After that bout of awkwardness, Shirai was the first person to break the air.

"Izou," he said, walking passed Kuroi and handing Izou the bouquet. "How are you feeling?"

Normally Izou would have been amused by Shirai's eclectic choice of flowers, but he was too distracted by Kunihiro's sudden departure. "I'm alright, thank you."

After finishing his chat with the receptionist, Kuroi joined them by the bedside, placing his new bouquet next to previous gifts.

"Has he visited you here before, Izou?" he asked.

Izou finally shook himself out of his daze and set Shirai's eclectic bouquet onto his sketchbook. "No, this was his first time."

"Interesting." Kuroi glanced over at Shirai to give him a pointed look, but Shirai was already facing Izou and either missed it or deliberately ignored it.

"Have you been sleeping better? If you're still having trouble, we could bring some of the tea we use-"

"The receptionist mentioned she's met him before," Kuroi interrupted. Izou's head jerked up, while Shirai paused with a sense of practiced patience.

"Perhaps he has been here before, but to see someone else?" Izou offered. "He is an officer, after all. Maybe he's come before to ask for information for an investigation."

Kuroi repositioned the teddy bear and sunflowers from the chair to the table. "Doesn't that seem too...coincidental to you, Izou?" he asked with some skepticism, while he gestured to Shirai to sit in the newly open seat.

"I'm alright, Kuroi."

"Better safe than sorry. Please, sit."

Shirai's anemic, Izou recalled, as he watched Shirai eventually accept Kuroi's help. Kuroi himself was always so considerate and helpful to everyone, it made it hard for Izou to understand why he would be so suspicious of someone else just like him.

"How do you mean, Kuroi-chan?" Izou asked innocently, preferring Kuroi to explain instead of considering the possibilities for himself.

Once Shirai was settled, Kuroi leaned against the wall next to him, as was his usual preference.

"I prefer not to elaborate... but at best, he probably wants a date. At worst-"

Izou interrupted before Kuroi could finish that thought.

"Saitou-sama's not like that. He's a well-respected officer."

"That doesn't necessarily mean he's not disreputable," Kuroi continued. "In fact, I'd think that makes him even more suspicious. An officer who just materializes out of nowhere one day at the place you work? Coincidentally good at the one class you're struggling with? And he has all this free time, doesn't seem to have any friends...and now Hanako-san recognizes him-"

"He's never been anything but kind to me.," Izou insisted. "I'm sure he has a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything."

"He's also like, what - nine, ten years older than you?"

"You're older too," Izou pointed out.

"That is true," Kuroi agreed, "but not ten years!"

Izou let out a frustrated sigh. As much as he would have liked to say that he and Kuroi were dating, there were times when he felt like he was treated more like a younger brother than a boyfriend.

He then looked over to Shirai, who had yet to say anything. "Shirai-chan, you don't think the same things, do you?"

Shirai glanced at Kuroi briefly.

"No, I don't," he conceded finally, which made Kuroi scoff in disbelief and Izou perk for joy. "But I can also understand Kuroi's logic, as well."

"But you see where I'm coming from, right?" Izou said excitedly, choosing to ignore Shirai's second comment. "You don't think Saitou-sama is dangerous."

"No, I personally don't think so."

"But he is strange," Kuroi interrupted again. He even frowned at the door by which Kunihiro had left by, as if he was still there. "There's something off about him, and my instincts are rarely wrong."

With this, Shirai seemed to agree. "He is a bit odd, it's true."

Izou let out another sigh, this time accompanied with some overdramatic deflation into his pillow.

"What is this, an intervention?" he muttered.

"No," Shirai said gently, before Kuroi could answer. "We are just sharing our observations, that's all."

"And worrying, a little," Kuroi amended. "We don't want to see you hurt, or taken advantage of, Izou. You've come so far -"

"Kunihiro-sama's my friend," Izou insisted again, whipping up from the pillow again. "You got it all wrong, both of you. He would never hurt me."

"I agree," Shirai said once more, before Kuroi could intervene. "But what I'm more concerned about is how you are, when you speak of him."

"How do you mean?"

"You seem quite…" Shirai took a moment to consider his words carefully. "...Enamoured with him."

