In the time following their first lesson, Kunzite was beginning to feel more confident with the situation. Their unexpectedly deep and personal conversation seemed to have caused a brighter and more open shift in their dynamic. For whenever Kunzite would stop by the shop thereafter for coffee or tea, Izou always seemed more excited than usual to see him.

Their second lesson came and went smoothly. Although they didn't share any deep conversations during this time, its omittance was comfortable. It was as though there was an understandable sense of kismet between them. A sense of solidarity. And although their schedules never allowed for a romantic dinner afterwards, but Kunzite liked to think he had caught a few sneak peeks and flushed little smiles a couple of times.

"Thank you, Saitou-sama," Izou said gratefully as they finished up a third lesson. "The notes really do help."

Kunzite smiled. "I'm glad. See you next week then?"

"Yes. Oh- wait," Izou just seemed to remember something. "I'm sorry, I won't be able to do next Thursday. Could we reschedule?"

Kunzite scanned his schedule in his mind. "How about next Friday?"

Izou shook his head. "I'm sorry, I've got a-..." His cheeks faintly blushed, and his smile turned both sheepish and excited. Kunzite realized it was a date, and he tried not to let his upset show.

"I see. What if we were to do it earlier in the week?"

Izou thought about it. "That could work," he agreed. "Maybe after my shift on Tuesday?"

"This coming Tuesday then. What are you doing Thursday?"

Izou continued packing up his bag. "Oh, just an appointment," he said offhandedly.

Not a date? Kunzite's brows furrowed a little bit.

"A doctor's appointment?"

Although Izou seemed to be fine, Kunzite caught the faintest flinch as he swung his backpack over his shoulder. "Something like that. No need to worry."

Of course Kunzite was going to worry. Izou was acting a little differently and Kunzite's senses were rose in alert.

"You're not ill, are you?"

"No," Izou quickly said. "Of course not."

It was clear Izou was hiding something, and Kunzite's gut was telling him it was very serious. However, he knew now was not the time to push, and gathered up his things as well.

"My apologies. I'll see you Tuesday evening."

But Kunzite's curiosity and concern was too great. The following evening, Kunzite sat down in front of his computer and began to do a little investigation of his own. Although his personal computer was not particularly sophisticated, he still had some access to the same databases that were used at the precinct. it didn't take long for him to find Izou's basic citizen file.

To facilitate a closer relationship between the citizens and their community officers, every citizen was encouraged to submit any information about themselves that could assist officers more efficiently during an emergency. Most reports, therefore, held basic census information, such as number of family members in a household, ages, and emergency contact detail. Some reports were more detailed, including a schedule of activity, medication, or allergies.

Kozakura Izou's basic citizen was fairly sparse, but the fact it existed meant that either Izou himself, or his parents, volunteered the information. Perhaps there might have been a reason for it.

Kozakura Izou

Age 18

D.O.B October 30, 1975

Beneath his date of birth, the file listed Izou's address, school information and his parents' contact details, and the contact details for his family doctor. There were no flags, extra notes, or special considerations listed. As far as Kunzite could tell, Kozakura Izou was a regular, ordinary student.

Since the file ended there, Kunzite decided to do try some secondary research. He began to look for Izou's name in any other neighbouring databases. Only one record popped up, and it was from one of the hospitals near Izou's school. Kunzite clicked open the file. There were only two notes in the file: that Izou had been admitted while unconscious, and that later he had been referred to Shinsenharu Centre.

But there was one additional little detail that struck Kunzite deep to the bone.

The day Kozakura Izou was admitted to the hospital was the same day Zoisite had passed.

In light of this rather eery news, Kunzite had decided to switch activities to keep himself occupied. With no other cases from work or missions like in the Dark Kingdom, Kunzite could only busy himself with one other type of task: physical activity.

Usually Kunzite preferred going to the gym in the early morning to avoid the crowds. Thankfully it was too busy for a Friday night. There were a couple of men running on the treadmills and one warming up on the mats in front of the mirror.

He was in the middle of doing weights at when he caught sight of a familiar, dark ponytail swinging in the mirror's reflection. Without missing a beat in his reps, Kunzite couldn't believe the universe's sense of humor.

"Hey," Kuroi greeted, a stunning demigod even in glistening sweat. He was resting against the wall, a long rod laying across his shoulders. "I know you from somewhere, right? Officer Saitou, from the coffee shop."

Kunzite grunted and released the weights back to resting position.

"And you?" Kunzite replied. "You're Kozakura-san's...friend?" He hoped the word hadn't come out as acidic as the distaste that was welling up from deep inside his gut.

"Correct," Kuroi smiled in confirmation. It was a handsome, casual sort of smile that shone perfect teeth on display, winged with even dimples on either side. A model's sort of smile.

