Author's Note: When the idea of creating a new story hit me, it was directly parallel with a need for Kuja and Sephiroth. I then decided to incorporate a handful of my favorite, miscellaneous couples, so here we are!
Of all of the schools I could have been transferred to, I never would have expected something quite like Alexandria Academy. I mean, it was certainly a learning establishment, but it seemed more like a castle than a school. The building itself was four stories of white brick and arched windows and doorways and a roof of pitch-black, slate shingles. The structure was very impressive but the surrounding grounds were breathtaking: at least ten acres of evenly trimmed grass, perfect, rowed hedges, and a somewhat expansive lake, all enclosed by a six-foot, wrought-iron fence. The place was beautiful.
There was a very heavy sense of regality to the academy, but an even heavier sense of defeat in my mind. To find out that nearly every one of your soon-to-be fellow students was just as (if not more) talented than you? It makes someone feel… unappreciated.
Don't get me wrong. Things like magic, swordsmen, and strange races happened all over the world, but a majority of people didn't want anything to do with it all anymore, and what was once so normal was apparently being pushed to one place: Alexandria.
Meh. I won't get all high-and-mighty and say that I deserved all of the attention and popularity that I could handle, but to be only one of the thousands of 'gifted adolescents', rather than the one-and-only, seemed to sharply reduce your importance in the eyes of those around you. At least, back in Fynn, I was either a "kick-ass dude" or I was kicking someone's ass.
I suppose that's what initiated my transferal in the first place, though. Had I not been so full of myself and attacked a teacher for reminding me that I was still just a student, I might have actually been allowed to stay at a school for more than a single year. Speaking of which, I sincerely hope Professor Mateus will wake from his coma…
Anyway, I was expelled only two weeks before summer break, so my mother simply didn't register me to finish elsewhere. Because of that, I'm now an eighteen-year old junior, and it's humiliating. At least, it would be, were one full third of the junior class not eighteen as well.
"What? Over thirty percent?" I incredulously asked Principal Jenova, a tall, red-eyed, white-haired woman. Her entire body seemed to resonate maternity, and I was strangely comforted by it.
"Indeed. Thirty-two-point-seven percent, actually. However, forty-four-point-six percent of the senior class is at or above the age of nineteen, so don't feel too unusual," she replied, a warm smile on her face. "As you may have noticed, our school's populous is comprised of exceptionally skilled youths, many of whom were ostracized, overwhelmed, or uncontrollable in their previous environments. They were forced to leave out of harassment or expulsion, and, once realizing they would be accepted in our halls, would end up in the registrar's office. You are no exception, Mr. Crescent. You shall always be welcome here."
I couldn't hold down the sigh that escaped my mouth, and the woman before me chuckled softly. We discussed some more about the quality of education at Alexandria Academy, and then I was shown a tour of the hallways. By the end of the orientation, it was just shy of five-o-clock, and my mother wouldn't be home from her new job at a nearby supermarket until nine. With our relocation, she was forced to accept a job with lower pay and inconvenient hours, but she had insisted that my well-being and development were far more important to her than money. I was grateful to her, but, at the same time, terribly guilty. Of course, I didn't want my own stupidity to harm my mother, but that's what had happened, and she was the one literally paying for it.
I arrived home after a five-minute walk from the academy, and headed straight for the couch. The next few hours were going to be nothing but television and, perhaps, a soda or two. Unfortunately, I was interrupted only an hour later by my neighbor, an endearingly annoying girl that had made her presence known the moment my mother and I had shown up with the moving trucks three months ago. Her name was Yuffie Kisaragi, a short-haired, short-statured spazoid, and she was a sophomore at Alexandria. Apparently, she didn't understand the idea of personal space or social boundaries, for she waltzed her way straight to my kitchen the moment the front door was opened for her, grabbed a Cherry Coke, then sprawled herself on the floor before the TV, remote in hand.
"So, you excited about Monday?" she piped. Monday was our first day of class, and only eighty-six hours away. Truth be told, I was excited, but perhaps not only with a good type of it. Anxiousness; that was more like it.
