Author's Note: It's here, what you've all been waiting for, the beginning of it all. Your comments, questions, concerns, thoughts and feelings are always welcome and appreciated.

Pairing(s): Shizuru/Natsuki(OTP) Reito/Tate, Nao/Nina. Others.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot, a few original characters, and a knack for tampering with the way the universe works and they way certain characters are portrayed.

Warning(s): Very fruity Reito, Regan Kruger, Nao Zhang, Chie Harada, and the use of narcotics, overzealous language, lack of empathy for anything civilized, domestic abuse, talks of domestic abuse, a very perverted Tomoe and Takeda, and a very unprofessional Midori. Story does have futa elements, you have been warned.

"So what we get drunk, so what we smoke weed, we're just having fun, we don't care who sees. So what we go out, that's how it's supposed to be, living young and wild and free."

"Young, Wild, and Free," Snoop Dog.

Prologue

A tiny rivulet of sweat dribbles down the side of her face, down the gentle slope of her chin, and disappears in between the valley of her breasts. Her fingers, clammy and shaking, clutch the weapon in her grasp with enough force to snap a few fingers, and turn her knuckles white.

She peers around a corner, eyes darting back and forth, ears straining for any suspicious noises that might indicate a move on her assailant's part. Anxiety pools in the pit of her belly, and she shakily runs a hand through her sweat-dampened dark tresses.

The house is in shambles. Furniture has been re-arranged to serve as makeshift cover to avoid direct fire, the curtains are closed to prevent any wandering eyes from anyone who might be taking a casual walk, or the mailman, who likes to peer into people's houses in search of naked women or anything of interest.

She eyes the weapon in her grasp and checks the magazine. She curses internally when she realizes that she only has a few cartridges left. She knows her opponent probably still has a full magazine left. She is very selective with her shots and does not even entertain the notion of firing if she isn't certain the bullets will hit their marks.

She, on the other hand, has a bit of a trigger finger. When she sees opportunity knocking, she's usually one to take it whether or not is has the desired effect. She stiffens momentarily as she hears something drop in the kitchen. If she hadn't been listening, she might've missed it, it was so faint.

She brings the weapon up to her temple and scratches idly as she leans back against the wall, her eyes distant with contemplation. She knows that staying in one place for too long can ultimately end with her being cornered and taken down, but she also knows that moving too quickly without decent cover or a legitimate strategy can also be disasterous.

Another object clatters onto the floor in the kitchen and her finger hovers over the trigger in anticipation. She wills herself to calm down, taking deep breaths and clenching and unclenching her fingers. After a few moments of silence, something else clatters onto the floor and she whirls around the corner with her weapon trained high enough for a possible headshot, the temptation has gotten the better of her.

Her brows narrow in confusion when she sees that her opponent isn't the culprit behind the noise in the kitchen. A few pens and an empty plastic cup have been moved from their perches on the counter, perhaps at the hands of the tempest outside, which had access to the objects through the open windows in the kitchen.

She lowers her weapon and sighs. She spots a few leftover shells on the counter and begins to scavenge them, not even bothering to question where they came from or how they got there. It's her biggest mistake yet because as soon as she relaxes, there's an arm wrapped around her neck and a gun pressed against her temple.

She cries out in surprise as she's dragged from the kitchen and into the wasteland that used to be the living room. She tries in vain to squeeze out of her attacker's grasp, but she is bigger and stronger than she is, and the grip on her neck is like steel. The hold is impossible to escape, but it is in no way harmful, only restraining.

Her attacker pries her weapon out of her grasp and tosses it far out of reach before she kicks out her leg and sweeps her feet out from under her, sending her toppling onto the floor. She groans in pain and gulps when she sees the dark, bottomless barrel of shotgun staring back at her. She raises her hands in surrender, scooting back until she's pressed up against the wall that will soon be painted with her insides.

There's a low chuckle from her assailant that is equal parts amused and malicious. Dark eyes glint dangerously from the holes of the ski-mask pulled over her head, and she knows that beneath the fabric that mask, her attacker is smiling victoriously.

"I have a message for you before I splatter you all over that wall." she said, her voice deceptively kind.

