanzo."

"Hey, I only wanted to be an only child, and yet! One of the great lessons of our exalted position, kid - we can do whatever we want, but sometimes we have to do things we don't particularly give a shit about."

"That doesn't make any sense," Genjo grumbled, but Ukoku ignored him in favour of settling himself formally in full lotus position and looking them both over critically.

"I'm not translating for you two all the time." He half-closed his eyes and chanted for a couple of minutes, then made a mudra Genjo didn't know. He opened his eyes and looked at the twerp. "Kiddo, start with the object lesson. When I tell you to do something you do it, because you know it's for your own good. Correct?"

"Yes, Master," the twerp said.

Ukoku patted his lap. "Come to your dear Ukoku-Sanzo, kiddo."

Genjo sniffed as the twerp trotted over and allowed himself to be pulled into his master's embrace. Ugh. Just gross. Then his eyes widened as Ukoku whispered, bending over him, and kissed his disciple on the mouth. The twerp stiffened, and Genjo could see one hand had balled into a tight little fist, the other was raised as if to push Ukoku away. Then he relaxed and became softly loose-limbed in his master's grasp, his hands sinking down. Ukoku kissed his closed eyes and sat him up again, stroking his face.

"Good boy." He smiled at the pleased pink flush that crept into the twerp's face at the praise. "You were very brave," he said quietly, and kissed his forehead. He turned to Genjo and gave him a more evil smile. "Genjo? Your turn."

"No fucking way," Genjo said, stepping back.

"You can't say no," the twerp said. "Not to my master!"

"I've already said no to him back in Kinzan!"

Ukoku looked calmly at the twerp. "Kiddo, make things clear."

"It's a spell," the twerp said earnestly. "It's not, not anything nasty."

"That's why he's kissing kids like that?"

Ukoku held out a hand. "Genjo. Stop making a scene and come here. Do you think I'm going to violate you in front of my kiddo?"

Genjo waited for the spell to make him obey but there was nothing. He looked at the twerp who was making an exaggeratedly shocked face and giggling at what Ukoku had said. The bastard probably would. He wasn't any better than those men. He should just take his gun out and shoot him now, right in the face like he'd shot that other guy, when his blood had splashed back into Genjo's face and -

He jumped as the twerp took his hand. "You look so fierce! Look, it's OK! I'm littler than you and I was OK." He pulled at Genjo's hand and led him towards Ukoku. "Can I hold Genjo's hand so he won't be scared, Master?"

"If that's what he needs."

Ukoku was looking at him curiously, like he was failing a test. Genjo shook his head. What was the man up to? It didn't matter; he wasn't being shown up by the twerp, who seemed unscathed.

"I'm fine," he said.

Ukoku dragged him down into his lap. "Are you sure about that?" he said into his ear, and sniggered as he flinched. He arranged him as he had the twerp, whispering unheard words, and then Genjo hadn't even time to take a breath before Ukoku's lips were on his in a close-lipped kiss. He lay there in rigid endurance and then Ukoku breathed into him a longer breath than should have been possible, forcing his lips open, and Genjo felt the magic filling his mouth, his throat, his lungs. Against his will he found himself sinking into a relaxed state, sagging in the embrace, and was obscurely disappointed to be kissed on the eyelids and raised to a sitting position again. Ukoku patted his cheek and moved him to the floor so that he could get up and stretch.

"There we go," he said. "How do you feel, my little cunning-linguists?"

"What do you mean?" Genjo said suspiciously.

Ukoku passed him the letter. "It's all yours."

Genjo frowned, looking at the foreign script, then his eyes widened as he realised he could understand it. He gasped, turning the page over, reading of the demonic attacks, the plea for Ukoku's help -

"Look!" he said.

The twerp grabbed it and read avidly. "Master! He says he's heard of you, all the way off in this terrible land!"

"I've published in their scientific journals," Ukoku said. "And I trolled the letters page of more than one religious publication. Kiddo, pack up things for you and me - and help Genjo too. Genjo, pack your own damn stuff, but my kiddo's good at organising gear if you need help."

The twerp started buzzing around immediately, making piles of clothes and protein bars. Genjo fetched his own small pack and shoved all his meagre belongings inside. Ukoku ignored them and went outside, where Genjo found him leaning against one of the porch supports, watching the daily life of the monastery.

"I know why you did that spell."

"I told you why I did it: I'm not wasting my time translating for you two."

"I know why you did it like that! You didn't have to."

"Oh? Didn't I?"

"You did it like that because it would upset us both! I'm not damn well wrong, am I? You wanted to freak us both out."

Ukoku wasn't looking at him, but he was grinning now, like a joke had gone wonderfully well.

"You're a fucking awful person. I know you don't like me, but what did he ever do to you?"

"Kid," Ukoku said, sounding delighted with the world, "I know I'm hard on you. What did you expect?" He looked down, horribly pleased with himself. "It's the only way I know to get ahead. Do you think I was ever easy on myself? My kiddo did better than you in there; he didn't need a smaller kid to hold his hand and tell him he was going to be OK. Do you really think if I wanted to do something to you I couldn't? What I want from you in our little arrangement is consent, and you were a good boy eventually, and consented. Our sutras are happy."

"I knew it was a damn test."

"Congratulations. Everything is."

Genjo stamped back indoors and found the twerp sitting on the bedside holding his doll tight.

"I told him he should have done that spell another way," he announced. "That wasn't right."

"It's OK," the twerp said at his doll in the bright, cheerful way that Genjo had long suspected wasn't always real.

"Nah," Genjo said. "Sometimes adults are dickheads and they think they're funny."

"Yeah," the twerp said. He looked up, his smile wavering a little. "He's still my master, though. But thanks."

* * *

The western continent would probably be interesting once he stopped wanting to puke. Genjo stared at his own sandals, breathing through his nose.

"Ah, I could murder a dish of tripe and jellied fish," Ukoku said cheerfully.

"Master, please," the twerp said in a thin, agonised voice.

"You're both like little wilting lilies! We should pop back home and back here again just to give you your teleportation-legs."

Genjo's stomach turned over. The twerp clapped a hand over his mouth and squeaked. Ukoku laughed in the pleasant manner of a man who had successfully bullied two kids half his height.

"Come on, kiddies, let's find a hotel and then we'll get local transport to our host in the morning."

"Why not just go straight there?" Genjo said.

"I'm not showing all my cards," Ukoku said. "I know that's a lesson Koumyou must have imparted."

He led them out of the alleyway in which they'd appeared and strolled through what seemed to be a boringly normal town, looking about him. Genjo was disappointed, having hoped for people with heads in the middle of their chests, or perhaps people with the features of animals. The locals looked foreign, certainly, but were all human.

"How come there aren't any youkai?"

"Because they're all evil woman-abducting, baby-eating monsters over here."

The twerp shivered. "Eep."

"What, all of them?" Genjo said sarcastically. "None of them are just lazy and find it difficult to get out of bed in the morning?"

"The decent gods-fearing humans say they're all evil," Ukoku said. "Who are we to disagree with the majority opinion?"

"It doesn't sound like it can be true."

"Ehhh, I'm trying to get the energy to care. I'll tell you when that happens." Ukoku indicated a large building. "Behold, a hotel. Stop wittering on in Chinese and start wittering in English, boys."

"Yes, Master," the twerp said in English and giggled. "It makes my mouth feel strange to say such funny-sounding things!"

Genjo glared at the hotel's steps, at its lobby, at the glass chandelier hanging overhead.

"Two rooms, please," Ukoku said. "Something decent for me, and something passable for them."

"But, Master, won't I be with you?" the twerp whispered.

"Genjo'll look after you."

Ugh.

Genjo glared even more at the room he was led to, which had a double bed that squeaked when the twerp sat on it. He crossed to the window and stared out at the street below. Perhaps Master Koumyou would have gone down there and taught people about the Lord Buddha. He just wanted to shut himself away and not see anyone. The door opened and Ukoku strolled in.

"Passable," he said.

