Green Zoisite

Hanada Kaito took a long sip from his cold coffee and grimaced, spitting the mouthful back into the cup and setting it back into the holder between the seats with a dissatisfied blech, reaching into the bag of donut holes ungracefully and popping one in his mouth and rolling it around to get out the stale taste, not once removing the binoculars from his eyes or his eyes from his target: the door two buildings down where a "suspected" mob boss had just entered, following on the heels of a politician that had entered not ten minutes prior. His partner - driver, photographer, leash, whatever - made a disgusted noise and asked for the fifth time that night whether what they were doing was legal or could be considered work for an upstanding reporter, and, for the fifth time, Kaito reminded him that the job of the press was to make public the dirty laundry people in power wanted hidden and invited him to leave at any time. The other - Abe - sighed heavily and instead offered to get fresh coffee and something substantial to eat; Kaito agreed, but quickly snapped at him when he made to start the car. This was a stakeout - if he wanted to leave, he'd be walking. Disgruntled, Abe did so, and Kaito got back to work.

A full night later he had everything he needed and went after the corrupt politician without remorse, putting together a piece within hours that would slash the man's career where it stood and give cops enough evidence to put him away - and finally catch that mobster in the act with enough evidence to lock him up, too. He was praised, cheered, had his back slapped by the Chief and had several sighs directed his way and admonitions that it was a good thing he used a pseudonym. The praise and all that was fine, but what he enjoyed seeing was the television news reports showing the politician led away in handcuffs. He leaned against his metal desk in the newsroom, watching the action play out across the screen with his arms crossed and a satisfied look, but then they went back to the studio and he started to lose interest with what would inevitably be their fluff pieces - until the flashing lights of police cars returned and the subtitles flashed something about the third in what was now apparently a string of murders. Grabbing the remote he turned on the volume and hushed the room around him to listen as they spoke of the gruesome crime scene and how it seemed they had a serial killer on the loose. He gathered everything he could, taking in all of the details - the released names, places, general overview, and when they went back to the studio again he pressed the "mute" again and snapped his fingers. Abe appeared, immediately saying, 'No, no, no no, no. Hanada, no,' but his mind was already set:

He'd be solving this murder case.

It was easy to take the story from the junior reporter - he had no drive and was honestly creeped out by the murders, so Kaito slid in and effortlessly turned the story into his next project. He shrugged into his jacket, threw a fashionable scarf around his neck and popped on a large pair of sunglasses, and just like that he and Abe were off to solve a string of murders - he'd get it approved by the Chief later. Their first stop was the police station - he liked to inform officers of his involvement whenever he stepped into a case midway - and then sat down with any of them that were involved and gathered everything he could. With his journalist credentials he had access to a good deal, and using contacts he had made on prior cases gave him even more insight into the case.

Pages of legal paper filled with notes, quotes, names, information and statements, he thanked them and made his way to the home of the first victim. There he repeated the process - names, descriptions, relationship to the deceased, their reports of what happened, pointed questions to get elaborations, leading questions to get them talking or giving greater details, eyes and ears sharp to cut the crap and the exaggerations away from the nugget of truth each one of these people held tight to. He found the family of the victim, interviewed them, asked his questions, made his notes - for hours this went on, but for him it felt like time flew as he gathered piles and piles of information - information he would later sift through to piece the puzzle together, find similarities, and learn what he could, one main question in mind: was this truly a string of unconnected murders performed by a deranged serial killer, or did these victims have something in common that tied them together and to the murderer?

He stayed up most the night stringing together the information he had gathered, Abe developing photos of people of interest to be used in his spider-web like display, listening to Kaito as he spoke, the star reporter bouncing ideas off of his "keeper" and using the rather dull man as best as he could be used. In a bout of silence, as he jotted down his thoughts and suspicions, tieing pieces together, he felt… nostalgic, and a little sick. Like he was forgetting something important, like he was used to working with someone else - someones else… but it had always just been Abe - ever since he got his first piece printed on certain illegal activities perpetrated by certain peoples in power and the Chief almost had kittens when death threats were delivered to the office. Abe was supposed to keep him grounded but the man was easy to manipulate and he often got his way anyway, yet still there had only ever been Abe.

