Author's Note: After a year of working on this (I didn't work on it all year-school got in the way September through April), I finally finished it. This story gave me so many issues. I didn't realize how indecisive I am until I wrote this. At first, I regretted not getting this finished, edited, and published before Fall '13 classes started, but in the end, it worked out for the better. I was able to work on my writing a lot over those eight months (and get feedback from classmates and professors) and hopefully you can see a [good] difference in my writing compared to "Kunzite Alone".
And speaking of "Kunzite Alone", this is its sequel; therefore, I would recommend reading it first if you haven't already (it won't be too bad if you don't, but it would help a lot!). Unlike "K.A.", this story is inspired more by the manga, where the four generals' fate is a bit different than in the anime. Also, please remember what happened to the Senshi after Metalia's defeat. That is extremely important in this story. I thought I had given enough of a warning, but I realized that readers were still confused. If you are not familiar with the ending of season one and the beginning of season two, please do not continue reading this story.
I apologize in advance for the myriad of paragraph breaks that are in this. If you are at all familiar with a "songfic", you know that story is followed by (or is inspired by) lyrics to a song. This isn't a songfic, but when I formatted in Word, I separated the section breaks with stylized lyrics to a song, but it's not important to this story-it's just a side thing I did for my own pleasure. The song was "Shatter Me" by Lindsey Stirling if you care.
A big thank you to my betas for plowing through this story (especially to my cousin who stays up until early hours of the morning listening to me rant about it).
I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon, characters, rights, etc. I write fanfiction solely because I enjoy it. I have no intention of making any money from this story.
"Tonight," began a fair-faced, golden-haired man as he stood before hundreds of Elysion's citizens. "We celebrate." He raised a wine glass high into the air as the citizens stood wide-eyed and cheery. "And though we have a thousand reasons to celebrate," he continued as his expression saddened, though he remained confident with his shoulders set high. "We must remember the death of our beloved Prince." The faces of the Elysion inhabitants were also shrouded with loss and remembrance. "But Prince Endymion would not wish for us to mourn," said the man as he placed his fist over his heart. "We are his people and we will be his voice. We will be the face and the voice of the very man who fought to protect the mortals of this Earth." He paused as he glanced over his silent audience. "Do not let his death be in vain." The audience cheered with assurance.
Zoisite sat on the marble rail that lined the balcony of the Elysion courtyard. He leaned forward as he rested his arms on his crossed knees. He did not have to look at the spokesman to know that he had fixed his gaze on him and his fellow generals.
"Our most highly respected generals have returned to us," began the golden-haired man. "Let us welcome them. Let us give them a new beginning."
The audience was silent. Each and every citizen that stood in the Elysion courtyard turned his head to the men that had recently returned to them. Zoisite's emerald eyes vacantly returned their gazes.
Kunzite approached Zoisite, pulling away the stray pieces of copper hair that fell over his shoulders. He climbed over the railing and sat beside him without saying anything.
Moments passed and still Zoisite said nothing. The audience had continued with their socialization after the man stepped down.
"Won't you speak, my love?" asked Kunzite as he glanced toward the boy who still had not moved. Zoisite's expression had gone from empty to melancholy. Kunzite held out his hand toward the boy. Zoisite placed his hand in his master's as he exhaled.
"Do you feel," began Zoisite as he searched for the proper word, which he could not seem to find. His eyes shifted subtly but rapidly. His feeling was indescribable. "Better?" he finished painfully.
Kunzite lowered his platinum gaze. He could feel the pain that reflected from Zoisite's expression. He squeezed the boy's hand as he pulled him closer, allowing him to rest against his arm. Kunzite barely shook his head. He could feel his throat tighten.
"I can't say that I do," said a voice from behind them. Nephrite gently placed his hand on Zoisite's shoulder. "Dione means well," added Nephrite as he nodded toward the golden-haired man. As the three generals looked over the Elysion courtyard, Nephrite continued in a vague, expressionless manner.
"We may not be able to forget what we've done and we may never be accepted by our own people." He paused. "I don't know why and I don't know how, but we've been given a second chance." Nephrite held in his hand the stone he wore around his neck. He gripped it in his hand and held it out toward Zoisite, who took his own in his hand. "We are guardians."
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite woke up the next morning in a plush, velvety-red chair with his knees curled to his chest. He rested his head on one hand and barely held a book in the other. He examined his surroundings before him. The back walls were lined with ceiling high bookshelves and before him were giant, floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out into Elysion. The ponds shimmered with the reflection of the morning sun and the branches of trees peacefully rustled with the wind. Swirling leaves dotted the landscape with their arrays of summer color.
He ran his hand through is copper curls as he stretched his other arm above him and arched his back, feeling every vertebrae in his spine pop.
As he stood, he glanced down at the table, seeing a piece of parchment lying on the deep colored wood.
"Zoisite," he began aloud as he read the writing on the parchment. "Training at sunrise. Meet me in the courtyard by the cherry blossom. Don't be late." He shifted his glance toward the scribbled signature at the bottom. "You're new master—Kunzite."
Zoisite took a step toward the window. He glanced at the bright sun in the sky, noticing that it had to be no earlier than nine o' clock.
Zoisite darted from the study. He bolted through the luxurious corridors of his master's castle. The rooms were two stories high and the walls and floors were made of beautiful marble. Grand pillars lined the main hall with a grace that could only be witnessed in the halls of Elysion or in the majestic structures of the Silver Millennium—on the moon.
