Title: A Lesson in Romance
Author: quietviolence
Summary: Genjo Sanzo is a 23 year old teacher who thinks all high school
students are self-absorbed and obnoxious. Son Goku is the one senior that
just might prove him wrong. AU, Shonen-ai.
Pairing: 393
Disclaimer: If you want to sue, you can have: my next door neighbors blockbuster card, seventy five cents, and leftover Easter candy. So yeah, I don't recommend it anyway. But just in case... "I do not own Saiyuki."
Chapter 1:
Genjo Sanzo, age 23, surveyed the room with violet eyes, wondering how in the world he, who hated all people but mostly teenagers, had ever ended up as a history teacher for seniors at the local high school. The kids around him looked as moody and disinterested as all the others he had ever taught. Respect and discipline were unknown to the people in the row in front of him; having been raised in a strict orphanage, disorganization and contempt were his two greatest pet peeves.
The front row was comprised of four desks, and behind each of the first desks were three more organized in neat rows. At least the seating arrangements were tidy, he noted with a smirk. All the desks but one was filled as the bell rang a moment later. Instantly, everyone jerked to attention, and the girls in the class started winking to each other, trying to be discreet about their attraction to their new teacher. Standing at 6'1 and weighing only 140 pounds, Sanzo was used to this reaction; girls obsessing over his golden locks and flawless skin.
Just as he was about to introduce himself, a boy of about eighteen years of age rushed through the door and plopped down in the seat directly front and center – on top of another boy.
"Move, bakazaru!" the one who had been sitting there at the start of class shouted. His crimson hair waved wildly as he spun his head to stare at his attacker.
The other boy glared. "No way, cockroach, you're in my seat! I always sit here!"
Knowing that this disruption was not going to go away any time soon, Sanzo took matters into his own hands. He walked over and stood tall, leaning over the bickering pair. "When you're late, I expect you to stand outside the door until I allow you to come in. Do not come storming in and disturb my class," he told the brunette, whose honey eyes were sparkling brightly, despite Sanzo's berating tone.
The late boy stood stock still for a moment before another glance at his teacher showed that he was expected to follow these directions immediately. He trotted off towards the doorway, and Sanzo let out yet another sign, wondering what he had gotten himself into by accepting this teaching position. He returned to his desk and began his lecture again, fully aware of the young boy standing in the threshold awaiting Sanzo's command to return.
"Hello class. My name is Genjo Sanzo, and I'm your new history teacher. I hate immaturity and self-absorption and do not allow either in my classroom. In fact, I'm not a big fan of high school students in general, but no college would let someone as young as me teach there, so here I am. Now just because I'm young doesn't mean you can treat me with any less respect than you do your other teachers. Is that clear?"
A few kids nodded their heads and a couple calls of "Yes, sensei" echoed through the room, but most of the students continued to stare down at their desks with a look of indifference.
Sanzo looked out at the pathetic crowd before him and knew this would be a long semester of teaching. He turned to the boy in the doorway, "Okay, you may come in now. There's a seat available in the back."
The brunette walked up the stairs and sat down in the seat that had been indicated before pulling out his notebooks and pencils, looking surprisingly eager to learn the material.
Sanzo handed a sheet of paper on a clipboard to the closest desk. "This is your seating arrangement chart for the next three weeks. Fill out your full name, and memorize where you're sitting. When you are finished, we'll begin our lesson on the fall of the Roman Empire."
The rest of the lesson went through without any real distractions, or any need for serious punishments of his students, which contributed much to Sanzo's decision that perhaps he would return to the school the next morning. After his second period class was over, Sanzo walked down the hallways to visit the man who had put in the recommendation that got Sanzo this job.
"Ah, Sanzo. Survive your first day well enough?" the man asked. He was around 6 feet, give or take an inch or two, and dressed in a sage green shirt and khaki pants. A monocle covered one eye, a look that would have appeared pretentious or outdated on anyone else, but fit the brunette's appearance quite perfectly.
"I'm alive, aren't I?" he responded gruffly. "But at least there's money involved. And it's a job. Wouldn't have it without you, Hakkai," he mumbled, but both men knew this was as close to a thank you as Sanzo would ever give.
Hakkai chuckled slightly. "Students didn't give you too much trouble? It's the stunning good looks, isn't it? Keeps the girls in check?"
"Son Goku disturbed the class instantly," Sanzo informed him, recalling the name he'd read off the seating chart.
Hakkai nodded, knowingly. "I suppose you got him under control? That boy is one bouncing ball of energy, but he's really eager to learn." He chuckled slightly, and a hint of a true grin shined through on his mouth rather than the fake smile he wore throughout the day.
"I'll give him a chance then," Sanzo said, turning towards the door when he realized his next class began in ten minutes. "Only because he has your recommendation, and I happen to trust that."
"Only because I got you this job," Hakkai teased the blonde man as he turned back to the papers he had been grading. As Hakkai marked the eighth 'C' he started to reminisce about his friendship with the harsh and silent man.
Sanzo and Hakkai had been raised in the same neighborhood, Hakkai by his birth parents and Sanzo in an orphanage on the corner of Elm and Hurst. But Sanzo hadn't been completely lacking in a paternal figure during his teen years, the boy had a mentor named Komyo Sanzo who he admired greatly. Hakkai remembered the older man who had taught both of them so much during their adolescence. And he remembered the suffering his friend went through after Komyo Sanzo passed away right before they turned sixteen. It was then that his friend became closed off and difficult to reach. Hakkai, who was the closest thing Sanzo had to friend, was only occasionally able to break down the walls his friend had built after the death of his mentor. As Hakkai finished reading the paper in his hand, he smiled yet again as he marked it an 'A' before looking at the name at the top of the essay. But of course, he thought, Son Goku.
