4. My Heart is Beating for You (or) Yes, You!
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Of all the places Kunzite had expected to see her, the produce aisle of the supermarket wouldn't have been his first choice.
Not that it was unusual to see her in completely mundane, random locations. Aino Minako was relentless and, so far, he'd encountered her at the gym, the apartment—before and after Nephrite's restraining order, less frequently after—and Kusaka-sensei's residence.
Kunzite didn't always have physical proof she was present, but he'd recognize that fervent, determined aura anywhere. It burned brighter than ever before, and whatever lengths she went to conceal herself were instantaneously nullified.
Currently, however, she wasn't making an effort to conceal herself, if the conspicuous but just stylish enough to be counted as inconspicuous sunglasses and hat were meant to be taken seriously. She stood a few yards away from him, inspecting a package of frozen chicken—or at least semi-frozen. Kunzite had no way of knowing how long she'd been standing there.
He'd been checking off Mamoru's shopping list for any missed items when he'd sensed her, and there she was, having seemingly materialized out of thin air. He suspected she'd been obscuring herself, and either she'd capitulated or he knew her presence all too well for her to go completely undetected.
He waited a full minute for her to announce herself, and when , he cast an aside glance at her; she resolved to angle her face in the opposite direction. Kunzite, for lack of any real will to do otherwise, opted to ignore her and moved to leave for the front of the store to check out.
For just under ten minutes, he lived in a world wherein the Senshi of Venus had healthy hobbies and royalty of her own to attend to, but the transcendental illusion was broken as he loaded the last grocery bag into Mamoru's trunk and a voice behind him cut, "You don't really think becoming his personal valet is enough to make up for everything, do you?"
Kunzite closed the trunk and gave her his full attention. "Good afternoon, Aino-san. I do hope your chicken isn't too warm."
He motioned for the lone bag he assumed contained her chicken cradled in her arm, and she scoffed, hugging the bag to her chest.
"It's perfectly fine, thanks," she said. "Talk about a coincidence. I didn't expect to run into your ridiculously tall, handsome self today. I had no idea you shopped here."
She was lying. They were both aware of that, but that had always been a forte of hers on and off the battle field: instigating fights then behaving as if she'd been inconvenienced when she had to finish them. Kunzite thought that if he were interested in giving her the reaction she wanted, then she might be more careful. But if she were anything like her past self, that might only give her more fuel.
"Is there a reason you followed me here?" he asked, hoping she omitted the part where she feigned offense.
Thankfully, it appeared she might have better things to do. She jutted her chin up as she looked him in the eye. A lifetime later, it was still the look of a woman who could kill men triple her size and was proud of the fact. Then, a lifetime ago, he'd admired and abhorred it. Now, he wanted it to move on and find a wall or woodland creature to challenge instead.
"I didn't follow you anywhere, for one," she said, and when Kunzite continued to stare at her blankly, she cleared her throat before demanding, "And just when did you plan on telling me one of your brothers was gallivanting around with Usagi?"
"Zoisite," Kunzite confirmed. "Pray tell, was I supposed to tell you?"
"Like hell you were!" she hissed. Kunzite was surprised she didn't stomp her foot. "As her chief protector, I should always be aware of my princess's whereabouts. Oh, and tell Zoe to burn the dress. It doesn't flatter him nor is it very cute. Honestly, the whole skater dress schtick should have gone out of style after the Harding-Kerrigan thing, but alas. Biopics..."
Kunzite wondered if a lot of teenagers spoke the way she did. Rapid-fire with every other sentence being a quip or taunt. Zoisite didn't, Jadeite communicated largely through grievances, and the Princess tended to trip over her words too often for him to make a fair assessment. The freshmen he worked with at K.O. varied.
"The Princess swore me to secrecy," he said, and Minako stopped mid-rant, gasping.
"She. did. what? When? Don't tell me she's fraternizing with you too!"
Kunzite glanced down at his watch. Mamoru was expecting him soon, and he needed to be finished with things there before three. How long did she plan on elongating this?
