Eternity

The first time they met they were at a party.

She is eight and he is seven, and they both are lonely children out of place in the world of adults and their politic games. She is much more extroverted than he; she leans on the wall beside him, her sky-blue gaze directed at the quiet boy to her left with curiosity. Boring isn't it, she asks, but receives no response. The boy in question looks around as if to say, who me? And she smiles a warm little smile that makes him feel like melted candy goo inside as she asks again.

Somehow the two of them end up splashing in the fountain outside the party venue until the gathering comes to a close and they are returned to their respective families. He doesn't remember much more about that night -- surely he was scolded for his wet suit, for the streak of mischief he has never exhibited before, but it is not important. There are other memories of long nights spent playing with the blonde girl with the princess smile but the first time they met sticks out the most.

Now he watches her from across the courtyard. She's grown now, more woman than girl, and she's surrounded by male and female alike. She's popular with everyone, for her beauty and the self-proclaimed words of love she can string together with very little urging. She catches him looking and gives him a smile that isn't quite right, and he turns his head away.

They're assigned partners for an assignment. As the class breaks apart in mad flurries to find the name written on the slips of paper handed out by the instructor, confident heeled footfalls approach his desk, and a manicured hand grips the edge of it. His name, Masato Hijirikawa, she reads aloud, which results in a few broken-hearted whines from some of his other classmates. When he looks up at her he's met with a challenging smirk, and he grits his teeth, determined.

They bicker a lot, but she does her share of the work as instructed. It's progressing more smoothly than Masato expected it to go, it's not easy working with a childhood friend turned rival, but perhaps that should have served as a warning sign.

He's asked to deliver her report card one evening after she didn't show up to class. He doesn't meant to look at it, he really doesn't, but the folder falls to the floor and he stares in shock at failing grades and comments from the teaching staff that detail her lack of ambition and that she has failed to turn in a single assignment that semester. There's a month left it in the grading period, and if she doesn't show improvement she will be booted from the school.

She comes to the door when he knocks and meets his terse look coolly. "I thought you had more sense than that," he tells her as he hands her the offensive piece of paper, because he's disappointed and he's never been able to hide his feelings from her. "I thought your shallow behavior was an act, he says sharply, but I guess I was wrong."

She slaps him.

They don't see one another for a week, and during that time she doesn't attend class.

He starts on her half of the project, assuming she won't finish her share. When one afternoon a soft knock summons him from his desk and her half is left in the doorway, completed, some of his sour feelings finally melt away. The next afternoon Masato knocks on her door in return, arms heavy with piles of books and papers after consulting teachers, and she answers it with pursed lips and an arched brow. The work can be made up, he says. There is a lot to be done, but he can help her, if she'd like. 

She steps aside and lets him into her dorm room, and the work begins.

The edge in her smile melts during their time spent together. They still bicker, but now the words aimed at one another are more playful, even as the deadline approaches and the tension grows in intensity.

The final afternoon he finds her sitting among piles of done work, with a picnic basket on the floor. She finished the work, she tells him. They should have a celebratory picnic. He consents when she keeps poking and prodding and sticks her bottom lip out at him pathetically, and the pair of them spend the afternoon in the shade with a basket of food to be shared between them.

That evening he walks her back to her dorm room, ever the gentleman. At the door she catches his arm, and kisses him square on the mouth, then withdraws with a lack of confidence that prompts him to lean in and return what she gifted him, with a certain hunger that rekindles her confidence and has her lacing her arms around his neck as his settle on her shoulders, then her waist. 

They break apart, both a little wide-eyed and pink-cheeked at what so spontaneously transpired between them, but then they return to one another's embrace, already missing it only after hardly becoming acquainted with it. It feels right and good, so it isn't questioned when they both lean in for a good night kiss.

It's been a year since that night when they kissed in the hallway, and she has been wearing his ring on her finger for a little over half of that time. Today is the big day; she's in her white dress with his little sister Mai with a basket of flower petals at her side beaming up at her new big sister. Not even the Hijirikawa patriarch can be angry for long at her unfortunate family name, because his son has a beautiful bride and surely beautiful grandchildren will be on the way soon, or at least that's what the ideal future holds in store for the pair.

