Blessed Be

By: Lady DeathAngel

Disclaimer: Not mine, not profiting, 'nuff said.

Warnings for Chapter: bad language, mentions of sexual acts between two boys.

A/N: Um, all this is self-beta read, btw. Not sure when I'll update, but at least it's got more than a short prologue now. Oh, and no, I haven't made Kanzeon a woman. I just have Goyjo refer to her with feminine pronouns. As always, please read, enjoy, and review!

For all intensive purposes, Goku had grown up in an orphanage. In reality, he’d woken up when he was thirteen in a hospital with no memory, no family, no nothing. Some of the nurses said they were looking for his relatives and records, but he didn’t think they tried very hard. They also told him he’d been in a coma for nearly two months. They asked a lot of questions: who was he, how old was he, where was he from . . . the kind of questions he seized up at the thought of answering. He wasn’t supposed to speak period, a part of him knew that, but answering questions would be worse than saying the odd word or too.

Answering questions would get him killed.

He stayed in the hospital for a week and a half after he woke up. He went to a couple of mandatory psychological evaluations but they didn’t want him around anymore. They declared him a mute and signed him over to the government and he ended up in an orphanage named after some goddess or other deific entity.

That place had sucked. It had reeked and there were too many kids to take care of, but they were all normal. There was something about them that made Goku feel like a freak and there was something about them that let him know he was different. It wasn’t just his eye color or the strength hidden in his skinny frame. It was something else entirely, but he didn’t know what. He wasn’t sure he cared too much.

Day-to-day life was basically wondering whether or not it was worth it. He wasn’t exactly suicidal, but there were days when he thought it’d just been easier to kill himself. At least that way he wouldn’t have to wake up every morning struggling for a reason to even get out of bed. He didn’t feel much at all besides all these phobias and paranoias that he really didn’t think counted as emotions so much as parasites.

And then Gyokumen showed up. They never saw women as nicely dressed as her at the orphanage. All decked out in bright colors and expensive fabrics and heavy perfume that was so different from the smell of dirt that clung to the kids. She talked to one of the monks running the place for about an hour and when they left the meeting room he told Goku he was going with her.

“She’s been informed of your situation and despite your disability she’s graciously agreed to let you attend her school,” the monk had told him.

Goku hadn’t been thrilled. He hated the idea of school for no reason other than he liked his life the way it was. One day he’d have gotten the guts to kill himself, so the fact that every day was pure torture was just a detail. He was afraid of change. The psycho that he was forced to see every week at the not-so aptly nicknamed ‘Paradise’ Boarding School did a lot of poking and prodding and made a bunch of eerily accurate guesses. He said that Goku was afraid of change because he was still trying to piece together a life that didn’t exist. Then he offered to help him using some sort of hypnotism and as much as Goku wished he knew the answers to the little questions he had about himself, there was no way he was going to trust anyone else with memories he wasn’t even sure he had anymore.

Gyokumen and her entire staff weren’t really people that Goku trusted, actually. They all gave him way too much freedom, namely the freedom to not speak. He wasn’t mute, they knew that. He could talk if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to. He was convinced that something bad would happen if he did, and he knew that in the world he lived in, there was no place for someone with such a handicap. She didn’t care and neither did any of the teachers. They all smiled creepy smiles at him, never called on him in class, got him out of trouble whenever kids were pushing him around and calling him ‘freak’ and ‘fag’ and ‘mute’. He didn’t like it.

But Paradise was better than the orphanage for no other reason than Paradise had the Gold One.

His name was really Sanzo and he had friends named Goyjo and Hakkai and the three of them didn’t care that he didn’t speak. They didn’t treat him special or look at him like he was retarded. He liked Goyjo, with his radically red hair, and Hakkai, with his easy smiles. But Sanzo was the one he saw in his mind before he went to sleep every night and Sanzo was the one that he looked forward to seeing every day. There was something about him, something that had pulled him out of the despair he’d been falling prey too seconds before seeing him in that hallway his first day at the school. He didn’t know what it was . . . it was just . . . something.

Paradise didn’t have any sports teams. Most of the concentration was on academics and sports only got in the way, or so Headmistress Gyokumen said. And yet they were required to take a gym class every trimester like it was fucking religion or something. Most of the guys in the upper two levels didn’t complain anymore. A few of them still griped about it, mostly those out of shape either because of cigarette consumption or pure laziness, but they only spared about two minutes for it while getting dressed in the locker rooms.