"Usagi and I rarely exchange more than a polite greeting." Before he could be accused of therefore plotting against her, Kunzite added, "I honor the fact that she isn't always at ease with me. She reached out to me on her own time."
Minako eyed him warily, then she adjusted her shades and shifted her weight to one leg, a hip cocked to the side as she propped her free hand against it.
"If this ever happens again, I can't promise I'll be this nice about it. My girls—all of them—mean the world to me. If any of them got hurt because I was trying to respect the wishes of the one most precious to me... Tell me about these things, and I don't care what Usagi tells you in the name of kumbaya or whatever. I'm here to help balance that out, and I don't know if you have any experience in that department, but that's what good friend groups are supposed to do. Get the picture?"
"I do."
She frowned, eyebrows drawing together. She'd been hoping for a different reaction, something that indicated Kunzite felt the least bit threatened by her ultimatum. In reality, he thought she was exerting entirely too much energy and needed to find a place to sit before she put herself in the hospital.
"Whatever. Don't forget!"
Kunzite watched as she stalked away, murmuring to herself until she was well on her way down the street and merged into the crowd. He waited for her aura to fade, and when he was convinced she'd left well enough alone (for the time being), he slid into Mamoru's Alfa Romeo and began the commute back to the apartment.
Kunzite didn't care for sports cars. Everything he'd learned about them was from Nephrite, but Kunzite thought they were ostentatious and lacked the element of surprise. Besides ensuring they could reliably get him from one place to another, cars didn't appeal to him. They didn't appeal to Mamoru either as he preferred public transit over driving, but Kusaka-sensei had insisted on buying him one as soon as he'd turned eighteen, and while generally a mild man, Kusaka-sensei had a weakness for cars and purchased the Giulia against Mamoru's cheaper, more conservative wishes.
Kunzite reckoned it saw more use now than it ever had before he'd begun driving it, excluding the week in July when the Princess—eighteen and with a newly-minted license—used it to drive everywhere from school to her grandparents' home and managed to break both tail lights without a clue as to how.
She's truly a character, that girl, he thought as he stopped at a red light, ignoring the modicum, dissenting stirring in his soul at the fond thought. Her energy and optimism were almost identical to Serenity's. Serenity, who'd been classically trained and lacked Usagi's awkwardness and sporadic use of her outside voice. Despite relying on Mamoru's proximity to Endymion, he valued the differences between the Moon Princess and her present-day counterpart. Whereas Serenity was fearless to the point of naivety, Usagi set parameters for herself when she was uncomfortable.
He existed outside those parameters, a sign of what he'd yet to accomplish, but Kunzite knew that this time around, it was better for her to want to protect herself.
When he arrived at Mamoru's building, he transferred the groceries into the shopping baskets Mamoru kept stored in his car when there was too much to take up to his apartment by hand.
He was surprised but pleased to find that the apartment door wasn't open when he arrived upstairs. Mamoru usually left it unlocked when he felt Kunzite's presence, a habit Kunzite was vocal about his disapproval of. One could never know when an enemy was pretending to be someone else, and though Kunzite had confidence in his prince's powers, he also had confidence in an enemy's propensity to deceive.
Hands and arms too full to do it manually, Kunzite announced himself before using his powers to open it instead.
"Kunzite! You're back!" Mamoru said, too quickly, as Kunzite entered the room. He was stacking a pile of papers and files on his chabudai that didn't resemble his textbooks or the medical journals and crosswords he usually spent his free time bent over. "I wasn't expecting you back so early."
"Kusaka-sensei wasn't home, so I went to the store and came straight back here," he replied, walking into the adjacent kitchenette and planting the baskets on the counter. "What about you? Finished studying already?"
Mamoru shook his head. "No. I just took a break and was sorting through some stuff. School papers, letters, financial documents, that sort of thing. I guess we both had pretty uneventful days."
Kunzite hummed absently as he began putting away the groceries. He was lying, but that was where Mamoru was just like Endymion. A kind smile and cool disposition hid a small battalion of insecurities, but he wasn't very subtle. Whenever he started trying to talk to him instead of acknowledging then enjoying his company in silence, something was wrong.