Kuroi shifted to the side and leaned against the pole, right behind Kunzite. The mirror reflected a full view of his tall, svelte glory, even in the loose, red tank top and baggy black sweatpants. "Izou-chan's been saying that you've been helping him out with his revisions. Funny, I didn't think officers specialized in physics, or offered tutoring services when they're off beat."

Kunzite did not miss the man's obvious (if completely unsubtle) attempt to probe about his intentions. He should have expected that Zoisite would fall in love with a man who wasn't completely unintelligent... or who had a bit of an protective streak.

"A good officer is a generalist," Kunzite replied curtly as he began a new set. "He assists where he is needed, in any capacity, for the community."

Kuroi smirked faintly. "How fortunate we are to have you in our services."

Kunzite finished counting his reps and relaxed his arms. Kuroi was still hovering around, and it was beginning to irritate Kunzite. "Are you in need of anything?" he asked pointedly, if not almost sarcastically.

Kuroi pushed himself off the wall, rolling the rod casually around as Kunzite placed his weights back onto the bench. "No, not at all," he said, reaching towards the stand where the rest of the heavy wood and metal poles were kept. "Unless, you'd like to join me? I could use a spotter…"

Kuroi grabbed a second pole and swirled it around effortlessly, before setting it before him and in front of Kunzite. Although it seemed like an offer, Kunzite read it as a challenge.

"Or a sparring partner?"

There was a certain way that Kuroi spoke that made Kunzite think the man was baiting him. "Kendo?"

"That and any form of sword-fighting. I compete casually."

Of course he did.

Kunzite glanced at the pole and back at Kuroi. Wordlessly, he accepted the pole, already imagining the multiple ways this could go down. He could only block just to get a sense of the man's skills. He could spar and potentially drive off his opponent with displays of his own prowess.

Or he could just really beat the shit out of Kuroi. It was definitely possible, and the most efficient and simplistic answer to most of his problems.

Kunzite threw the pole back to Kuroi.

"I don't do combat as a sport."

Kuroi raised an eyebrow as he caught the pole without issue. "That's too bad," he said, as Kunzite turned back around. "I would have liked to see what you were made of."

One certainly could marvel at how appallingly unsubtle the man could be, but the slight didn't stop Kunzite from ignoring the comment and returning to his own workout. Although Kunzite was not the sort of person who let his feelings influence his opinions of people, he was already certain of his dislike of Kuroi. Even if Zoisite hadn't been in the picture, Kunzite would think poorly of the man's cockish manner and bullheaded tact.

But in the end, it didn't matter. The man was irrelevant: Zoisite had been his before, and was sure to fall in love with him again. Glancing over his shoulder and seeing Kuroi engrossed in his katas, Kunzite moved on over to the other side of the gym.

Later that weekend, Kunzite found himself standing in the middle of a open, clean foyer. The walls around him were mostly window, with little seating areas beneath them. Fresh green plants framed each corner. Positive quotes in elegant frames and peaceful imagery lined the hallways peered off on either side of the main desk.

He was in Shinsenharu Centre, and it certainly wasn't the community centre he thought Izou had referred to. The establishment sat on a wide expanse of gardens and greenery, while the house itself appeared more like an immense old-fashioned mansion, surrounded by a wall of thick rose bushes. It was both beautiful and secretive, homely but progressive, a little resort away from the busy city. And the people who milled around, both indoors and outdoors, wore two separate sets of uniforms.

It was a clinic, Kunzite recognized. And since Kunzite could hardly find any information on it, that meant it was expensive and extremely private. It was either for very exclusive clientele, or a very specific illness.

The receptionist finished her call on the phone, and stood up to greet Kunzite.

"Welcome to Shinsenharu Centre. How may I assist you today?"

"I'm looking for a clinic for my brother," Kunzite answered. "I was wondering if I could tour the premises to see if Shinsenharu would be a good match for his needs."

"Has your brother's physician contacted us about the tour?"

"No, I'm afraid the trauma is quite recent. We are still uncertain what our next step should be. Are we only able to tour once our doctor has contacted your office?"

The receptionist smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid that is usually the case. It's to protect our patient's confidentiality, you see."

So there nature of their practice, or their patients' treatments, that was to be kept hush. It was very likely then that the clinic practiced medicine that was considered controversial or socially delicate. Alternative medicine, perhaps, or anything in regards to mental health.

"I understand," Kunzite agreed. "Do you have any brochures or information I may pass back to my brother, to help him with his decision?"

"Yes, absolutely. One moment please." The receptionist ducked down and pulled out a folder featuring the mansion on the front page. "After the introductory assessment, we should be able to have a better sense of your brother's treatment plan, but this folder shows all of the available streams and programs we have available."

Kunzite took the folder and quickly flipped through. It looked mostly centred on holistic health, promoting a recovery plan based on a conjunction of assisted living, counselling check-ins, group therapy.