"Enamoured?" Izou exclaimed, and even Kuroi looked surprised. "You say that as if I'm in love with h-!"

There was an abrupt pause, wherein Izou's cheeks coloured brightly. There was an awkward silence as the three of them glanced at one another, before Izou combusted into a sputter of protests, horrified and red as a beet.

"That's preposterous! I'm not in love with Saitou-sama!"

"Izou, it's alright," Shirai said softly. "That's not what I meant."

"It wasn't?" Kuroi asked Shirai, even more confused. "Are you?" he asked Izou.

"I'm not!" Izou insisted adamantly once more. "This is -, I swear I'm not -"

"That's not what I meant," Shirai said again, to both parties. "I only meant that you seemed quite taken with him. Not necessarily romantically. One can still idolize another in a friendship."

"If the feeling is platonic, then what is the harm?" Izou retorted, a little more hotly than intended. Thankfully, it didn't seem that Kuroi believed that Izou's heart might have wandered - he was still looking at Shirai to explain, with rapt attention.

There was a flicker of pain there in Shirai's eyes, a distant recollection. A pain he knew too deep, too personally. Its ache was so clear and vivid that it even shook Izou out of his own embarrassment. But as soon as Izou's cheeks had begun to cool, it was gone - replaced with only mild, blank sort of distance.

"Because far too often," was Shirai's quiet and wise response, "we can lose ourselves too deeply in another person. And the cost of that is to never find ourselves again."

Shirai's cryptic advice alarmed Izou, but Kuroi seemed to understand. In fact, the man had even turned his face away now, staring at the door with a similarly grave solemness. Izou was about to protest when he caught the sudden sadness in Shirai's eyes, and realized then that it was better not to ask.

"I won't lose myself in Saitou-sama," Izou finally said softly. But even as he said it, a strange pain echoed in the cavern of his chest. His voice didn't seem his, and both Shirai and Kuroi were only silent in response.

A week later, Izou was standing before a certain, familiar door. It was in a nicer neighbourhood, kind and plain and unassuming. In coming here, he had gotten off at an earlier station, just so he didn't have to go anywhere near the park that was nearby. In his hands, he gripped the manila envelope full of his completed assignments.

This was Kunihiro-sama's door.

As he rubbed the edges of the envelope, he wondered if what he was considering doing was a good idea. Kuroi-chan and Shirai-san would probably have advised against it. But then again - that's why they weren't here, and why Izou hadn't told them.

"I'm sorry we had to give you such a hard time," Kuroi had said, when they had been getting up to leave. "But we only do it because we care."

Izou bit the bottom of his lip at the memory. Should he be wasting Kuroi's and Shirai's kindness like this?

"If anything ever happens, I want you to let us know, okay?" Kuroi had continued, before squeezing his shoulder. "Come straight to the house."

Izou had only ever seen Kuroi's house from the front. Back then, it seemed like such a lush and secretive place. Izou had wondered if Kuroi hadn't been ready to show him its insides yet, for fear that he had not yet remembered its contents himself.

"We'll always have your back, Izou."

Izou shook the sound of Kuroi's voice off his shoulders. He had to do this. He couldn't live his entire life contained by the unknown of his past. He had to live in the present, make his own decisions, take control of his own life. As much as he appreciated Shirai's disconcerting advice, he needed to prove to them - and himself - he could handle Kunihiro in his life. He could still maintain his sense of self while being friends with Kunihiro, who was safe and had no ill intentions against him.

Now he just had to determine that for sure…

Summoning all his courage, Izou took a deep breath and rapped smartly on the door.

There was some pause as he waited, his grip squeezing tightly on the envelope. He looked up at the ceiling to take his mind off biting his lip, but with little success. His heart was pounding in his ears as each second ticked by.

Finally, the latch on the door slid open, and Kunihiro's face appeared.

"Izou?" He looked surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Izou beamed brightly. "Oh nothing, I was just in the neighbourhood!" He presented the envelope over. "I wanted to drop this in person. Thank you so much for thinking of me." At that last part, Izou winced - he hoped that hadn't come off as more flirtatious than he had intended.

Kunihiro's surprise changed to confusement, but nevertheless, he opened the door further and accepted the package.