What the patriarch doesn't know is that their honeymoon will last for a year abroad. Ren seeks adventure in travel, and Masato seeks to learn and experience new culture. Together, away from the pressures of home, they're going to become even more acquainted with one another and learn a little something about the world, and it will be the beginning of a long, full life shared together.

The music starts to the play and she steps into the main hall, ready to meet her future with Masato head-on.

[Track B] Ranmaru Kurosaki

The first time they met they were at a party.

It is loud and crowded but the drinks are cool and Ren has her eyes on his long lean frame from the moment she walked in. It helps that he looked like the exact opposite from the type of men she was encouraged to pursue, and when her friends -- she uses the term loosely -- turned their catty whispered remarks on the solo rocker in the corner, Ren brakes away from the throng to prove something.

He doesn't respond much to her, initially. She flirts and twirls her hair and smiles honey-sweet but he doesn't bat an eye, and that just intrigues her more. When she finally questions the guitar case that leans like a stone pillar against the wall next to him, he talks a little more. It's a bass, he explains. His girlfriend, he mutters pointedly. Ren smiles at that, warmly for the first time that night. She talks to him about it until she has to leave because her ride is there, and she still doesn't know his name by the end of it.

She prods and pokes around utilizing all of her connections until his name emerges -- Ranmaru Kurosaki -- and a phone number. For a while she just lays in her room, number inputted into her phone and repeats his name aloud over and over, before she types the first message. Guess who, she says, and pockets her phone. It's an hour later when it vibrates and she thinks someone must have warned him because the message guesses that she's the girl from the party. She coyly inquires as to which girl she is, and his response makes her chew her bottom lip thoughtfully -- "there was only one," he says.

There is some sort of magic in texting, maybe, because he usually answers. Sometimes she prods a little too much and his replies will get terse, but sometimes he fills the character quote time and time again trying to explain the intricacies of rock and passion to the strawberry-blonde, and one night he's four messages in when he suddenly calls her. She answers with pursed lips, and he continues right where he left off in the messages after she says hello, and ultimately explains that his fingers were aching from using the tiny keys. She listens with the reverence of a religious congregation, hums in the appropriate places. She could listen to him talk about anything, she realizes, if he speaks with that much conviction. 

Her conversations with him lack flirtation, now. Now she tells him about jazz and he argues about rock and the two of them buttheads until she giggles and admits that this is the first real conversation she has had in a long time, and she can tell he doesn't know what she means by that. That's perfectly okay, though.

It's been three months since the party when she wrangles his address out of him with much reluctance on his party, and the insistence that she won't like what she sees. She makes the family chauffeur drive halfway there and then she walks the rest of the way, and flounces into his sparsely-decorated apartment like its the Ritz and she has a reservation. Her phone rings, her brother's number on the screen. She shuts it off.

She leaves with a mix tape he burned for her quickly before he walked her to her designated pickup place. He tells her its too dangerous for her to walk alone, now that it's nighttime. She smiles. As he watches her climb into the long limousine from the shadows he thinks that's the last time he'll ever see her.

He's wrong. He's barely awake, breakfast still in the pan, when there is a knock on the door. It's Ren, standing there, looking like something out of a magazine as usual, with breakfast in a bag and the CD he made for her on her iPod as well as a few more purchased albums because she hardly slept a wink, she was so excited. Her driver brought her all the way to the apartment, this time, and introduces himself to Ranmaru; his name is George, and he is Ren-sama's chauffeur. He doesn't have to say he's her bodyguard, Ranmaru can tell by the heat he's packing. But when he hears George on the way back to the car tell someone on the phone that he dropped Ren off at the mall she had been using as the half-way point, Ran decides the man's okay.

She doesn't tell him much about her. Not the real things, like the phone calls she ignores -- he learns later when she's in the bathroom and her screen lights up with a call that it's from her older brother -- and the limousine and locket she keeps under her shirt but fiddles with sometimes when she's nervous. He knows she models, but not about the insecurities that come with the job. He knows she has boyfriends off and on, because sometimes they call, but she ignores them too and smiles secretly at him when she catches him looking at her. 