She curls her lip in one last defiant snarl and raises a dark brow expectantly. The victor leans in close, close enough that she can count the specks of gold swirling in her dark green eyes. She presses the shotgun to her forehead and whispers, "Clean this place up when you get home," and pulls the trigger.

A tiny projectile recoiled off the soft skin of her forehead as the nerf bullet hit its mark. Her attacker laughed and pulled off her mask, revealing a beautiful, dimpled smile and a youthful face. She held out a hand. "That's 3-1 this week, Natsuki. Step your game up."

Natsuki grinned wolfishly as she accepted the hand and pulled herself up. She pushed her hair back from her face and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the fabric of her tanktop.

"How?" she questions once she catches her breath. Even though the guns aren't real and it is only play, the game of Cops and Robbers, or in this case Cop and Robber, is awfully distressing. "You were making all that noise in the kitchen, dad, and you were on the other side of the house. How?"

Her father, contrary to belief, flashes her a big, shit-eating grin. "You never once really thought about why there were so many bullets on the kitchen counter and on the floor?"

Natsuki makes a face. "Should I have?"

"Yep, that's where you fucked up. I was never in the kitchen, kid, you got that much, but that doesn't mean that I can't make my surroundings do my bidding. You're like a curious puppy, drawn to noise." Her father says.

That's when it hits her, long after she's been defeated. Though, if it wasn't only a game she'd have been fawning over her mistakes in the afterlife. She chuckles and shakes her head at her own ignorance.

"You opened the windows so that it would look like the wind had knocked the cups and pens on the floor, when in reality you'd been shooting them from the opposite side of the kitchen. You knew that I'd take the bait sooner or later. All you had to do was make more useless noise to draw me into the kitchen, and then you would slither around the opposite corner and ambush me from behind. Well played." Natsuki deducts and unbuttons the vest, draping it over the back of the couch.

Regan holds out her hand expectantly. "Pay up, buster."

Sulking internally, Natsuki reaches into her sweats pocket and extracts a few rolled up bills and deposits them in her father's waiting hand. "4,000 yen." she says with a dejected sigh.

Regan counts her money victoriously and glances at the clock. "You'd better start getting ready, kid, or you'll be late. I have to get going too." She stuffs the money into her wallet and leans down to kiss her only daughter on top of her head. She jogs over to a table near the door to grab her keys and a motorcycle helmet.

"How do I look?" she questions, straightening out her clothes and flashing her daughter a dashing grin.

Regan Kruger is in every sense a woman all but below the waist, the result of a genetic mutation that dates back several generations that is inherited by every first or third daughter regardless of whether the child is fathered by someone with the genetic mutation or not. It's the same if the mother carries the gene as well, the result of spontaneous heredity.

Natsuki's mother had lacked the gene of course, being born from an ultimately different genetic code, but her father had been born of two women and had in turn inherited the gene that would make her capable of having her own children without the use of a male.

The Krugers are well-known for their maleless matriarchy. It would be genetically impossible for them to have sons because of the lack of fully male chromosomes, but full daughters and gifted daughters are extremely more than welcome. It is traditional for them to have more than one child, most of the women in the Krugers had either five or six with at least one gifted daughter to ensure the continuation of the bloodline. The head of the family had been Natsuki's grandfather, Regan's deceased father who had been a legendary Air-force bomber pilot before her untimely demise when the girl had only been a teenager. The title had been given to Natsuki's grandmother, Namiko, who was responsible for the well-being and overall success of the Kruger clan.

After Natsuki's mother had suddenly given up custody of to her father, who hadn't even known of her existence until that fateful day, the two had struggled for a while. Regan had been distant and in denial, claiming to never have wanted a child and convinced that she wouldn't be a good parent to the distraught little girl.

She had dumped the kid with her grandmother while she desperately searched for the girl's mother, but Saeko had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth, and eventually she gave up. Regan had come back for the girl a few days later because she knew her mother was too old and busy to look after the kid.

But as time slowly drew by, Regan began to slowly open up to the girl and had finally begun to acknowledge her as her daughter after learning she inherited the same genetic mutation and the same lovely green eyes, and their bond had only strengthened over the years.

Today they were practically inseparable, the little family of two with the addition of a family friend's daughter, Nao, who spent more time at their house than her own because her mother was in an out of the hospital battling breast cancer.