"It's no problem," he said, looking at Izou with some concern. Suddenly realizing that Izou was standing expectantly, Kunihiro stepped aside awkwardly to offer the open door. "I'm sorry, would you like to c-"

"Ah, that would be lovely, thank you!" Izou chirped, already halfway into the apartment before he had even finished his sentence. "How are you, Saitou-sama?" Although his voice sounded higher and louder than usual, IIzou hoped his pleasantry came off as casual and convincing.

Thankfully, it seemed to. The door closed behind him with a gentle click, and when Kunihiro turned around to face him, he no longer seemed confused.

"I'm fine, thank you," he responded, and Izou was relieved to hear the evenness in his voice had returned. "Would you like some tea? I was just making some."

"Oh, that sounds lovely," Izou replied sunnily.

"Green tea?"

"Yes please!" Izou trilled. When Kunihiro disappeared into the kitchen, Izou nearly kicked himself. How stupid had he sounded? Thankfully this bought him some time to breathe, and by the time he heard the kettle being set on the stove, his nerves were better corralled. "Do you mind if I have a wander?" he called, as if he hadn't already once explored Kunihiro's home the last time he was here.

"Not at all," he heard Kunihiro grunt. "The place is yours."

Relieved and ecstatic, Izou flew his hands behind his back, and slowly began to inspect everything on offer in the living room. Surely there would be clues here to confirm Izou's opinion of Kunihiro. But as he had noticed before, the apartment was mostly bare of personality or decor. There were a few books relevant to work, a PC set up in the corner, a couple of plants that were in desperate need of some loving attention. Apart from the guitar in the opposite corner, Kunihiro-sama seemed to live a very bland existence. In fact, there was only one photo in the whole room, and it was dusty.

Curiously, Izou drew forward to inspect it. It was a colored photo, but the outlines of the people were vaguely blurry and orange-tinged. As he looked a little closely, he recognized one of the two men standing at attention: a young Kunihiro in his best uniform.

Next to him stood an older, broader gentleman with smart dark hair, and a faint mustache from nose to jawline. He was dressed similarly, but decorated with many more medals and badges. Both were unsmiling in the photo, professionally apart and at attention, but Izou could tell there was pride in both their eyes.

With great care, Izou slowly unwound his hands from behind his back, and picked up the frame gingerly. There was something beautiful and homely about this photo, a kind of softness in seeing a glimpse of Saitou-sama's normal life. But it also felt simultaneously out-of-sorts, out of place. Perhaps it was the layer of dust that sat upon the glass, dust that Izou carefully wiped away thoughtfully. Or maybe the brownness of the frame...shouldn't it have been gold…?

"That's my graduation photo," Kunihiro explained, matter-of-factly. Izou turned and saw Kunihiro place two cups on the kitchen table. "From the police academy."

Carefully, Izou placed the photo back on the shelf. "Who is the man next to you?"

Kunihiro looked up, gazing at the photo with an unreadable expression.

"My commanding officer at the station. The Chief of Police. He was the reason I decided to become one in the first place." He said this as though they were only facts, not personal, sentimental anecdotes of his life.

"He inspired you," Izou said quietly. For a moment, he genuinely forgot the reason why he was here, and turned to face Kunihiro with big, curious eyes. "How?"

Kunihiro's face hardly changed, though his eyes seemed to look past Izou, into another lifetime.

"He took me under his wing from a young age," Kunihiro replied, in the same, informative tone. "I was an orphan with some juvenile scrapes- he helped sponsor a home for me to stay, an education to have. I owe most of my current life to him."

Izou looked back at the photo, where his fingers hand faintly streaked the glass clean.

"Then why is it dusty?" he asked, slowly walking over to the kitchen table. "Did you two have a falling-out?"

Kunihiro was pouring the tea into two steaming cups. He glanced up at Izou briefly.

"Hm? No." He finished pouring and set the teapot back down. "I've just had different priorities recently, that's all."

Izou nodded, his hands gripping the ridge of his seat.

"Is that a common thing that happens?" Izou asked suddenly. "Officers looking after youth?"