"Is your room nice, Master?"

"The bed is bigger and the pitcher and basin have even more flowers painted on them. It'll do." He joined Genjo at the window. "Looking at the saloon? Maybe you fancy a few hands of poker and the company of ladies of easy virtue this evening?"

"I'll leave that to a priest of your experience," Genjo said.

"Hah! Why, Genjo-Sanzo, I'm a morally upright Buddhist priest here to extend my aid to a poor little Christian. Nothing more exciting than dinner and an early night is on my agenda for tonight."

Genjo didn't bother answering, just went and lay on the bed, ignoring both of them as they talked about things he had no interest in. When the conversation got on to what the twerp's doll would like to have for dessert he pulled the pillow over his head and closed his eyes.

Western food proved to be sadly unexotic. Genjo stolidly chewed his way through his dinner, refused dessert, and went to bed early.

"You'd better not cuddle me all night," he told the twerp, who was looking around the room uneasily.

"Will you use your sutra if bad men come in?"

"Pfft. No."

The twerp dragged the straight chair from the little table over and jammed it under the door handle. Genjo sighed, blew out the lamp and climbed under the blankets. Some people were just paranoid. The mattress dipped on the other side and the twerp whispered quietly to his doll. After a little while a man laughed loudly outside in the corridor. With a gasp the twerp scooted over and wrapped himself around Genjo.

"Eek!"

It was a long night.

They rose before dawn, washed quickly and went downstairs, finding Ukoku waiting for them.

"Up at last, sleepyheads?"

"Is no one else up?" Genjo said, peering into the restaurant where they'd had dinner.

Ukoku shrugged. "Laypeople don't keep our schedules, kid. I told them last night we'd want an early breakfast; I won't be pleased if they forgot."

A few minutes later a woman appeared and seemed surprised to see them.

"Mr Ukoku! You and your boys are early risers! Please take a seat, I'll bring you coffee in just a minute or two."

Ukoku smiled pleasantly, and ushered them to a table.

"Does she think we're your sons?" Genjo said in disgust.

"I was a prodigy," Ukoku said, "but even so, fourteen's a bit young for me to have become a father." He fluttered his lashes. "Unless you want to call me Daddy."

Genjo grimaced, the memory of a hand in his hair abruptly rising. Disgusting.

"Do you think they'll have nice cereal?" the twerp said, diverting Ukoku's attention.

"I doubt it," Ukoku said. "I have to get that stuff for you brought in specially."

They were served a mild flavoured food rather like congee, with plates of eggs and thin strips of fried salted pork. Genjo poked at it dubiously as the others ate. Master Koumyou wouldn't be pleased if he ate meat just because he wasn't in a monastery.

"Sanzos can eat meat if they wish," Ukoku said. "Go ahead, it's good."

Genjo took a mouthful and was annoyed that it was delicious. He piled his share of the meat onto the twerp's plate and contented himself with the congee and eggs. When they were finished the twerp ran upstairs to collect their packs and Ukoku spoke with the woman who was now stationed at the desk in the lobby. He handed her several pieces of green paper and came over to Genjo as the twerp trotted back down the stairs.

"Was that money?" Genjo said. It seemed shocking for a monastic to be so casual in handling cash.

"Yeah. Respectable monastics don't dine and dash."

"Don't they give monastics charity here?"

"Different lands, different customs, kid. Hey, kiddo, got everything? OK, let's go."

They walked a little way down the street and stood at a crossroads. Some twenty minutes later an enclosed carriage approached and stopped, two well-dressed women with small suitcases descending.

"Good morning!" Ukoku called to the driver. "Are you going to the next town?"

"Yessir, we are," the driver said.

"There's a church halfway between this town and the next, I believe," Ukoku said. "We three wish to alight there."

"Going to see Bishop Grouse?" the driver said. "The price is from town to town, you gotta pay the full amount even if you go halfway. Five dollars per seat."

"Two of their seats are awful small," the woman holding the shotgun in the seat beside him said, laughing. "You still gotta pay, sorry."

Genjo and the twerp exchanged a red-faced glance, embarrassed by a woman commenting on their backsides. Ukoku held up banknotes to the woman and chivvied them into the carriage, where they were joined by a large, red-faced man who occupied the entirety of the opposite seat.

"Master, she talked about my bum!" the twerp whispered in outrage.

"Your day's off to a good start, kiddo."

Genjo ignored the outraged whispers and teasing replies, staring out of the window at the flat landscape jolting past. It lulled him into a trance and he was surprised to find that he'd drifted off when the carriage drew to a halt. He climbed out, shaking off sleep and watched the carriage roll away, the woman waving to them. Set back from the track was a large wooden house, surrounded by a garden in which grew flowers and vegetables. Separated from the garden by a fence and trees that seemed deliberately planted was an enclosure in the centre of which was a large, tall building with crossed pieces of wood set upon the top of its tower. Behind the tall building in its enclosure were neat rows of crossed pieces of wood set in the earth.

"A cemetery," Ukoku said, noting the direction of his gaze. "That's the church - the temple."

"Shouldn't the cemetery be set further off?" the twerp said, saving Genjo from asking. "That's so polluting!"

"Different lands, different customs!" Ukoku said again cheerfully. "No more Chinese, kids. Don't make me say it again."

He led them up the neatly-tended garden path and knocked on the door of the house. After a few moments a man of late middle-age answered, his shirt-sleeves rolled up, his hands still obviously damp as if he had been engaged in a household task.

"Hello?" he said, smiling. "May I help you?"

"Bishop Grouse," Ukoku said. "I am Ukoku-Sanzo-Houshi -"

The man gasped and seized Ukoku's hand in both of his.

"Pastor Ukoku! You came! And so quickly! How was the voyage? How have you managed to come so far so fast? You must have taken ship the moment you got my letter! Hazel? Hazel! We have visitors!" He shook Ukoku's hand vigorously. "Come in, come in!"

Genjo followed them in and stopped at the sight of a silver-haired boy emerging from an open doorway, his blue eyes curious.

"Visitors, sir?"

"Yes, that eminent foreign priest I mentioned and - who are these young lads, Pastor Ukoku?"

The man hadn't stopped smiling, as if he were truly glad to see them all. Genjo longed to be far away.

"I'm Genjo-Sanzo-Houshi," he muttered. "That's Ukoku's disciple."

"This is my ward, Hazel, whose parents were in the parish," the man - Bishop Grouse, Genjo supposed - said. "Hazel, come and shake our visitors' hands." He looked at the boy with affection as he grasped each of their hands in turn; it was the oddest greeting Genjo had ever gone through. "More than my ward," he said. "This last year I've been proud to give him my own name and call him my son." Hazel looked thoroughly embarrassed, which made Genjo narrow his eyes. He should be glad his foster-father was alive and well.

"These two are my wards," Ukoku said, and put a heavy hand on Genjo's shoulder when he opened his mouth to object. "The younger one's my own disciple, and Genjo here is the foster-son of a late friend."

"I'm sorry for your loss, son," Bishop Grouse said, and seemed to mean it.

"Thank you," Genjo said, and clamped his jaw tight to keep all signs of tears away.

"Let's go into the parlour! We can have coffee and cake and you can tell me about your trip."

"Can't we have tea?" the twerp said plaintively, which Genjo privately agreed with. The coffee in the hotel had been so awful and had made him feel jittery.

"Don't be rude, kiddo," Ukoku said, but Bishop Grouse just laughed.

"I think we can manage that!"

"I'll make a pot, sir!" Hazel said.

"Kiddo, you go and help."

"Oh no, you stay here, you're a guest," Hazel said and hurried away.

The twerp looked after him, offended. It was clear the boy didn't want strangers on his territory. In the room they entered, Ukoku and Bishop Grouse sat on heavy wooden armchairs, while Genjo and the twerp perched on straight-backed chairs. The furniture was clean and dust-free, but the room had an air of disuse, as if they disturbed it by entering. Genjo looked around the walls at the paintings of unfamiliar landscapes, and at the upright piano with faded photographs of Bishop Grouse as a younger man with a woman by his side, both staring into the camera as if caught by surprise. The tea, when it came, was a disappointment, black and stronger even than Ukoku's favourite pu-erh. Genjo eyed the milk jug in horror. The customs really were different here. Ukoku casually poured milk into his tea and sipped it; both Genjo and the twerp shuddered.