"In addition to personal and group counseling, we have an onsite work program to that allows patients at Shinsenharu to continue developing their skills and education during their stay. Many of our patients have moved onto occupations and universities with minimal readjustments. It is been our most successful program to date."

"I imagine it does wonders for their self-efficacy and confidence."

The receptionist nodded deeply, glad to see that Kunzite appreciated their unique, multi-faceted program. "Yes, exactly."

Kunzite finished flipping through the folder and tucked it under his arm. "Thank you for your assistance. It is greatly appreciated." He turned, about to leave, but paused when he caught sight of the wall of roses directly across the lawn in the window. They were deep red and the bushes appeared freshly manicured.

"Your garden," Kunzite mentioned. "Who does the maintenance? They do excellent work."

The receptionist perked up again. "Oh! He's one of our former patients, actually. In fact, I believe he works as a contractor now."

"Do you have his business card? I'd be interested in employing him."

"Yes, one moment." The receptionist pulled open a drawer and placed the card on the desk for Kunzite to take.

"His name is Morishita Kuroi. He's very good."

Back in his car, Kunzite began flipping through the folder more carefully. While the pamphlet was not explicit about the kind of illness they treated, Kunzite had a few guesses. He would have to do further investigation by other means. Hopefully on Tuesday, Izou would feel more comfortable in divulging what was going on with him.

The lesson on Tuesday started off as ordinarily as the others. This time, however, Kunzite kept his eye out on Zoisite for any other indications - pallor, habits, wounds. But the boy looked healthy, happy and alert, so in the middle of the lesson, Kunzite decided a more straight-forward approach.

"May I ask you something?" Kunzite finally said.

Izou looked up from his work. "Hm?"

Kunzite gestured to the paper in front of them. "I see you working through these concepts, and while some of them can be challenging, you are quick to catch on. Quicker than most."

Izou smiled brightly at the compliment.

"So why is this a revision for you?" Kunzite asked quietly.

Izou's smile faded. Quickly he looked back down at his work.

"I just didn't get it the first time around, that's all," he mumbled.

"Based on some of the work you've brought in, the concepts you find most difficult are usually taught at year-end," Kunzite continued. "It almost seems like the reason you struggle with these chapters is because you weren't taught them, at all. As if your education just...stopped short."

The boy was biting his lip now, and Kunzite watched carefully as to not overstep his bounds. But he knew he was onto something.

"What happened last year?" he asked softly.

Izou wouldn't look up at him. He just stared at the formulas, pencil drifting back and forth slightly anxiously.

"Izou," Kunzite said again, gently. "It's okay. I'm not going to judge."

The way Kunzite had said his name must've sounded comforting, for Izou raised his head and uncertainty glanced at him a little. Then Izou seemed to remember the last time Kunzite had promised he wouldn't judge, and relaxed a bit.

"Promise you won't think poorly of me?"

Kunzite nodded. "Of course."

Izou nodded a few more times, as though steering himself for his next words. He put the pencil down and leaned back in the booth. Automatically the fingers came up and began twisting a lock of hair by his cheek.

"I was in cram school last year," he explained, "getting ready for entrance exams. We were doing a mock test and…" Izou shrugged embarrassedly. "One moment I'm trying to figure out vector equations, the next, my head is splitting and I'm having these crazy visual flashes. I barely remember when I hit on the floor."

Kunzite's brows furrowed. "Visual flashes? You mean, hallucinations?"

Izou's cheeks turned pink. "Not, really...I don't know. Just, like, flashes. Like there's suddenly too much information being jammed into your head, and it's coming into you in slides every split second. I blacked out."

Kunzite tried to backtrack when this must've happened. If the cram session had been the same night Zoisite had died…

"Anyways," Izou continued. "It's stupid. I woke up in the hospital and they told me I must've had a breakdown from all the pressure, or some kind of epileptic fit. My parents did their best to speed up my recovery and I managed to retain enough memory to complete my other classes...except for physics."

Kunzite listened and replayed carefully Izou's words in his mind.

"'Enough memory'?" he repeated. "Do you mean that you suffered some memory loss after the incident?"

"No," Izou suddenly said quickly. "No, I was fine, I just meant that..." His eyes trailed back to the paperwork on the table. "After something like that, it makes sense your marbles would be a little messy, right? I just meant I got everything together in time to finish my other classes, except physics."

Kunzite instantly knew that Izou was fibbing about something, but it was clear the topic was too sensitive for Kunzite to press too hard. So he pulled back instead to give Izou room to relax.

"I'm sorry you experienced that," he said sincerely.

Izou shrugged, still a bit embarrassed.

"I'm serious," Kunzite said again. "It's not uncommon, what's happened to you."

When Izou began peeking at Kunzite from the corner of eye, he nodded to show Izou he truly meant what he was saying.