Kunihiro settled down as well, and took a sip of his drink. "It's not unheard of. Many youths and teenagers here are without parents, and live on their own. As part of our neighbourhood responsibilities, we usually check in on them and help where we can. Support them in becoming part of the community, lest they become lost."

Izou chewed his bottom lip again. He had to ask now, before he lost his nerve.

"Is that why you offered to tutor me?" he finally asked softly. "Because you sensed I was lost?"

Kunihiro blinked, and paused momentarily.

"Perhaps," he admitted. "But...you also reminded me of someone."

"Someone you lost," Izou remembered. As far as he could tell, there was only honesty in Kunihiro's face. Honesty, and some sadness.

"Yes," Kunihiro confirmed. "That is correct."

It pained him to see Kunihiro like that, with that hollow distance in his eyes. Frustrated, Izou covered his face with a groan, and finally crashed down in his chair with a loud sigh. He hadn't found anything definitive about Kunihiro, and everything he said sounded plausible, even honorable. No matter what Kuroi said, Izou just couldn't believe Kunihiro would have some elaborate plot to take advantage of him.

"You've been speaking to Kuroi?" Kunihiro intuited. "You're wondering if I am to be trusted."

Caught, Izou's head snapped back up with a look of excruciating apology.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend -"

Kunihiro shook his head. "It's alright," he murmured, with a voice that was quiet and even, free of judgement. He cleared his throat as though the next few words were going to be hard to say. "His concerns are...fair."

Izou choked, aghast. "How can you say that, Kunihiro-sama?! You're not like that at all -!"

Kunihiro cleared his throat again, and its note of quiet but firm authority made Izou feel chided. But he couldn't shake that he was right... after all, if Kunihiro was going to take advantage of him, why would he be so honest?

"I mean that he's been there for you for much longer," Kunihiro continued, in a somewhat resigned voice. "And he clearly cares about you a great deal. Thus, I am not surprised he would be so concerned about the nature of our...interactions."

"Should he be concerned?" Izou pushed, with an edge of panic to his voice.

Kunihiro shook his head. "No, of course not. So long as it was by your choice, I would not intervene beyond that of a friend."

Izou let out a huge breath of relief. There! That wasn't so bad! Kunihiro-sama wasn't going to whisk him away and-

"Wait," Izou suddenly realized. "By my choice? So if -..."

There was a sudden quiet as the meaning of Kunihiro's words began to dawn on both of them. Simultaneously, Izou's hand rose to cover his lips, while the high ridges of Kunihiro's cheekbones turned faintly pink.

"I mean," Kunihiro tried to amend first, "perhaps I misspoke-..."

"No, I understand..." Izou's own cheeks began to blush. Then, his eyes began to widen. "So the first time we met …"

Kunzite looked over at Izou with alarming uncertainty, unsure of how Izou was going to take this news. "My apologies, I-..."

But Izou's eyes were slowly twinkling, and a flattered smile burst across his face. "You were asking me out on a date!"

Quite embarrassed now, Kunihiro cleared his throat again and tried to hide his face behind his cup. The sight was so endearing, it almost broke Izou out of his shock to laugh, but he had the good sense to contain himself.

"I'm so sorry, Kunihiro-sama, I shouldn't have reacted so immaturely…"

"No, it's alright," Kunihiro replied, setting the cup down and attempting to appear dignified. "I am...not always good at expressing myself. So I can understand if ...the gesture hadn't been clear."

The humility Kunihiro-sama was displaying was so sobering, Izou couldn't help but glance at him apologetically.

"All this time...why did you stay?"

Izou wasn't sure what he had expected as an answer, but it certainly wasn't how Kunihiro's eyes suddenly filled with such feeling, such intensity of tenderness. The memory of Kunihiro's partner flashed briefly before his eyes..had they been more than a friend on the force? Suddenly Izou's own heart ached painfully so.

"For the same reason why Kuroi is so protective of you," Kunihiro murmured. "Because you make our lives brighter simply by your presence."

The answer completely robbed Izou of all his breath, and in its place, a strange sense of humility.. This wasn't silly young love, or an operatic romance like in the shows. This was serious, true love...a love weighted with terrible grief. It was both precious and a burden, and Izou felt both honoured and unworthy at the same time to be compared to it. Uncertain how to deal with the comment, he could only look down at his lap instead.