Genjo Sanzo was not one of those. Sanzo was, as Goyjo liked to point out, every inch the Drama Queen and he voiced his displeasure every day while they suited up and groused through most of the class as well. Today was no exception and, it being a Monday, he was grumpier than usual.

“It looks like its going to rain,” he said, slipping his shirt on over his head.

Goyjo took the chance to inconspicuously ogle the lean blonde before stripping his own uniform off and grabbing the more comfortable gym clothes. Sanzo was, by far, one of the most gorgeous pieces of ass he’d ever come across. Unfortunately he was also so not Goyjo’s type. While definitely gay, he was too much of a hard-ass to be worth any real pursuit. Not that he wouldn’t fuck him given the chance. Then again, as Sanzo was fond of saying, Goyjo would fuck anything that moved.

He’d really like topping Sanzo though, he mused. That would be a crowning moment.

“It does not look like its going to rain,” Goyjo shot back, pushing his perverted thoughts to the back of his mind where they would stay for, he hoped, at least a few minutes.

“It does,” Sanzo insisted, tying the shoes of his trainers. “They should cancel class. I could use a study hall.”

Hakkai laughed.

“You’re such a pussy,” he said before sighing. “Goyjo, did you steal my shirt again?”

He managed an affronted look that was probably not quite as innocent as he was hoping for.

“I gave it back to you days ago, ‘Kai. How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

“Maybe because its in your locker, dumbass,” Hakkai said affectionately, reaching past him.

Having retrieved the errant article of clothing he put it on and Goyjo sighed. He rather liked seeing Hakkai topless. He was sexy in a whole different way than Sanzo, though. In an attainable way. Which really catered to Goyjo’s inherent laziness. Well, not inherent really. Just, he was used to being able to have any guy he wanted as long as he pinged the gaydar. He was spoiled, that was the word.

“What are we doing today?” Sanzo asked in a hollow tone.

“Soccer.”

“Shit.”

Goyjo slung an arm around the blonde’s shoulders.

“Ah, don’t worry Sanzo. I’ll protect you.”

He shot him a deeply disgusted look.

“Like fuck you will, pervert.”

Goyjo simply shrugged and they made their way out onto the field. He cursed when he saw a group of kids already out there and dropped his arm to rub the back of his neck.

“Dammit. I forgot we doubled with those little shits today.”

Sanzo groaned.

“I really, really could use some rain right now.”

“Don’t be silly. You hate the rain,” Hakkai said. “Although . . .” he trailed off as they drew closer and one of the third years in the gym class kicked a ball at Goyjo, much harder than necessary.

“Fuckin’ asshole,” he growled, picking up the ball and hurling it back.

Of course, he waited until the kid turned his back and couldn’t possibly see it coming. His cry of pain and outrage was very calming.

“Now, now,” Hakkai said. “Wait until class starts. Then you can fuck with him as much as you want.”

Goyjo smirked.

“Don’t make it sound so fun.”

“Don’t make it sound like you don’t love it.”

“Don’t make me gag,” Sanzo said. “Can’t class just start already?”

But it couldn’t. Half of each class was still getting changed so most of the boys were already passing the ball between themselves in circles. Sanzo, Hakkai and Goyjo made their way to a tree and settled beneath it, Sanzo pining out loud for a cigarette.

“Shut up,” Goyjo ordered.

“Just because you decided to go cold turkey is no reason to be so rude,” Sanzo told him.

Goyjo sighed. It was true. And he suddenly wished he hadn’t made the rash decision.

“If it hadn’t been for that guy telling me I tasted gross I wouldn’t be doing this,” he said. “But I’ve gotta stay on top of my game so . . .”

He spread his arms helplessly to the side and sighed. Hakkai glanced over at him with a frown.

“Someone said you tasted gross?”

“Yeah. Prick.”

The brunette looked like he was going to say something else, but the gym teacher blew his whistle and so they stood slowly and ambled toward the center of the field.

“Hey, isn’t that your pet?” Goyjo asked, pointing to a boy who was standing off to the side of the others looking as miserable as Sanzo. More so, even.

“Yeah, that’s Goku. Didn’t know he was in this class.”

And that was all the great Sanzo had to say about it. Goyjo rolled his eyes. His friend was totally taken with the little guy, he could tell. You didn’t go to school with a guy for three years, take all the same classes and room with him once and not pick up on some stuff. No matter how introverted he was. And Sanzo liked the kid. Of course, Hakkai had fallen for that strange monkey’s charm from their first dinner together, and even Goyjo had to admit he had a soft spot for him. But for Sanzo to let him tag along behind him everywhere he possibly could with those huge, worshipful eyes, he had to really, really like him.