He entered Endymion's castle and approached two glass doors that looked toward the landscape of the courtyard. It was beautiful. Hundreds of trees filled the spacious garden that filled the center of the grand castle of Elysion.
As he stepped onto the marble that lined the balcony floors of the courtyard, Zoisite searched for the cherry blossom in the distance. "There could be twenty cherry blossoms out here," said Zoisite aloud. His tone displayed irritation and impatience. He narrowed his gaze as he shielded his eyes from the bright sun with his hand. Every shade of green was displayed through the leaves of the magnificent trees—all but one.
In the distance, the tops of the trees looked like rolling hills and mountains. The shades of green seemed as a spectrum. There stood one tree that did not have a place in the spectrum—the cherry blossom.
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite approached his teacher who leaned his back against the pink tree. His arms were crossed and his head was lowered. His shoulder-length silver hair fell over his face, shielding his stern, platinum gaze from that of his student's. He was broad shouldered and muscular. He looked like a god. Every feature was perfect.
Zoisite nervously knelt on one knee before his master and placed his fist over his heart. He lowered his head in reverence. "Forgive me, Kunzite-sama," Zoisite said in a tone in which he attempted to hide his fear.
Kunzite did not immediately respond. He stepped forward and stood before his humble student who had not risen from his knee.
"Late on your first day of training," began Kunzite coldly. "That's not very promising."
"Forgive me," whispered Zoisite. His knees felt weak and he felt that he could not keep his balance.
Kunzite withdrew his blade. "You are not disciplined and you must face your punishment."
Zoisite's emerald eyes widened as he glanced toward the sword that Kunzite held in his hand.
With a quick flash of the sword, Zoisite rolled backward to avoid Kunzite's attack. Kunzite kept swinging the sword with full force and Zoisite did everything he could to dodge him. He was smaller than Kunzite and was very quick and agile. As Kunzite raised his sword for an attack, Zoisite would slip by him with ease, but the situation still made him nervous.
"Kunzite-sama, please!" pleaded Zoisite.
Zoisite felt a sudden, severe pain in his right arm. The white sleeve that had once covered his arm was perfectly slit—and so was the back of his arm from his elbow to his wrist. He found his back against a tree as the pointed edge of his master's sword barely touched beneath his chin. He desperately held his arm with his dirt-covered hand.
"Go," growled Kunzite as he sheathed his sword and lowered his head away from his pupil's terrified stare.
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite stood over a shining, white bath tub as he scrubbed the dirt from his hands and face. The cut on his arm was fairly deep and he could not get the bleeding to stop. Every time he would splash water on the wound, he would wince from the sharp sting that penetrated his entire arm. He sat on the edge of the tub and placed his uninjured hand in the cold, running water then on his forehead. He pulled his white shirt over his head and ran the cold water over it before he worked to wrap it around his bleeding arm.
Zoisite glanced up from his injury to see a man standing at the door before him. He had long, dark brown hair and piercing blue-gray eyes. He held one arm across the door frame to support himself as he watched Zoisite.
"Are you all right?" asked the stranger. He made his way toward Zoisite who was struggling to wrap the cloth around his arm. With a sigh of defeat, Zoisite held out his arm to the stranger who willingly took it in his hand.
"The cut is deep and it will need to be stitched," said the man.
Zoisite turned his head away from the man when he saw the needle that would be used. He gritted his teeth in pain as sharp stings, tugging, and pressure took over his arm. Every now and then, he would press his hand to his forehead and bit his lip to keep himself from screaming.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" asked the stranger as he kneeled and tied the cloth around Zoisite's arm.
Zoisite remained silent as he shook his head. His face was colored bright red from the tension he felt.
"I don't recognize you," the man continued to say.
Zoisite winced as the man tightened the cloth around his arm.
"What's your name?" asked the stranger as he looked up toward the boy.
"Zoisite," he replied coolly.
Rather than saying anything else, the man knelt in silence as he stared at the boy for a moment before rising to his feet and harshly stamping from the bath room.
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite held the back of his arm with his hand as he stood up and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His emerald eyes blankly gazed at the face before him. His long, copper hair hung in a loose, messy ponytail over his bare shoulder. The tips of his hair were sticky with blood and his bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat. He felt hopeless and pathetic. How could Kunzite-sama do this to him? He woke up this morning with no memory of last night and he was never given a chance to read the note until then. Surely Kunzite-sama should have shown mercy.
Now that he thought about it, he could not remember anything. Well, he could remember that he was a supposed student of Kunzite. He remembered everything about Elysion and everything about himself, but he could not remember anything else of the past.
Zoisite grabbed a jade colored robe that hung on the wall behind him and pulled it over his bare arms. He held it tight around him as he walked down the marble corridor. A few doors down, he could see a sliver of light that reflected against the floor. The closer he got to the opened door, the voices of two arguing men became clearer.
"Nephrite," growled Kunzite through his teeth. "It is not wise of you to question my judgment."
Zoisite stood silently outside the open door. Against the marble corridor walls, he could see the reflection of his teacher and the brown-haired haired man that helped him bind his arm. Apparently, his name was Nephrite.
"Do you not realize how badly you hurt him?" snapped Nephrite as he motioned toward the direction of the bath room where he had found the injured boy.
"I could have done worse," replied Kunzite coldly.
Zoisite lowered his head and bit his bottom lip. He held his arms tightly against his abdomen.