I brushed my long, silver hair out of my eyes and looked to the floor. "I suppose, but I'm just not sure of how this is going to work out. Like, I'm the new kid and I don't even really understand how the system goes down," I half-mumbled, not wanting to give away all of my uncertainty. Yuffie, though, didn't miss any of it, and rolled herself backwards in a reverse somersault, pushed up on her feet, and flung herself in reverse, perfectly landing in the middle of the couch. I barely stifled a grin at her antics, but it became present when she pretend-drunkenly slung her arm around my shoulders.
"Sephy," she began, purposefully slurring the nickname she had already branded me with. "Here's whatcha gotta do: show up. The profs are gonna pick ya out from how well ya do at yer Debut. I've told ya this already!" She then proceeded to entirely reflect her body's position, to where her legs dangled over the top of the sofa, and her head flopped loosely from the seat cushions.
"Yeah, I know… You do notice that you're gonna get lightheaded when you stand up later, right?" She shrugged playfully and, somehow, successfully managed to chug the rest of her soda while upside-down. I'll admit that her erratic behavior was very catching, but her underlying compassion was what really made her a quick friend. Yuffie always knew when something was wrong, and, as if she needed everyone to always be as happy as her, she would always try to fix it.
We sat like this for a while, watching I Love Lucy reruns once she finally stopped smashing the 'Channel Up' button. Eventually, her desire for more soda and my refusal to retrieve one for her forced her to realign herself and stand. The moment she did so, she was on the floor, having narrowly missed the coffee table in the middle of the living room. I instantly burst into laughter, soon accompanied by her as she dizzily lifted herself from the carpet, the right side of her face slightly reddened.
"Dammit! I forgot that would happen!" she cackled, finding her own misfortune to be absolutely hilarious…which it obviously was. She stretched her hand out, and I grabbed it, helping her to hoist herself too her feet. With a thanks, she slowly proceeded towards the fridge. Not ten seconds after she had disappeared, there was a knock from the foyer. Since it obviously wasn't Yuffie, I was very confused.
Who in Hell would be here, I thought immediately, before opening the door to the most gorgeous pair of ice blue eyes I had ever seen. I became hypnotized by them, and only noticed the person around them when I felt a hand pushing my chin upwards, closing my mouth.
"Flies and all that," the person, a very androgynous – I could've easily mistaken him for a woman – male, stated smoothly, before placing his hands on both of my upper-arms and squeezing gently, then the same with my chest, then thighs, then calves. "Hmm…" He finally stood straight again, the top of his head level with my nose. He took a moment to tap thoughtfully at his lips before staring straight into my eyes, as if trying to find something hidden in them. "I see," he mulled, before turning abruptly of his heel, flipping his long, silvery-purple hair - which, strangely enough, had a same-colored tuft of two or three feathers shooting from it at the front - behind him, and starting down the walkway through my front lawn.
I, completely silenced, allowed myself to scan his body, noting the form-fitting shirt that stopped several inches above his belly-button, the slenderness of his arms and back, the incredibly tight blue jeans and belt that rode well bellow the hips…
Those hips…
That was probably the most beautiful waist I had ever seen on anyone, man or woman. And, trust me. I've seen plenty of both.
My eyes roamed back to his clothing. Despite the very normal and subdued colors, it was so revealing and tight.
Tight… I wonder if everything about him is-
"Kuja."
"Huh?"
"Kuja," he said again, smiling brightly, but maturely. I comprehended that he had stopped walking and had faced me again. "My name is Kuja. Kuja Branford. And you are?"
"U-Uh…" Think, Sephiroth! Think! I literally slapped myself back to reality before answering, "Sephiroth Crescent."
"Well it was nice to meet you, Sephiroth. I'll see you Monday," he finished, before climbing into the passenger seat of an insanely purple, convertible Ferrari. Behind the wheel, a mint-haired girl smiled shyly and waved, then started the car and drove off at an unexpectedly normal speed. I remained on the porch of my home for about two more minutes before, at last, I was found by my guest, whom I had entirely forgotten.
"Seph- Ah! There you are! What're you doin' out here, dork?"