Abe looked over at him questioningly, an dit hit him: he missed the high school newspaper crew. They weren't on his level, but they tried, and Abe seemed more keen to react than to put questions out there. Kaito sometimes wondered why the other had gotten into journalism to begin with, but then his photos were superb, so it could be the draw of interesting subject matter? He had asked about going overseas… but anyway, back to the case -

His computer binged at him, bringing him out of his jotted thoughts once again, this time in incredulity. It was three in the morning - a fact he could not escape, as he looked at his watch before even glancing at the screen, a fact that Abe didn't miss. Abe smirked and Kaito sniffed haughtily at him, "If only I were kept properly caffeinated, think of how much sooner we would be done here." Abe grumbled, but got up to make another pot as Kaito moved the mouse over the screen to check his email, but the moment the screensaver disappeared the message in his inbox disappeared. Frowning, he refreshed the page, jotting down more thoughts as he waited, and then - when it came up empty again - checked the trash folder, but there was no message there. He checked a few of the folders he utilized within the email program but there were no messages there that weren't supposed to be. Frowning heavily, he returned to the inbox screen and then started checking other programs - swearing vengeance against some practical joker if they had dared change another innocuous computer sound to his incoming email sound -

But the box had another message in it. He shook his head - that's not how email systems worked. They didn't eat emails and then spit them back out again minutes later. A glitch? Regardless, he opened the email and scanned… then scanned it again, eyes pausing on key phrases, 'I know what you're doing,' 'Stop this while you still can,' 'You'll end up just like them.' He smirked, looking at the two characters used for the signature line. A threat that doubled as a challenge: they knew who he was while he still had only an inkling of whom they could be. Whomever this was, they knew the best way to get him interested.

Abe returned, glanced at the screen over Kaito's shoulders, and groaned. Kaito smiled at the completely appropriate response and they got back to work, adding the signature lines into the mix of gathered information.

Ten in the morning they were out and about again - the early morning passing in a blur as he took a power nap to start "fresh" before hitting the streets again, armed with new questions and suspicions to disprove or gather credit for those suspicions. They saw several of the people they had the day before, but he found more besides - old classmates, previous employers, current employees, all the while stretching his net farther and farther, listening and extrapolating and jotting things down. The day ended early for him - only 8pm; he had a good deal and felt it was time wrap it all up, write an essay and involve officers with the caveat that he would only hand over his information if he got to be in on the bust.

It was dangerous, sure, but, while ill equipped to actually take part in taking the criminal down, he felt responsible to make sure it happened and happened right. The world wasn't entirely a terrible place, but if he could make it better he would use his skills to do just that. Though… that odd feeling crept up again, something like… he had once done just that?

His computer binged for an email again, and he glanced to his watch even before he realized what it was, then quickly changed screen to see a message left by a sender named Chiba -

A garbled scream of warning sent him diving for cover as something solid struck his monitor, shattering the glass to rain down all around him, electricity snapping before the entire room shorted out. He twisted beneath the metallic desk table as he scooted to the other side, looking towards the door of the otherwise empty newsroom to see Abe being held in a stranglehold by a dark figure. He glared at it, looking around for something to use to defend himself: it was the murderer. To his satisfaction, it was exactly whom he thought it would be; to his dissatisfaction, he was without a weapon. So… staying hidden, creeping around the room that he had spent hours upon hours in as he edited and typed and brainstormed, he got him talking. Everyone had a story they wanted to tell: he just had to listen, prod when appropriate, and make sure nothing bad happened to Abe (or himself) in the process. He'd work his way towards the Chief's office and call in, but while they spoke he felt like… it was too obvious. Sure, he had had to do a lot of research and background checking, but what in the world would possess this guy to show up and try to kill him rather than to run? He wasn't one of the students who had gone against him in the student council race years ago, as the other victims had been. It would've made more sense, and been more in character, for him to take it slow and catch him after work. How had he figured out who he was, anyway? Followed him? … but he would've noticed him, he was sure. Why, then -

Impossibly, the computer binged to alert him to a new email. The computer...which was fried. The murderer screamed and raged -

A distraction.