"I wouldn't call mine quite as uneventful as yours. I ran into Aino-san at the store."
Mamoru groaned. "She's still following you around? I swear I don't know what to do with her. I am so sorry, Kunzite. I promise I'm going to have a long, long conversation with her about this later."
"Why? She made for such cheerful company, threats and all."
"Gosh," Mamoru sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'd guessed it was this bad, but somehow she still manages to surprise me. Does she do it to any of the other guys?"
"Probably," Kunzite replied, though Mamoru should have already known the answer. It wasn't any fault of his own, of course. Kunzite wouldn't know if Aino was stalking them either. Sans Nephrite, he doubted any of them would notice.
"Well that's—fine. I know what I'm doing tonight. But there's nothing I can do right now, which reminds me. I can tell you this now before either of them gets to you first. Hiro from maintenance and Kinu from the tenant association both want to talk to you when you have the time."
"I don't want to talk to either of them," Kunzite said coolly as he put the last of the groceries away in a cabinet. He turned to face Mamoru as he began sanitizing the baskets. "They're both flirts, and I'm not any more interested in them now than I was a week ago. I thought I finally made that much clear."
"Yeah. I think this time you got them to internalize that. They sounded pretty contrite, so they're probably planning on apologizing for coming on too strong. I think Kinu thinks you're gay and Hiro thinks you're the furthest thing from it."
"I don't recall telling them that."
Mamoru chuckled. "You don't have to. People aren't as simple or humble as you think they should be. Most people don't like to think of themselves as unattractive. Since being rejected by someone like you must mean something about them, they have to find an issue with you so as to not blame themselves."
Overcomplicated and immodest. Like someone else he knew who seemed to live for making things more difficult than they were.
"Mamoru," Kunzite called. The younger man sat up straight, always too eager. "Where is Jadeite?"
Mamoru's eyebrows drew together, his mouth downturned slightly—a subtle but obvious tell that something was bothering him. "I... don't actually know. So far he's only slept here. I can't speak for what he's been up to."
"I see." Kunzite gripped the stacked baskets by their handles. Occasionally—when he wasn't wishing undone the consequences of it—he pondered what might happen if he stopped treating Jadeite as if he could be reasoned with and took on the more uninhibited attitude of his past incarnations.
"Wait..." Mamoru said slowly. "Before you go after him, maybe—don't? If I were in his shoes I'd be having a pretty hard time adjusting too."
Kunzite didn't understand why Mamoru insisted on being so lenient with Jadeite, and, to a lesser extent, Nephrite. He had every right to demand of them what they wouldn't demand of themselves, but if Mamoru wouldn't do it, he was content doing it in his place.
"I'm not going after the boy, wherever he is. If he keeps hurting you like this, however, I'll have to interfere some time."
"He's not hurting me," Mamoru said with the confidence of someone long content telling lies. "He just needs some time is all."
"I didn't need time to decide to make things right."
"Well, not everyone is you, Kunzite."
Mamoru was using his prince inflection, the one that didn't disinvite argument but warned against it. He didn't think Mamoru ever noticed or consciously used it.
Aware that he'd only do more to upset Mamoru by disagreeing, Kunzite dropped the subject—for now—and walked back into the living room, holding out a hand toward the younger man. "Those documents. Let me look over them before I leave."
"I never said I'd let you take over once Kusaka-san retires. We both know the future isn't set in stone," Mamoru said as if he were reminding him. Usually, he'd roll his eyes but hand over whatever Kunzite asked for, but this time he did no such thing, only looking up at him expectantly.
Kunzite withdrew his hand, and though he could have, he decided not to press the issur. If Mamoru chose not to reveal what he was hiding, it was only a matter of time before someone with no reservations or anything to lose—someone like the Princess—did it instead.
"I'm leaving now, but I'll be back tomorrow morning," Kunzite announced as he stepped onto the genkan and pulled on his shoes. "Remember—"
"Call you if I need you, and don't forget to check my messages. I know." Mamoru rolled his eyes, but the fond expression on his face didn't indicate annoyance. Despite himself, Kunzite felt a smile pull at his own lips.