I shook my head, then chuckled. "Did you just call me a socially awkward penis?"
"Maybe I did! No, wait… No! I definitely did!" she shouted, then dragged me inside once again. She plopped me on the couch, then unleashed her curiosity onto me. "So, what were you doing? Were you getting the mail? Were you smoking a cigarette? Were you getting ice cream? Were you getting cigarette-flavored ice cream? Were you smoking the mail? Were you smoking the mailman's cigarette-and-mail-flavored ice cream? Were you and the ice cream and the mailman-" She grew steadily louder and more enthusiastic as her questions grew freakier, so I finally just put my hand over her mouth so she'd be quiet. She grunted a bit, but shut up.
"Kuja Branford?" I asked, hoping she'd understand that I wanted to know who he was, but didn't want to put effort into speaking. Her eyes became incredibly wide, then narrowed to a squint in the blink of an eye. She had a small smirk on her face, and her sudden attitude shift made me very fearful of what was going on in her head.
"Ah… I see now," she suggested, then laughed maniacally. "You got yourself a visit from the school's resident drag queen, huh? So, what was it about? What did he say? Wait a minute… Are you two fucking and you never told me?!" she screeched.
As fate would have it, my mother chose that exact moment to walk through into the living room. She gave Yuffie and I a look that said, 'Girl, what in the name of Holy Fuck are you talking about?' I looked away quickly, but my obnoxious friend jumped to her feet, front-flipped over my couch, then grabbed my mother into a life-threatening hug, squealing, "Ms. Crescent!"
"O-Oh! Yuffie! Hello, dear," my mom replied chokingly. She then pat the girl a little on the back to let her know that she couldn't breathe. Yuffie immediately released her, but noticed the grocery bags in her hands and bolted outside. My mother, still a bit dazed, turned back to me. "What is she talking about? Are you seeing someone?" Her voice blocked all emotion except for pure curiosity, but the flash of concern in her eyes gave her away. I sighed heavily, taking several bags from her arms.
"That girl… I love her, but she's freaking crazy," I assured, heading for the kitchen to put away the food. Mom followed and started doing the same, then looked to me again.
"You know, Sephiroth… You're free to do what you want with whomever you want to do it with, but, please, just be cautious. I don't want you getting hurt."
Her words were now filled with worry and sadness, and I knew perfectly well why: my father. The asshole that fucked her, in more ways than one, then up and left, not even bothering to stick around to see me be born. He left her with a baby and two part-time jobs, all at the age of twenty. They had never married, though, so my mother, thankfully, passed her name on to me.
I put down what I was holding and moved to her, pulling her into a gentle hug. "It's alright, Mom. I don't plan on ruining anyone else's life or having mine destroyed either. Besides, I'm not dating anyone. The guy she was talking about just randomly showed up here today and introduced himself." I decided to leave out the part where he had also felt me up, feeling that she probably didn't want to know about it.
"Well…I don't want you to think I'm trying to keep you single or whatever. I just want you to be happy…to be careful," she explained, and I gave her one last squeeze of understanding, then resumed my task of storing grocery items. Soon enough, Yuffie trudged in, holding the rest of the bags, and helped us to get everything situated. She'd been here (and eaten our food) enough to know where everything was supposed to go.
A few more minutes of crinkling paper bags and cabinet doors opening and closing, and we were finished. Mom, Yuffie, and I all decided to watch TV together, which we did until Yuf went home at about ten thirty and I went to my room to get ready for bed. Once I was prepared for sleep, though, it didn't come to me. Well…not until I let my mind drift to a certain, well-bodied boy. I was finally able to be pulled in to my dreams after remembering one thing:
Those eyes…
"Hey, Kuja?" My sister tested. I nodded acknowledgingly. "I heard there's a new student at the academy this year. Rosa told me that, apparently, he put a professor of his from Fynn into a coma," she informed. A small grin formed on my lips as I sat with my spine a little straighter.
"Dramatic. He sounds…interesting. Perhaps we should pay a welcoming visit to our new classmate, hmm?" I supplied, hoping she would accept my ploy.