Nephrite shook his head as he contemplated the arrogance of his seniority. "What's wrong with you, Kunzite?" he shouted angrily. "He is your student and is your responsibility."
"And as my student, he needs to learn to respect his master," Kunzite retorted with as much force as Nephrite.
"And as his master, you shouldn't need to demand respect! Wouldn't it mean more to you if he respected you out of his own will?" Nephrite's voice rose higher.
"I don't care," Kunzite muttered.
The intensity of his master's voice frightened Zoisite. He cupped his hand over his mouth as he fought the tears that welled in his eyes. His throat tightened and breathing became problematic. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Kunzite exhaled as he attempted to calm himself. His voice became quieter. "I never wanted a student to begin with."
Zoisite slid his back down the wall to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest and ran his hand over the top of his head through his copper hair.
"That's not your decision, Kunzite. You know that," replied Nephrite tensely. "Give him a chance."
Zoisite pulled his knees closer. He leaned his head against the wall behind him. The coolness of the marble felt soothing against his neck.
The brief pause was interrupted by Kunzite's cold, menacing voice. "No."
Zoisite had forgotten to pay attention to the reflection on the wall. Nephrite stormed from the room and turned down the hallway without even seeing him. From the corner of his eye, Zoisite could see him standing over him. He glanced up toward Kunzite who never said a word but returned to the room from which he came and slammed the door behind him, leaving Zoisite stained with tears and blood—alone.
••••••••••••••••••••
When Zoisite woke up, he found himself in the floor against the wall outside of the room where he heard the argument between Kunzite and Nephrite. He could not remember falling asleep here. The last thing he could remember, however, was seeing Kunzite stand above him and feeling too weak to stand up. What time was it? He reported to Kunzite around nine in the morning, bound his arm about a half hour later, and found Kunzite and Nephrite a half hour after that. How long had he been sleeping? He tried to push himself from the floor, but he had no strength in his arms. In fact, the arm that had been slit fell numb. He could not feel it at all. He felt drowsy and dizzy and he lay back down against the cold wall as he had.
••••••••••••••••••••
He awoke. Everything around him seemed bright, airy, and golden. He was lying in a wide bed in a spacious room surrounded by windows. A young woman stood at the end of the bed. Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun and she wore a floor-length white robe. She was writing something, but Zoisite could not tell what. She held her gaze down and focused on her work. Beside him stood a young boy about the same age as himself. He had short, shaggy blond hair and deep, cerulean colored eyes.
Through his blurry, unfocused vision, Zoisite saw Nephrite enter the room. He could clearly hear voices.
"So this is the fourth and final member of the Shitennou," the blonde boy said as he focused his stare on Zoisite.
"Yes," replied Nephrite expressionlessly.
"He sure can sleep," added the boy sarcastically.
Nephrite halted his advance toward Zoisite's bedside. "He's still sleeping?"
"Yeah," replied the boy as he turned his head toward Nephrite.
"He should've awakened by now," replied Nephrite nervously. "He has a pulse, right?"
"I don't know," the boy blankly replied. Nephrite hurriedly rushed toward Zoisite, taking his wrist in his hand and placing two fingers over the veins to feel for a heartbeat.
"It's weak," said Nephrite almost in a whisper. His blue eyes shifted intensely. "He's still alive. We need to open the wound and clean it more. Maybe we can prevent the infection from spreading."
Wait, thought Zoisite. I'm awake. I can see Nephrite, the woman, and the blonde boy next to me. I have to be awake. I can hear them. My pulse is weak? Am I… dying? Why can't I move? Why can't they see that I am awake? What is happening to me? Thoughts rained through Zoisite's mind. His head stung.
"Jadeite," growled Nephrite tensely. So that was the blonde boy's name. Nephrite stood over Zoisite anxiously. "You tell Kunzite to come here now." Nephrite's voice trailed off as he looked upon the dying boy with concern in his eyes. He fell silent. "And that he'd better hope that the young one survives," he continued coolly.
••••••••••••••••••••
Moments passed and Zoisite noticed a tall man that he did not recognize. He wore a long white coat and he held shiny, silver tools. There were blood stains on his white gloves—Zoisite's blood. Zoisite winced as the man leaned toward his arm with what looked like a knife, but he was astonished when he couldn't feel anything. I can't feel it, Zoisite thought. I still can't tell if I'm really dying or if I'm going to be okay. I have yet to see Kunzite-sama. I wonder what he's thinking. I pity him.
••••••••••••••••••••
"He won't come, Nephrite," Jadeite said anxiously as he entered the room. Nephrite did not say anything. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. His long hair fell over his shoulders.
There's nothing I can do. I really am dying aren't I? The only thing I want to do is talk to Kunzite-sama and I know I won't be able to. He didn't hurt me because I was late. He didn't want to deal with me, at all—and not just me, personally. He didn't want to deal with anyone. I didn't mean to be a burden to him. I wonder if there is something else wrong. Would a guardian of Elysion naturally be as violent as he seemed? Yet, I can't bring myself to believe that he is that way. If I wake up… No. I have to wake up.
I'm alone. How long have I been alone? I still can't move.
Wait.
I'm not alone.
Across the room, in the corner between a desk and a window, Kunzite sat in silence. His arms were crossed and he glared at his injured student with piercing, platinum eyes.
"You sure have posed a lot of problems for me, child," growled Kunzite through his teeth.
How is this my fault?