Kaito, his mouth in a thin, serious line, looked down at his watch, seeing it as a foreign entity - his, but not his. As objects flew at him from all directions, he definitely turned the dials to redirect the hands to noon, not knowing why -

And the world fell away, projectiles slowing in their path only to stop and reverse, rushing away at impossible speeds. His watch - there was something about his watch, but what? What was the story? The secret? It wasn't moving - the hands weren't flying backwards, it had nothing, then, to do with time speeding up or going backwards, but with -

Suddenly he was crouching not underneath a table on the floor of a newsroom bullpen, but on a patch of ice-cold stone. He blinked once to readjust to the dim light, the only source of illumination being the thin beams of sunlight that moved through the thin windows covered in a thin layer of ice. Water gurgled, moving in channels all around the room, the sound calming and filled the room despite the thick layer of ice on top of the channels themselves. He stood, keeping as quiet as he could, looking, listening, gathering information; there was a motif of a turtle on the wall -

The world shook and he braced himself, grabbing hold of the walls of the channel behind him to help keep his balance, and suddenly he was no longer alone. Before him stood a warrior in armor of a style similar to ancient China, the color of everything - cloth and metal - the deepest shades of black. The giant took in a deep breath, and when he opened his eyes they shone with an intense green light, a wheel behind him igniting in green flames. Kaito's mind raced trying to place him -

"Hanada Kaito, child with the soul of Zoisite, I have heard your call."

Kaito stood straight, appraising the giant warily; he had not made a call, but rather tried to answer one.

"Despite the dream that distracted you, providing you with the type of challenges you had once wished to face, you recognized the false reality lacked something important to you." The camaraderie. The wish to do more to take down those criminals. Yes, he enjoyed the mystery and the pursuit of the truth, but it seemed emptier; that it was a dream made sense, but it made him wonder what his waking world was like. "You listened to your instincts and responded in a way that made little sense to your mind but resonated with your heart and soul." The watch. He looked down at it now, and the face was completely different and yet entirely familiar, studded in blue crystals in a formation he knew by heart. The recognition started to twitch different thoughts into place; turning it to noon, communication… with… Chiba. The name from the email. He couldn't remember who he was but the connection was solid. Maybe Chiba was his boss and had given him the watch? Police officers received watches; was he really an officer? A detective? The giant continued to speak while Kaito thought, "Had you not, you may still have found happiness in that dream. The choice is yours: would you continue in the world the dream had offered, or would you pursue the call?"

He knew what decision he would make, but he wasn't about to waste this opportunity. "Why was I dreaming, and am I awake now?"

The giant's mouth twitched once before he replied, "You sleep still; your dreams were to placate you, to erase a past some would have you forget, and to keep you unconscious and unable to act."

Unable to act? Erase his past? The dream sounded forced upon him rather than a standard dream, "Who could do that? Who did that? And why?"

The giant shook his head, "You must choose your path -"

"I would pursue the call," Kaito responded with a wave of his hand, "But I would learn more before this dream ends. My questions, please."

The giant nodded, "Very well. Listen, learn, and use what you have heard to protect those who would protect the innocent. You, Hanada Kaito, are also known as the King of the North, a title granted to you by your birth in a lifetime millennia ago." As he spoke it was like the floodgates opened. North King. His weapons. Fighting Diana's phases, saving the world. Mamoru. Khalid, Nero, Yuu and Helios - Usagi-chan. Even snippets of his past life ghosted through, though those memories had always been harder to really sort through. He wasn't a star journalist in his thirties, but still in high school, still fighting to save the world. He had been taken captive while interrogating the enemy - he had stepped in to save - A shiver of dread moved through him. Was Mamoru alright? Was he were Yuu was? "You fight an enemy who drains the people of Earth of their energy and redirects the Earth's natural energy flow - the Crystal Star - in order to summon a parasitic multi-dimensional being known as Demiurge. You and your brethren have been targeted to become servants of this god as you can draw on energies tied to this world; they have been using you to assist in the redirection of the energy to create a beacon, and the beacon has been completed." So he was with Yuu, then. And, judging by his tone, Nero and Khalid, too. But how long had they been here? "Demiurge comes, and the Prince of Earth cannot face it alone."

"Send us back," Kaito immediately stated, impulsively stepping forward. Mamoru needed help, the planet needed help. What were they waiting for?

"I can break you from this dream," the giant stated, "And, together, you and yours can return to Earth, but in order to save other worlds from this fate you must destroy the sorcerer who is responsible for draining your energies, that they may never do this again." Kaito nodded. "Good. Then let me offer one last thing to you, Hanada Kaito with the soul of Zoisite: my blessing. Do you promise to serve the greater good of the Earth and do everything in your power to support its Guardian?"

Kaito nodded - of course he would serve the greater good. And Earth's Guardian? Mamoru? "Yes," he stated; of course he would do everything to help Mamoru - he was his best friend.

