For all of the next week, Kunzite found himself dredging through a terrible fog of bewilderment. Try as he might to concentrate, the back of his mind would continually ruminate. Though he could rationalize that Izou's health was a private matter, Kunzite couldn't shake the feeling that it was he who used to be Zoisite's confidante. If Zoisite would no longer seek him for advice or assistance, what else left was there for Kunzite to offer?

Out of all the most recent events as of late, this realization had been the most unsettling.

Kunzite hadn't thought of any better ideas by the time Izou arrived for another lesson. Though he tried to keep upbeat, it was hard not to see Zoisite slipping away every time he saw Izou's face.

The boy seemed to pick up on Kunzite's mood and was concerned by the end of the lesson.

"Saitou-sama?" he asked.

"Hm."

"Is...everything alright?" Izou seemed genuinely worried. "It's just, you've been awfully quiet today. Quieter than usual, I mean."

Kunzite forced a little smile.

"I'm fine, thank you. Just...haven't slept well recently."

"Oh."

There was a hesitant pause from Izou, as Kunzite turned to face the textbook in front of him again. Finally Izou seemed to summon his courage.

"Did something happen?" he asked quietly. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…"

The total, utter irony. Kunzite had to give it to the universe, it loved playing him. He sighed and sat back a little in the booth.

"It's nothing," he answered just as quietly. "Just...thinking about someone, that's all."

Izou's eyes grew wide and immediately he slid himself closer to Kunzite's side. "Someone special, you mean?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

Kunzite debated how much he should tell Izou, but finally decided it couldn't harm anything. What was the point in hiding all of this from the boy anyway?

So he just nodded.

Izou gasped silently and his concern tripled. "Saitou-sama, is everything okay? What happened to them?"

Kunzite cleared his throat a bit and tried to shake off the feeling of discomfort. He wasn't used to talking about things like this, but felt that Izou would only worry more if he didn't explain.

"It was a partner on the force. They...passed, a while ago."

Izou's hand rose to his mouth. "Saitou-sama, I'm so sorry…"

Kunzite shook his head. "It's not a recent event. I suppose I was just, remembering them momentarily, that's all."

"Is today the anniversary of their passing?"

"Not exactly today. But, around this time."

Kunzite didn't need to face Izou to know that the boy's green eyes were probably wide and trembling right now. Not in a tearful way, but in that they were moist and vivid with the utmost feeling.

"Were you two...close?" Izou asked in hardly above a whisper.

Kunzite's eyes rose to meet Izou's, and in that moment, he found himself lost in the depths of Zoisite's lake-green eyes.

"I was fond of them," he said distantly.

Without thought, Izou reached out and rested his hand upon Kunzite's arm. For the briefest of seconds, the action seemed so fluid and natural that neither men had noticed. It wasn't until the peripherals of his surroundings began to creep into his view - the light walls, stainless steel, leather booth - that vaguely recognized the anachronism of the situation. Confused, he blinked, and the spell was broken.

"Uhm…"

"Oh!" Izou quickly drew his hand back, and his fingers grazed his bright cheeks faintly. "My apologies, Saitou-sama, I didn't mean to be so forward…"

Kunzite shook his head, his arm feeling strangely cool and sensitive now that it was lacking Zoisite's touch.

"It's alright," he said softly, hoping Izou would continue the touch. "I don't mind."

The boy glanced up shyly and slowly reached his hand back out once more. This time, however, his fingers wrapped around Kunzite's hand instead, firmly but gently.

"Saitou-sama has been so good to me," Izou started, with the clearest eyes Kunzite had ever seen. There was such an innocence to Izou that he could not quite remember Zoisite having, an earnestness that overpowered anything else around him. "And we are good friends now. If there is any way I can help, please let me know."

Absently, Kunzite's thumb slowly grazed the hill of Izou's knuckle. Just be with me, he thought. More than anything, just having Zoisite by his side had made all the difference.

"Thank you. I will."

A delicate, precious pause that hung between them, bridged by the familiarity of such a simple touch: the warmth of each other's hands, the graze of Kunzite's thumb, the tightness of Izou's fingers. If they were to release, the magic would break, and the bridge would disintegrate once more. But as much as he hated it, Kunzite knew he had to be the one to pull out first, lest the magic transformed to awkwardness.