He invites her to one of his shows. She goes, and notes she stands out. Next time she'll blend in better. For now she's too preoccupied with Ranmaru's electricity to worry about the stares, and when she greets him backstage she even ignores the guys that swoop in thinking she's a an out-of-place girl looking for a good time, though Ranmaru doesn't and glares at them until they back away from her. She congratulates him on a successful performance, and she tries not to stare too hard at one of the rare, small smiles she gets in return.

She spends the night the next time she's at his apartment, and most of the night is spent sitting in his lap trying to wrap her head around the guitar and its strings and notes and chords as he guides her fingers along its neck and tries not to think much about the way she fills his lap and how warm her back is when he presses against it to lean over her and correct her form. But she is not so easily shaken from his mind at the next concert she attends she's beaming at him so proudly and she looks so good dressed up in a style she proclaimed to be more rock that before he can catch himself he kisses her, square on the mouth. And the wide-eyed, lips parted look of surprise she grants him earns her another one, this kiss slower and when they stop he has ruby red lipstick all over his face and neck and has his arms around her waist.

It doesn't feel like much has changed -- haven't we always kissed, Ren teases when Ran makes an off-handed comment about it -- when their relationship takes on a new meaning. Sometimes when she stays the night she wakes up with considerably less clothes on than she arrived with, but sometimes that's only because she borrowed his shower and washed off the day's makeup and spent a few hours watching films with him in a pair of his sweatpants and an oversized tee-shirt with wet hair. She's pretty like that too, he thinks, but he doesn't really tell her that in words. 

 It's been a year since they met, she tells him one evening while she presses her skin against his. Is it, he asks absently, toying with her long fingers by the tips of her painted nails. She nods, and presses her face against his chest. It is, she reaffirms dreamily, then abruptly sits up, her sky-blue eyes honing in on the cold metal that settles at the base of one of her fingers. She gives him that look of surprise that reminds him of the night he first kissed her, her gaze flickering between the ring on her finger and his face. "I kinda want to wake up with you every morning," he explains, going a little red in the face when he sees the shine of tears form at the rim of her eyes. She doesn't trust herself to speak so she just nods, then sobs, latching on tightly to him and burying her face against him. 

Her routine is simple; she bathes methodically, changes from her silken, traditional sleepwear into a long white robe, and stands in front of the mirror and readies herself for the day. Her hair is dried and styled neatly, light makeup applied if needed – and at this point her morning is interrupted, like clockwork, when the bathroom gains a second party.

Ranae is the next to wake up. She moves like a bear fresh from hibernation, and Masaomi’s polite morning greeting is ignored most days as Ranae stalks into the bathroom and throws open the shower curtain. When the shower comes to an end the silver-haired rocker emerges in a better mood, and Masaomi is given a kiss to remedy the ignored message from before. Then Ranae disappears back into the bedroom to take her stand at the small, paint-chipped table she brought with her when they made the move where her makeup and brushes and hair products lay in an unorganized heap.

Rena is the last to pull herself from the sanctuary that is their shared bed, and she does so when Masaomi’s sheets begin to cool, or when she gropes for a body to hold and finds herself isolated. She strides past Ranae and Masaomi both with a yawn and a flippant wave, and sits in front of the grandiose vanity she contributed to their shared space. The underside of her hair is still damp from her shower the night before, but she pays it little mind; her hair has plenty of time to dry while she arranges her makeup. If the night before was long, she might spend a few moments with her back to the cushion and her painted toes stretching and curling in the plush carpet, but if she is well-rested her long routine of beauty will begin.

Masaomi likens Rena sitting on her large round ataman(sp) in front of the mirror to the Birth of Venus; Rena is the goddess, just in a sheer robe, and the seat is the large shell. Both of her roommates have seen her apply her makeup numerous times, but yet every morning they both find themselves transfixed as she dabs color on to her eyelids and cheek bones with an artist’s precision. Even Ranae pauses in her careful application of thick dark eyeliner to watch Rena’s hands move, and when the strawberry blond is aware of their attention her technique slows for them to watch.

Then the spell is suddenly broken; Ranae returns to perfecting her own look, and Masaomi takes a seat beside the blond as she curls straight apricot-color locks and brushes the ringlets out until they are thick waves. When she’s satisfied with the face she sees in the mirror she turns attention to her quiet girlfriend, pressing a kiss to both cheeks and attempting to slip a hand in between the folds of her robe to stroke her hands over soft abdominal flesh and over the curves of her hips.