Her father was utterly gorgeous and still had problems fending off male suitors despite the knowledge of their similar anatomy. She's tall with a head full of long, wavy dark hair that falls nearly to her waist, thick dark brows that framed a pair of enticing green eyes and long dark lashes. Full lips, high cheekbones, and a pair of charming dimples and a brain to go along with her beauty made her an ideal partner.

She's wearing a tight dark sweater that shows off her toned upper body, a leather jacket, dark jeans, and a pair of suede timberlands. Diamond squares glittered in her ears and the beginnings of a dark tattoo peeked out from the side of her neck. Natsuki gives her a thumbs up.

"Like you care about your job." she tells her.

Regan snorts and tucks her helmet under arm. "I want this house clean before I get home, Natsuki. Get Nao to help you if you want. Tell her she can't sleepover unless she does. And you'd better actually take your ass to school. I don't want them calling me about a truancy. Or your ass is mine, got it?"

Natsuki salutes. "Yes, master."

Only when the distinctive roar of a motorcycle dies in the distance does she actually begin to get ready for school.

...

"Miss Viola, would you like green tea or jasmine?" a servant asks timidly, holding up a tray of fine china cups filled with both flavors.

"Green, please, okini."

"Viola-sama, would you like to wear your hair up or down today?" Another servant questions as she daringly runs her fingers through silky honey-colored tresses. She thinks for a moment.

"How is the weather?"

"Very chilly, ma'am."

"Down is fine." she decides and closes her eyes as her personal stylist begins to trim her fringe. She sips her tea gracefully, listening to the sounds of her servants as they rush to prepare and ensure that she is ready for her day.

One is carefully assessing her school-bag, making sure she has all necessary supplies. Another rummages through her closet, searching through the expensive designer clothing, foreign and native alike, for something appropriate for the chilly weather.

When her hair and makeup is finished and her belly full of her favorite tea, she dismisses her servants and asses herself in the mirror. Her long, wavy honey-colored locks falls around her shoulders and frame her unique, wine-colored eyes. The uniqueness of her eyes is highlighted by the shade of her brows, which were at least three shades darker than her hair.

Her full red lips, the defined slope of her chin and nose, along with a slightly above average height, spoke of something other than a Japanese heritage. A few beauty marks are scattered about her face, her favorite one being the mole above her top lip. She's wearing a wine-colored sweater that brings out the redness of her eyes, a tan skirt, and a pair of scarlet platform heels.

She hangs her school-bag on her elbow and exits the room. A few more servants are gathered near her door, ready to tend to her room while she's away. They bow deeply as she passes by. Her heels click on the marble floor of the enormous mansion.

Fine busts of Japanese samurai, Roman generals, and expensive paintings decorate the premises. Maids, butlers, and housekeepers scatter about, cooking, cleaning, and catering to her or her father's needs.

"Viola-sama," a butler coughs to gather her attention, lowering his eyes respectfully, "Kanzaki-sama has just arrived. He is with your father in the dining hall. They await your presence."

"Thank you."

She's lead by the gangly butler to the intended room. Even more servants are lined up along the walls, carrying trays of various foods and desserts. Her father is sitting at the very head of the table, drinking a glass of wine. He's clad in a dark ebony suit with a blood red tie that matches his cold crimson eyes.

His long blonde hair is styled into an immaculate comb over, held in place by expensive gel. He looks up as he hears the clicking of her heels over the noise in the dining hall. He rises robotically and kisses the back of her hand in a customary greeting.

"Shizuru, my dear, you look lovely." he says, though the compliment is little more than obligation. She smiles politely.

"Thank you, father. Reito." she turns to the handsome man sitting to her father's left. He's wearing a beautifully tailored tuxedo that accentuates the muscles in his chest and arms. His dark hair is slicked back, but a defiant strand hangs loose over his forehead and reminds her of that American superhero who wears the extremely tight pants.

His golden eyes are framed by insanely dark, thick brows. He's sporting a charming, roguish stubble, and his smile is absolutely dazzling. She leans over and kisses her soon-to-be husband on his cheek.

"Shizuru, you look lovely." he mimics her father, but his words are absolutely genuine and she offers him a thankful smile.