"I know in the east they like milky tea," Bishop Grouse said, drinking it milkless, like a normal person.

"In India, indeed," Ukoku said. "Genjo's father and I drank a lot of it there." He watched Hazel spooning sugar into his cup. "Koumyou enjoyed it sweet as well, although that was never a taste I acquired."

"Is it true elephants are as large as a house, Pastor Ukoku?" Hazel said.

"Not quite as large as a house," Ukoku said, "but they're big enough. We felt sea-sick the first time we rode on one."

Genjo felt his heart clench: Master Koumyou had said the same. Did that mean Ukoku told the truth about their travels? His outrageous stories about Master Koumyou being lazy or overly silly were surely lies. Master Koumyou could be silly, but that had only been to amuse Genjo.

"Hazel," Bishop Grouse said beckoning, and whispered to the boy. Hazel hurried off and Bishop Grouse smiled apologetically. "Please forgive me, I didn't realise you'd come so quickly - I'd hoped you'd come of course, and had a room made ready, but hadn't expected you to bring your boys with you."

"I'm not -" Genjo started, but clammed up at the quelling look Ukoku directed towards him.

"It's no problem, we can share," Ukoku said.

"No, not at all! This is a large house, and Hazel and I don't use half the rooms. He'll make up rooms for Genjo and - I'm sorry, son, I don't believe I caught your name?"

The twerp looked helplessly at Ukoku.

"I'll explain our monastery's custom shortly," he said smoothly.

"Maybe I should go and help your little boy," the twerp said.

"You sit tight," Bishop Grouse said. "We can't have you working today when you're tired from travel! Have some more cake, one of the church ladies made it."

Genjo reluctantly took another slice as the plate was offered to him. So much sweet food! The twerp was munching away happily, probably glad to avoid explaining how he could get through life without a name. Which was weird, and Ukoku should be ashamed of himself for insisting on the weirdness. He was freed from further consideration of the matter by Hazel's return.

"I'll take our guests' bags up, " Hazel said.

"Kiddo," Ukoku murmured, and the twerp hurriedly swallowed his last mouthful of cake and jumped up to help. "Perhaps Genjo'd like to see the rooms too?"

Genjo gave him a look. It was galling to be treated like a child after Ukoku and the monks of both Kinzan and Zenou had insisted that he had to be an adult now. The unfairness made him grind his teeth, which he knew was childish and so angered him further. He stood and bowed to Bishop Grouse politely, keeping his voice mild.

"Thank you for your hospitality."

The room he was shown was sparsely furnished and very clean. Infrequent guests or no, the household was well-kept.

"I hope it's to your liking," Hazel said. "Yours is next door," he said to the twerp.

"It's fine," Genjo said.

"I don't have my own room at home," the twerp said. "I'd be afraid to! Is it safe here?"

"Safe? Of course! Nothing ever happens here."

"My master said you'd been attacked by demons."

"Don't you worry none about that. My master will fix any demon as gets within a mile of the church." Hazel smile cheerfully at both of them. "He says your master's a famous man in your country and I ain't to call you heathens, so I won't."

"Thank you," the twerp said.

Genjo rolled his eyes. If anyone was a heathen it was this western kid. He thought of what Master Koumyou would say. Probably that Hazel just hadn't met Buddhists before, and something about fingers all pointing at the same moon. Master Koumyou was too forgiving, that was the problem. Fine, he wouldn't be rude, but he did have to correct one thing.

"Ukoku's not my master," he said. "He's my -" He grimaced. " - fellow sanzo. He's the Muten Sanzo, I'm the Seiten and Maten Sanzo."

"Genjo's master was murdered," the twerp said as dramatically as possible. "By marauding demons." He looked surprised, adding quickly in Chinese, "Kouryuu! Is that what youkai is in English?"

"Thanks for blabbing," Genjo replied in Chinese. "Tell him my whole life story, why don't you?"

"I'm right sorry to hear that, Genjo," Hazel said. "That's awful, but don't you worry, Bishop Filbert will keep us safe. My own parents were killed by demons when I was small, and he's kept me safe ever since."

"Koumyou-Sanzo pulled Genjo out of a raging river when he was just a baby," the twerp said. "My master said his mommy had thrown him away like trash and his master was either insane or a saint to saddle himself with a child. Probably insane."

"Wow," Hazel said.

"I wasn't being literal, moron," Genjo snarled. "Just ignore him, he's very annoying."

"Who's the lady in the pictures with your father, Hazel?" the twerp said, clearly deciding that changing the subject from murdered parents was safer.

"That's Mrs Grouse. She died years ago," Hazel said.

Genjo and the twerp looked at each other a little awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," the twerp said, hanging his head. "We didn't know you had a foster-mother."

"It's all right," Hazel said. "She died a long time before I came to live here; I didn't know her, though I think maybe my parents did. My foster-father said he'd thought of me as his son a long time before he asked if I wanted to take his name, like I was the family he hadn't had a chance at before. You can talk about her, it's all in the past."

Genjo felt uneasy, though he couldn't put his finger on why. Three boys of more or less the same age - he supposed he was the eldest, the twerp the youngest - all fair-haired with bright-coloured eyes, all orphans. All taken in by solitary, high-ranking priests.

It meant nothing. He was seeing patterns where there were none, like a child who saw shadows move at night and convinced themself something malevolent was at work.

The following days were peaceful, even boring. The first night the twerp showed up in Genjo's room at three in the morning, clutching his doll and complaining of creaking noises. It was probably mean to tell him it was the ghost of Mrs Grouse prowling the house for little boys to kill, but the instant karma of the twerp diving under Genjo's blankets in fear was punishment enough. The next night Genjo jammed a chair under the door handle and slept soundly. During the day the boys helped around the house and studied, as if they hadn't left Zenou at all. They had swathes of free time, however, and explored the churchyard and church, and annoyed Hazel with questions about his life and studies. He was clearly jealous when he realised that their studies with Ukoku included magic.

"He teaches you magic?" he said. "Since when?"

"Since he found me," the twerp said proudly. "That was in the summer last year!"

"Bishop Filbert won't teach me any magic yet," Hazel said, pouting. "He says I'm too young."

"Koumyou-Sanzo said the same to me, and I'm older than you," Genjo said. He shrugged. "I did learn how to write talismans, though. Can you do that?"

"No! It's not fair! How can I help him in his work if I don't know magic?" He pulled them both into his room and posted to a plant on his windowsill. "He said I should learn to keep that alive! It's just a dumb flower! What sort of test is that? If either of your masters told you to do that, what would you do?"

"Keep the plant alive," Genjo and the twerp said in unison.

"Will he beat you if it dies?" the twerp said.

"What? No, of course not. But I want to be a great exorcist and demon killer like him, not a gardener!"

"I'd keep the plant alive but study too," Genjo said. "Things he said I should study."

"That's why you were so bad at magic until Master took over your training! You should have read Koumyou-Sanzo's personal books!"

"Shut up, you. You don't know what you're talking about. He didn't need books to do magic."

"Neither does Master, but he reads all sorts of difficult books anyway, about re-com-bi-nant DNA and other occult mysteries."

"I study this," Hazel said, showing them books filled with magical formulae and conjurations. "It's tough going."

An arm reached over his shoulder and plucked the book from his grasp. All three of them spun around, identical guilty looks on their faces.

"And not even very useful stuff," Ukoku said, paging through the purloined volume. "This is what you're wasting your time on? No wonder Filbert has you in the remedial class."

Hazel looked mulish, as if struggling between defending his foster-father's wisdom and wanting to argue that he was doing his best to countermand it.

"He doesn't feel it's right for me to study the rites of exorcism yet, Pastor Ukoku," he said at last.