A/N: Okay, so this is a bit random since I actually prefer 83 to 39, but it just popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. So anyway, I hope you like it...
Disclaimer: If you want to sue, you can have: my next door neighbors blockbuster card, seventy five cents, and leftover Easter candy. So yeah, I don't recommend it anyway. But just in case... "I do not own Saiyuki."
Chapter 1:
Genjo Sanzo, age 23, surveyed the room with violet eyes, wondering how in the world he, who hated all people but mostly teenagers, had ever ended up as a history teacher for seniors at the local high school. The kids around him looked as moody and disinterested as all the others he had ever taught. Respect and discipline were unknown to the people in the row in front of him; having been raised in a strict orphanage, disorganization and contempt were his two greatest pet peeves.
The front row was comprised of four desks, and behind each of the first desks were three more organized in neat rows. At least the seating arrangements were tidy, he noted with a smirk. All the desks but one was filled as the bell rang a moment later. Instantly, everyone jerked to attention, and the girls in the class started winking to each other, trying to be discreet about their attraction to their new teacher. Standing at 6'1 and weighing only 140 pounds, Sanzo was used to this reaction; girls obsessing over his golden locks and flawless skin.
Just as he was about to introduce himself, a boy of about eighteen years of age rushed through the door and plopped down in the seat directly front and center – on top of another boy.
"Move, bakazaru!" the one who had been sitting there at the start of class shouted. His crimson hair waved wildly as he spun his head to stare at his attacker.
The other boy glared. "No way, cockroach, you're in my seat! I always sit here!"
Knowing that this disruption was not going to go away any time soon, Sanzo took matters into his own hands. He walked over and stood tall, leaning over the bickering pair. "When you're late, I expect you to stand outside the door until I allow you to come in. Do not come storming in and disturb my class," he told the brunette, whose honey eyes were sparkling brightly, despite Sanzo's berating tone.
The late boy stood stock still for a moment before another glance at his teacher showed that he was expected to follow these directions immediately. He trotted off towards the doorway, and Sanzo let out yet another sign, wondering what he had gotten himself into by accepting this teaching position. He returned to his desk and began his lecture again, fully aware of the young boy standing in the threshold awaiting Sanzo's command to return.
"Hello class. My name is Genjo Sanzo, and I'm your new history teacher. I hate immaturity and self-absorption and do not allow either in my classroom. In fact, I'm not a big fan of high school students in general, but no college would let someone as young as me teach there, so here I am. Now just because I'm young doesn't mean you can treat me with any less respect than you do your other teachers. Is that clear?"
A few kids nodded their heads and a couple calls of "Yes, sensei" echoed through the room, but most of the students continued to stare down at their desks with a look of indifference.
Sanzo looked out at the pathetic crowd before him and knew this would be a long semester of teaching. He turned to the boy in the doorway, "Okay, you may come in now. There's a seat available in the back."
The brunette walked up the stairs and sat down in the seat that had been indicated before pulling out his notebooks and pencils, looking surprisingly eager to learn the material.
Sanzo handed a sheet of paper on a clipboard to the closest desk. "This is your seating arrangement chart for the next three weeks. Fill out your full name, and memorize where you're sitting. When you are finished, we'll begin our lesson on the fall of the Roman Empire."
The rest of the lesson went through without any real distractions, or any need for serious punishments of his students, which contributed much to Sanzo's decision that perhaps he would return to the school the next morning. After his second period class was over, Sanzo walked down the hallways to visit the man who had put in the recommendation that got Sanzo this job.
"Ah, Sanzo. Survive your first day well enough?" the man asked. He was around 6 feet, give or take an inch or two, and dressed in a sage green shirt and khaki pants. A monocle covered one eye, a look that would have appeared pretentious or outdated on anyone else, but fit the brunette's appearance quite perfectly.
"I'm alive, aren't I?" he responded gruffly. "But at least there's money involved. And it's a job. Wouldn't have it without you, Hakkai," he mumbled, but both men knew this was as close to a thank you as Sanzo would ever give.
Hakkai chuckled slightly. "Students didn't give you too much trouble? It's the stunning good looks, isn't it? Keeps the girls in check?"
"Son Goku disturbed the class instantly," Sanzo informed him, recalling the name he'd read off the seating chart.
Hakkai nodded, knowingly. "I suppose you got him under control? That boy is one bouncing ball of energy, but he's really eager to learn." He chuckled slightly, and a hint of a true grin shined through on his mouth rather than the fake smile he wore throughout the day.
"I'll give him a chance then," Sanzo said, turning towards the door when he realized his next class began in ten minutes. "Only because he has your recommendation, and I happen to trust that."
"Only because I got you this job," Hakkai teased the blonde man as he turned back to the papers he had been grading. As Hakkai marked the eighth 'C' he started to reminisce about his friendship with the harsh and silent man.
Sanzo and Hakkai had been raised in the same neighborhood, Hakkai by his birth parents and Sanzo in an orphanage on the corner of Elm and Hurst. But Sanzo hadn't been completely lacking in a paternal figure during his teen years, the boy had a mentor named Komyo Sanzo who he admired greatly. Hakkai remembered the older man who had taught both of them so much during their adolescence. And he remembered the suffering his friend went through after Komyo Sanzo passed away right before they turned sixteen. It was then that his friend became closed off and difficult to reach. Hakkai, who was the closest thing Sanzo had to friend, was only occasionally able to break down the walls his friend had built after the death of his mentor. As Hakkai finished reading the paper in his hand, he smiled yet again as he marked it an 'A' before looking at the name at the top of the essay. But of course, he thought, Son Goku.
A/N: Okay, so this is a bit random since I actually prefer 83 to 39, but it just popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. So anyway, I hope you like it...