Season 3 of KKM has eaten my brain. With tangible!Shinou to make my OTP of ShinouxMurata possible outside of the realm of dreams, I am in glee. More fic will be forthcoming

"I had an interesting talk with Shibuya today."

Shinou looks lazily up at the vaguely annoyed figure of his former adviser from his position sprawled across the Mirror at the Bottom of the Sea and the End of Land. Murata, for his part, is only glad that Ulrike is busy elsewhere in the Shrine and not seeing her King's careless handling of the Boxes, powerless as they now may be. She always frets when he does irresponsible things like that.

She frets a lot these days.

"Did you now?" Shinou asks with a casual smirk. Murata resists the urge to smack him. He can already feel a headache coming on.

"Oh, yes. He said, and I quote, 'Help me, Murata, I think I'm falling in love with Wolfram.'" Hands placed on his hips, the teenager scowls at his former king.

Shinou has the good decency not to laugh, though he can't help the soft snort that escapes him. "About time," he says smugly, then pauses when he notices the frown that Murata's sporting. "What? You aren't happy for him? Surely you realize that this was inevitable, and certainly, Yuuri could have done worse."

Murata sighs and takes a seat on the free Box. Shinou happily raises his head and places it back down on the bespectacled boy's lap, completely carefree despite the rather scathing glower Murata sends him. Blue eyes twinkle mischievously, and Murata knows better than to try to stop Shinou from playing. At least, he thinks as he strokes one hand mindlessly through blond locks, this is innocent fun. "It is true that Sir von Bielefeld is a good match for Shibuya," he admits, "And it is also true that Shibuya would almost certainly find love in his heart for him someday, but this was something he was supposed to figure out on his own." Another glare informs Shinou of Murata's displeasure. "You weren't supposed to meddle."

Shinou blinks up at him dumbly before breaking out into a barking laugh. "Is that what this is about?" he asks between gasps for breath that he no longer needs. "You think I-" Shinou cuts off in a purr, nudging his head further into Murata's hand. The boy, upon realizing his hand's actions, pulls it back to himself as if burned. The spectre pouts at the loss of contact, but Murata refuses to meet his eyes. "You think I meddled in the affairs of their love?"

"It wouldn't be the first time!" Murata protests, remembering the Dry Wind incident with horrifying clarity.

Shinou sobers then, lifting himself into a sitting position. "I promise you," he swears, blue eyes meeting black dead on, "I have done nothing to push Yuuri along in such a way, my Sage."

"Not yours," Murata mumbles petulantly, "And not him, either." There is a moment of silence in which his brows crease in concentrated thought. "You really had nothing to do with it?"

"Of course not," Shinou assures airily, putting one hand on Murata's shoulder. The boy jumps at the touch but regains his composure quickly. "I've played with them, it's true. Wolfram does make a lovely and easy container for my spirit. But seriously interfering in their relationship would only make for an unstable future that ultimately would end in ruin. No, those two need the time to develop a perfect love." With a melancholy rarely seen in him these days, the Original King adds, "Something in this country has to be perfect."

With pitying eyes, Murata reaches a hand up to cover the one on his shoulder. "There's always Nicola and Hube, right?" he jokes with a wry smile. "But back to the matter at hand; if you really didn't have anything to do with what Shibuya confessed to me, then Sir von Bielefeld has exceeded even my expectations."

Shinou raises an eyebrow. "Expectations?"

"Mmm," the Sage answers vaguely, resting his head on Shinou's shoulder. The day's fatigue is finally starting to get to him. "Based upon their personalities, I would've guessed that Shibuya would come around eventually, but considering his upbringing – Japan is not the most liberal of environments to grow up in, especially when it comes to the traditions of family and marriage – I would never have guessed it would be so soon. I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Shinou asks with a frown, a soft growl forming at the back of his throat.

The rumble vibrates through the specter's body and into Murata, startling the boy from his half-asleep state. "It's an Earth saying," he explains, hastily rising back into a proper sitting position. After a moment's hesitation, he decides that even that is not enough and stands to the side of the Box, ignoring the way Shinou's frown deepens as he puts distance between the two of them. He's getting too close to his former king, and he can't allow that to happen. Smoothing out the front of his gakuran, Murata continues, "It means something along the lines of, 'Child of a frog is a frog.'"

Shinou looks distinctly not impressed. "And? What of it?"

"I'm saying I blame your genes!" Murata accuses with a scowl. "Obviously, it runs in your blood to not only be attracted to reluctant soukoku, but to also pester them into liking you back! And while I am glad that you were able to have a child with Rufus-"

"Why didn't you tell me she was a woman earlier!"

"-It wasn't important-"

"Wasn't important?"

"-Wasn't important at the time," Murata hisses through gritted teeth, annoyed with his king's constant interruption, "Nor was it any of your business. Obviously, it was a secret she wished to keep, and it wasn't my place to reveal it. Now, as I was saying before you felt the need to cut in, while I am glad that you were able to have a child with Rufus, I have to say that the lack of mutation over a period of four thousand years is distressing. I'm really going to have to work on introducing some outside genes to the Noble Families – the incest must be awful."

Shinou is silent for a moment, thinking. "He does look a lot like me," he says at last, and, chin resting in one hand, he asks Murata, "Did you ever want him, for the similarity?"

Murata's lips press into a thin, grim line, and as he tilts his head to the side, the light reflecting off his glasses make them opaque. "Never," he replies icily. "Of course, the resemblance was shocking at first, and he seems to have inherited your stubborn and self-centered personality as well as your looks, but he's not you. He's not leader, he's a follower. He doesn't reform, he conforms. And the biggest difference between he and you is that for all his years, he is nothing but a child, and it will be a long time until he can call himself an adult – albeit less time than before he met Shibuya." With a humorless smile, he adds, "Besides, what have I to want from him? You were never my lover in this life, as for my previous ones…" He trails off, looking dreamily up to the ceiling. "Well, let's just say I've taken a fair number of people to bed with me over the years.