He untangled his fingers from Izou to rest emptily on his coffee cup.

"My apologies, we should be focusing on your studies. Show me your work again for this last question."

But Izou didn't leap to start writing. Instead his eyes were still transfixed on Kunzite, wondering.

"Saitou-sama," Izou announced suddenly, "do you like live music?"

The question caught Kunzite a little off-guard. "I suppose…"

The glitter in those green eyes brightened. "Kuroi-chan's roommate, Shirai-san, is playing tonight at the Jazz Heart. You should join us."

Kunzite had to muster all his energy to keep himself from making a face of distaste.

"It's alright, really, I'd prefer a night to myself…"

Izou's eyes intensified and this time Kunzite could see a little more of Zoisite's fire break through. "Saitou-sama, please, I insist," he nearly begged. "You mustn't be alone tonight. I wouldn't be able to live myself if I let you."

The boy certainly still had Zoisite's sense of dramatism. "Izou, you needn't worry," he tried to dissuade gently. "I'm fine…"

But Izou would have none of it, and suddenly his hand was on Kunzite's upper arm, gripping the sleeve with urgency.

"Saitou-sama is important to me," Izou insisted again. "Please. Let me help."

At Izou's words, Kunzite's heart skipped a beat. Important. How many times had Zoisite said that in a past life? Already Kunzite could feel his resolve waning. How could he say no?

His other hand closed over Izou's.

"If you insist."

Later that evening, Kunzite arrived at the jazz bar, a little later than he had intended. It was a quiet, modest sort of establishment, awash in cozy shades of liquor and warm stage lights. One wall was lined with albums and records, their brown spines worn white in places where they had been handled lovingly. A stage stood directly across the entrance, upon which a white-haired pianist was playing. Off to its side was the mahogany bar, from which a mosaic wall of glasses and various bottles stood glinting behind the bartender. Leather barstools peeled and broke in manners similar to the albums, but none of it retracted from the club's charm.

There was a bit of space in the middle for dancing, crowded already by patrons, but Kunzite steered around it. There were various chairs and tables for small gatherings of no more than four, but they were sparse and already filled. He got himself a seat in front of the bar, but he preferred to lean against the counter so he could better see where Izou might be.

It took a little craning, but eventually he spotted the distinct copper locks among the swaying couples. The room glowed faintly as he watched two for any clues as to how serious they truly were. He had known Zoisite for so long, he knew all the boy's tells. From the crinkle of his eyes to which side of his lip he bit, Kunzite could read him like an open book.

But as the music progressed, the notes of Izou's tells started to blur. There was laughter and giggling, bashful smiles and faint looks of awe. It occured to Kunzite then that he had never seen Zoisite quite this open, nor ever quite this free. There was no tension in his shoulders, no flippant remarks or posh, airy gestures. Kunzite wondered then if Zoisite had ever truly been an open book, or if he had actually been more of a furtive novel, cracking open quick, intimate peeks for Kunzite to read. And the softness of trust in his eyes when Kuroi pulled him close- enveloped him, cushioned him, completed him- Kunzite couldn't honestly remember when he had last seen Zosite with the same look in his eyes.

When the music ended and Izou and Kuroi broke free to clap, Kunzite turned away and ordered the strongest whiskey they had.

He was so lost in thought as he sipped, that he had hardly noticed the change in music. Nor did he notice someone sliding onto the seat next to him.

"Thank you for coming."

Kunzite turned his head a fraction of an inch towards the sound of the voice. It was the pianist. This must've been Shirai, Kuroi's roommate.

"It was beautiful," was all Kunzite said, as expected. His own voice, however, sounded a bit hollow even to him.

Shirai ordered a drink and relaxed, hunched, over the edge of the bar. "But you weren't referring to my music," he said with a bit of a faint, wry smile.

This caused Kunzite to automatically stiffen just a bit, not used to someone being able to pick up his behaviour so quickly. "I'm sorry, what?"

Shirai's eyes flickered briefly over the head of waves swaying back and forth on the dance floor. "You've been staring at him all night."

