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The old man, sitting cross-legged on a ragged, faded cushion, was solemn as he cut the small loaf, thinly slicing the bread so that there would be enough to go round.
“Please, sir, this really isn’t necessary,” Hakkai protested. “You’ve shown us more than enough hospitality by just letting us stay the night.”
The white-haired man did not immediately respond; he finished slicing the bread deliberately before laying the knife aside and fixing Hakkai with a level, but kind stare.
“To break bread with guests is sacred.”
Hakkai turned to stop whatever derisive comment Sanzo was about to make, only to see the priest’s purple eyes fixed gravely on the old man’s face. He watched as their gazes met and a soul-deep understanding sparked in two pairs of eyes. Sanzo dipped his head in silent reverence, the candlelight casting an aura of gold around his hair.
Hakkai quickly turned to look at Goku, feeling as though he had seen too much.
“Thank you,” he said softly, when the man placed the bread before him.
The old man’s lips quirked, and the deep lines around his eyes crinkled. “Now you are welcome.” His words were heavy and rich with meaning, like bread soaked in milk and honey.
---
Faint dawn light was flickering over the rim of the world as the Sanzo-ikkou prepared to leave. Goku and Gojyo were shoving each other across the back seat of the car, both still half-asleep. Hakkai treaded softly back to the ajar door intending to thank the man one last time, only to pause on the threshold.
Sanzo knelt by the man, who was seated cross-legged on the floor, looking like nothing so much as an ancient sage. “May your life prosper in the four blessings of old age, beauty, happiness, and strength,” Sanzo said as he held one of the man’s gnarled hands between his own gloved ones.
“May peace be with you,” the man said tracing two fingers over Sanzo’s chakra as if in benediction. Sanzo closed his eyes.
Hakkai edged back out the door, feeling for the second time in as many days that he had been privy to something not his to share.
He was standing a few meters away when the door swung open and Sanzo strode out to the Jeep. The old man paused next to Hakkai, leaning heavily on a cane and looked directly at him, his gaze piercing, as if reading words inscribed on Hakkai's soul. Hakkai shifted uncomfortably, unused to being subject to such perceptive scrutiny. At last, the man spoke. “There are no intruders among friends. Remember,” he said softly, “that you are always welcome.”
Hakkai felt ineffably honored.