"What you went through can happen to anyone, under intense stress or pressure," Kunzite continued. "Whether you're a student, an employee, or…" Kunzite paused a bit.

Izou tilted his head, and Kunzite took a bit of a deep breath.

"Even if you're a police officer."

Green eyes widened in wonderment, and Izou slowly unfurled from the little poistion his shoulders had been in.

"Saitou-sama," Izou breathed, scooching a bit closer to him. "Did it happen to you too?"

Kunzite shook his head. "No. But, I have seen it happen to other members of the force. Once when we arrived on a scene as backup, and once when I was taking my own exams."

Izou nodded, a little amazed that Kunzite was sharing this with him. Then he glanced back down at his knees.

"But none of them were in high school," Izou said with weak laugh. "I mean, the kind of pressure I was under wasn't very heavy."

Kunzite smiled softly, remembering how incredibly tenacious Zoisite had proven to be. No one else had ever thought Zoisite would be a capable officer, and yet, he had shown them all to be wrong. He wondered how Izou would come to realize that of himself.

"It's no one's right to judge what is true difficulty but their own," he said gently. "And more importantly, what marks one's strength is not how they fell, but how they stand again."

These words seemed to really help Izou, and the boy lifted himself again in hope. His face was slowly softening into a look of both incredulity and gratitude.

"Saitou-sama," Izou breathed. He nodded slowly. "Thank you."

Kunzite couldn't help but smile. "No problem."

He raised his arm and was just about to place it across Zoisite's shoulders, when suddenly it occurred to him that this was a very bold move indeed, and he halted his arm immediately. For a moment, it hovered there awkwardly, uncertain as to what to do...until Kunzite quickly switched tactics and settled for patting Izou awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Um, you know," Kunzite cleared his throat, quickly retrieving his hand back to scratch the back of his head. "If ever you have any questions or want someone to talk to, just...I might be able to help. We may have resources that might be able to help."

Izou was watching him with a curious expression as he tilted his head a fraction. "Resources?"

"Books, pamphlets, access to professionals-..."

Izou nodded. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "But I'll be alright."

Kunzite couldn't help but feel a little concerned. "Have you had another fits since then?"

Izou shook his head. "No." He slid back to where he had been sitting, and took the papers up in his hand again. "But thank you."

Kunzite got the impression that Izou had finished with the conversation, but he wasn't sure why. No matter...he'd find out later that week.

When Thursday rolled around, Kunzite was parked around the corner where the coffee-shop was. There he was waiting for Izou to finish his shift, and see where he was going. He had a hunch, but he'd follow Izou to be sure.

While sitting in the car, it vaguely occurred to him that what he was doing could be considered as stalking. In fact, it was what a lot of jealous lovers did in the movies, or so he heard. But Kunzite shook all that nonsense aside - he was operating out of curiosity and concern, not jealousy - and really, it was no different than watching Zoisite carry out his missions, or how both of them used to track the seven legendary monsters. It was reconnaissance, nothing more.

Izou did eventually appear, and Kunzite turned the key in his engine.

Two bus rides later, Kunzite found himself parked across Shinsenharu Centre.

While he waited for Izou to come back out, Kunzite began to browse through the various literature he was able to get his hands on. Medical texts regarding fainting, fits, hallucinations, headaches, trauma and memory loss. Whatever it was that Izou was recovering from, Kunzite was going to prepare himself to help - whether or not Izou was going to let him.

He had just finished reading a paragraph about the different types of amnesia when he caught sight of Izou's familiar, honey-blond locks appearing out of a side door. The boy was talking with a woman in a suit - possibly a therapist - before she let him remain outside in the garden. Now alone, Izou took a deep, satisfied breath, and began to walk the long, winding paths toward the rosebush walls.

At the furthest end, Izou came to a rest. There, another man rose from the ground where he had been crouching - it was Kuroi, wearing his landscaper's gear, shiny black hair charmingly messily tied back. Kunzite watched emotionlessly at first: Kuroi wiping his brow as he leaned against his spade. Izou tilting his head and smiling in that way he used to smile at Kunzite. There were smiles and laughs, genuine and uninhibited. They seemed to be talking quite familiarly, as if over a subject they both knew well.

And then, just as things grew quiet, Kuroi's hand reached out and gently grazed Izou's. The boy reciprocated, unfolding his hands and wrapping it shyly around Kuroi's. There were a few innocent checks over the shoulder. Then, seeing as they were alone, Kuroi slowly drew Izou close. Together they remained like this for a while, quietly and sharing in each other's presence. Their talking tumbled into whispers, whispers into breathless air, then -

Abruptly, Kunzite pulled on the gearshift, and reversed his car out.

As he silently glided away, the reflection of Izou and Kuroi sharing a kiss swam in his rearview mirror.