Yay! This is the first story of mine that I finished. =) I hope you like!

I was going to do some lime in this story, but I ended up writing most of it at absurd hours in the late night/early morning. I wasn’t feeling up to it, or any sort of romance, at that hour. It started out with a happy possible shounen-ai and went to a “WTF is going on here?” type of story. Eeh. ^^;;

This was renamed. It’s previous name was Dancing in Ultramodern Light, although I don’t know why I called it that. This name suits it better.

Grauby Phiare

Chapter One: Der König // The King

            “Shueva!” Isabel called, and the blonde boy turned. His hair was messy, as if he had just gotten out of bed.

            “Hey, Bel.” Shueva greeted Isabel, his sleepy pale blue eyes expressionless.

            “Where do you want to go today?” Isabel grinned.

            “Er… where do you want to go?” Shueva asked his girlfriend, fiddling nervously with the hem of his ragged shirt. It was a white shirt with a big red stripe through it, except that the white was yellowing and the red was fading into a pink. He groaned inwardly as Isabel bounced towards him and took his arm. Her ginger hair was pulled up cutely into two pigtails on the top of her head, and they swayed as she moved her head.

            Isabel was the very image of peppiness. Her eyes were bright green and lively, and her vivacious smile was infectious. It never seemed to fade, and it left a lingering sense of joy. Even after she left, Shueva found himself wandering through the aluminum parks with a moronic grin.

            She had a red skirt on today, and it looked like plastic, but Shueva supposed it was new fashion. Her go-go boots had the same plastic gleam, and they were the same color of bright red. Shueva admitted that he liked the mini-skirt though, as strange as he found the material. Her skirt was black, with three-fourths the length of a normal sleeve, only it clung to her body tightly. Her red vest, matching the skirt and the boots with that odd plastic gleam, was filled with pockets, only none of them appeared to be used.

            As Isabel neared him, Shueva was suddenly very much aware that Isabel’s lips were glossy with shine, and her eyelashes were long and dark. She batted them, and Shueva forced himself to look away. “Anywhere you want to go, honey.” She purred, and leaned against Shueva.

            He wasn’t very strong or powerful. He honestly had no idea why Isabel, one of the most popular girls in school, wanted to be with him. He wasn’t even like the dorks in the science labs, excelling in science and math. Perhaps he was being too harsh on himself, but Shueva felt that he was merely an overgrown boy. Perhaps, as sacrifice to his ultramodern society, a mediocre boy like himself must be born. His blonde hair never went the way he wanted. It didn’t go upwards like all the ‘cool’ guys at school, it hung limply over his eyes.

            He put his hands in his pockets, and sighed. “Do you want to scene?”

           “Sure.” Isabel grinned, her blemish-free skin glowing in the early morning light. “Let’s go before they turn off the sun, already!” She laughed, dragging him along. Grinning like a moron again, Shueva allowed himself to be dragged by the five foot three girl, even though he was five eight.

            “I’m so excited! I haven’t scened since last month!” Isabel chirped while they waited to have their identifications scanned.

            “Really? Why? I thought your type scened just about every night.” Shueva looked surprised.

            “Well…” Isabel sighed dejectedly. “I’m not eighteen yet, even though I’m turning eighteen in a month. Anna tried to get me a fake I.D., but after a while, they catch onto you, you know?”

            “So Anna and Yesa went scening without you?” Shueva recalled the names of Isabel’s two best friends.

            “Yeah…” Isabel kicked the dirt. “I’m not tall either, so it’s so hard to fool them!”

            Shueva turned eighteen last month, and one of his friends, Paul, suggested that he scene. He went with Paul’s college group and found the whole experience exhilarating. Paul grinned and said, “Yeah, it’s like drugs, except without the drugs.”

            He had never done drugs before, although he drank once or twice at his Aunt Margeaux’s parties. This further depressed him. Perhaps he should get in gang fights or break some windows, just to get some excitement on his record. It didn’t make him feel any better, but he often painted, and all of the pictures ended up murky and dark. They made his mother uncomfortable, so he only painted in the dead of night.

            “Next.” A voice interrupted Shueva’s thoughts. “Identification?” The bulky man droned in a monotone. Isabel immediately whipped out her identification tag. He scanned it and it merely beeped once, signaling the O.K. The man gave Isabel an odd look. Despite her there inch heels, she barely reached his shoulders.