"Well, if you're truly intrigued, I suppose there's only a slight chance it could hurt to try," she jested, with a soft giggle. Humor wasn't something Terra often attempted, but it made me feel so proud when she did. Not for me, of course, but for her. Those awkward, adorable scenes in which her shell would open just enough for her to peek out, make a witty remark, then scramble madly back into herself.
I stood, moving up onto my toes, then down, slowly to my heel. Those few extra half-seconds of balancing always seemed to make a difference in my stride, so I consistently took advantage of them.
"Allow me several minutes to prepare myself?" I questioned. Terra, with her loose, honeydew-green ponytail and My Little Pony pajama suit, stood and glared playfully at me.
"Oh, so its all about you looking presentable, huh? It doesn't matter that I look like an oversized kindergartener, just so long as you can make the blind drool?" she quipped teasingly. I patted her lightly on the crown of her head, trilling with laughter.
"You know me so well!" I fauxly cried, unreal tears in my eyes. I was always quite an actor, if I do say so myself, and most everyone in my family would agree. With a quick, meaningful embrace, I half-whispered into her ear, "I love you so much, Sister." She merely grumbled, "I know," and I trotted through the living room, down the mahogany-wainscotted hall, and through the door to my bedroom.
This room, with its deep violet carpeting, silver-lavender walls, and waist-high, off-white, wooden paneling, was beautiful as just a skeleton. However, if you furnished it with a wardrobe, dresser, desk, nightstand, and bedframe, all of the same material as the wall trim, and an absolutely gorgeous, crystal chandelier, it truly shone as a masterpiece of interior design. Having constructed this room from my own stylings, I would always experience a slight jolt of pride upon entering it.
I sprang to my wardrobe, my excitement breaching through me, and drew from it a pair of very low-waisted and incredibly snug denim jeans, which eased out loosely around the ankle, and an equally tight, forest green shirt, which sported quarter sleeves and a V-neck collar, and ended at the hemline slightly above the navel. My glee forced itself from my throat as a light squeal, and I turned from the wardrobe. With a delicate flip of my hand, and a short mutter of, "Aero," a gust of wind shot through the air and sealed my clothing away once more.
No later than I had donned my pants – my ever-so-annoying tail drawn down the inseam of my left leg – my younger brother, a cheeky, all-smiles kind of child, let himself into my room, his chest-length, blonde hair a ragged mess. He seemed to have just risen from sleep, even though it was closing in on eight-thirty at night.
"Well, good evening, Zidane," I played, hoping to receive some form of irritated response, which he so graciously offered by flashing his skyward middle finger at me. I laughed mirthfully, then rose to slip on the second half of my outfit, being very careful not to damage the plumed feathers at my hairline. Once that was done, I slipped on a simple, brown belt and similarly brown boots, which I laced, then tucked beneath the flare of navy cloth around my feet.
"You going out somewhere, Kuja?" Zidane inquired, yawning the entire time. I smiled, then reiterated to him Terra's rumor of a new student at the academy, to which he nodded, yawned more, then retreated to his boy-cave to sleep the rest of the night away. I turned to my mirror and gave myself a quick thrice-over, then exited the house to find my sister already in the driver's seat of her electric purple car, which she christened Ultros when she received it from our parents on her sixteenth birthday.
Terra, who was a bit of a 'goody two-shoes', drove away from our house at five miles below the limit. I snickered slightly before turning up the radio, only to turn to my sister, who had done the same to me, and we stared at each other with wide eyes, before belting out the chorus to our favorite song.
"I'm beautiful in my way, 'cause God makes no mistakes!
I'm on the right track, baby! I was Born this Way!"
The rest of the drive to this mystery house, which Rosa had texted my sister the directions to, was the same as any other: Terra and I crowing out the lyrics to every song we heard, the electronically collapsible roof of the car folded back, and the vehicle rocking with our purposefully-horrid dancing.