"Not right," Ukoku said, still reading. "Kiddo, what do we know about wrong and right?"

"They're just social constructs for the weak-willed, Master," the twerp said at once. "We should only think of what's effective and ineffective."

"Hmm," Ukoku said, tossing the book onto Hazel's bed. He stepped to the window. "It's late in the year for this to flower." He raised a hand and the shoot of green rose up and a bud deepened in colour to dark red. All the boys gasped. "Of course," Ukoku said, "life is fleeting, and mortal beauty cannot last." The flower withered and died, the petals rotting before they hit the windowsill. He smiled at their faces. "Let me know when you want to learn something useful," he said, and walked out.

"Is he always like that?" Hazel said at last, breaking the silence.

"He's usually worse," Genjo said.

"Genjo means that that was a subtle and transcendent lesson on the passing of all things!" the twerp said. "My master's so powerful!"

"Yeah," Hazel said, looking out the door, as if he could still see Ukoku. "I never saw something like that before now. Never."

* * *

The next day was a local holy day, and carriages and wagons came from both directions along the road, drawing up and discharging people dressed in their best clothes to go into the church. Genjo watched from his window then went to sit on the back stoop with Ukoku and the twerp.

"Is it a festival?"

"No," Ukoku said. "Just the weekly services." He drank the horrific coffee that Hazel had left for them and blew a smoke ring towards the church. "Attend if you like."

"No thanks. When are we going to hunt these demons? They're not really the same as youkai, are they? You've left me babysitting the little kids for days!"

"Filbert can't really be persuaded that you're a sanzo," Ukoku said. "He doesn't understand what it means. He thinks our discussions are unsuitable for you: too frightening for children. There've been some youkai attacks in the nearby towns; he's warned me about you not going out in the dark." He poured himself another cup of coffee. "We've had some interesting theoretical discussions, I must say, even if he's convinced his deity will give him the upper hand in his battle against evil. I did tell him about the Maten's powers. I could practically see him thinking Pagan nonsense, but he's terribly polite. He'd never say it."

"Did you explain that Koumyou-Sanzo was never involved in anything heretical? And that you're a heretic?"

Ukoku laughed cheerfully. "Buddhist doctrine is not something we've touched on except in the simplest forms." The smile faded from his face. "It's odd," he said. "I quite like him. He reminds me of Koumyou in a way. Air-headed, well-meaning, obtuse -"

The twerp giggled and leaned his head against him. "His disciple's silly too!"

"Oh, our little angel has potential," Ukoku murmured. "That was an advanced alchemy manual he was slogging through; not much use for what he wants, but his notes showed he understood at least some of what he read."

The twerp sat back, a homicidal look on his face. Genjo felt a smirk pulling unwillingly at his mouth. Like master, like disciple: jealous little shits. They all turned their heads as the noise of loud singing came from the church.

"Gimme that old time religion," Ukoku said.

"Human sacrifice?" Genjo said and Ukoku sniggered.

"Closer than you know, kid. Anyway, I'm not in the mood for comparative theology. It's all shit. Let's scandalise the pious by sparring in the cemetery."

"Master, that has to be bad luck! Can't we do it here in the garden?"

"I'm so soft-hearted," Ukoku said, leaning over to kiss the top of the twerp's head. Ugh. "Up! Time to fight between the rows of potatoes."

As he dodged and whirled Genjo caught sight of a young girl of about the twerp's age peering at them out of one of the church windows, her mouth an open circle of astonishment. He put her from his mind, concentrating on the vain effort of landing a punch on Ukoku. Even working as a team with the twerp didn't help.

"What if I used my sutra?" he said when they took a break. "Maybe I could get it to wrap around your ankle or something."

"Maybe you could," Ukoku said. "Good thinking. I'm glad to see you've stopped fighting fair. Of course," he said, cocking his head on one side, his eyes bright like a bird's. "I might decide to use mine - wouldn't that be fun?"

"I'm going to land a blow on you the traditional way before I use the Maten," Genjo said without missing a beat. Ukoku grinned, and the twerp looked like he started breathing again.

"Back to work! Come on, kiddo, there's a full moon tonight, you need to practice now so you can fight off the werewolves when they come to eat you later."

"Werewolves?" the twerp said plaintively.

"Western monsters: men who transform into terrible wolf-creatures and are partial to the flesh of virgins." Ukoku patted his disciple on the cheek. "But they won't come just for Genjo! Despite everything, you're still small and sweet enough for a lycanthro-snack!"

"Master!" the twerp wailed, his face a mix of fright and shame.

"Leave him alone," Genjo said in disgust. "You've got a filthy mind and you're a damn bully."

"Make me," Ukoku said, and evaded Genjo's attack, yawning. "Boring."

They pursued him around the garden, his mocking laughter growing louder until finally he really did get bored and threw them twenty feet over the fence, one after the other, to land in the cemetery. Genjo landed perfectly, missing a grave marker by inches and in utter fright focused his will to shove at the twerp as he came crashing down so that he fell on soft grass rather than impaling himself on another of the markers.

"Ow," the twerp said.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah. I made it squidgy just before I hit."

Genjo pulled him up. "He shouldn't make fun of -" He paused, not even really knowing what he wanted to say. " - of stuff before you were his disciple."

"It's OK," the twerp said. "It's - He's . . . He's so much better than all of that."

"Shit," Genjo said.

"Stop whispering sweet nothings over there!" Ukoku yelled. "Kiddo, go and make me some tea!"

"Yes, Master!" The twerp smiled brilliantly at Genjo. "You see? That's easy! He never asks for anything nasty." He sprinted away.

Genjo walked back more slowly. He looked over his shoulder. The girl was still watching, fiddling with her brown braids. He raised a hand, and she waved hesitantly, her eyes large under her bonnet. She would be with her family, safely with her parents, the foreign music and song in her ears.

He trudged back to Ukoku's side.

* * *

The next morning Hazel was bleary-eyed and foul-tempered. He slammed the coffee pot down on the table and wouldn't meet anyone's eyes as he spooned the mild-flavoured almost-congee into bowls.

"Are you not feeling well, son?" Bishop Grouse said.

"I'm fine, sir," Hazel said shortly, and managed to put his foster-father's breakfast on the table politely enough. He almost spilled Ukoku's, starting back like a frightened cat when the man smiled at him.

Genjo ate, watching the way in which Hazel kept his eyes firmly on his own food, the way that Ukoku had a smug little smile as he spooned up his breakfast and drank cup after cup of strong coffee. What the hell? The twerp's gaze was shifting back and forth between them, a frown deepening on his face. Ukoku reached for the dish of honey at the same time as Hazel, their fingers touching as if by chance. Hazel snatched his hand back, his eyes snapping up to Ukoku's face. Ukoku winked at him and his smile got a little wider as Hazel reddened and stood quickly.

"I'll make a fresh pot. Excuse me."

Blank rage was now in the twerp's face. He put his spoon down carefully.

"I'm finished, Master. May I be excused?"

Genjo had never heard such a bald-faced lie. The twerp never left his food half-finished. If he had any religious belief it was in clearing his plate. Ukoku looked like he was enjoying the best joke in the world.

"Of course, kiddo, if our host doesn't mind."

"Are you sure you're not still hungry, son?" Bishop Grouse said. "You usually have a better appetite."

"I'm fine, thank you," the twerp said. Without waiting for another word to be said he left the room at high speed.

Genjo sighed, waiting for a responsible adult to notice a fight was about to break out. Shit. Maybe he was the responsible adult. He put his spoon down and shoved his chair back.

"Excuse yourself," Ukoku said in Chinese, his mild gaze on the bread he was spreading honey on.

Genjo drew breath, released it. "Excuse me," he said. "It's not fair to leave Hazel to do all the work."

He walked out of the room, then ran for the kitchen. The twerp had Hazel on the floor, held down with spells and a foot on his throat. The older boy looked shocked, probably not having expected a dolly-toting little idiot to do anything of the sort.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Genjo hissed.