            “Drink some more artificial milk, kid.” He mumbled. “You! Limp boy!” Shueva flinched, and violently brushed his hair out of his eyes. He fumbled in his pockets for his identification tag, and when he couldn’t find it, he paled.

            Everyone in the city of Somnolent had a small identification tag, similar to the kind dogs wore around their necks on their collars. It was only an inch long at most, and the key to nearly everything in Somnolent. Identification tags doubled as house keys, credit cards, library cards, grocery store savings cards, and even the cards teahouses gave to their customers. After ten drinks, one free drink is given. It was almost like a power source to them.

            “I must’ve left it back in your car.” Shueva mumbled.

            “Should I stay with you?” Isabel questioned, but her eyes kept darting back and forth nervously to the guard man.

            Shueva understood what Isabel was trying to tell him. She didn’t want to have to pass through him again. He was getting suspicious. “No, no, you go on ahead, Isabel. Find someone named Paul, he’s with the Somnolent College squad.” Shueva winked, stressing the word ‘college.’ Isabel nodded vigorously and ran in before the man could stop her.

            Shueva jogged to Isabel’s car, hoping that his identification tag would be safe.

            “Are you looking for this?” A voice behind him spoke. He whipped around, but saw no one.

            “Say you were, and I will return it.” The voice crooned again.

            “Return it? That means you stole it!”

            “With no ill intentions, I can assure you, my dear Watson.”

            “My name is Shueva Ilcard! Now, show yourself!” Shueva shouted, looking around in all directions, panicked.

            “Aw, poor Eva can’t go scening because he needs his identification tag!” The voice mocked.

            “Stop it!” Shueva snarled with his fists clenched. He wasn’t sure whom his target was- granted, he didn’t even know where his target was, but he was getting irked.

            “Relax, dear, I don’t mean any harm.” The voice seemed more solid, and Shueva turned back around to the direction he was running in the first place, and saw a figure in a large beige trench coat. The stranger had rimless, light-blue tinted glasses and dark, midnight hair that framed his face. A strong wind whipped by and the stranger’s hat flew off into the wind. He made now effort to retrieve it, and instead, slipped his black gloves off slowly. He rattled a silver tag in his fingers.

            “Give it back!” Shueva shouted, sounding more confident than he felt against this stranger.

            Another wind blew by, but Shueva was rocked suddenly of the most absurd notion. This man was calling the wind. The buttons on his beige trench coat slowly unwound itself, until it hung openly. He was wearing only black clothes from top to bottom, sans the beige coat.

            “How are you, Mr. Ilcard?” He grinned conversationally. “Oh, pardon me, I am being so rude. I’d tell you my name, but nobody calls me by it. Everyone calls me The King, for some reason.”

            “Blah blah blah and I don’t care.” Shueva snarled. He paused. “What is your real name, anyway?”
            “Nothing special.” The King’s sing-songy voice echoed through the streets, which suddenly seemed hollow.

            “Tell me!” Shueva commanded.

            “My, my, so temperamental!” The King faked an appalled tone. “If you must know,” He grinned, “My real name is Schwarz Mondstein.” He paused for effect. “See? Nothing special.”

            “Schwarz Mondstein… You’re German, aren’t you? Black Moonstone.”

            “Excellent! By Jove, we have a linguistics expert here!” Schwarz looked around, clapping as if he were with an audience of fifty plus.

            Shueva groaned, and suddenly remembered why he was arguing with a stranger. “Give me my tag!”

            “Oh yes, it’s rather important, isn’t it?” Schwarz sighed tiredly. “You’re all so… boring. You’re all the same, you teenagers. You’re all about fitting in, scening, doing drugs…” He scolded him and shook his head. “Seems like no one wants to play shuffleboard anymore.”

            “Shuffleboard? What kind of word is that?”

            “Oh, right, you’re a teenager. One of the thinking impaired.” Schwarz paused for a moment, and leaned in, enunciating, “Do- you- know- how- to- play- cards?”

            “I can understand you just fine!” Shueva hissed impatiently. “Stop changing the subject! Give me my tag!” He repeated.

            “What is it with you all and this tiny little tag?” Schwarz held it in between his fingers. “Let’s see... Shueva Ilcard, eighteen last month, I see. My, I’m only three years older than you!”