"If you die, I may as well arrange my own funeral," he hissed. "But if you live," he closed his eyes and sighed as he turned his head. His silver hair fell in front of his face. "I still have to live with what I've done. Every time I'd look at you…" his voice trailed off.
I'm sorry, Kunzite-sama.
"I was proud," he said almost in a whisper. "I was too proud to admit that you showed potential. All I had to do was look at you."
What?
"I didn't want a student that would surpass me," he continued to say expressionlessly. "But you already have."
Kunzite-sama…
Wake up.
I can't die.
Please. Please!
Wake up!
Zoisite's eyes fluttered open. He could feel the intense pain in his arm. He could move his head. He could see his master sitting across from him. He was alive. He shifted a bit, but enough to make Kunzite realize that he had awoken. Kunzite rushed to Zoisite's bedside and stood above him. Zoisite rolled to his side and tried to support himself with his uninjured arm. He felt light-headed as the room spun around him. He pressed his free hand to his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut.
"You're alive," whispered Kunzite. "Thank god."
I'm alive.
Zoisite managed to support himself enough to rest against the headboard. "Kunzite-sama," he choked out in barely audible whisper. He felt weak and speaking took much energy from him.
Kunzite stamped from the room as his white cloak flowed behind him. "He's awake." He left as Nephrite and the man from before entered.
Zoisite could feel his throat tighten as he watched his master hastily leave.
"Zoisite-sama, how do you feel?" asked the man. Nephrite stood beside him but said nothing.
"Fine," Zoisite responded. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. "Go. I want to be alone for a while."
"Zoisite-sama," protested the man.
"Please," replied Zoisite with as much strength as he could conjure in his voice.
Upon Zoisite's command, Nephrite and the man left him alone.
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite pressed both palms to his temples. The immense pain he felt in his head made it hard for him to keep his eyes open. The spinning room slowly came to a stop and he exhaled deeply as the nauseous feeling subsided.
As he slowly managed to get out of the bed, he swung his legs over the side and rose to his feet. He still felt light-headed, but he managed to keep his balance. He was wearing a long white robe that he pulled tight around his chest. A few messy curls fell over his shoulder and into his face. His eyes were sleepy and his fair skin was even whiter.
As he exited the room, he noticed he was alone. He half-expected to see Nephrite standing outside the door, but the hallway was empty. He turned right down the corridor and focused to recognize his surroundings, but everything seemed unfamiliar. At the end of the hallway was a set of downward spiral stairs. Of course, Zoisite thought. He swallowed hard as he gripped the handrail and stepped down one stair. He felt even dizzier than before and his vision blurred. Squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his palm to his forehead, he sat down. He leaned his head against the cold wall and closed his eyes.
"Thank you for not trying to go down those stairs," said a cool voice from behind. The voice was not kind, but it was not cold either.
Zoisite slightly turned his head to see Kunzite behind him. He rose to his feet and supported himself with one hand on the wall.
"You didn't have to stand, Zoisite," Kunzite narrowed his hard, platinum eyes.
"No," began Zoisite, "Please. Let me speak." Those few words took strength—not physical strength. He felt humiliated but he had to say what he needed to. "I'm sorry, Kunzite-sama."
Kunzite made showed no expression and he stood in silence. He knew his student was not finished.
"I'm sorry for arriving late for my lessons, and I'm sorry if I dishonored you. I meant no disrespect," he pleaded. "And for whatever I did to make you dislike me, I'm sorry." Zoisite paused and shook his head. If he was not already in trouble… "I'm even sorry that you did this to me." He held out his injured arm which Kunzite took in his hand. Zoisite tried to free his arm from his master's grasp, but resistance brought sharp pain. He winced.
"It will heal," Kunzite calmly stated as he ran his thumb down the wrap around his student's arm.
"Yeah," Zoisite began sarcastically as he finally freed his arm from Kunzite's grip, "No thanks to you."
Kunzite tensed, which made Zoisite nervous.
Both stood in silence. Zoisite waited for Kunzite to say something—anything.
"You're free to go," Kunzite said as he averted his gaze.
"Wh-what?" Zoisite stuttered. His emerald eyes widened.
"You don't have to be my student, anymore. We'll work something out for you, but I don't want to make you stay."
Zoisite was speechless. Could Kunzite-sama even do that? Was it his decision? He forgot about his pounding head, the wound in his arm, and the spinning room.
"But," Kunzite said in a near whisper, "At least let me help you get downstairs."
Zoisite was taken aback by Kunzite's concern. As much as he would have liked to go downstairs, not to mention, to return to his own quarters, he was through with showing weakness. "No," he coolly stated as he turned his face from the icy gaze of Kunzite. He knew the first general didn't say much and he did not expect him to persist.
"So, you're going to sit here until you feel better. Or, perhaps, you're going to try to walk down them, anyway."
Zoisite completely turned from Kunzite and sat at the top of the steps, propping his elbow on his knee and resting his chin in his palm. "I'm not helpless, Kunzite-sama."
"I didn't mean to suggest that you were," Kunzite said as he leaned against the wall. He crossed his arms and his silver hair fell over his shoulders as he lowered his head.
Several contemplative minutes passed and the two generals remained silent. Zoisite never looked back toward Kunzite, but he knew he had not left. Kunzite rested his head against the wall and his eyes were closed.
"I'm sorry," said Kunzite.
Zoisite looked over his shoulder at Kunzite who still leaned against the wall. He did not look down. Just as the pressure in his head subsided, it returned and he subconsciously gazed at the marble stairs.