"What the hell were you up to with my master?" the twerp said, furiously. "I saw the way you were looking at him! Why does he call you "angel"? I bet you've been throwing yourself at him!"

Hazel went an ugly, blotchy shade of red and the twerp snarled in triumph. Genjo pulled him back before he could actually commit murder.

"Stop! You know Ukoku plays on weaknesses! He's your weakness!"

"I ain't been throwing myself at him!" Hazel said hoarsely, rubbing his throat as he clambered up. "But last night, when he took me outside -"

Genjo and the twerp froze and turned to face him.

"What did he do to you?" Genjo said angrily. "What? Tell me! I'll go with you to your father right now!"

"Don't be dirty!" the twerp shrieked. "You! Why were you dallying in the moonlight with my master?"

"Shoot, boys," Hazel said, looking at them in astonishment. "What are you talking about? You're acting like I was having some sort of romantic assignation with Pastor Ukoku!" The twerp attempted to tear himself from Genjo's grasp to go for him again. Hazel backed off. "He said he'd teach me proper magic, more than my foster-father ever has! That's what I wanted! I just want to help my father!"

"Calm the fuck down," Genjo said in the twerp's ear. "You can see he's not lying."

"He still went and got special lessons from my master!"

"Ukoku offered! You should ask why. Hazel, why did he say he'd teach you?"

"He said I have potential," Hazel said. "He said it was a shame not to teach me now, that my father was stupid to wait." He looked ashamed. "I thought so too. There were creatures in the trees, they looked like crows, but what crows fly at midnight? He told me to banish them. I tried and I couldn't. He yelled at me and told me I was a fool, and soft and weak. He said I was a useless burden to my father who took me in out of cold charity, not because of love, and if I wanted o repay him I'd try harder." He looked lost and younger even than the twerp. "I did, and - I'd never cast a spell that powerful before. I thought I'd faint, but half those things were still there. He just laughed and said if I was a good little angel he'd show me something cool, then that scroll of his -" He went white. "I got so scared, I threw up."

The twerp subsided. "It's pretty scary the first time you see it," he admitted.

Genjo felt tension leave him. Shame at having shown himself a less adept pupil than he had hoped and then at having given in to terror, nothing worse. He let go his death-grip on the twerp's arm.

"Let's make that pot of coffee," he said. "I'll bring it in, you two tidy up in here. And Hazel? You have a footprint on your shirt."

Hazel smiled weakly. "Thanks. Is Pastor Ukoku that hard a teacher all the time?"

"I'd say he went easy on you," Genjo said. "He must really respect your father."

"Shoot."

Things were calmer after that. Ukoku seemed bored with the game of tormenting kids, and went back to his discussions over the following days with Bishop Grouse. One day they went off together, magically sealing the house so that none of the boys could leave. When they returned they both looked tired and dissatisfied, but couldn't be drawn on the matter. Genjo was glad for the diversion when he found Hazel harnessing his father's mule, Mephistopheles, to a cart one afternoon.

"I'm going into town," he said. "We need to get more coffee, stock up the store cupboard."

"I guess Ukoku's drinking your supply for the year," Genjo said.

Hazel grinned. "We've gone through it a sight faster than usual. Come to town with me?"

"Sure," Genjo said. He sagged slightly. "We'd better bring that moron."

"That's not very nice. I know my father said I shouldn't ask, but why's he not got a name?"

"He says it's something to do with training to follow the Muten Sanzo," Genjo said. He didn't bother saying he considered that to be bullshit. Ukoku'd had a houmyou before he was a sanzo. Goudai-Sanzo had one too. "Zenou monastery's a weird place."

The twerp emerged, chewing on a piece of bread and jam.

"Better add more jam to the shopping list," Genjo said. "I never met anyone with a bigger sweet tooth. Hey, you! We're going to town!"

"I should ask Master -"

"No you shouldn't, he might say no. Trust in my authority as his fellow sanzo and get up onto this cart."

The twerp smiled joyfully and jumped aboard. "Yes, Sanzo-sama!"

The cart jolted along in the opposite direction from which they had come when they first arrived, the mule ignoring instructions to go faster or slower, simply sticking to the pace it had set for itself. Genjo enjoyed looking at the the fields and hearing the other two singing simple songs they had taught each other. It was pretty funny hearing Hazel singing nursery rhymes in Chinese and making the words mean weird things when he got the tones wrong.

When they arrived in the town Hazel drew up in front of a store and tied the mule to the rails. They all trooped inside.

"Good day, Mr Oleson," Hazel said.

"Hello, young Hazel," the man behind the counter said. "What do you need today? I hadn't expected to see you for another few days."

"Three tins of coffee, please," Hazel said, "and a two-pound jar of plum jelly." He grinned at Genjo and recited the rest of his list.

The twerp pulled at Genjo's sleeve. "Look," he whispered, his eyes big and round. "Look at the candy."

Large glass jars of candy stood on the counter, far too-enticing and within reach of an inveterate sweet-tooth. Genjo glowered at him.

"Quit it. Neither of us has any money and they don't give charity here."

"Master has money!"

"Not for this, he doesn't!"

"Who are these two lads, Hazel?" the storekeeper said, assembling the shopping.

"They and their teacher are the bishop's guests," Hazel said. "They've come a long way!"

""Hazel, Hazel," the twerp whispered. "Get some candy, please! Master will give you the money!"

"I can't," Hazel whispered back. "This is going on account, it'll look right odd if I ask for it - I never do. He'll think I'm being bad, and will tell my father the next time he sees him, if he gives me the candy at all."

"But say it's for me - for us! Please! Master really will give your father the money!"

"Promise?"

"Promise!"

"I'm not asking him," Genjo said.

"Is everything all right, Hazel?"

"Ah - yes, Mr Oleson. Could you add a quarter-pound of mixed candy, please?"

The storekeeper looked at him for a second. "The bishop knows about this?" he asked.

"Yes, it's for our guests," Hazel said, going pink. "They've never had our type of candy before."

Sweets from each jar were put into a paper bag and weighed, and the whole lot was wrapped in brown paper.

"Bye!" Hazel called, leaving quickly. "Oh," he said outside. "If I ask for anything at all that's different from the last time I went in I get asked if my father knows about it! Of course he does!" He looked guilty. "Usually. I'm glad we weren't served by his wife, she's a lot worse. She makes it real clear she thinks I'm just a low-class orphan that don't deserve to be brought up by a man like my father, makes a point of reminding me how charitable he is."

"My master didn't really mean you're a burden to Bishop Grouse," the twerp said. "He was just motivating you! Your father wouldn't have taken you as a disciple if you didn't have potential, and now he loves you. Like my master saw potential in me and loves me! But he says he needs to deliver motivating kicks in the ass because he loves me."

Genjo turned away. He'd never needed or received such types of motivation from Master Koumyou and had never doubted his love, not even when others monks had praised his great and holy compassion on wretched scraps of humanity such as bastard flotsam and jetsam. Master Koumyou had always run away from them and called such people silly: Genjo had never felt he had to prove he deserved his affection. Not like the twerp or, it seemed, Hazel. He missed him so much.

"At least you know he trusts you with the shopping account," he said, not looking back. "He sent you to buy supplies, didn't he?"

"I didn't exactly tell him I was planning on coming to town," Hazel said. "Normally I'd come nearer the end of the week, but seeing as he's so busy with Pastor Ukoku I thought I might just die of the tedium. It don't matter, the shopping has to be done sooner or later." He dug the candy out and passed it to the twerp who opened the bag joyfully. "Don't dig into that yet. I'm allowed to have a slice of apple pie every time I come to town, and I know my father would be disappointed if I didn't extend the invitation to you boys as well."

"Ooh, yes, please!" the twerp said.

"Sure," Genjo said. It was at least something to do.

They stowed the shopping, unhitched the mule and moved further down the street to tie the cart and mule up again outside a brightly-painted restaurant. Hazel led them inside and a cheerful teenage girl smiled at him.

