Ok, yeah, an Oversoul fanfic. For those of you not "in the know" Oversoul is the Shaman King band for us fanatics. Ren is the singer; Faust plays bass, Horohoro on drums, and Yoh's on guitar. Horohoro is the seme in this one (a.k.a. he's on the top).

Chapter 1: Material Girl

Up on a hill far away, but still close enough, to the big city and its stores and restaurants was a large mansion. This mansion was the crown jewel in the history of the most well-known band since the Beatles. This large T-shaped mansion was home to the rock band Oversoul, a band with six music awards, four platinum records, millions of fans all over the globe, and the sexiest members of pop culture in Japan.

Horohoro quit out of the webpage while he stifled a laugh. It was accurate enough, but it was still funny to think that Oversoul had been so successful in the two years of the band having a record deal. Now, the drummer thought, after a world-tour, it was only natural that he and his fellow members would settle down for some rest as they wrote another record; if you called settling down flaunting a seven-digit bank account.

The drummer with blue hair sat at his desk in front of a computer that cost more than a first-class ticket to Paris, surfing web pages of the fans in his wing of the mansion.Of the T-shape mansion, where the long end was facing east, he had the north wing, Yoh had the south wing, Faust had the basement, and Ren had the long east wing. Only, their wings were the upper floor (all except Faust); the ground level was everyone's, filled with a music studio with their instruments (and a piano) and songs in the works, a kitchen, an entertainment room, living and dining rooms, an inside pool, two bathrooms, a sauna, a gym, a Jacuzzi outside on the patio, and a party room with a fully-stocked bar. They had five maids, two gardeners, an on-call chef, two drivers, and a manager that only came over every so often. It was paradise, and, best of all, they could spend their money any way they wanted.

Yoh had donated to a few charities, but mostly spent his money on incense, "spiritual guidance" objects, weed, and other stuff of the sort. Faust was a bit different; since he had been pre-med when the band got big, he donated his money to AIDS funds, Cancer research, and Diabetes associations. All the rest of the money he saved, maybe going out a few nights a week to have a quiet meal alone at a nice restaurant. Horohoro was always concerned with the welfare of the planet, so he put a lot into environmental alliances that saved endangered species, conserved forests, and cleaned up wildlife preserves and oil spills. The rest he spent every now and again on a new shirt of some video games, but not a lot. Ren was a completely different story.

Since the band had moved into the mansion, Ren began buying stuff: jewelry, outfits, cars, coats, shoes, music, art; anything he could get his hands on. The only charity he had given to was for orphans and poverty over seas. People in the stores knew him as "Master Tao" and knew exactly how to treat him to get a bit of that cash. Of course, not much of this made a difference in the bank account, but he could buy so much in a day that his credit cards would begins to melt. What was he after anyways?

The front door opened and shut loudly, shocking Horohoro out of his contemplation, and he muttered, "Speak of the devil," as he walked out of his room and down the hall to the wrap-around staircase to look down at the front door. There stood the dark-haired, golden-eyed, tan-skinned, shot sex-god of the stage, Tao Ren. Beneath his mink-fur collar and furry sleeve-tips of his thousand dollar black coat, was his extremely feminine build and jutting hips. Horohoro scowled at the fur from the defenseless animals near to extinction, and the bags and boxes in Ren's arms. Yoh had emerged from the kitchen and called, "Win the battle, Ran-san?"

Grunting, Ren began climbing up the stairs to the second floor, a desperate look in his eye. As he stepped onto the landing, Horohoro growled out, "Maybe you'll be satisfied when you do something worthwhile with your money, and stop supporting sweat-shops."

Ren glared intensely at the drummer and continued walking to his room, answering, "What, like saving the precious little whales?"

A growl found its way into Horohoro's response. "Whales and endangered species are more important that Gucci and satin."

"Nothing is more important than my appearance to our fans, which I have to keep up," Ren called back, going further down his hallway. "They have come to expect the best from me."

"And what is that, a fashion whore?"

Before either one could say more, Ren had slammed his door closed so violently that Faust noticed the light fixtures shake over his desk while he looked through his library. A bit pleased with himself, Horohoro returned to his room and slumped onto his huge bed. What was Ren's problem, anyways? Had he gotten so conceited that all he wanted to do anymore was improve his image? Perhaps they should just throw him out of the band… but that was impossible. No one could replace Ren and his voice. He had become a part of Oversoul's image, as they all had. There wouldn't be an Oversoul without each of them.

Rolling over onto his stomach and resting his chin on the pillow, Horohoro stared at his wall. Ren had always been a primadonna – it was in his nature – but now he seemed frantic about it, like he was looking for everything he had never had before. Buying all those clothes and bags and shoes wasn't going to satisfy him though… The drummer knew that Ren wanted something, and wished he had it, because maybe then he wouldn't be such an asshole.

In his room, Ren was stuffing the last of his bags in his closet, his new clothes hanging up and new shoes neatly in their boxes on the tops shelf, which he could barely reach. Impatiently, the singer looked out the huge window facing his bed, watching the sunlight cast the house's shadow over the Japanese cherry trees below. He was not content, despite more than eight hours of shopping and nearly 3,000 dollars. Right now, Ren had the ability to buy a small country, but it didn't matter – that didn't make him feel pleased. This endless feeling of never having satisfaction with all of his possessions was snapping his last nerve. It felt even stronger when he was around Horohoro as well. All this stuff that he was buying should make him feel good, but is didn't.

So, grumpily, Ren walked off to the bathroom to shower before dinner. Tonight was the third anniversary of the band's first gig – in a nightclub called "Spider Grave" – so they were having a few people over: their manager (Mr. Takano), some roadies, some people from the record company, and Manta. Manta was Yoh's best friend, who used to be as short as a midget, but now towered over everyone but Faust since his growth spurt. He was in graduate school (but still only about 19), studying to be a big business man and soon to be the second-in-command in his father's company. Yoh spent a lot of time on the phone with him and being with him despite the touring, and he was so close to Manta that it made Ren wonder just how friendly they were. The guitarist had always been extremely happy and placid, even when he didn't have a dime to his name, and money didn't really make a difference to him; Yoh was just always cheerful. And now, Ren wondered if Manta added to that, and wondered what made them so happy together?

Hope you liked! REVIEW! The next chapters are extremely awesome!