Instead, Kunzie turned to stare at Shirai in perplexion. "I'm sorry," he said again, a little more steadily and clearly. "Have we been introduced?"

The other man shook his head. "My apologies, I shouldn't have been so familiar. Izou mentioned you'd be coming. I'm Shirai...you must be Saitou-san."

Kunzite nodded in confirmation, and relaxed marginally at the context. "I wouldn't think you'd be able to observe your patrons so well while you were performing."

"It's a necessary skill," Shirai explained, as his drink arrived. "To gauge the audience's feedback."

Kunzite grunted dryly and turned away to sip his drink.

"Don't worry. I won't tell Kuroi."

This made Kunzite stop, and raise his head quizzically at the smaller man once more. Shirai's expression was laid-back, as though he hardly cared one way or another, but his face was soft as leather, worn with the familiarity of a friend who knew what he was doing.

"I don't usually involve myself with patrons this personally," he reassured. "But I did sincerely wanted to make sure you enjoyed the music." He took a sip from the glass. Absently his fingers began to quietly press along the wood grain of the bar. Kunzite noticed this and immediately relaxed. Whatever Shirai's intentions, he liked to keep to himself and his music was first and foremost his top concern.

"It was beautiful," Kunzite finally said, now referring to Shirai's playing. "In a different life, I would have been completely captivated. Or considered supporting as a patron."

Kunzite's words brought another quirk to the faint smile that always seemed to be on Shirai's face, as though he was always enjoying an inside joke only he could hear.

"A different life..." Shirai mused, almost to himself. He took another drink. "Interesting, what choices people refer to, when they talk about living another life."

For the first time, Kunzite seriously began observing this man, silently sizing him up. "Are you Buddhist?"

"No. Just philosophical."

Kunzite took a few more moments calculating this man's personality in his head.

"And what choices," he asked, "would you have made in your other life?"

Shirai lost his smile briefly, whatever little there had been of it on his fairly neutral expression.

"Love," was his simple reply. And Kunzite could tell by the distant look in his eyes that whatever matters of love Shirai had regretted acting or not acting upon, it had been a genuine feeling, and it still haunted him to this very day.

Swiftly Kunzite decided he could both trust and liked this man's company, and his shoulders relaxed. His eyes returned to resting on Izou, swaying with a serene smile on his face in Kuroi's arms.

Shirai seemed to notice Kunzite's pain. "You should just tell him. How you feel."

Kunzite shook his head. "I haven't the chance," he said, as the two turned and it was now Kuroi's back facing him, blocking his view of Izou. "He's with someone else now."

Shirai seemed to be contemplating something. "But if he wasn't, would you take that chance?"

This, Kunzite found himself unable to reply. In silence he damned himself for it. Shirai seemed to understand what he was feeling.

"I thought so."

Suddenly Kunzite felt himself sinking in a mire of temporary self loathing. His grip on his drink was so hard, his normally dark knuckles were strained white. He was quickly interrupted, however, as the dance drew to a close, the music softened to an end. Kuroi and Izou broke from their embrace to applaud at the pianist who had performed.

"Your friend, Kuroi," Kunzite suddenly said, a thought striking him. "Is he a patron of yours?"

Shirai glanced over at the two. "Yes. It allows him free access to all the venues I play. It's one of his favourite places to bring people."

As Kuroi and Izou began to make their way over back to the bar, arms wrapped around each other, Kunzite made his decision. "I'll do the same."

The corner of Shirai's lips lifted into a bit of an amused smile. "Thank you for your support," he jibbed, lifting his drink an inch in the air in a feigned toast.

Kunzite ignored the man's sarcasm and clinked their glasses together before downing all his drink in one go. "You do have a gift."

"I know." Shirai took a sip from his as well as the couple neared them. "If only your appreciation would rub off on some."

Kuroi and Izou reached the two and the latter was all aglow.

"Saitou-sama! You made it!"

Seeing Izou so happy to see him brought a smile to Kunzite's face. "Yes, my apologies for my tardiness. Thank you for inviting me."

Izou waved his hand, just delighted Kunzite was here at all. He then turned to Shirai next.

"Shirai-san, your playing was exquisite," he gushed excitedly. "Truly beautiful."

"Yeah, just like the other thousands of times I've heard it," Kuroi teased.