"I know you do. That doesn't mean I'll ever stop reminding you." Mamoru rolled his eyes again, the grin on his face once again betraying any pretense of irritation as Kunzite closed the door behind him.
After returning the baskets to Mamoru's car, Kunzite leaned against the side of the complex, opening his phone to see if he had any new messages. There was one from Zoisite asking when he'd be home, one from Kusaka-sensei informing him he'd be in tomorrow, and none from the person he was expecting to contact him. That was per the norm with Asanuma, whose mind was usually too wrapped up in what he'd "seen" in his backyard to be bothered with arriving on time to his lesson.
He responded to Zoisite, texted a warning to Nephrite, who he hadn't heard from since that morning, and was in the process of asking Asanuma why he hadn't responded to any of his messages in the two weeks since their last session when the sound of something colliding with the sidewalk, in tandem with a shrill "shit!", alerted his senses.
A cursory look behind his back around the corner provided Kunzite all the information he needed. The Moon Princess was sprawled on the sidewalk, having fallen directly in front of the welcome mat ahead of the entrance to Mamoru's building.
Kunzite watched as she wobbled to her feet, her cheeks a rosy color as she shrugged off the help of the concerned doorman hunched over her. Yet again, he'd failed to detect her presence beforehand. Even now, he couldn't sense her.
He didn't expect to be able to as he didn't possess Mamoru's empathetic, psychic connection with sentient life, but even though he'd been under Beryl's control, he still remembered the power of the Silver Crystal that had radiated off of Sailor Moon like ultraviolet waves.
Kunzite knew that power was evident in her civilian form too. Nephrite had described her presence as "burning to the point of overwhelm. But it's a happy warmth with an even happier chaos," and as romanticized as Kunzite thought his perception of her was, Zoisite was drawn to her for a reason.
He considered going about his day as though he hadn't seen her at all—he doubted she'd appreciate any proprietary from him without imploding—the Princess's wandering gaze landed on him.
"Oh—Kunzite-san!" Her face alternated between various regretful expressions, finally settling on embarrassment. She muttered something under her breath before shaking her head and smiling faintly at him.
With a sheepish rub of her neck, she more limped than walked up to him. "Ah. I didn't notice you there. If you saw that... Well, I'm really sorry you had to."
In that respect, he could believe her. On the other hand, he was sure she'd been counting down the seconds until he was gone, and what he was witnessing was her failed attempt at sneaking into the building upon seeing that Kunzite was still there.
"It's fine. You should be more careful though. I'd hate for you to get hurt."
"Of course! I wouldn't want to worry you!" she exclaimed before promptly realizing she was too excited, clearing her throat and saying quieter, "I mean, thank you for your concern. I'm a long way from the middle school girl with two left feet, but you know what they say. Rome wasn't built in a day."
A lapse, and then a pause. Then—
"So..." She trailed off, likely under the impression that she was doing a better job of hiding the fact that looking him in the eye was a struggle for her than she was. "Mamo-chan—Mamoru told me you saw Minako-chan today at the store."
"I did." He knew Mamoru and Usagi told each other (almost) everything, but he'd barely been standing outside for ten minutes. With how fast information traveled between them, he wasn't surprised.
"I am so sorry about her," she apologized. "It was about Zoisite, wasn't it? I'm sorry for getting you wrapped up in all this. It was just that if she found out..."
"It's alright. She has her reasons, and I don't hold it against her."
"Really? I know it's probably aggravating."
"It's fine. Really."
She nodded. "At this point, I don't really know what to say or do to get her to stop, and I really don't want to have to order her. Guess she's not as over you as we all thought, right?"
She shrugged and let out a laugh.
Kunzite stared.
She cleared her throat, tearing her gaze away from his and leveling it with his chest, the highest part of him her eyes could reach without having to angle her head.
"Well, I won't hold you up any longer. I should just—go now. It was nice talking to you. Goodbye!" She gave a crooked bow of her head, legs moving a mile a minute as she cantered inside Mamoru's building.