"Then take this," the giant said, a spear materializing in one of the giant's hands and a small pagoda in the other. He pointed the spear at him, and black ice flowed out like water to surround him. "The Blessing of Tamonten, Lord Who Hears All." As the ice touched him it flowed outward, encasing him in black armor identical to the giant's, though lined in green where the giants was pure black. The disk formed behind him - he saw it's green light shining in the ice-covered walls around him. "With it, take on my charge as the Protector of the Righteous and use my gifts to punish those who would do harm and cleanse those who do not know better." The spear appeared in his right hand and the pagoda in his left. "Along with them, I grant you the ability to understand all intelligent languages, that you may listen to not only your heart, but the hearts of others."

North King bowed his head, the name Tamonten resonating with him. This, he, was the true King of the North, and while questions ran rampant about his involvement with the position he had inherited, time was running short. "Thank you," he said, accepting the blessing gratefully. As he had been, he would be hard pressed to be of any help: he had been defeated easily, but with this armor he knew it would not be so.

As the words left his lips, the gifts faded - first the spear and the small pagoda, and then the armor itself, though it seemed to fade into him rather than disappear. He stood in his North King uniform, only it had changed: rather than the grey it had been, or even the white it was during the Silver Millennium, it was jet black, piped in green. The shoulders now had the proper military clasps, one of which held a half-cape to his left shoulder. The buttons on the jacket were now prominent and threaded elaborately in green embroidery; the top clasp, which had been his blue zoisite pendant, changed from that dark blue hue, brightening and darkening all at once, shifting minutely until, finally, it was completed: a green stone veined in black.

"This uniform is all your own," Tamonten announced, straightening his spear. "Hanada Kaito with the soul of Green Zoisite, take your place as the first true King of the North to have received my blessing in eons. Use well my blessings, and use what you hear to protect those who need it."

He nodded, thinking of Mamoru and his friends, and the world beyond that, and the temple faded away, Tamonten disappearing last of all.

He woke up trapped in a claustrophobic coffin-like box topped with a purple crystal casing. He twisted, looking above him and below him, noting the devices on either end and frowning. Stealing his energy - the nerve. "Armor of Tamonten," he snarled and kneed the crystal casing hard, the black armor forming over him just as he came in contact with it, shattering the crystal casing. A kick and a solid push later and he was freed, the casing in pieces around the energy-draining coffin. He stepped down, metal-clad feet stopping the crystal beneath him into dust, and strode off towards the obvious exit, the armor fading away in favor of the stealiter leather boots. As he walked, intent to find Yuu and then find out whether Nero and Khalid were there, collect them if they were, and take down whomever put them in those things as fast as they could in order to get back to Mamoru and help with this Demiurge monster that threatened to devour the world. Their world.

As he exited his room he found himself in a hallway, the metallic surface of the door he exited through reflective. He stopped to admire himself a moment - he didn't think he'd look good in black, but he looked downright dangerous and adored every moment of it, especially how the green stone highlighted his eyes. He retied his ponytail and struck off to kick ass, take names, and get back to Earth.

Orange Nephrite

This week had been the weirdest week of his entire life. He was constantly sleepy, which just made things worse, but he started off the week working at his mother's diamond company training to be "C.E.O." and all that - which he wasn't exactly thrilled with, a fact that they soon found out when he curled up and took a nap in the break-room rather than prepare a presentation. He got tsked for not taking advantage of his business degree, yada yada yada, but whatever. And then it didn't even matter because the next day they sold the company, so guess he didn't have to do that anymore, but that just meant his parents were on him about realizing his potential, which was a pain, especially when they found out he had no idea what he wanted to do, he just wanted to hang out and play video games. So then the next day they suggested he become a professional gamer, which he didn't even know was a thing and honestly had no idea what they thought that meant because he didn't know what it meant, and it probably certainly didn't mean he just got to hang out in an arcade every day, despite them just giving him one. Though that was fun for a while, but the arcade guy was miffed when he complained they didn't have any good vending machines nearby and after beating most every game twice he needed another nap. The next day he woke up and the arcade was just gone and instead his parents were sending him off to culinary school. Culinary school? He liked to eat foods, not make them, and certainly not the hoity toity stuff they'd make him learn about at the - the whatever french name university they had him sent to. Sure, he could read and speak French, but why would he if he had another option. English, Japanese, French, Spanish - two languages too many, in his opinion. So he purposely missed his flight, opting instead to take another nap in the terminal. Only it hadn't been a nap, because he woke up the next day and there his parents were, right in the airport, to tell him that he was going on vacation to Hawai'i because "he had earned it."