            “Impossible! You can’t be twenty-one!” Shueva gawked.

            “So my sophisticated air must have made me seem at least twenty-eight?”

            “You old geezer!” Shueva snorted as Schwarz huffed.

            “I am not an old man, if that is what you are implying!”

            “Oh, I’m implying a lot, but I don’t think you get it.” Shueva grinned as Schwarz seethed.

            However, like the strange, sudden occurrence of the quieting of a monsoon, Schwarz calmed down and grinned. “Let’s see what else I can tell about you from this tiny little tag, Mr. Ilcard. Where do you live?” Schwarz examined the tag some more before letting his hand drop.

            “Why do you even need this for house keys? You live in such a desolate area; no one even wants to break in.”

            “I can’t take that chance.” Shueva tried to snatch it from the King when he wasn’t looking. “My mother’s sick, and I can’t risk her heart being taxed by someone breaking in.”

            “Aw, how sweet.” Schwarz snorted. “What else can we tell? My, you’ve bought an awful lot of porn with this account-“

            “No I haven’t! Paul bought it with my account!” Shueva turned beet red. Schwarz looked slightly put-back.

            “Very well. Whatever you say, Mr. Ilcard.” Schwarz didn’t have the same annoying edge to his voice. He peered into his card again, almost desperately. “You don’t go to teahouses.”

            “Everyone knows they’re prostitution houses! Even in old times, they were!” Shueva threw his hands up in exasperation. “In a brief period of time about a century ago, they were used for actual drinks, but now…”

            “Good, good. I’m glad to hear you’re at least a little bit of a good child.” Schwarz said quietly, his voice low.

            “Can I have it back now?” Shueva spoke urgently.

            “No.” Schwarz spoke in the deadly voice again, his sharp, cutting tone filling the air. Shueva felt like he was choking suddenly. He clutched his throat in alarm.

            “Oh. Sorry.” Schwarz took in a deep breath and let it out, and the suffocating feeling subsided.

            “Who… Who are you?” Shueva’s eyes danced with a mixture of curiosity, inquisition, and fright.

            “I told you. I am the King.”

            “The King! That’s absurd. Everyone knows that the government rules Somnolent.”

            “But I rule the government. Or rather, I rule a place even the government cannot reach.” Schwarz grinned wildly, and lowered his tinted glasses, revealing a strangely handsome face. He had an untouchable beauty, a beauty so recognizable that even Shueva felt his heart pounding.

            “Wh- What do you say- I mean, what you say- What do you mean!” Shueva couldn’t help himself, and he started stumbling through his sentences.

            “Take a deep breath, dear.” Schwarz spoke casually; purposely fogging up his glasses and wiping them clean with a silken cloth. He put the glasses in his pocket. Shueva noticed that he was wearing tight black jeans. He gulped, and forced him to look up at the King’s face.

            “I need… my tag…” Shueva spoke in a strained voice.

            “I told you, NO!” Schwarz yelled, and before Shueva’s eyes, his identification tag, the very same that had been with him since birth, shattered into a thousand pieces. The shards flew apart into the wind.

            Shueva didn’t know what to do. The tags were like the citizens of Somnolent’s power source. They relied on it. It glowed in the dark, led the way, displayed maps of where to go, and suggested places to scene… He fell to his knees.

            “Pitiful. Weak.” Schwarz walked up to Shueva, but Shueva’s head was bent over, so his eyes could only see Schwarz’s shiny, black combat boots.

            His hair hung limply, shadowing his face, and Schwarz didn’t like it. He picked Shueva up, and brushed the hair out of his face.

            “That is better.” He approved. “Come now. We must go.” He took Shueva’s thin wrist and started to walk off.

            “I’m not going anywhere with you!” Shueva managed to yell, breaking free from Schwarz’s grasp. He took off running the opposite way, but didn’t get far. A car swerved and nearly hit him just as he rounded the corner.

            “Do you want to go back to the life you used to know, Shueva?” Schwarz’s voice whispered softly in Shueva’s ear, causing him to jump.

            “How did you get so close to me- so fast, you’d have to run at super speeds...“ Shueva gasped, stringing together profanities and half sentences.

            Schwarz held Shueva’s head, and flicked Shueva’s long blonde bangs out of the way. “I told you already, you moron.” Schwarz’s grin was wide, “I am the King!”