Sometimes, when they have nowhere to be, Masaomi lets her. Sweet morning kisses grow hot, appreciate touching grows heavy. If either of them make a sound the third will join them on the large carpeted seat with warm, large hands and lips that taste like spearmint, like her toothpaste. If this happens they end up between the sheets again, basking in the glow of their affection for one another and their rituals must be reset and began again.

He was late too, because mate-claiming was a lengthy business and Ren was very thorough when it came to taking care of his own. 

A warm hand cupped one of the triangular ears that lie flat against Masato's head and stroked it until the fur wasn't standing on end. Another hand insistently made the Feline touch the downy-soft feathers mixed among the strands of slick hair on the other's head as a way of introduction. "Masato," he murmured to the Avian, naming the Feline. "Tokiya," he introduced in return before he pulled Masato into his arms too and nuzzle the side of both of their faces, his white-tipped fox tail wagging behind him in contentment.

Masato knows he cannot blame Ren. For having such a flirtatious personality, he's a loyal mate. But it isn't unusual for there to be more than one Beta to an Alpha, and the matching blue marks on the inside of Masato and Tokiya's wrists are proof enough that they are both Betas belonging to the same Alpha. It's the way nature works, he knows this, too.

But he doesn't see how this could possibly work.

---

Tokiya had been blindsided. He knew what to expect when his fate-chosen mate was in proximity but it was so different experiencing it than being taught about it. First was the burn of the mark, then the flare of heat. His fight or flight instincts hadn't even kicked in before he had been embraced to a warm body and had a warm mouth working up and down his neck and he couldn't even protest as his shopping cart is abandoned and he's carried out of the public eye by a handsome Vulpine with talented hands.

He was told not to expect much from his Alpha when being claimed the first time, because Alphas are at the mercy of their animalistic instincts as soon as the mating frenzy begins, but Ren is passionate and gentle and Tokiya cries out for more and Ren delivers. He knows the blond must have mated before, to have such control over himself. In some ways, this is a relief.

To be brought to Ren's den and introduced to a pissed-off Feline, however, is a little overwhelming. But Ren's good about calming the nerves of anyone, or maybe it's just his attentiveness to his mates that helps him soothe any ruffled feathers. 

The first few days are a little rough. Hijrikawa looks at him like he's wounded him, especially when Ren offers his lap to Tokiya and Tokiya accepts his offer to steal a bit of the Vulpine's heat. But Tokiya thinks he must look as equally upset when he comes home to find Masato on the piano bench in his yukata with Ren worshiping his long legs with the precision of a long-time lover.

There's a fragile balance, and it's bound to break.

---

It doesn't break, Ren won't let it.

Instead, he evens the scales a little bit. He tells Tokiya to kiss Masato one night, and isn't it cute when Masato's face heats up like that? And yes, Masato, that's a good place to touch Tokiya, he's almost as shy as Masato used to be. Before the two of them realize it they're clutching one another, curled up in Ren's arms. Both of them receive kisses on the top of the head, both of them receive a brief checking over from their older mate. 

When he met Tokiya, he had been uncertain and angry at the mating urge he had been born with as an Alpha. Ren loves Masato more than he thought he could ever love anyone else. But his instincts refused to allow him to ignore his Avian mate, so bringing him home was inevitable. But now he feels much better, because he wakes to see Masato nagging at Tokiya to get cleaned up and keep quiet so Ren will sleep longer. He knows Masato is starting to love Tokiya too, which means Ren doesn't have to hold back his feelings, either. 

He can shut his eyes and sleep a little longer, knowing he'll wake to a warm breakfast and two clean, content mates curled comfortably into his side. 

---

The first student of interest was Shinju Midorima, an intellectual beauty with shapely legs Setsuko deemed appropriate for both the foundation of a pyramid and the short skirts they would inevitably have to flaunt. Closer examination revealed her potential as a vice-captain, both assertive and confident but deferential to Akashi's authority.

Or she would be.

All it took was cornering the taller, shapely girl in one of the music rooms she retreated to after class and Akashi was confident Shinju would show face at the next practice, even if she insisted that she wouldn't.