"And...what if I stay with Kuroi?" he asked in a whisper. Suddenly he wasn't sure if he could bear the answer.

From the periphery above his eyes, he saw Kunihiro's hand creep into his vision, and gently close over his.

"I would never push you to do something you didn't want to," Kunihiro said softly. "So long as you choose him, I will support you however I can."

Izou's head lifted hopefully. "So- we'll still be friends?" he whispered, never wanting Kunihiro to release his hand. "Real friends?"

There was a flicker of sadness in Kunihiro's eyes, but he managed to hide it well with his small smile.

"Of course."

Suddenly Izou felt a surge of incredible feeling, and he wanted to cry and laugh and throw himself at Kunihiro all at once. Before he knew it, he was.

"Are you sure we haven't met before?" Izou whispered. "How do you understand me so well?" Why do I feel so good around you?

Kunihiro had been taken off guard by the motion, his arms on either side of Izou, uncertain as to what to do. Eventually, they circled around him and gave him a gentle squeeze. "No," he said, his voice low and with a little sadness in his eyes. "Not in this life."

They stayed like that for a little while, with Izou slowly absorbing the information. When the quakes in his chest eventually quelled out, he slowly eased apart from Kunihiro, wiping tears away from his cheeks and laughing embarrassedly. But Kunihiro didn't judge - just remained patient as Izou sat back down in his own seat, relief rushing through his veins. A strange ache lingered in the air, now that their touch had been broken.

"Then...if we are so close," Izou said softly, trying to gather himself up again, "may I say something quite frankly?"

"Of course."

Izou took a deep breath, and the corner of his lips quivered in a bit of a tentative smile.

"The state of your plants are atrocious."

There was a surprised pause, and then, unexpectedly, both men broke out into pure laughter out onto the kitchen table. Izou had never seen Kunihiro laugh like that: a rare, true hearty laugh that shone smooth and cracked little dimples on his face, sweet, pure, uninhibited. It was so refreshing to enjoy a laugh like this, to disintegrate into free giggles alongside the only person who made him feel like he was totally at home.

"They are, aren't they?" Kunihiro finally agreed, tilting his head at it from across the room. "Admittedly, I've never had a green thumb."

When Izou's giggles finally calmed down, he glanced at Kunihiro with a big, pure smile on his face.

"If you'd like me to, I'd be happy to see if I can help the big one recover," Izou offered. "Though I can't guarantee anything."

"No, please, take it and keep it," Kunihiro assured. "I imagine it would be in far better hands with you."

Izou's eyes softened, and when Kunihiro wasn't looking, he took his hand again, and gave it a meaningful squeeze.

"Thank you, Kunihiro-sama," Izou said sincerely. He didn't know how else to express his gratitude, but he hoped Kunihiro understood how much everything had meant to him. In response, Kunihiro gently placed his own hand over his.

"There's nothing to thank," he replied quietly.

Izou squeezed again, wanting to commit the warmth of Kunihiro's hand to memory. But all good things had to come to an end.

"I'm sorry, I...should get going," Izou said, getting up. "I didn't mean to take up so much of your time today."

Kunihiro rose as well. "No trouble at all. You're always welcome to visit, anytime."

Some of Izou's wayward curls had stuck to his face from his tears, and he tried to push them aside. "May I use your bathroom? I just need to clean up…"

"Of course. Just around the corner. I'll tidy up and drop you off, if you need."

The way Kunihiro looked out for him filled Izou with a sort of warm fuzziness he couldn't describe. How lucky he was, Izou thought, as he shut the bathroom door behind him and turned the tap at the sink. The rush of the warm water was soothing to hear, and equally comforting on his face. Everything was going to be okay.

He had used Kunihiro's washroom once or twice before, and nothing had seemed out of the ordinary then. Maybe it was because of the things Kuroi had mentioned, but as Izou dried his face on the nearest towel, he began to notice little...oddities.

First of all, there were two towels. One that looked clearly like it had been used so often it was worn down to the texture and color of threadbare carpet; the other, bright, soft, fluffy to the touch. This was the one Izou was using.