Izou playfully pushed Kuroi a bit in the arm and glanced over at Kunzite. "Saitou-sama, what did you think?" He seemed to have noticed Kunzite was in better spirits.

"It truly was lovely." Kunzite glanced over at Shirai. "In fact, I'd love to hear more of it. I've decided to join as one of Shirai's patrons."

"Really." Kuroi's eyebrows raised. "Funny, I didn't really peg you to be that kind of guy."

Kunzite made a bit of an annoyed grunt in response, but seeing Izou's awed eyes spurred him into voice.

"I appreciate all forms of beauty."

Kuroi nearly snorted in disbelief. "I'm sure you do," he said, but clearly sounding like he knew exactly what kind of beauty Kunihiro was appreciating.

Shirai leaned back against the bar. "Kuroi, you wouldn't know good music even if it slapped you in the face."

"Just because I don't understand it doesn't mean I can't support it," Kuroi retorted in defense. "For a friend, especially."

Izou seemed to ignore these two and their light banter. "Do you play music, Saitou-sama?"

Kunzite was glad for the distraction and was so tempted to just draw Izou into his presence for a more private conversation. "No. But, I have a guitar at home. Sometimes I play some chords on it."

Green eyes lit up as though Kunzite had said magic words. "You play the guitar? I must hear it sometime!"

"I only play as a hobby," Kunzite explained. "But, you're always welcome to come."

Izou looked like he was going to definitely follow up on that. Kunzite was curious, now that they were on the topic of music.

"Do you play, Izou?"

Unexpectedly, Izou's expression fell disappointedly. "No," was his answer, much to Kunzite's surprise. "At least, not that I can remember. I probably played a few silly things back as a child."

In his first lifetime, Kunzite could remember Zoisite having a very strong affinity for the arts; something to do with his sensitivities, Kunzite had thought. He could remember seeing reams and reams of half-finished nude sketches, flowery poetry and Zoisite playing arias to perfection. A condition reared by his half-noble background, Kunzite assumed, as Zoisite did not carry these tendencies over into his second life. Nor, apparently, did it resurface in the third.

"I'm sure if you tried, you'd probably be very good at it," Kunzite suggested, knowing full well that Izou would probably end up excelling far beyond his own expectations.

Izou giggled airily as he brushed Kunzite's compliment aside. "I wouldn't even know where to begin," he laughed.

"I could show you a few chords," Kunzite offered, knowing that the moment he did, Izou would probably be able to pick up the rest of everything faster than he would. "Whenever you're free…"

Before Kunzite could finish, the music had started up again, and Kuroi was quick to suggest a dance to Izou with a nod of his head towards the dance floor. Izou lit up but glanced back at Kunzite, not wanting to leave him behind. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to join us, Saitou-sama?" he asked, and Kunzite could see the concern in his eyes; the same look Zoisite would give him every night whenever he came to bed late.

He smiled at Izou, and it was a genuine one. "It's alright, Izou. I'm afraid I'm not much of a dancer."

It was true. It had already taken a good deal of energy for him to be out in a busy crowd, much less trying to be elegantly coordinated in one. And Kunzite knew if he ever had Zoisite in his arms once more, he would never be able to let him go.

Izou's face fell a little in disappointment, but Kuroi's was one of triumph. "Why don't we go, Izou? The music is starting." He began to pull Izou back onto the floor, but the younger man stopped to glance back at Kunzite apologetically.

Kunzite knew that look and answered it without a beat. "Thank you," he reassured, "I've had a lovely time, and am feeling much better. You go dance."

Izou's face lifted in a smile and he turned back to follow Kuroi eagerly. In a swift second, Izou was once again out of his grasp, and out of his reach once more, but Kunzite hadn't missed that second when they had been tandem.

Shirai finished his drink and the empty glass hit the table with a dull thud. "Good luck," he said simply.

SIlently, Kunzite sighed to himself and returned to resting against the bar. Already he felt drained and just ready for bed; there wouldn't be any more chances to win Izou over tonight. He bade Shirai a grunt of farewell which Shirai silently returned with a nod, and was quick to make himself scarce for the night. He would wait for his next chance.

And when it came, he was sure as hell going to take it.