Setsuko was right, of course, and it wasn't long before Shinju was at her side walking from class to class with an arm full of books and trinkets she insisted were "lucky."

---

Atsuko Murasakibara's ponytails were atrocious, but she had redemptive qualities. Though the boys saw her height as intimidating, Setsuko saw it as just what she was going to need on her team. After all, it wasn't just a squad, it was The Squad, and Akashi was determined to assemble her perfect team of perfect girls, anomalies and all.

"Join my squad."

Atsuko considered it as she sucked on the chocolately end of a stick of pocky.

"Okay."

"Shinju, teach Atsuko how to put her hair into a bun, if you would.

---

Dai Aomine was an unusual choice -- Setsuko knew this much without Shinju voicing her concern, but even after she had assured her vice-captain that she was never wrong, the greenette's fingers grip still flexed around her bookbag when the two of them approached the azure-haired tomboy.

"Join our squad, Aomine Dai."

"Fuck no."

A glare or two later and the new member complied, albeit with a few expletives whispered under her breath.

--

Teruko Kuroko was chosen to be one of their diminutive flyers alongside their captain. She was soft-spoken, quiet, and polite, but it was quite the hassle to track her down.

Shinju insisted that the little lady managed to somehow slip into other worlds and return just in time to scare the socks off her fellow cheerleaders, but Setsuko proclaimed her tiny presence would come in handy when it came to flinging her impossibly high in the air. 

"Midorima-chan, your bow is crooked," a soft voice alerted her, startling the girl into dropping her ceramic frog onto the mats on the gym floor which saved it from certain destruction.

"Kuroko!"

---

When the last member of their perfect little team proved to be elusive, Setsuko selected someone who would serve as a place-filler. Her name was Sho-na Haizaki, and she had quite the temper and proved to be more unlady-like than Aomine rather quickly.

No one was particularly upset when she sustained an injury that broke her leg, thus giving Akashi a palpable reason to remove her from the team.

"Man proposes, God disposes," Shinju murmured, sliding her slipping glasses along the bridge of her nose as Sho-na was carted away by an ambulance.

---

Ryoko Kise came to the squad before the squad came to her, which Akashi had found to be quite convenient. The model-gone-cheerleader was the missing link to Akashi's perfect ideal team, so she was quickly place on the team.

How convenient a spot had opened up just a day prior to her nosing around the gym.

Aomine declared shenanigans, and Akashi made her run a few extra laps.

---

"So I was thinking -- " Dai was interrupted by a group-wide groan, but she waited until it died down before continuing, "if we're going to be a stereotypical cheerleading squad and rule the school, we need to elect a dumb blonde."

All eyes turned to Kise, who was happily nibbling away on a salad without a care in the world.

"All in favor say 'I.'" Akashi proposed the vote, and Midorima tallied it up.

It was unanimous.

He can't even see to whom it belongs -- his glasses are fogged up from the heavy fog of aphrodisiacs and he was almost certain that one the Latin incantations done by his partner when they were performing the ritual and both fully clothed beneath anonymous cloaks blinded him temporarily anyway.

He knows his cheeks were cherry red and lips were parted in wanton bliss, and he knows his partner is male and good with his mouth. Though in the other rooms of the coven's headquarters other sorcerers -- both witches and wizards -- are undergoing the same treatment by their oracle-selected partners, shame still intermingles with lust in his gut. But he has to ignore it; aside from the spells and the binding council's decision, it's instinctual to allow the union with this stranger to continue until its end. When the physical conjoining is completed they will be tied to one another; if one bleeds, so does the other, and so forth. And while the notion is romantic, Shintarou's uneasy about devoting himself to a virtual stranger, despite being told by his precious star formations to submit to authority and welcome the changes that occur in his life with an open mind.

He groans when he is exposed to cold air, but bucks his hips restlessly to seek friction and relief. There's a sound beside his ear -- a chuckle, he registers after a moment, and a soothing murmur. A hand caresses his cheek, lips nip at his defined jawline. Lithe legs straddle his hips, and they serve as the only warning he receives before he is once again surrounded by tight heat. He tosses back his head and moans.

