Disclaimer: Saiyuki belongs to Kazuya Minekura and associates.

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It wasn’t the rain he hated, just the getting wet.
Simple really.
The feel of rain soaking his into his hair and robes.
Cold.
Incessant.
Like clammy hands reaching out and holding him against his will.
It’s the feel of wet fabric tangling his legs, weighing his arms down.
Constricting.
Hindering.
So that this time, of all the times.
He will be too late.
So that the dripping isn’t water any more.
No matter how much he scrubs at his hands.
Because Genjo Sanzo keeps no attachment.
Because Kouryuu knows how hard it is to wash away someone else’s blood.

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