"I'm sorry for hurting you," Kunzite reservedly stated.
"I know you are," said Zoisite without looking up, "And I forgive you."
Kunzite was silent for a moment. He was surprised by Zoisite's response. "How can you forgive me so easily?" he questioned.
He said nothing. He remembered Kunzite being in the room with him.
Kunzite did not persist.
Zoisite sighed. "I do forgive you, and you don't have to stay here, Kunzite-sama. I'm not going anywhere." He never turned to look at his former master. He still felt drowsy. How much blood did he lose? All he wanted to do was sleep. "You don't have to worry."
The room had stopped spinning, but Zoisite's vision was becoming blurry. He leaned his head against the wall, and that was the last thing he could remember.
••••••••••••••••••••
When Zoisite awoke, he was laying in his own bed in his own quarters. He did not yet have his own castle, but the chamber he stayed in was decently sized and rather luxurious. He was going to be a heavenly king, after all.
The bedroom was spacious, and a delicate jade green aired throughout the luxurious atmosphere. A walnut desk and chair sat in the corner against a window that stood ceiling-high and covered the entire west side of the room. The walls were painted deep, forest green and the velvety curtains were trimmed with gold. A bookshelf sat on the opposite corner of the room, a few steps away from the king sized bed.
A baby grand piano in perfect condition sat off center in the middle of the room.
The room was spacious, but it was perfect and comfortable.
Zoisite felt much better this morning. He was well-rested. The throbbing in his head and the shooting pain in his arm had lessened. The sun shined radiantly through the window, and the golden air of Elysion brightened the jade room. He was relieved that he could finally wash the mats and tangles from his long, curly, copper hair. Before, he barely had the strength to walk.
He was determined to overcome the humiliation that had been a burden to him for the past few days.
Zoisite reached for the sheathed short sword lying on his desk. He caressed the ornateness of the scabbard and circled his forefinger over the green and purple stone that was imbedded in the bronze hilt. He wrapped his slender fingers around the sheath and felt the symbols engraved in the leather. He turned the sword over in his palms and noted the Greek symbols before him with contemplation.
"You will never do anything in this world without courage," Zoisite read aloud. He ran his fingers over the leather before unsheathing the sword. Beginning at the point of the silver blade and dramatically curving down to the hilt were more Greek symbols. He focused his emerald eyes as he translated the ancient quote that finished the blade. "It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honor." He finished the statement in a near whisper.
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite practiced his graceful weapon techniques with the bronze-hilted short sword. The dew that coated the sparkling grass shined his black boots as he moved between perfect stances. His form was flawless. The gentle breeze moved strands of his copper hair into his eyes and he never stopped to brush it away. His eyes focused on nothing as he concentrated on his next moves.
"Shouldn't you be resting?"
Zoisite came to an abrupt pause and shifted his eyes toward Kunzite who had approached without him knowing.
"I don't take orders from you," replied Zoisite as he roughly continued his form. The moves were slower and more rigid than before. His concentration had been broken.
"There was no command in that statement." Kunzite narrowed his eyes and crossed his tan arms over his chest. Kunzite paused and swiped the silver hair that had blown over his face. "Your form is a bit… rough." His tone was cool and emotionless.
A low snarl escaped Zoisite's throat and his jaw tightened at the observation, but he said nothing. After a moment of attempting to regain his focus, he continued only to allow the sudden pressure to stop him again. Kunzite said nothing, but his rigid form and piercing gaze felt like needles in Zoisite's skin. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as he sheathed his sword and stamped toward Kunzite. He stopped a very short distance from the man and clenched his hands into fists. His emerald eyes glared into the eyes of his adversary with anger. Kunzite stared down at him, unfazed by the child's unspoken threat.
"In case you have forgotten, you are not my master."
There it was.
"I don't need, and nor do I want your input." Zoisite held one fist to his side and jabbed a finger at Kunzite's chest.
"Hmph," Kunzite chuckled at the petty remarks coming from the boy. "Constructive criticism can come from anyone who is… knowledgeable enough to give it." The last part of his sentence was much too enunciated for Zoisite. The snarl in his throat deepened as he fought his will to draw his sword to the man's neck.
"Shut up!" Zoisite harshly turned from Kunzite and stormed off toward his quarters.
Kunzite smirked and a low, wicked laugh escaped from his throat.
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite sat on the bench before his piano and rubbed circles into his temples to soothe the pain in his head. Why did Kunzite insist on doing this to him? He just felt angrier. Last night seemed so different. He should've known it was too good to be true. Kunzite was nothing but icy-coldness and harshness—everything Zoisite was not.
Zoisite could not ever recall having this much anger toward anyone. He couldn't recall ever feeling the way he was feeling right now. Every muscle in his body was tense, and the throbbing in his head wasn't ceasing. This feeling—it hurt. It was terrible.
"What's wrong with me?" With the quick draw of his short sword and the increasing, angry strength that formed in his muscles, he hurled it straight for the wall. He stood and leaned over the piano. His hair fell over his shoulders and he clenched the helpless instrument tight beneath his tensed fingers.
Hatred. He felt hatred.
"I am not weak." Each word was angrily enunciated.
He clenched his hands tighter and drew his sword from where it was embedded into the wall. Without sheathing it, he stormed from his room.
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite marched up the staircase that led to the ornate door to Kunzite's castle. Without hesitating, he kicked the door through and stood at the threshold before Kunzite's grand mansion. He looked before him and his previous master was nowhere to be seen.
