Sanzou was cocooned within his respite from the waking, and the deep, regular breathing was like a soothing whisper. Hakkai rested his eye on him, and noted how sleep had smoothed out the hard lines of stubborn grief and practised hostility from his companion's face. On the threshold of morning, all he could see in the monk was vulnerable humanity. He took a moment to focus his mind just enough to gather that precious image, frame it, and hang it on the inside of the wall surrounding his heart. It was the safest place for a treasure so fragile and rare.

Tousled fair hair surrounded Sanzou's face, and Hakkai found that his hand was already on its way to touch it. He knew what it felt like, because he had run his fingers through it only last night. Soft, smooth and slightly cool, in contrast to the heat that radiated off the rest of the man. Sometimes you could almost burn your fingers on Sanzou, but not now. In this sacred hour Sanzou was unguarded, and the heat that ever sought to escape the glacier shielding his heart, slept just as did he.

Hakkai lowered his hand to rest on the sheet, for he knew it would be foolish to touch. It was far better to preserve this moment of sanctity as long as possible. Even in profound sleep, Sanzou would sense an unbidden intrusion on his insulated self. Through the heavy veils of rest there would come a command of retreat, and that now gentle face would harden into a mask of rejection. Hoping for a future when he could enhance the calm beauty of dawn by touch and embrace was futile, and so he let it float away on a tiny sigh.

Slowly the sun continued its determined climb, and sent its first probes of light into the drowsy world where Sanzou slept and Hakkai watched over him. Slowly, Sanzou started to retreat from sleep, and Hakkai watched the monk's face tighten from one breath to the next. One step at the time.

Slowly, slowly Hakkai moved his eye away from his awakening companion. It wouldn't do to intrude any more.

The sacred hour had passed.