"And what about you?" he counters to fill the silence Shinou feels reluctant to end. "You have to power to send other people between two worlds. Now, you can tell Shibuya what you want, but you're not going to convince me that you have no idea about what's going on with Shou and Dai Shimaron… and Janus." He inspects his nails clinically, with a cold detached air. "He looks an awful lot like my first incarnation. Same voice, too. Perhaps you long for him?"

Shinou stands abruptly and walks up behind him. Murata hears his heavy footfall and feels the warmth radiating off his body (for a ghost, he appears so very alive), but doesn't turn. "I will make you eat your words, my Sage. He is not you," and Shinou's voice is low enough that Murata shouldn't be able to hear it, except it's right next to his ear. "No matter what type of parlor trick he's using, he can't replicate your eyes." A hand reaches over Murata's shoulder and grasps his chin, turning it to the side. As Shinou's face fills his vision, the boy swallows a lump in his throat that he never realized formed in the first place. "Your beautiful, black eyes. I fell in love with them the first time I saw them. Besides," he adds cheerfully, "Why should I want anything when I have the real article in my grasp?" To make his point, Shinou wraps both arms around his companion.

"I could say the same," Murata replies, blushing hotly behind his glasses.

They stay like that for a long moment, Shinou humming contentedly and Murata resisting the urge to squirm in the older man's embrace. Then, Shinou breaks the silence by saying, "I didn't love her."

"Pardon?"

"Rufus. I didn't love her," the king explains, resting his chin on Murata's shoulder. "I didn't- that is, I only lay with her because you insisted. I didn't love her."

"I know," the soukoku quietly assures. "Rest easy, she didn't love you either. I believe she was quite enamoured with Sir Weller."

"Lawrence?!"

"Indeed, which makes the similarity between their descendants even more awkward for me. Now, Rufus admired you, was in awe of you, even, but she didn't love you. So don't worry."

Shinou is quiet. "It's because I loved you." He buries his face in Murata's neck, and the teenager can feel the pattern of his words on his skin. "I love you."

"Shinou-"

"No," the king demands softly, moving the high collar of Murata's gakuran to the side to access more flesh. "Don't stop me. I've waited far too long for this for you to stop me."

Murata turns in Shinou's arms to face his former king. "Shi-" he begins, but is cut off by a pair of lips covering his own.

They shouldn't be so warm, Murata thinks vaguely through the mush that his mind has turned into. Shinou is dead, and even if he has managed to give himself a tangible body, there isn't any blood running through it, nothing to give it such heat.

But Shinou defies all reason, even now, and doesn't seem to care that logic should make his continued existance impossible. He holds Murata close to him, threads his fingers through his hair, and kisses the life out of him until the boy starts thrashing in his arms.

"You idiot!" Murata seethes, gasping for air. "Just because you don't need to breathe, doesn't mean I have the same advantage!"

"Sorry," Shinou shrugs with a self-deprecating smile. "I got carried away. It's four thousand years of passion spilling out at once."

"Shinou," Murata warns.

The old ruler ignores the warning brilliantly. "Oh, come now. Are you really going to tell me that it wasn't nice for you, too?" he teases, one hand working diligently on unbuttoning Murata's jacket.

"Shinou."

"Don't try to tell me you don't love me. For all your argument that things have changed, that you're not the same man anymore – that you're not even a man at all, at the moment – I felt it in you as much as in me."

Murata narrows his eyes. "You…"

"This is going to be your last life, right?" the Original King carries on. "Well, that's perfect," he muses, slipping a large hand underneath Murata's shirt and settling it on his hip.

"Your Majesty."

"I was your first lover in your first life, and now I'll be your last in your last," he grins, his other hand slipping below his Sage's waistline.

"Your Majesty!" Murata shrieks, completely and utterly scandalized. "Your Majesty, you take your jokes too far!"

In a flash, Murata is transported back in time, back four thousand years. He is saying the exact same words to the exact same man, in a voice that is no longer his and from a heart who remains a part of his soul.

And he realizes that nothing, really, has changed.

"Oh, Shinou," he gasps, and it comes out as a sob. "Oh, you royal bastard."

"Mine," the king claims, pulling Murata tight against him. "Mine, from beginning to end, forever and ever."

"Shinou…" the soukoku begins, his voice full of love and awe, but when the spirit's hand slips down a little farther, it quickly changes. "Ack! Sh-Shinou! What are you- stop that! Argh! Get your hand out of there! Shinou! Shi-mmph!"

A king demands much from his subjects – advisors included.

In the castle…

"You cheater! Wimp!"

"Gah!"

Shibuya Yuuri wakes with a start when his fiance's arm flails into his face. One look to the other side of the bed assures Yuuri that Wolfram is still quite solidly asleep, his small bout of sleep-talking and –moving over for the moment.

Between them their daughter sleeps peacefully. Yuuri finds it somewhat remarkable that Wolfram never hits her – not that he'd want him to, of course – and that only he is ever the victim of his fiance's less-than-charming nocturnal habits.

But then, there are many remarkable things about Wolfram. And that is just what Yuuri thinks he may love about him.

"Adulterous pervert! Idiot!"

"Ow!"

At least, he hopes.

I'm actually really happy with this story, for once.

Comments and criticisms make the authoress happy in her pantalones.

-Insidiae-