Not that he’d admit. Heaven forbid Sanzo ever verbalize any warm-fuzzies he was feeling. But try shutting the bastard up when he was pissed at you; it wouldn’t work.

“All right,” their gym teacher was saying. “We’ll run this like a real game. Eleven-on-eleven, standard positions which includes a goalie. Captains can assign positions. Third level students, put on the red bibs.”

Mr. Evans was one of the only tolerable teachers at Paradise. Not creepy in the least, which was saying something. Headmistress Gyokumen seemed hell-bent on employing only the most fucked up of individuals. Of course, Evans took quite a bit of shit from the students because he was so normal. They apparently didn’t know how to deal with normal. Or foreign. His accent had thrown quite a few people for a loop and they still made fun of it behind his back after two years.

Goyjo liked it. And not just because accents were sexy. It reminded him of home with his surrogate mother, Kanzeon. She had the same pseudo-cultured accent as Evans, though she never said how she got it.

“I’m the closest bitch to Enlightenment you’ll ever meet,” she’d told him once. “All of us talk like this. Take my word for it.”

He didn’t. Half the time he didn’t know when that crazy broad was joking and when she wasn’t. But he loved her for being herself and not giving a shit about conventions and the government’s familial standard.

“Right so, we’ll have three subs.”

“We’ll sub out!” Sanzo, Goyjo, and Hakkai volunteered.

Evans laughed.

“You subbed out last time,” he said. “So you’ll be playing today.”

Sanzo groaned and Goyjo sighed. Hakkai took it in stride and shrugged at them both with one of his ever-present looks of amusement.

“You can be defenders,” the self designated captain, Jin, announced. “You do know what they do right?” he asked snidely.

“We’re not fuckwits,” Goyjo retorted.

“What he means to say,” Hakkai said with a cold smile. “Is that we can manage.”

Jin looked dubious, but Goyjo didn’t care. He’d wanted to pound that fucker into the ground since the first time he’d ever seen him. He now had no intention of letting him think that he had no idea what he was doing. And while Goyjo was, by nature, offensive, he thought he’d be able to hold this defense thing down just fine.

He didn’t count on Goku.

The kid was mercilessly sacrificed by his team as a forward and the few minutes of the game saw him doing nothing more than twiddling his thumbs by the goalposts while Hakkai, Sanzo, and Goku took their selfish offense apart.

“This is kind of fun,” Hakkai commented as he sent the ball sailing clear across the field.

Sanzo just shook his sweat-damp hair out of his eyes and scoffed.

“You’d have fun making lanyards at a summer camp,” he pointed out.

“I can’t help it if I’m an optimist.”

“No,” Goyjo said with a smirk. “You’re just easily amused. Hey, you all right back there, Monkey?”

Goku had been lingering behind them for the past few minutes and the look on his face at being caught had nothing to do with guilt and everything to do with, ‘I’m not a monkey!’ Not that the kid was going to say it. Apparently he was mute and used his overly expressive face to convey what it was he was thinking. Which was pretty damned effective, actually, and amusing.

“Heads up,” Sanzo said, taking three giant steps backward and out of harm’s way.

There was a bit of a scuffle between Hakkai and an oncoming attacker and then the ball squirted out. Goyjo and Goku stared at it for a moment before the smaller boy shot out and took it with his feet. Goyjo, thinking this was bound be easy because Goku looked about as athletic as Sanzo, was in for a surprise. The kid was fucking fast. He had ball skills too, and looked happy for the first time since he’d turned up, practically holding Sanzo’s at that one mealtime. Goyjo, who had practically useless lungs, was no match for the little speed demon and neither was their goalie. Goku took a hard shot that hit the top, right corner of the net.

“Shit,” Sanzo muttered somewhere off to their left.

Goku glanced at him with a grin.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Goyjo asked, incredulous.

The look on the kid’s face immediately darkened and he shuddered.

“It was just luck!” one of his teammates yelled. “So a little good karma for the retard payed off. Big deal.”

Goyjo turned to offer up a few expletives in the monkey’s defense, but Goku beat him to it. One second the ball was at his feet. The next it was rebounding off of the bastard’s crotch and he was bent over, wailing.

Goyjo grinned.

He couldn’t have said it better himself.