"You sure are a fiery one, aren't you?"
Zoisite spun on his heels and lunged toward Kunzite, aiming his blade for his neck. Before contact could be made, his wrist went stiff from the pressure of a hand tightly around it. Kunzite twisted the boy's wrist only slightly, and Zoisite's entire arm went rigid and his shoulder nearly dislocated. The blade fell from his hand.
Zoisite was shocked. His impulsiveness hadn't allowed him to think that Kunzite would actually fight back or be a challenge. His expression remained fierce and angry despite the change of action. He narrowed his emerald eyes on the man before him and clenched his teeth.
"And here I thought you were smart." Kunzite tightened his grip on the boy's wrist and lowered his own hand downward, forcing Zoisite into a kneeling position. "I never wanted a pet, but I see that you will be dangerous without a leash." Kunzite waved his hand over the struggling boy and pushed him backward as he released his arm. I didn't surprise Kunzite that Zoisite lurched to his feet and tried his aim at him again. But as Zoisite straightened his knees, he felt sudden pressure tugging at his wrists. He looked down and noticed that an illusion of purple ties bound him to the floor.
"What are you doing?" Zoisite's snarl caused a wicked smirk to form from Kunzite's lips. "Fight back like a man."
"But you are a child," replied Kunzite wickedly. "I've no desire to deal with children." Kunzite folded his hands behind his back and walked away from Zoisite with an emotionless glare.
Zoisite rashly lunged forward, momentarily forgetting about the now invisible ties that bound his wrists. He glanced down at his wrists, and the purple ties appeared and tightened, causing Zoisite to wince at the increasing pressure.
"One more thing," Kunzite began as he sat on the couch in the large living room. "Don't struggle. It will only make it worse."
••••••••••••••••••••
Weak. He was still weak.
Helplessness. It had resorted to that. Again.
It was dark. It was sometime in the middle of the night or very early morning. Zoisite had lost track of the time since the sun set. He lay on the cold floor and his knees were pulled to his chest. Kunzite had left hours ago.
This scenario was becoming too familiar to him.
••••••••••••••••••••
Morning light slowly painted the sky. Zoisite gazed blankly at… whatever was in the room before him. He didn't notice and he didn't care.
Footsteps approached him, but he didn't tear his gaze from the nothingness that filled his mind.
"You're still here." It was not a question. It sounded like a very bland statement and Zoisite tightened his hold around his knees at the verbal tension.
"I didn't have much of a choice," he replied in a choked whisper.
"Of course you did." Zoisite glanced up to weakly meet Kunzite's platinum, but very amused gaze. "I released the bindings hours ago."
Zoisite felt every muscle in his body weaken as he tried to sit up. He stared at his pathetic reflection in the marble floor beneath him as he supported himself on his hands and knees.
"Though it doesn't surprise me that you're still here. Of course you didn't think you could leave. Why? Because you were too scared to try."
Zoisite didn't look up. Why was he taunting him like this?
"But now that you know that," Kunzite began as he crossed his arms over his chest, "Get up and come with me."
Zoisite glanced up and was surprised to see a hand outstretched toward him. Mindlessly, he took it and was aided to his feet.
Kunzite sighed and shook his head. "Please don't ever make me do that to you again."
There it was again. A word—a sentence—that had no malicious undertone.
"Are you hungry?" Kunzite asked without looking at him.
Zoisite hesitated to respond; but in fact, he was hungry. He had not eaten since before their little accident.
"Well if you decide to stop moping, breakfast is ready and you're more than welcome to it." Kunzite motioned the boy to follow him.
Zoisite inhaled through his nose, taking in the pleasant aroma of the food that he hadn't noticed until now.
••••••••••••••••••••
The walls of the spacious dining room were lined with bay windows that invited light to sweep in and adorn the already-luxurious castle with gold. The small table seemed out of place in the royal-sized dining room. Milk, juices, fruits, bread, and crepes were placed in the center before an ivory plate and golden utensils.
"Your table is so small for a dining room this large," Zoisite said in almost a whisper.
"I'm the only one who lives here."
Zoisite looked up at the silver-haired king in embarrassment. Of course, he thought. He felt red burning on his slender cheekbones. "Don't you ever have visitors?"
"No," he responded. "You're the first."
Zoisite lowered his head. He wasn't even invited. He wanted to change the subject. "You cook?"
"I tried."
Zoisite stood speechless for a moment as he tried to find the words to speak. For someone who didn't cook, the setting was beautiful.
"I'm obviously not very good at apologizing," he paused a moment and exhaled, "and seeming like I mean it."
Zoisite didn't look at him and he knew Kunzite meant to continue, be he spoke first. "Kunzite-sama," he said. It was the first time he addressed his master by his honorary since he was freed. His head was starting to hurt and he wasn't sure if he should bring up what happened in the infirmary. But Zoisite was impulsive, and it was too late to turn back. "Do you remember that night in the infirmary—when I woke up and you were there?"
Kunzite didn't say anything. He tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat.
"I remember it. I remember a lot more than you probably think I do." Zoisite turned to face his master. His own emerald eyes stared into the platinum eyes of the silver-haired king. "I know you are sorry for what you did. In fact, I think I am more sure about your apology than you are." Zoisite closed his eyes and sighed. "I can't explain it, but somehow I could see and hear everything that was going on for a time. I saw Jadeite and Nephrite. I saw the doctor operate on my arm. And I saw—" his voice trailed off and he looked away.