"Afternoon, Hazel! A slice of pie with cream?"

"Yes, please, Miss Anne! These are my friends, who are staying with me and the bishop! They'd like pie as well." They sat at a table with a red check cloth and he whispered, "She treats me fine. Her parents were killed by demons, like mine were."

"Are you sure Bishop Grouse manages to keep people safe?' Genjo said sarcastically.

"This is why I need to help him! He's just one man! I mean, he's got Pastor Ukoku at the moment but you won't be here forever."

"I hope not," the twerp said. "You have the wrong sort of tea."

Large slices of pie topped with mounds of snowy whipped cream were brought to them, and conversation ceased. It was delicious, and the cream and cold glass of milk went well with it, though Genjo feared he might pay with a stomach ache later.

"You're sure we don't have to pay?" he said.

"My father will come in at the end of the month and settle up," Hazel said, his mouth full. "He really would want you to eat."

"He reminds me of my foster-father," Genjo said, wondering why he sounded so angry. "He was kind too."

"He was," the twerp said unexpectedly. "He was really nice to me when I visited Kinzan."

It would be impolite and unworthy of Master Koumyou to yell at the twerp for no reason, so Genjo didn't, wondering why he wanted to. Perhaps the brat would ask for more pie and he could yell at him then. When they'd finished their food, they said goodbye to the waitress and took themselves off.

"There's a toyshop in a street near here," Hazel said. "We could look in the window."

"Ooh," the twerp said, visions of new dresses for his damn doll no doubt dancing in his head. "Yes, let's do that!"

Genjo looked at the lengthening shadows. "Won't it be closing?"

"Yes, so we'll just look at the window. We don't have money to buy anything anyway," Hazel said. "And we don't have an account there, neither," he said hurriedly as the twerp opened his mouth.

"What a shame!"

They unhitched Mephistopheles, brought him to a trough and let him drink before bringing him back to the cart and putting a feed bag on his nose. The cart they left where it was, then wandered off. The toyshop was enthralling, but confusing. Genjo didn't understand many of the things piled in the display, and wondered if lay children really needed so many toys. The others pointed out wooden trains and tin soldiers to each other, and Hazel was patient and polite about a doll with golden curls and the extravagant satin dress she wore. Those were the things that Genjo understood; there were brightly painted metal objects he didn't, mannequins on springs that seemed to be posed as if fitted in very small boxes, ropes with cheerfully-coloured wooden handles - perhaps a child's weapon? - and at the back of the display a large wooden horse set on curved rails. Ah. Some sort of funerary offering for the burial of a rich child. Master Koumyou would shake his head over such extravagance, then say it wasn't his business. Then several hours later he'd look a little concerned and ask if Genjo wanted anything. As if he'd ever wanted for anything, in his entire life! He might not have had a lay-child's toys, but he'd had the childhood he'd wanted. Until it ended.

He tore his mind away from the memories of that night and stared at the toys, the wooden blocks with western letters painted on them, the baby's rattle. Master Koumyou sometimes had giggled and said that he'd teethed on the silver arm rings that held his inner sleeves up, so that it was hard to get properly dressed some days. "You were so funny, Kouryuu, and so determined! I tried distracting you with so many things but it hardly ever worked. You liked the little jade figurine of the Blessed Goddess and I could trick you for a while with that. I'd find you babbling away at it like you were telling Hir what you thought of Hir and it wasn't very complimentary. But mostly I had to go around with bare arms for months!" He slipped a hand up his sleeve to feel the ring about his upper arm. It had been tightened, of course, as his arms were so much thinner, and he really should have had a new set made. He wasn't giving up anything that had touched Master Koumyou's flesh that he didn't have to.

"It's getting dark," Hazel said in surprise, breaking off an enthusiastic discussion about model trains and dollhouses. "We should probably go home," he said.

"I can make a light and we can keep looking at the pretty toys," the twerp sighed.

"No, Mephistopheles will be right annoyed we've left him so long."

The shadows darkened as they walked, and a voice called from a small side alley.

"Please, no! Oh, help me!"

"Who's there?" Genjo said.

"Speak up!" Hazel yelled. "Miss Anne?"

"Let's just go," the twerp said uneasily as they went closer, but he scurried after them, sticking by their sides.

Genjo stopped, puzzled. The alley was a dead-end. There were some broken crates, but there was no one there at all, certainly not the young woman he thought he'd heard. When he turned about he saw a wall of utter blackness.

Little boys, a voice said from the darkness. How delicious.

"Kouryuu!" the twerp squeaked, grabbing his arm.

Thank you, little lamb, the voice said, sibilant and malevolent. Names are so useful. What's yours? What's the name of the little silver-haired poppet?

The twerp and Hazel backed up, knocking into Genjo. He could feel the creature in the darkness reaching out, trying to control him through the use of the name.

"Sorry, G-" the twerp started.

"Shut it," Genjo snapped. "The damage's already done." He glared meaningfully at the twerp, who nodded pathetically, being an idiot but not a complete fool.

"I'm so sorry, Kouryuu," he wept loudly in his most obnoxious manner.

The name had no hold on Genjo any longer; he started chanting, willing the Maten to awake, to answer his bidding. Hazel drew in a deep breath and started chanting too, calling out lines from his own sutras. Beside them the twerp worked himself into hysteria as the shadows thickened and took on form, a massive, muscled form with lumbering gait and long, clawed hands.

"Makai Tenjo!" Genjo screamed.

" - World without end, Amen!" Hazel yelled.

"Burn, you dirty little bitch!" the twerp shrieked.

Blasts of power and light hit the darkness, and a jolt of fire shot forwards, scorching the walls of the buildings on either side. The thick darkness cleared to show only ordinary night and the street beyond as the Maten settled itself back onto Genjo's shoulders. He and Hazel looked at each other, wide-eyed and shaking, then he cautiously looked at the twerp, who looked as if he were one step away from fainting.

"What the fuck was that?"

"A demon!"

"No! What you did!"

"Master said I shouldn't be so scared of fire," the twerp said weakly, and burst into tears. "I want my master!"

"So do I," Hazel said. "Come on!"

They sprinted back to the cart and hitched Mephistopheles up, their fingers shaking. The mule was nervous, throwing his head up and looking around with rolling eyes, and made no complaint when urged to go quickly.

Run, little rabbits, a deep voice said behind them. Run!

Mephistopheles lengthened his stride and outright galloped, the cart bouncing and jolting behind him. Genjo held on to the side, his eyes fixed ahead, willing the cart's wheels to stay on. Finally the house and church came into view. Before they had even stopped, the twerp was shouting for help.

"Master! Master!"

"Ukoku!" Genjo yelled. "Quick, there's a youkai attack!"

"Sir, we're being chased by a demon!" Hazel shouted.

They leapt from the cart, leaving Mephistopheles standing, head down and exhausted, before the house and rushed around to the back door, where they found Bishop Grouse and Ukoku. They looked as if they has been sitting in the peaceful night, enjoying their evening tobacco without childish interruption, and were surprised to have screaming boys rush towards them. The twerp stammered out their news as Hazel gasped the facts in a more sensible way to his master. Ukoku looked at Genjo as the twerp burrowed against him, hiding his face in his master's breastplate.

"Well?"

"It's true. It tricked us down an alley and then trapped us. I used the Maten and Hazel chanted his scriptures at it and he - did you really teach him to use fire as a weapon? He's not sensible enough for that! But it just chased it off, it wasn't destroyed, and I think it's coming after us."

Bishop Grouse looked sternly at Ukoku. "It must be the same beast."

"Yeah," Ukoku said, and threw down his cigarette, grinding it under his foot. "It got away once, it won't do that again."

Little priest, I will take your things of power and eat your children from the heart out.

Genjo spun about as the Muten flared up about Ukoku and the twerp. Bishop Grouse pulled Hazel against him, making a Christian mudra of protection with his other hand.

"Into the church!" Bishop Grouse cried. "We'll be safe on holy ground!"

There is no safety your faith can grant you.

