Between Nothingness and Eternity
Barren of events,
Rich in pretensions
My earthly life.
Obscurity
My real name.
Wholly unto myself
I exist.
I wrap no soul
In my embrace.
No mentor worthy
Of my calibre
Have I.
I am all alone
Between failure
And frustration.
I am the red thread
Between
Nothingness
And Eternity.
Excerpt from "My Flute" by Sri Chinmoy
Copyright © Sri Chinmoy 1974
They were beautiful.
That was the only thought that formed in Murata Ken's mind as he watched the Soukoku and his Blond-haired, Green-Eyed fiance finally brought together in matrimony.
They were beautiful and he hated it.
The Maou was dressed in his standard royal outfit, if a bit more done up then usually. Wolfram von Bielefield-kyo, however, was dressed in a white suit, styled in a similar cut to his standard military uniform, yet with a bit more flair, despite his mother's desperate wish to wear the dress she'd worn for the marriage to his father.
Together, contrasting in both clothing and looks, it seemed as though nothing would ever outshine their radiance, like the sun overlooking a field of flowers on a perfect spring day.
And as the moon who'd continually chased after not one, but two suns, the Great Sage knew what he was speaking of, and it tore him apart inside.
He looked up at the plaque which once held his oldest friend – his first sun – the Original King Shinou's soul, and wondered, not for the first time, if the demi-god cursed him for his failure nearly four thousand years ago, and continued to curse him despite Soshou's destruction over a year ago.
The Daikenja failed to protect his love from the darkness and now must watch as his chosen one and his descendant, both of whom Murata'd grown to love, move on without him; just as Shinou would soon move on; just as everyone moved on.
He may have stated that this was his last life, that when he died, the Great Sage and his four millennium of past lives would die along with him and he would be born anew – a blank slate with no remembrance of the dynasty he'd help build – but he knew it was untrue. He asked the god's for eternity and eternity was granted.
Now his wish was no more than a curse.
Immortality, he decided, was something he'd never wish on his greatest enemy, for in the end you were alone.
So utterly alone.
Looking back at the couple receiving their blessing from the Geishin Miko Ulrike, eyes held with love for only each other, Murata wished he'd never forgotten how to cry. He knew he would hate the memories of this life more than any other, for the little piece of happiness he'd only experienced a handful of times was snatched away, not once but thrice, just before he could truly receive it. His second chance at peace: his second chance to be with the sun that so filled his body with warmth, has failed.
The wise moon was so cold and alone that he could never see that he was merely a shadow, a reflection to bring light to the world when the sun was at rest, but they would never – could never – be together with it.
Murata Ken could feel the weight of eternity on his shoulders and prayed to the gods, and to his blessed Shinou, that soon it would end.
Little did he know it was only just beginning…
Black eyes stared into green as the maiden whose body belied her age spoke the sacred rites, binding him and the flame-wielding mazoku together for all eternity, before family, friends, and the Original King who started it all.
Shibuya Yuuri Harajuka Fuuri, as he is now and would forever be known, couldn't quite believe all that he'd become, all that he now had since that day he was flushed to another world. He went from an average Japanese baseball boy to a ruler of a kingdom. He'd brought peace to a world that only knew war and was now getting married to a beautiful bishounen he knew would kill for him, would die for him, who wanted him not because he was the Maou, but because he was Yuuri.
And as he looked into the eyes of his love, he knew he'd never give it up.
The soft tone of Ulrike's prayer washed over him, the soft blush of his soon-to-be husband filling him with warmth as they were joined for all eternity, that he hated to think of how close he'd come to loose it all.
It all started with an argument – of course, with the two of them, everything seemed to begin with an argument – but at a time filled with insecurities with everything: his ability to be a father, his ability to rule a kingdom, his relationship with Wolfram and Murata, his sexuality and all the social taboos of Earth contradicting the open acceptance of Shin Makoku. It was a difficult period of life that he'd never hope to relive. Add to that the slow integration of his Maou mode with his regular self, and his awakening from what had to be his very first, and certainly not last, bout of nocturnal emissions, things were bound to blow up.
Especially with quick-tempered fiancé like Wolf.
"You CHEATER!"
Yuuri stepped back slowly. While he was used to Wolfram's outlandish outbursts, learning to ignore the Mazoku's callings of wimp and cheater, it never had such a feel of hatred and despair mixed within. There was nothing he could say to him, not even to stop the other boy from unleashing the fireball that would surely kill him if released.
He truly was a wimp.