He wants to stop, wait for his partner to adjust especially since there was no preparation of his parnter involved, but he cannot. Like a man possessed he thrusts into his future partner, his mate if he uses the jargon of the weres and vampre. His partner groans and moans and claws at his chest, acute hips moving at a pace contrary to Shintarou's that elicits gasps and pleasure for the two of them. 

His last thoughts are to invite his new partner to partake in a bath and offer to heal any injury caused by their feral union; healing is his family's specialty, after all. He is forced to completely submit to the fire that is consuming both he and his partner alike, and neither of them last long before their ritual is completed. Warmth splashes Shintarou abdomen, and he fills his partner in turn. Their bodies separate for a moment, only to press in close to one another again. Shintarou blindly seek seeks his partner's mouth, missing twice drunkenly until he finds the thin, soft curve of a contented smile.

Slowly the haze melts from his eyes. He blinks hard, dismissing the anxiety that threatens to well up within him. He has a partner now, it's not productive to feel shy.

The first thing he sees is a pair of crimson and gold eyes that are curved in amusement. His mind shuts down. His mouth must be gaping comically, because the figure in his lap chuckles and nuzzles sleepily into the crook of another. "Hello, Shintarou," the voice murmurs, thick from the spells and pleasure they underwent together, and fingers card through his hair. "Were you really expecting another?" His lips curve, smirk jagged. "I told you that we were a good match."

Shintarou finds his voice, forcing a scowl. "You meant as Captain and Vice-Captain of the team."

Shoulders fall and lift, as if fated life partners and leaders of the high school basketball team are the same thing. To Akashi Seijuurou, they might just be. "I'm the future coven leader, and you are the most powerful healer. Our union was easily foreseen, even without foresight." His golden eye gleams.

"You could have told me."

Akashi hums, not denying it. He could have told Shintarou, but then he would have missed out on the most indescribable expression that flickered across Shintarou's face when his blindness wore away -- bliss, happiness, anxiety, love, devotion, zeal, protection, promise, fear, acceptance, all in one. He leans upwards and kisses Shintarou again, expressing his approval of his mate without words. "Invite me to bathe as you plan, Shintarou. We can speak of the future once our bodies are eased, hm? And I can always use your healing touch."

As Midorima curses everyone to the lower pits of hell Akashi looks like the cat that swallowed the canary and all the cream because he's groping Shintarou's leg under the table and Takao can't decide if that's a cute couple thing or a threat, because it's his motto to never trust a ginger with a god complex.

Nothing changes even after the food arrives, except they are polite enough to pause for bites and swallows before the chaos rises up again, and Midorima is having a hell of a time digesting his food beause Mibuchi looks like he wants to eat Takao instead of what's on his plate.

Eventually their plates are clean and Hayama's trying to crop a feel under the table and Miyaji kicks him so hard that the probably psychotic dribbler finds himself on the floor devoid of chair, having just barely missed crashing into Mibuchi who is trying to force-feed Takao the last bit of his meal but the boy who looks like his headband is too tight and pulling on his face isn't having it.

Their table is causing a ruckus and Shintarou is hotly embarrassed, but Akashi makes a move to settle into his lap and shields Shintarou's eyes with cupped hands like blinders on a horse so he will not react violently when the Rakuzan captain, who has been mostly silent during this entire occasion  coaxes him into a kiss.

It is the growing intimacy of said kiss which eventually calms the other two sets of boys down for a moment -- at least until Miyaji makes a crude, cutting comment, and Hayama's eyes grow as big as saucers because he had no idea his captain was that good with his tongue -- and wow, Midorima made an interesting noise and he wondered if Miyaji would sound like that or if he'd punch him if he tried!!

So of course he tries, since he's not the brightest crayon in the box, and ends up sporting a lovely red mark across his face, and meanwhile Takao is possibly being kidnapped but no one is really paying close enough attention to help him, nor can they determine if he even wants to be helped.

It isn't long before the staff of the restaurant finally have enough and punt all three couples outside.

That was the fucking craziest meal he's ever seen, but even Miyaji had to admit the scary little red-head looked considerably less prone to fits of rabid behavior when he was holding onto Midorima's beltloops in a surprisingly couple-like gesture of affection even though Akashi still gave him the heebie-jeebies. 

Shintarou doesn't care if the other two couples are out of earshot when he turns a heated glare to Akashi and says, "I'm never triple-dating again."