Bishop Grouse's hands glowed white and there was a blinding flash that banished the darkness. He seized Hazel and ran for the gate separating the garden from the churchyard.

"Quickly, Ukoku!" he cried.

Ukoku grabbed his disciple's hand and sprinted after him, dragging the twerp almost off his feet. Genjo ran a few steps behind. The bishop and Hazel flung themselves bodily against the church door, shoving it open. Ukoku and the twerp slid through and Bishop Grouse reached out to pull Genjo in, slamming the door behind him. Silence fell.

"We're all right," Bishop Grouse said, breathing heavily. He put a hand to his side, and Genjo wondered how old he was. At least ten years older than Master Koumyou, and he hadn't the benefit of his physical training. "Hazel, light the lamps."

"Yes, sir," Hazel said, and went to light the oil lamps that stood about the edges of the church. They cast a warm glow as he carefully adjusted the flame and replaced the glass covers.

Genjo felt the tension leave him as he looked around the quiet building. It remained strange-looking and too plain in his view to count as a proper temple, but they seemed to be safe. The twerp looked up at Ukoku with a tear-stained face, smiling bravely as his hair was tousled.

Then the shadows in the corner by the door coalesced and moved.

The light cannot be without darkness. Did you think to evade me, priests?

"Get behind us, boys," Bishop Grouse said, stepping to Ukoku's side.

"No, sir, I want to help!" Hazel said.

"Master, I'm scared."

"Get back, then. Don't distract me!" Ukoku snapped his fingers. "Genjo, get up here!"

Ah, the little rabbit's real name. I'll peel his skin from his flesh.

The Muten poured forwards, scything through the wooden benches and leaving nothing in its wake. The shadows dispelled, only ordinary darkness. Hollow laughter rang through the church.

Too slow, little priest.

Genjo chanted the Heart Sutra, feeling the Maten begin to stir itself. To his shock he was seized by the upper arm, disturbing his concentration. Bishop Grouse pulled him and Hazel to the side, calling to the twerp as he went.

"Son! Son, over here! You'll be safe!"

That was all it took for the twerp to rush over and gladly help in shoving Genjo and Hazel into what turned out to be a closet, the damn traitor. The door slammed and Genjo felt the spell sealing it shut.

"No!" he yelled. "You have to let me fight!" This couldn't be happening again.

Hazel flung himself at the door, but it was held fast. From outside came the noise of battle: deep roars and crashes, what sounded like lightning striking. More worrying, in Genjo's view, was that he could hear Ukoku's voice actually chanting, casting spells aloud rather than by sheer force of his will. The demon was bad, one that would take more than one sanzo to defeat. He rested his head against the door. It was the kind that had seemed exciting to hear about when Master Koumyou had spoken of his adventures on the road to India and back, but now the other sanzo was him, and the Maten was still slow to obey.

"We have to get out there," he said. "My master said some demons need two sutras to be fully defeated."

"But Hazel's master and my master can do it together," the twerp said. "Can't they?"

There was a massive crash, and the sound of Ukoku yelling in frustration and pain. All of the boys flinched.

"I can help my father," Hazel said. "But how do we get out? His spell ain't going to fade as long as he's awake."

"It's too scary out there!"

"You can let Pastor Ukoku die if you want, crybaby!"

"You're so mean!"

"You said you never learned talismans," Genjo said, breaking into the argument.

"Huh? No, I don't even know what they are."

"So you don't think your father would either?"

Hazel shrugged. "I . . . guess?"

Genjo and the twerp looked at each other, then looked around frantically. There had to be something to write with, there had to. The twerp grabbed something from a shelf.

"This?"

Genjo took the strong-smelling brick curiously. "What is it?" It was soft enough to leave a mark when he rubbed it on the wall.

"It's just carbolic soap," Hazel said. "For scrubbing down the floor."

Shuuei would raise his eyebrows at such an unorthodox writing object. Genjo whirled around and began writing on the door as carefully as he could.

"What's that?" Hazel said. "Are those magic signs?"

"They're words, can't you read?" the twerp said.

"Of course he can't," Genjo snapped. "We couldn't read English until Ukoku did that weird spell. Shut up, I'm concentrating."

The fight outside sounded like something large had crashed out through one of the windows and come back in through another. The demon sounded like a wild beast from nightmares. Genjo finished the last set of characters and stood back, biting his lip. As far up as he could reach and down to the floor the door was covered with talismans for opening, unlocking and dispelling. He dropped what was left of the bar of soap.

"OK," he said. "Get ready, and hope this works."

He yelled out the activations for the talismans, spun and kicked right on the latch, perfect form. The door flew open, every scrap of dirt that had ever been on its surface instantly obliterated. All three of the boys ran out into combat, already chanting their spells.

The church was in chaos. Puddled lamp oil lay burning, the benches were overturned and broken, wickedly sharp long shards of glass littered the whole building. Bishop Grouse lashed the shadowy demon with whips of burning light as Ukoku herded it back with the Muten. It slashed a long, muscular arm down towards the bishop, aiming to disembowel him and the Muten caught its wrist, yanking it away. Genjo gasped as it pulled back and Ukoku rocked on his feet.

You fight darkness with darkness? Your soul is already mine to devour.

"The darkness cannot overcome the light," Bishop Grouse gasped, and sent a tendril of energy towards it again. The demon roared, hunching away, and turned to face him. It crouched and sprang, the bishop vanishing under its shadowy bulk.

" - and the light shone in the darkness and the darkness comprehendeth it not!" Hazel gabbled, his hands blazing with light. He flung intense brightness towards the demon.

"You think this is mere darkness?" Ukoku snarled, making a wide gesture with one arm. The silence of eternity surrounded him as the Muten swirled about his head, then poured down on the demon's form, cutting off whatever it might have said.

"Makai Tenjo!" Genjo screamed, and the Maten released its purifying energy throughout the church, scouring away demonic powers even as the twerp shrieked and blasted the demon with a bolt of flame. It howled, the sound dying away as if the creature had never existed.

Hazel pulled his foster-father into his arms, cradling his head.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"Hazel! You shouldn't have fought - I'm all right. I promise, son."

"I had to," Hazel said, and wept. "I want you to be proud of me!"

"Hazel - I've always been proud of you. You're my son!"

"Master!" the twerp cried and ran to Ukoku, who was looking around blankly. "Did you see? Did you see my spell?"

"Yeah, kiddo. That was good."

Genjo looked at the devastation all around them, at the way that Bishop Grouse had managed to get to his feet and was hugging the still-weeping Hazel, how Ukoku was now embracing the twerp and saying he knew he could do a proper combat spell if he really tried. He just felt empty. Surely there should have been a sense of triumph after killing such a demon? He shouldn't look at the others and feel that it was unfair that they had comfort and someone to care for them while he just stood there with no one. The odd anger he had felt rising up since Master Koumyou's death bubbled up yet again as he saw Bishop Grouse wipe Hazel's tears away. It burst like a river in flood as he saw Ukoku smile in real pleasure at the twerp and he gasped in pain, because he knew all at once that it wasn't really anger at all. The fury at the world he'd been tamping down had been a cover, a band-aid he'd put over the deep aching wound of his grief.

He would never, ever see Master Koumyou again.

Genjo put his hands over his face and wept as he hadn't allowed himself to do for weeks. As he would have been ashamed to weep when he were much smaller. More even than on the dreadful night itself, when his tears had been fuelled by panic and disbelief.

"It's all right, son," Bishop Grouse said, coming up to him. "The danger's past now. I really wish you'd stayed safe."

Genjo shook his head. This would never pass. Never.

"Come and sit down," Bishop Grouse said, his hand as gentle as his voice. "Hazel, clear the mess off that pew."

"Stop that damn noise."

There wasn't a hint of gentleness in Ukoku's voice. No anger either, not yet, just command. Genjo remembered the weight of his knee on his chest, the feeling as his ribs cracked. He wished he'd finished the job.

"Stop it, I said."

"The poor boy had a fright, Pastor Ukoku."