We arrived before a quaint, one-story ranch house just as the final chorus of "Teenage Dream" came to a close, and I lowered the music volume from thirty to five. I took in the home, its gray siding, sky blue shutters, and plain, white front door. Stepping from the car, I felt a hand grab my wrist, and turned to my sister. She beckoned for me to lower my head, and, as I did, she pounced, brush in one hand, comb in the other, as she repaired my wind-tarnished hair. Terra was the only person I ever let touch my hair, not because I was vain about it (even though I, truthfully, was), but because she understood how insecure about it I was. She was familiar with the shape, volume, thickness, and curvature of every fiber of it, and was wonderfully gentle as she styled it, especially around the over-sensitive feathers, which swept upward and back over the center of my cranium.
"You know," she began before I could even start to feel self-conscious about the anomalies at my forehead. I looked back at her face, which was transfixed on them. "No matter what you may say or think about these, or your tail, for that matter," she chided, running her fingers along the downy strands, "I'll always see how beautiful they are; how beautiful you are, Kuja." She focused her gaze onto mine. "You're naturally unique, and in the most amazing ways. I want you to understand that someday, okay?"
I nodded softly, tears threatening my eyes with emotion, and wrapped my arms around her neck, whimpering once in thankfulness. "I love you, Terra," I breathed, before standing tall again and inhaling deeply. I released the large amount of air slowly, wiped at my eyes, and turned to strut up the walkway towards the house.
I wonder what he'll look like, I queried in my mind as I knocked on the firm wooden slab. A few seconds of audible shuffling passed, then a click, and I was met with the most stunning, jade eyes I had ever seen. For a few moments, a part of my soul was lost in them, and, upon recovering it, I felt the warmth of embarrassment rising to my cheeks. My shame was short-lived, though, for I observed the slack-jawed stupor on the face of the silverette before me. To snap him from his reverie, I eased his mandible shut, muttering something about the "You'll catch flies" line.
For some hideously idiotic reason, I took it upon myself to examine his biceps with a gentle grip on them, then his pectorals, and even to crouch down to inspect his legs, from the mid-thighs, where I noticed that his shining mane ended at last, to the ankles. While straightening up once more, I noticed my surprisingly calm demeanor, and seized the moment of clarity to eye him down once more before muttering, "I see," and swaying away, flipping my hair behind me.
During my return to the car, my sister gave me a strange look, then flicked her head in the direction of the person behind me. I spun around slowly, taking in the very hungry stare in his chartreuse irises. In an effort to prevent him from drooling on himself, I offered my name, at which point I was acknowledged with a very dazed, "Huh?" With a silent giggle, I repeated myself.
"Kuja. My name is Kuja. Kuja Branford. And you are?"
He looked to me confusedly for several seconds, then brought his hand none too lightly across his countenance. It noticeably stirred him, for he managed to sputter out his identity.
"Sephiroth Crescent."
"Well it was nice to meet you, Sephiroth. I'll see you Monday," I concluded before resuming my trek to the neon violet sportscar behind me. I settled into the smooth leather, noticing the timid wave from my left. The engine purred quietly, and we were off.
"Oh my God! What in the name of Hell were you doing?!" Terra shouted between her strangled guffaws. I simply blushed a subtle shade of pink. "Like, seriously! You just totally rubbed down some random guy whose name you didn't even know! I mean, sure he's hot, but I thought you were gonna rip his clothes off or something!" She hacked a bit, straining for air.
My face flared a deep red this time, and I shielded her from view with my bangs. "So?" I pouted childishly. "And if I would've?" I retorted without thinking. Instantly, there was silence, then another sudden shriek of cackling.
By the time we arrived home, my guilt and discomfort were enough to entice me to sprint into the house, through the foyer, down the hall, and onto my bed. I buried myself into the sheets, a deep purple identical to the carpet below, and drew the black-and-silver-checked comforter over my head. I heard someone enter, but they quickly departed, chased of by my defensive growling.
This was such an awful idea.
I attempted, futilely, to sleep as to avoid the humiliation that flooded my mind. For nearly two hours, I turned, twisted, and tumbled around my mattress, trying to think of something, anything to let me rest. The object my brain finally paused on was a particular silver-haired male. I, miraculously, fell into slumber as I recalled one thing:
Those eyes…