"What?"
"I saw you, Kunzite-sama. And I heard you."
For the first time, Zoisite saw emotion in Kunzite's expression, but he was not sure what he was feeling. Kunzite clenched his fists at his side and exited the room without responding to the boy.
••••••••••••••••••••
The dining room stood silent and still around Zoisite and it was colder than he remembered. He couldn't remember how long he had been standing there since Kunzite left.
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite didn't know where he was going. He searched the mansion for his master, peering into empty rooms and giant libraries. Kunzite was nowhere to be found. He traveled up stairs and into dark corridors—corridors that seemed to be getting darker and darker. At the end of a narrow hallway was a spiral staircase. There was one candle mounted on the wall and it had just been lit—the wax had barely begun to melt. Before ascending, Zoisite waited in silence as if he were trying to hear anything from the secluded attic. Nothing.
Zoisite's footsteps became slower as he reached the top. He looked up at the high, angled ceiling—he was in the highest room of the castle and he found Kunzite. He was sitting with his face in his hands and his silver hair fell over his cold face. He didn't step any closer. He held on to the cold, metal rail and his expression sank as he once again felt pity for his master.
Zoisite sat at the top of the stairs and waited. Kunzite didn't seem to notice him, but if he had, he didn't acknowledge him. Zoisite couldn't help but smile a little as he realized how the roles now seemed reversed. This time, he found Kunzite, and it was time for him to speak up.
"Kunzite-sama," he said. Kunzite didn't look up. "I don't know what you're thinking about. I wish I did, though." Zoisite waited for a response. Nothing. His voice lowered to a near whisper as he pleaded. "Please tell me." Nothing still.
Zoisite stood and entered the room. It was fairly small with the exception of the high ceiling. The walls and floor were just stone. There was no fancy wallpaper or marble floor. It was a typical attic. It was cold. Zoisite approached Kunzite and reached as if he would place his hand on his shoulder. He hesitated and his eyes widened. For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, his emerald eyes gleamed.
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite hesitated, but he approached Kunzite with child-like fear. Kunzite looked up at the boy as the smooth lid was propped and the fall board was lifted. Zoisite hesitantly sat on the bench next to his master. The first ivory key was struck and Kunzite's cold gaze lifted toward the boy's focused expression as the majestic grand piano was played. The key was immediately familiar to him. He favored the sound of F sharp major and the song the boy played was also familiar to him.
Kunzite didn't say anything. He closed his eyes and listened silently as Zoisite seamlessly moved through one of his favorite pieces of music.
"Til Varen," Kunzite said without looking up. "I have always been fascinated by Grieg's compositions. I cannot explain myself fully, but I remember my mother playing his pieces on the violin. It was beautiful. She favored this song because of the key it is played in. F sharp major is rarely heard, but she loved it. Of course, this piece was not composed for a violin, but she played it beautifully nonetheless." Kunzite looked toward the east wall and a black violin was mounted on the wall beneath a small, circular window. "She taught me how to play the piano before she died and I haven't stopped playing since." Kunzite was smiling. "She always told me she would teach me how to play the violin when I was tall enough to hold one." He looked down at the ivory keys and closed his eyes. "She never saw that day come."
"It's black," Zoisite said. "Why?"
"My mother was the most perfect person I knew. Her heart was 'white like snow' and she always heard everyone tell her that. She played a black violin because she believed that she couldn't be human unless she did. She didn't want to be a saint; she wanted to be 'real.' She told me that light can always be found in the darkest places, but the light can never be reality unless there is darkness." Kunzite met Zoisite's sincere gaze.
Zoisite stood and lifted the instrument from the mount. He motioned for Kunzite to stand. Kunzite's eyes were hesitant but he obeyed. Zoisite placed the instrument on his master's shoulder and Kunzite held the ebony neck with his cold hand. Zoisite positioned the elder's fingers on the strings and handed him the bow. Kunzite tried to mimic the way he remembered his mother's hold on the bow. He was close, but Zoisite adjusted his fingers again. "All right," Zoisite said. "The easy part is making a sound. Just start at the tip of the bow and pull straight down on that string." Kunzite followed orders. It sounded scratchy and metal and Zoisite couldn't help but smile. Kunzite's expression flattened at Zoisite's amusement.
Kunzite placed the instrument back on the mount. His expression was cold once more. "This is where I come when I don't want to be found," he said quietly. "You found me, but why did you come here?"
The room seemed to darken at Kunzite's change of attitude. Zoisite lowered his head. "I don't know," he said as he averted his eyes toward the stone floor. "It seemed to really bother you when I told you that I heard what you said in the infirmary. I'm sorry that I made you feel that way." Zoisite held his arms across his stomach. He massaged his thumb over the bandages that were wrapped around his arm. "You kept giving me more and more reasons to dislike you and that's not fair—especially if what you said was true. Please stop saying and doing things that make me hate you. It's not a good feeling."
Kunzite huffed.
"Now I know that you have feelings too," Zoisite said. "So you can stop using me as a reason to feel sorry for yourself. I know there's good in you. Did you not learn a thing from what your mother taught you? You embrace darkness as if the light cannot be seen. I don't believe that that is the real you, Kunzite-sama."
Kunzite didn't move or speak. His expression remained cold.
"'Out there, where sky shines, humans say: 'To thyself be true.' In here, trolls say: 'Be true to yourself and to hell with the world,''" Zoisite said.