The bathtub and shower combo was small, but the fact that there was even a bathtub impressed Izou. They were an expensive addition in some regards, with the amount of space they took up. In the corner, Izou spied two bottles; a masculine generic brand of shampoo with matching brick of soap, alongside a daintier, curvier bottle...cherry pink blossom shower gel.

This struck Izou as more than a bit peculiar...Kunihiro didn't seem to be the sort to be expecting guests to stay over, and yet, the bathroom was set up as such. Ironically, that was the same sort of shower gel that Izou himself liked to use on occasion.

As though possessed, Izou reached forward and yanked open the cupboard. Its contents were more pink than it was any other shade of color. For a man whose home was devoid of colour everywhere else, this screamed in contradiction. There were face creams and body lotion, bath salts, bubble bath.

Bubble bath, Izou thought to himself as he felt his nerve beginning to shake. Kunihiro was an enigma but there was no way in hell the man bought himself a product for pink bubble baths. But Izou...he liked bubble baths.

Slowly Izou reached down to pull open the drawer beneath the sink and began picking up the contents within- ….among the scattered first aid material and back up toothpaste, there was an expensive hair-dryer, specialty shampoo and conditioner that boasted his shade of locks - a thick, round bristle brush for curly hair.

Izou dropped these items as though they burned him. Curly hair! But that wasn't all…

Gut twisting, Izou slowly reached into the back of the drawer, and fished out a single hair tie from a collection in a clear acrylic box. Just as slowly, he reached back into his own hair and pulled out his own hair-tie. He put the two together, one frayed, one unbroken...and they were the exact same color.

A knock came at the door. "Izou?"

The voice startled Izou and everything else crashed onto the floor as well. Even though he was afraid, there was also a streak of complete disgust and outrage that completely overrode his fright and prompted him to throw open the bathroom door. His face grew hot, his hands began to shake.

"What. Is. This."

He was gripping the brand-new teal tie in his fingers so tightly his knuckles were skeletal white. Kunihiro looked completely taken by surprise and his eyes darted from the tie to the half-opened bathroom in confusion. "That's your hair tie-..."

"No, this is my hair tie," Izou snapped, showing Kunihiro the worn one gripped in his other hand, frayed with his own hair. "This is from a box of it in your drawer along with what seems to be double your weight in bath products that seemed strangely to cater to me."

Izou was quivering and Kunzite was at a complete loss as to what to do. He hadn't even realized he had been collecting the items over the years, anticipating the day for when Zoisite would one day return back to him. "Izou..."

Izou wouldn't hear another word of it and swirled around to yank open more doors and cupboards to reveal his point, revealing bath scrubbies, flora toiletry, scented candles. There was even his favourite brand of fragrance spritz!

"Why do you have these things?!" Izou was demanding, voice rapidly climbing in volume and pitch. "How do you know all this about me?!"

More items clattered to the ground as Izou continued unloading the bathroom and all its contents. Spa flower petals, fancy soaps, more accessories for light, curly hair. He hardly caught Kunihiro calling his name until perhaps the fourth time.

"Izou…"

"What?" Izou whipped around and looked nearly ready to bowl Kunzite over. "Because unless you're going to tell me you actually have a wife hiding somewhere I don't know about, there is no other fucking explanation you can give me!"

The volume of Izou's words seemed to pierce through the halls of the apartment like a devastating soundwave, and Kunihiro appeared wordless. Perhaps the realization of what he had done was dawning on him now, and there was no other way to explain it. In the aftermath of the demolition, the anger trembling in Izou now crumbled to complete and utter devastation.

"Kuroi was right about you," he whispered, his face crushed. Fighting the tears welling up in his eyes, he tried to push past Kunzite towards the front door. The movement suddenly brought Kunzite back to life and he quickly strode after Izou to cut him off at the entrance.

"Izou, please wait-"

"Let me go!" Izou shouted, yanking his hands away from Kunihiro and balling them into fists. "I don't care who you are, I will hurt you if you don't get out my way!"

"Izou, listen-"

"Fuck off!" Unable to control himself anymore, Izou threw his hand back and nearly snapped the back of it across Kunzite's cheek. Automatically, Kunihiro's own hand rose and deftly knocked it aside as he suddenly rose to his full towering height.