Reito is the son of a very powerful business tycoon and Shizuru is expected to marry him to bring the companies together, and bear a son who would in turn take over after his father. Her father had promised his father her hand shortly after her mother died with no regard for her feelings.

As a woman, she is expected to do things her husband, or any man for that matter said, with a smile on her face and without question. She has learned over the years that defying her father will only harm her, in more ways than one.

"So Reito," her father begins in that deep voice of his, "Shizuru tells me that you've already been accepted to Tokyo Univeristy."

Reito wipes his mouth with a napkin and discreetly fixes his future wife with a smoldering glare. "I've met with a few administrators, yes."

"You'll have to tell me more over dinner sometime." he says as he rises from his seat and adjusts his tie. His eyes gleam with pride as he stares down at Reito, as if he were his child and not the young woman sitting by his side. "I have more important matters to attend to, son. I will see you both later."

And with one last proud smile directed at Reito, patriarch Kaiden Viola disappears into the throng of servants, business tycoons, and bodyguards, leaving the two adolescents to finish their meal in peace. When the two are finished with their meals, they walk out of the mansion and towards the stretch limo parked outside hand-in-hand.

Reito waves off the chauffeur when she makes a move to swing around the back to open the door for her charges and does so himself.

"Straight to the school or shall I drop you both off at the little ramen shop?" the chauffeur, Yamato questions as she drums her gloved fingers along the leather covering of the steering wheel.

"The school, Mai said the place is getting renovated." Reito answers smoothly as he wraps an arm around Shizuru's shoulders and leans over to give her a deep, sensual kiss.

However, as soon as Yamato pulls out of the driveway and the mansion becomes nothing more than a speck in the distance, he disentangles himself from the girl and practically leaps onto the row of seats opposite of hers. He wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist and flashes her an apologetic smile.

"Mou, Reito," she feigns hurt.

"It's not you, Shizuru, it's me." he says and reaches out to squeeze her hand. "I have to keep myself fresh and ready for my future husband."

Shizuru rolls her eyes. "Yuuichi-san isn't going anywhere."

"He might with that bitch Shiho," he snarls, then catches and composes himself, "pardon my French, but she's constantly all over him and it infuriates me!"

Shizuru pat his arm affectionately. There's a reason why she feels so close and comfortable to Reito. Like herself, he also preferred the same sex, though he is a lot more obvious with it. He can be really flamboyant when he wants to be, but he's sure to act as masculine and heterosexual as possible around his family and her father.

Reito doesn't have identity issues, he knows exactly who he is, what he likes, and what he wants. But this just wasn't about him. He would rather have Shizuru be his beard and vice-versa, then let some other creepy heir marry her just for the sake of her father and his company.

He's known her for years. He knows how ruthless and cold her father can be. He's tended to her wounds before, rocked her in his arms when she broke down, snuck her chocolate when she craved it.

"How does Reito even know that Yuuichi-san is even into boys?" Shizuru questions, raising her brow.

He looks at her as if she's just sprouted wings. "Because I'm Reito, duh."

"Of course." she playfully dips her head. "Forgive my inquiries, my lord."

He snorts and crosses his legs. "That's right. And as an act of leadership and superior authority, I demand that you put in a good word for me with Tate."

"Ara, and what shall I tell him?"

Reito taps his knee and thinks for a moment. "Tell him I love kids. Everyone finds that sexy, right?"

Shizuru laughs softly. "From what I've heard, he's quite the sports fanatic."

"Sports?" Reito's face falls momentarily. He knows little to nothing about sports. "Can you be a bit more specific?"

"He's been in and out of the Student Council room demanding that the school put together a football team, claiming it would benefit the board because it's multicultural." Shizuru informs him.

"Don't we already have a football team? The one where they kick the ball and run up and down the field?" Reito asks, confused.

"Yes, but there are two different kinds apparently. The one he wants is the one with the pointy ball and all of that heavy equipment they pile on so that they may tackle each other."

Reito's face lights up in realization. "Is that the one where your teammates slap your butt after you score?"

At Shizuru's nod, Reito grabs her hand and looks up at her with bright puppy-dog eyes. "Shizuru you have to convince the board to heed this request! This can truly benefit me!"

Her eyes twinkle with amusement. "Ara, don't you mean the school?"

"Yes, that's what I said."

...