It would seem she still couldn't produce more than a few fumbled sentences. It was a far cry from the nervous but talkative girl who'd gone shopping with him when he'd first started running errands for Mamoru earlier that year and a sharp contrast to the vibrancy she exhibited when she wasn't otherwise alone with him. It didn't escape his notice that she timed her visits to Mamoru's around his own.
As far as he knew, she wasn't near as wary around the others. She maintained a close relationship with Zoisite, and though her scarce interactions with Jadeite and Nephrite resided on the side of awkward given their mutual lack of interest in her, she could at least string together cohesive sentences without faltering.
Then again, she didn't have palpable memories of any of them attempting to slit her throat.
Halfway through the train ride to K.O., as he was tying his hair up, he received a characteristically overdue, over apologetic text from Asanuma explaining that he'd been so wrapped up in his work he'd forgotten all about their session, but it just so happened he was already at the university preparing for an upcoming comet with a handful of classmates, so he'd meet him in the library as soon as he arrived.
Asanuma was over an hour and a half late and didn't arrive at their designated meeting place until five minutes to three, as Kunzite had predicted he would. Their sessions were formally scheduled for every other Monday at one-thirty, but that was only due to Asanuma's seeming love affair with tardiness. Kunzite marked the lessons down as lasting two hours each from 3:00 pm to 5:00 in his planner.
They covered the usual, spending ample time on Asanuma's intrinsic abuse of adverbs and commas. By the time they'd finished, Asanuma was seething, bemoaning his English professor's apparent lack of sympathy.
"...And I get it. She wants me to do good. I want me to do good. But I swear it's all just fake news with her!" Asanuma stuffed his computer into his messenger bag, all but bursting through the seams with journals, charts, and tools. "She can't want me to do good in this course. She can't. If she did she'd be just as content with my grades as I am!"
"You know as well as I do that your scholarship is reliant on your grades," Kunzite said, watching Asanuma scowl with some amusement. "If you score below a B in this class, you'll have to take it again next semester. Again."
Asanuma grit his teeth. "Well, that just isn't fair! I don't understand why I just can't do what I came here to do. Who needs core classes?"
"You do if you want your scholarship."
Asanuma opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. He groaned and clipped his severely stuffed bag closed.
"Stupid rich kids and their stupid rich parents. As if half the people at this school aren't here because of the giant silver spoon they were born with. I bet they can't even name more than ten elements on the Periodic Table..."
Kunzite didn't understand the boy. For all his overachieving and scientific genius, he couldn't write an essay to save his life and would have been on his way to failing English a second time—having failed it once his first semester—had Kunzite not had the mind to pity him.
"You know, senpai," Asanuma said, "you're one of the lucky ones. Everything comes soeasy to you!"
"I wouldn't be here if it did. And I've told you you don't have to call me 'senpai'. My name is fine."
"You know it would be weirder if I called you by your name, right? It's literally a pyroxene mineral."
At Kunzite's unimpressed look, Asanuma laughed and raised his hands in defense. "I'm kidding. But... I could try, but it'd still be so weird. You're—well. You. That would be like calling one of my professors by their name, you know?"
Kunzite supposed, though those were a lot of words to avoid calling him old.
"Besides," Asanuma continued, oblivious as he gathered his messenger bag in his arms and managed not to buckle under its weight. "You don't call me by my first name, so I think everything checks out. As usual, thanks for the help. I'll see you next week—unless... Unless you'd like to come by and help us prepare?"
The boy's eyes were wide and eager, despite the fact that he already knew what Kunzite's response would be.
"Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I can't. I have to get home and prepare for tomorrow."
Asanuma deflated. At the very least, Kunzite was glad he'd stopped asking what it was he had to prepare for. "Okay, then. That's alright... Next time, then?"
His eyes were eager again, and it was the most Kunzite could do not to relent.
"Maybe..."
Asanuma beamed. "I'll hold you to it. See you soon, senpai! Have a good week!"