The boy simply stood there, his signature black hair stood on end, black eyes wide with fear. But inside, underneath a mass of confusion, he understood. To wake next to the one you loved, who denied you time and again simply because of your gender, only to find he'd just woken from a, seemingly satisfying, wet dream that was probably about some pretty earth girl (as Yuuri was sure Wolf would immediately imply) must be painful.
Of course, denying that something so obviously occurred, and unwilling to give a name to the person he'd dreamed about was probably worse.
But how could he tell him.
Yuuri, who so vehemently believed he was straight – despite that night with MuraKen, he liked girls and only girls (as he constantly reminded himself) – had just had a wet dream about the blond fire-wielder, and liked it so much he'd wish he could experience it in real life.
He couldn't.
So he said the first thing that came to his mind.
"Damnit Wolfram," Yuuri finally got out, "How many times do I have to tell you?! We are not getting married! I can't be with you in that way. You're a guy and I like girls and only girls. It's wrong and disgusting and never gonna happen so just STOP!"
His safety net of 'deny now and apologize later' had always saved him in the past, but today it failed.
Today he watched his best friend die a little inside and he wanted nothing more then to cry.
The sight of MuraKen, glasses obscuring the view of his eyes, leaving his face seemingly blank of emotion, did nothing to calm him in the face of what he'd done.
Even if a part of him was grateful he didn't have to do it alone.
The Maou shook himself slightly and smiled. Those bad times were over. There was little reason to recall those painful memories, although he needed to take time to truly thank Murata for all the help he'd been. Awkward as it had been, Yuuri probably never would have made it without the Great Sage by his side.
But his love was with him now, and would be for all eternity.
At this moment of happiness, he couldn't dwell on the fact that he wished Murata could be beside him in this as well...
Wolfram could hardly breathe by the time his vows were spoken. The day of his dreams was here, he and Yuuri were being bound together for now and all eternity and he never had to worry about that wimp of a cheater - his husband, he thought gleefully - leaving him for some pretty earth girl.
By Shinou, he could give him anything an earth girl could and more.
Wolfram steadied himself, making sure he wouldn't faint in front of his uncle, the other nobles and foreign dignitaries, or worse, in front of Yuuri.
Even after the blessing they'd received from the Original King earlier that day, Wolfram couldn't quite grasp at the fact that this moment was actually happening.
Because something so perfect couldn't feel so wrong.
No, not wrong, but something wasn't quite right.
Wolfram stared into the eyes of his fiance, his soon to be husband, face flushing with pure joy as they leaned together for their kiss – the kiss that would complete the ceremony, binding them together. The kiss was pure perfection. Eyes closed and lips locked, the world disappeared, the sounds of cheers drowned into nothingness but for the feels of Yuuri's breath, of Yuuri's heartbeat, the feel of tongues and hands doing the most indecent of things.
Finally pulling back, he grinned and swung around, until he saw something that nearly made his heart stop.
Murata.
The flame wielding Mazoku suddenly wanted to cry.
"von Beilefield-kyo."
Wolfram flinched as the Great Sage approached him.
He'd hidden all day, moving from room to room throughout Blood Pledge Castle, before his brother's, or worse Yuuri, found him. But apparently, it seems, he couldn't quite get away from everyone.
"Geika."
Yes, he was being overly formal, but he was in no mood to talk. Right now he wanted to be alone, he wanted to die, and yet he knew that couldn't - wouldn't - happen. As much as he hated Yuuri at the moment, he loved that wimp of a Maou to much to leave him, no matter how much pain the naive boy put him through. That and he was sure the Sage, with that idiotic smile of his, came for just that reason.
"You really are beautiful, von Beilefield-kyo. I can't begin to understand what's going through your fiance's head. Then again Shibuya's Shibuya."
That, he never expected. Then again, it seemed fit.
"What do you want Sage."
Green-eyes absorbed the sight of the Soukoku hidden in the shadows. Too bad it was the wrong one.
Murata smiled and stepped further into the room, moving closer, until there was only an inch between them. Wolfram froze, watching the other boy's hand rise before reaching his face, giving the lightest touch he ever felt in his 85 years of life. He gave in, collapsing against the black-clad boy who was so young, yet so old and cried his heart out. Trusting him to allowed this chance to fall apart and helping to put him back together.
They'd kissed that day. He was pressed tight against the wall, arms and legs wrapped around the other's body, begging for affection, for even the tiniest feel of intimacy. And even though it started off with selfish greed, that moment resulted in a great change in how he saw Murata, his whole relationship with the man.
After he and Yuuri fixed things and grew to what they had now, so had his relationship with the reincarnated Daikenja, and it hurt to see the pain the young one held. A part of him wished he didn't have to choose. But he did, and he had. He chose Yuuri and he hoped this pain would one day go away.
He had an eternity after all.