"No, he's crying over the past, over something he knows can't be changed. Spilt milk, you say. Genjo! Just fucking stop or I'll make you stop! Act like a fucking high priest!"

The last was delivered in Chinese, like he cared about his image in this foreign land.

"I couldn't save him," Genjo sobbed. "I should have saved him!"

"Shut the fuck up," Ukoku hissed. "It's your fault he died."

Genjo took a long, shaky breath. "You think I don't know?" he shrieked.

"He'd be alive if you weren't so useless!"

"I know!"

"My God, I wish he were here instead of you."

Genjo stared at him in absolute misery.

"Me too," he said hoarsely. "Hazel's got his father, your poor little kid's got you for all that's worth. Who do I have?" The tears welled up again. "I miss my father."

Ukoku stepped in, hand raised and Bishop Grouse caught his wrist. Both Genjo and Ukoku stared at him in shock. Belatedly Genjo realised he had no idea what language they had screamed at each other in. Bishop Grouse was looking at both of them with deep pity. So much for you being a genius, he thought, looking at Ukoku's confused expression.

"The lad's grieving, Pastor Ukoku,' Bishop Grouse said. "We're all a bit over-excited, don't you think?"

"He's grieving?" Ukoku said, his sallow face going very pale. "He's grieving? He's got no one? The only person I ever -" He broke off, pulling away from the bishop's grasp and with a raw shriek punched one of the still-standing support pillars near him. It cracked straight through and began to collapse.

Bishop Grouse looked at it impassively. "That's some punch you have. We need to get out before the whole building goes down."

Ukoku stood there, head down, then nodded. "Kiddo," he said, sounding almost normal. "Come here."

"Yes, Master," his disciple said in a small, childish voice.

"Make sure Genjo's OK. Make him come with you."

". . . OK, Master."

Genjo looked dully at the little hands on his arm tugging him along, then followed meekly. They stood at a safe distance from Ukoku, proving again that the twerp wasn't a total idiot. All of them trooped back to the house and Bishop Grouse found bandages and got to work pulling a massive splinter of wood from Ukoku's arm that he hadn't seemed to notice.

"I'll deal with this properly myself later," Ukoku said to the worried-looking twerp. "I'm fine. Eat something and rest. I need to sit outside by myself for a while."

Genjo and the others sat at the table eating the bread and jam that Bishop Grouse put in front of them, and Genjo realised he'd be sent to bed like a child. Not, he decided, just yet. When he was unobserved he slipped out and found Ukoku, calm once more, moodily looking at the shattered windows of the church.

"Do you think it's really dead?" Genjo said, sitting beside him.

"Yeah. We got it. That was a worthy opponent."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Can I fucking stop you?"

"Did you love my master?"

Ukoku's cigarette flared red as he drew on it.

"Who knows?" he said at last. "Maybe I just put up with him."

"I shouldn't have said that," Genjo said, feeling himself redden. "OK, why did you really decide to train me, then?"

"Because Koumyou left me a letter and asked me straight out. I never could resist his stupid ideas."

"Can I read it?"

"No."

Genjo felt a sinking in his stomach. Master Koumyou really had asked Ukoku to train him, even though sutras didn't act properly around each other, which meant -

"Did Master Koumyou say we should do the ritual?"

Ukoku made a rude noise. "I know you met him, kid. He thought sex was the number after five. I doubt any such thing ever crossed his mind."

Genjo frowned. His swirling thoughts cleared. Of course Master Koumyou would never have wanted harm to come to him, but -

"So you never meant to complete the ritual, then?"

Ukoku took another drag on his cigarette. "I was going to do it, all right. I just needed to make myself, and your damn abbot had convinced me it was necessary. I'm good at making myself do things I don't particularly like if they have a useful outcome."

Genjo sucked his breath in. Disgusting. "You . . . didn't want to but were going to?"

"All part of being an adult. How do you think people keep going to a Nine-to-Five?"

"I have no idea what that is."

"I just told myself, Jianyi, hold your nose and do it. It'll be over before either of you know it." Ukoku looked at him sidelong. "My birth name."

"Huh. Were -" Genjo paused. "Were you glad when I talked you out of it?"

Ukoku threw his cigarette butt out into the garden. It sailed away in the night, a tiny red star, and vanished.

"Yeah," he said. "I was. I'd talked myself into it, and I usually find my own arguments to be watertight, so I was glad to have someone else argue against it right up to the wire. I never wanted to do it at all."

He rested his chin on his hand, a hunched over shape in the darkness. "Anyway, as time went on, it was clear it was unneccessary. The stages we'd carried out have kept our sutras calm enough."

A wash of fury rushed over Genjo at his words.

"You held it over me!" he said, angry. "You threatened me, you tried to freak me out! Whenever I was insubordinate, you said maybe you should finish the ritual!"

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Ukoku said, looking at him slyly. He sniggered at Genjo's outrage. "I guess that tactic's not going to work any longer." He looked back out at the quiet night. "Sometimes I think I should have done it," he said quietly. "Koumyou'd have come back from the dead just to kick my ass."

"I'll kick your ass," Genjo said, anger still simmering in him.

"Noted. What does that dumbass abbot know, anyhow? The bits we did were enough, that's clear." Ukoku looked at him full-on. "I'm not going to go any easier on you. I know I'm a hard teacher, but you'll be excellent. I'll just have to find some other way of motivating you."

"You could try explaining things to me! that's what Master Koumyou always did!"

"Good God, explaining myself to a brat who still doesn't have pubic hair. Fine. I'll try it now and then. If you obey me."

"You're so gross."

"Koumyou thought I was funny."

The urge to disagree was immediate and almost overwhelming, but the memory of lying in Master Koumyou's room, listening to laughter outside in the night bubbled up. Ukoku's voice, talking and talking and talking, and Master Koumyou laughing untill he hiccoughed. And Ukoku laughing too, howling like one of the novices hearing the latest joke. Maybe they really had liked each other. Somehow.

"OK," Genjo said. "But can we agree that I loved him and you -" Ukoku was looking at him narrowly. " - were his close friend? And we can hate each other for that some other time?"

"God, kids are dramatic," Ukoku said, which seemed as close to agreement as could be expected.

"Zenou sucks, while we're being honest and shit."

"Full agreement, kid."

"Ukoku-Sanzo, might I ask for a favour?"

"I repeat, can I fucking stop you?"

"Will you tell me more about your travels with my master, your dear friend, Koumyou-Sanzo?"

Ukoku looked at him in real surprise, then very casually took out his cigarettes and lit up again. He nodded, as if it were no big deal.

"Why not?"

Genjo waited, thinking of Master Koumyou's smiling face. "People like speaking of themselves, Kouryuu. Allow a person to tell you about their life and they'll think you very profound! You'll make friends if you listen more than you speak." He doubted he'd ever make a friend of Ukoku, but they could at least have a truce.

"The morning after I won the Muten Sutra," Ukoku said, "Koumyou greeted me so cheerfully that I had no idea how to answer. What's with this guy? I thought. Did he forget I killed his friend? And then I was ashamed, because my eyes filled with tears again - Goudai was a cranky old bastard, but I was fond of him, and I'd slaughtered him. Koumyou said, 'Oh, I named you too well, quick, take this!' and gave me an aluminium bottle cap. Because crows like shiny things, you see, and he wanted to cheer me up. 'A good walk will blow the cobwebs away,' he said -"

Genjo sat enthralled, hearing stories about his master he'd never known, as Ukoku sounded less and less like the sarcastic priest he'd become, and more like the boy he'd been. The pain that had held his heart in a tight grip eased a little, letting him think of his master without tears. And as they allowed each other to see what Koumyou's importance had been to them, the bindings between them gleamed at last a little warmer, a little more secure.

Notes:

The Chigo Kanjo Shiki was a real mediaeval Japanese Buddhist ritual designed to sanctify a monk’s young disciple and therefore make him an appropriate sexual partner for his master. The ritual described in this fic is entirely fictional.