Kunzite sighed, putting his own supplies away into his briefcase. To whatever extent rejecting Asanuma's offers to join him on his numerous discovery expeditions bothered him, it didn't matter in the long run. His obligations to Mamoru were what mattered most, and it wasn't as if Asanuma was ever going to find proof of the aliens, UFOs, and abnormal celestial bodies he was so passionate about. Not the kind he had in mind.
What comet was Asanuma awaiting even? He'd have to check if there were any passing Earth soon, ones that weren't figments of an overzealous teenage boy's space-addled mind.
Kunzite locked his briefcase and stood to leave. He couldn't help but emit a long sigh as he appraised the private study room he'd reserved for their lesson. Since the fall semester began soon, more and more rooms were being reserved by those trying to get ahead, so he'd been lucky to find a free room at all. He almost didn't want to leave.
K.O. University may have had a reputation for prestige, but the three days a week he spent on its main campus were his most peaceful. In a way, it was liberating. As devoted as he strived to be to Mamoru, his princess, and the company they kept, it was comforting to enjoy a few private moments to himself before he was obligated to return to the people his world centered around. Some more difficult than others.
As he walked across campus, sometimes stopping to greet the students and professors he knew from his department and others, a mystical air unraveled around him. In the beginning, Kunzite mistook it for Minako's presence. Though it was lighter and more soothing, there wasn't much he put above her.
He'd soon come to realize it wasn't Minako—as many times as she'd confronted him in public, she'd never mentioned K.O. or any of the freshmen he tutored, two things she surely would've found a way to spin into something scandalous—but it was something, or, rather, someone.
He'd chosen not to burden Mamoru with it yet. It was a fleeting sensation and never lasted more than a few seconds, nor did it seem to affect anyone else. If it was serious, Kunzite would inform Mamoru when the time was right. The fact that he suspected it had something to do with Minako's notable absence from the university thus far was not a confounding variable.
The apartment was quiet when he arrived home, so quiet he would've assumed it was empty if not for the ever-present resident fast asleep on the lacquered Western-style coffee table in the living room, a half-eaten bowl of oyakodon and untouched yakitori skewer next to them.
Kunzite chuckled as he hung his briefcase and traded his shoes for house slippers, walking into the room and noting the array of balled sketch paper that cluttered the table and carpet.
He kept reminding the boy not to eat and work at the same time. He was naturally slim and barely ate enough as it was. Distractions only served to lessen his appetite. After saving the food, Kunzite began collecting the trash, assuming they were designs Zoisite had abandoned halfway through. They always were.
"If you have a plan, stick to it," he muttered as he piled the paper into a trash bag. He reached under the table, feeling for Zoisite's sketchpad. It was open and turned to a page featuring an illustration of a blonde woman and dark-haired man, both dressed to the nines. Their faces weren't illustrated, but the inspiration was clear.
Zoisite wasn't as advanced of a sewer to make such detailed garments, so Kunzite figured he was practicing proportions. Some of the linework and shapes were jagged, eraser marks forming a constellation across the male figure's left leg, slightly shorter than the other, and he still couldn't seem to draw diverse women's bodies, but he knew that that was due to his only having one woman in mind.
Zoisite's close relationship with the Princess was perplexing, namely because he couldn't discern how deep those feelings ran. Gratefully, one party was in a millennium-old romance predetermined by the fates. Zoisite, on the other hand, behaved like a gushing fan with a crush, not something he was primed to take seriously, but if history had testified to anything, it was that zealous unrequited feelings often came with dire consequences.
Inevitably, what happened in the past happened in the past. With his own history, he had no right to judge anyone. Moreover, Zoisite was working to right his wrongs, even if he was terrified to face Mamoru, but he was willing. He showed that much in their weekly excursions to stimulate more of his power.
He couldn't say the same for his other two brothers. Nephrite was more careless than resistant, but Kunzite could count on fingers the number of times he'd sought out Mamoru or even expressed he'd given thought to the future. Nephrite didn't care about things he couldn't physically test, try on, or spend, but he hadn't otherwise denounced his past or future and didn't protest when Kunzite reminded him of them either. Altogether, Nephrite could retain his distance until Kunzite could be sure he wasn't a member of the yakuza.