"Zoisite," Kunzite suddenly said, and his voice boomed like a bellowing canon, "enough!"

In a split second, all of the air vacuumed from the premises, leaving only the smoke of a war front in its wake. The blood in Izou's face had drained, leaving him lost, pale, still, frozen. Kunzite released the deep breath that had swelled in him and his shoulders released from their tense height in armistice.

"Apologies, Izou," he muttered, "I didn't mean to -"

"That's not what you called me," Izou breathed. His heart was starting to ram in his ears, and fingers were beginning to tremble again. "You called me Zoisite."

Kunzite slowly exhaled. There was no other way they could avoid this conversation now.

"I did," Kunzite confirmed softly.

Izou's whole body began to shake, but only partially out of fear. "Why?" he demanded, trying to get a hold of the situation, but the slightest shake in his voice betrayed him.

"You know why."

Izou's fist was balled so tightly he could feel the nails cutting deep into the flesh of his palm. When he spoke, his voice had a note of desperation and panic to it.

"I don't," he whispered. He didn't need this. He didn't need all of this. This wasn't normal, this wasn't who he was.

"Are you certain?" Kunzite asked slowly. His faint blue eyes seemed to rivet Izou in his place.

Zoisite.

Izou could hear Kunihiro's voice echo in his mind, saying that name with a warmth and lustrousness that was both new and familiar, beautiful and frightening.

"You lied to me," Izou whispered finally, hardly louder than an exhalation of breath, as tears welled up in his eyes. "You've been lying to me this whole time."

This took Kunzite off guard a bit. He had been hoping Zoisite's memories would flood back and embrace Izou. He hadn't planned on his response otherwise.

"I have not," Kunzite tried to defend. "In this life, we have not crossed paths before. But in another life-"

"Another life?!" Izou exclaimed incredulously. "The - nerve of you! I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I won't stand here and let you twist my memories so that I can be molded as some replacement for a ghost of a lover-!"

"You're not a ghost," Kunzite was quick to interrupt, "you are Zoisite. You know it by what's in that bathroom, the feeling of belonging you have when you enter this house. If you were not Zoisite-"

"What?" Izou snapped, and his eyes flashed dangerously. "If I wasn't Zoisite, then what."

Kunzite quieted, but the damage had been done.

"I had not meant to mislead you," Kunzite finally said softly, "but I know you know this to be true. You feel it, drawn to me, as I am drawn to you. You asked me how I could know you so well. This is how."

Izou couldn't believe what he was hearring. "You're saying," he started in a shaky whisper, "that I am the lover you lost. That this is the reason why you know me. Why you found me. Why you have all this shit in the bathroom that's just for me."

He had wanted Kunihiro to look ashamed, to show that he had been caught in the ridiculousness of his facade. Yet, Kunihiro's expression hardly flickered; it remained evermore solemn.

"Yes."

Izou's fists began to shake again. These explanations were the words of a mad man, but the way Kunihiro was speaking of them, they sounded nearly like truth. They had to be, Kunzite hoped.

"I have to go," was all Izou could say. He pulled his hands to himself and tried to force his way past the older man. This time, however, Kunihiro did not try to stop him.

"I'll show you," Kunzite said as Izou laid his hand on the doorknob.

Izou paused, but did not turn around. His grip tightened on the knob.

"You've spent your whole waking memory trying to find yourself," Kunzite continued. "I'll show you who you were, before you woke up." Glancing over his shoulder at Izou's back, Kunzite took a gamble. "How it came to be - that dream you have, of being surrounded by flowers. The one with the pink sky, and the raining flower petals."

Izou's heart stopped, and he felt his colour draining again. He had never told Kunihiro that dream. He had never told anyone about that dream.

All at once, Kunihiro's voice seemed to blend with the one from that dream. The timbers aligned, their resonance merged.

"Forgive me, Zoisite."

His fingers slipped from the doorknob, and slowly he turned back to face the man. He didn't dare look for too long, but it was like trying to pull away from an oncoming tsunami - horrible and beautiful all at once, the remainder of your fate rooted in the next few seconds.

"Where." Izou's voice was hollow and coarse.

Kunzite would have been lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, but he knew what had to be done.

"I'll take you to Starlight Tower."