••••••••••••••••••••
It had been three weeks. Zoisite hadn't seen Kunzite for three weeks—no one had. He searched for him in every place he could think of. He thought he knew exactly where to look, but he was wrong. He couldn't even reach Kunzite's attic. The door to the corridor below was locked.
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite spent much of his day sitting in his quarters with his knees curled to his chest. He felt lost. He couldn't help but feel that something was missing—something was. "What's wrong with me?" he would ask himself.
The feeling of hatred and pity he felt nearly a month ago was long gone, but he wondered if this new, unfamiliar feeling was worse.
Every day he would travel up to the vacant corridor below the attic and every day it remained locked. Kunzite really didn't want to be found.
He has to come down eventually, Zoisite thought. He raised his hand as if he would knock on the door, but he didn't.
••••••••••••••••••••
Zoisite woke up. He was sitting against the wall by the locked door and he couldn't remember when he had fallen asleep. He pushed himself to his feet and turned away to leave. He hesitated for a moment. He turned back toward the door and wrapped his slender fingers around the knob.
It opened.
Zoisite stepped quietly toward the narrow, spiral staircase at the end of the hallway as if he was afraid to be heard. He felt his stomach turn. What if Kunzite doesn't want to see me anymore? What will he do to me? The terrifying thought pounded at his head. His body started to ache as he climbed the stairs.
When he reached the top, he felt his body weaken even more. He held on to the railing and tried to focus on what was in front of him. It was different. It was beautiful. The once-stone walls were covered with smooth, deep green wallpaper and the once-stone floor covered with soft, gold carpet. Candles were mounted on the walls and the golden light reflected from the black grand piano in the center of the room. He stepped into the room and his childlike expression was awestruck.
"Kunzite-sama," he managed to say. A tender hand rested on his shoulder. He turned and looked up into his master's platinum eyes. They had never seemed so compassionate.
"It's yours," Kunzite said.
Zoisite looked back at the jade colored room before him. "W—what?"
"I'm giving it to you—this room. It was always filled with sadness and regret," he paused, "until you found it. Then something about it changed."
Before he realized what he had done, Zoisite wrapped his arms around Kunzite. He stepped back and lowered his head in embarrassment. "I—I'm sorry Kunzite-sama. I didn't mean—"
"No," Kunzite said. He stepped forward and wrapped the boy in this own embrace. He rested his head on Zoisite's. "Don't worry. There is nothing in this world that would ever make me hurt you again."
••••••••••••••••••••
"I'd like to try something," Kunzite said. He took Zoisite's bandaged arm in his hand. Zoisite didn't say anything. He didn't protest. His arm still hurt, but lately it had been the least of his worries. Kunzite unwrapped the bandages. It was the first time Zoisite saw the wound on his arm since the doctor operated on it. Whatever kind of stitching was used had dissolved. There was nothing there but a long, pink scar. He winced as his master circled his thumb down the wound. The pain was lessening. And lessening. It was non-existent.
Zoisite's shoulders relaxed and his mouth opened as if to speak. "Y—you," his voiced trailed off.
"Yes," Kunzite replied. "But it doesn't work on just anyone. I was very young when I discovered that I could heal scars. There are a few people in Elysion with this ability, but I was the first to discover it so young."
"You've tried on others?" Zoisite asked. What were the circumstances of his gift?
"My teachers forced me to, but they never had any luck getting it to work on anyone else. It only worked on that one occasion—and it worked now."
"Who?"
Kunzite pressed his lips into a line. "My mother."
Zoisite tensed the muscles in his arm and he circled his wrist. The scar was gone. It worked.
"Can you explain it?" Zoisite asked.
"I don't know—maybe," Kunzite said. "Some assumed that I could only heal scars that I caused."
"Wait," Zoisite interjected. "What? Then what happened to—"
"I was only a child and, believe me, it was an accident. Every day it haunts me. That was the day that I understood that I wasn't human and that I never would be." Kunzite tightened his fists and looked away from Zoisite.
"I'm sorry," Zoisite said. "I understand. You don't have to go on."
"I've never told anyone before," Kunzite said. His expression was blank. "If I didn't want to tell you, I wouldn't have. The scar healed and we thought she would be okay. She died a few days later."
Zoisite felt sympathy toward his master. He could see the pain in Kunzite's eyes. He felt it too. "Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me."
Kunzite met his student's pure, emerald gaze. He stepped closer to the boy. He reached for one of Zoisite's loose copper curls and moved it from his delicate face.
Zoisite lifted his hand to Kunzite's. "You promise to never hurt me?"
"I promise."
Zoisite wrapped his other hand around Kunzite's neck and kissed him. He thought Kunzite might try to pull away, but he didn't. Instead, his master tenderly kissed him back. Kunzite wrapped his arm around the boy's waist and held him tighter as if it had been a lifetime since he had seen him.
"I know why it worked on you," Kunzite whispered.
"Really?" Zoisite's eyes gazed into his master's.
"Because I wanted it to, of course," Kunzite said before kissing him again.
Author's Note: And there ya' have it-the sequel to "Kunzite Alone". I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it! I love writing for the KunZoi community. You guys are so dedicated! A few of you have kept up with my DA journals/posts and everything-even after a year of me being almost non-existent. I wouldn't want to write for any other fandom.
Lastly, compliments to Chef Derrick! Seriously, Cous', you rock!