Jadeite, on the other hand, was open about his disdain for his obligations and refused to live bound by the actions of men he viewed as no longer relevant to himself. That was despite the fact that he wouldn't be alive today if those connections didn't exist.
Kunzite didn't understand how someone who'd once been renowned for his altruism and ability to acclimate to whatever the situation called for was so inclined toward difficulty. Zoisite and Nephrite, for all the striking differences between their present selves and who they'd been, weren't so extreme.
It was a privilege that any of them had been reincarnated in the first place. If Jadeite couldn't live to correct his transgressions, then what did he think his purpose was in absence of that? Queen Serenity had extended her gift to them for one purpose and one purpose alone.
The dissenting stirring in his soul returned, except it was barely modicum. Kunzite exhaled, closing his eyes. The Queen was dead, and so was the man who'd once betrayed his prince. He wouldn't listen to the thoughts of one about the other.
Zoisite stirred behind him, muttering something unintelligible in his sleep. Kunzite placed the sketchpad on the table and stuffed the rest of the abandoned sketches into the garbage bag. He settled on the couch when he was finished, more fatigued than the day's light schedule demanded, but he supposed encountering Minako and intimidating the Princess in the same day could have that effect on one.
He opened his phone to respond to Kusaka-sensei and set up a time for their next meeting. As he pressed the elder man's contact, Mamoru's voice, earnest and knowing, resonated in his ears.
We both know the future isn't set in stone.
Kunzite's thumb hovered over Kusaka-sensei's contact before he ultimately decided he could message the man later, once he was able to shake off Mamoru. He adored his prince, but there were times he wished his influence wasn't so strong. It made acting in his favor harder than it ever needed to be, but Kunzite kept in mind that Mamoru was still but a twenty-year-old college student. He didn't always know what was or wasn't good for him, but Kunzite liked to think he had a morsel of respect for the man.
If the future wasn't set in stone, then his existence wouldn't be futile, at least not to Mamoru. If he couldn't serve Mamoru...
Kunzite dissipated the thought, reaching to untie his hair. Being pitiful about the matter only gave the problem more power than it deserved, and pity was for those desperate enough to want it. His hair fell over his shoulders as he fastened the tie onto his wrist and grabbed Zoisite's sketchpad from where he'd left it on the table, flipping to a blank page. His own pad was in his briefcase, but Zoisite always appreciated when he left a surprise for him.
He'd taken up sketching around the same time Zoisite begun bringing home bundles of yarn and fabric, describing them as his "happy place". Kunzite didn't think his relation to drawing was the same, but it certainly provided a peace of mind not even the quiet hour he spent every other morning at the gym could. He wasn't learning or training or acting for someone else, instead existing in a moment where nothing seemed to matter but the lines on the paper.
Kunzite plucked out the wayward pencil sitting upright in Zoisite's hair, a vision coming to mind no sooner than the pencil's tip touched the paper. It was more intimate than the scenes based in memories he usually drew for Zoisite, so he'd tweak with it, but its essence was still worth illustrating.
"My favorite," he mused as he began to block-in a figure, smiling faintly. "I was your favorite, wasn't I?"
"So. Knight of Virtue and Affection?" The silver-haired man rolled his tongue as he strolled through the halls of the north wing of the palace, in the direction of the prince's quarters. "I'm flattered you think that highly of me, but don't you worry that makes me sound rather sanctimonious?"
The inebriated black-haired man clutching his arm sighed, digging his face into his newly-minted knight's shoulder. "You are sanctimonious."
"Endymion."
"Alright, alright," the prince amended. "You're sanctimonious, but that has nothing to with your title. All you need to know is that you're my favorite, so can't you just take my word for it?"
The elder man hummed, lips curled. "But I thought Zoisite was your favorite? That's what I heard you tell him earlier at the ceremony."
Endymion groaned. "He's a snob and needs external affirmations to live. You know that. But you're all my favorites. I don't value any of you above the other."
"Even Jadeite?"
"What do you guys have against him?" the prince groaned, swaying some. Kunzite steadied the younger man, sighing.
"You're drunk. You've barely been of age a moon, and you've consumed more poison in that short time than I have my entire adult life."
"You don't drink, Kunzite. Because you're perfect. You..."
He trailed off and slumped his body weight against Kunzite, cheeks flushed and eyes rolling to the back of his head. "Does the world seem loud to you?"
"We're the only ones in the hall."
"Are we?" His face fell. "Oh no! We never left the ceremony, did we? I must look ridiculous."
Despite the distress in his tone, Endymion didn't move to rectify his observation, giggling as if he'd said something hilarious. That was it. Kunzite shifted and gathered the smaller man into his arms, prompting said man to protest, albeit weakly.
"Put me down... I'm not a child," he mumbled, already leaning into Kunzite's chest. By law, he wasn't defined as a child anymore, but Kunzite would always view him as something raw and innocent to protect.
They reached Endymion's quarters within a few minutes, his unimpressed valets waiting for them at the doors. Kunzite gave them apologetic looks—he'd been too late finding and cutting off the boy, egged on by a similarly inebriated Zoisite, who had the privilege of being put on probation not even twelve hours on call—before moving to lower Endymion, but the prince grasped his collar, drawing his face closer.
"Wait... I wanted to tell you... Tell you the real reason," Endymion mumbled between labored breaths. "Your title."
"It's alright. You can tell me tomorrow. You need to rest."
"But I... I could be dead before then."
Kunzite chuckled. "Goodnight, young master."
"Wait! Could we just—sit here? Just for a minute? You're really warm..."
Kunzite sighed again as Endymion, as if to prove his point, burrowed his face in his chest. He sent the valets another look of apology, to which the other men begrudgingly threw their hands up in surrender before disappearing behind Endymion's doors.
Mindful of the body in his arms, Kunzite descended to the translucent floor carefully and braced against the wall. Endymion sighed as if he'd been relieved of a large burden.
Kunzite was unmoved. "This should serve as a lesson to you concerning the dangers of authenticated poison. What am I supposed to say to your father in the morning when you're too sick to get out of bed?"
"What?" Endymion's voice was drowsy and distant, indicating he hadn't heard Kunzite, at least not correctly. "Oh. Yeah. I thought the ceremony went pretty well too. What will your first order of business be as a Heavenly King?"
"Ensuring you and Zoisite are forbidden from being paired together. Ever. He's a terrible influence."
"All that military rank and status... You're so uncreative."
"Better that than foolish."
"That's nice," Endymion muttered, and Kunzite thought he'd finally fallen asleep when he was silent for more than a minute, but then he spoke again, just barely intelligible. Kunzite wouldn't have heard him if they weren't so close.
"This is why," he said. "Your title. And I lied earlier. You're my favorite, but only because you're so warm."
He didn't speak again after that and began snoring softly a few moments later, oblivious to the effects of his words. He wouldn't remember them in the morning and wouldn't think twice about them if he did, but it was all the same to Kunzite.
"On the contrary, young master," he whispered, holding Endymion close even though he knew he couldn't hear him, "you're my favorite, but not for a specific reason. Just you and only you."
Two things: The "Kusaka-sensei" mentioned in this chapter is Mamoru's benefactor/fiduciary from PGSM, which took it upon itself to answer the question as to how a teenage boy is living alone with seemingly no strings attached (jury's still out for Makoto's situation). Everybody say thanks to PSGM. Secondly, this should be the last of these introductory chapters before this fic really takes off and gets into the meat of what still is a relatively slice-of-life narrative - the characters just happen to have powers.
So, it would appear its been seven months since the last update. Time flies. I sincerely apologize for the delay. Life and school and procrastination make for a lethal combination.
That said, chapter five is incoming. I'm sorry I can't promise when, but it is incoming. Until then, tell me what you think so far in the reviews! Feedback is a writer's prized motivation. Until next (hopefully, hopefully shorter) time.