Well, whatever. Hawai'i was nice and maybe he'd get some peace there. And girls wore bikinis there.

And then… it was like… the next thing he knew, he was suddenly married?!

He woke up in a room drenched in warm light that smelled like roses, and found he didn't really want to get up yet. He smiled, reached over and, natural as anything, pulled someone close, only for her to laugh and kiss him on his nose before admonishing him about the time, saying it was well past time to snuggle and was getting into breakfast time, telling him how much he wouldn't like missing that. He grumbled something, she kissed his forehead and pushed herself out of his embrace to leave the bed much colder for her absence. He got up, looked around the pleasant room with its bright, gauzy windows and floral prints and potpourri, and felt… almost at peace. He still had no idea what was going on or where he was, but the more he considered that the less he felt that way, which… what was he thinking about? Breakfast. He should help her.

He got up, stretched, pulled on some flannel pajama bottoms, slid on his watch and met her in their kitchen. Their house wasn't all that large, but their kitchen was nothing less than impressive, though somehow she still made it homey, despite the high-tech, state of the art appliances that made her home cooking that much better for the control she had over it. She stood at the stove watching pancakes she had just labeled onto the griddle, wearing one of his shirts with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, the tail falling just below her backside. He smiled and hugged her from behind, crossing his arms around her shoulders, resting his head on her shoulder in a way that was just annoying enough to make her laugh and admonish him while still giving her enough freedom to continue watching and flipping pancakes. She smelled good.

They talked about nothing but he could still make her laugh about it, and just as she piled the pancakes on the plate she turned, stepping away from him, and asked accusingly why he was wearing his watch. He… didn't find it odd? But what was odd was that it wasn't his watch. But then… it was? He took it off and slid it into the pocket of the pajama pants for her and she seemed placated, grinning at him as she poured absolute lakes of syrup onto their plates.

The doorbell rang, and his wife remarked about it being a little too early for visitors, laughing as she suggested they pretend they were still sleeping; he mischievously shushed her, took the pancakes, and they snuck into the living room to curl up together on the couch under the same blanket, eating syrupy pancakes as she put something on the television across from them.

The doorbell rang again and his heart raced, needing to answer it - he looked down at his watch again and she frowned at him, accusing him snippily of not wanting to play with her because he was too much of a stick in the mud, which he could not let slide. He put the pancakes down, turned, and pounced at her, wrapped up in the down comforter like some sort of blanket monster. She laughed, they shared syrupy kisses - and the doorbell rang again. He got up to answer it - it had to be important - but she accused him of thinking it was more important than she was and ran off.

He had to choose to follow after her, or to answer the door. … but it was just a door. Answering it wouldn't mean he couldn't make up with her later. There'd always be more pancake mornings - But as he reached for it, seeing and feeling like he recognized the dark figure nearly as tall as was he through the frosted, bubble glass, she reappeared and yelled at him, proclaiming it was either her or the person behind the door. Who was at the door, and why didn't she want him to open it for them? And what was with the watch? He got a morning that was just for them, but this was a little bit ridiculous. He reached for the handle and suddenly she screamed and threw something at him. He dodged it and the ceramic bowl shattered - he hopped away so he didn't step on anything sharp, and started to feel sleepy again, but he fought it. She was crying about how little he must love her and he just ran. Keeping peace in a house was one thing but this was ridiculous bordering on abuse; when she wasn't insane he really liked her, but moments like this? This wasn't what he wanted at all. The house he wanted was… this was missing something. Or someones. The world started to shift and he felt even sleepier; she was still yelling in the background, and while he couldn't open the door he still had his watch.

Tired, blinking back sleep, he fell to his knees on the carpet of their study and fumbled to get the watch out of the pocket. It wasn't his. But still he moved the dial until the hands lined up with the 12 and -

The world fell away. Not like he had succumbed to sleep, but like the screen in a video game pulling away to reveal a random monster battle, only when the world came back into focus he wasn't facing a monster, he was in a weird stone temple with all these cave elements to it - stalagmites, stalactites, whatever. Okay, so, dreaming. He stood up quickly, holding tight to his watch, and when the world shook he fell into a stance that could better take the vibration. Then the enemy appeared, and it was enormous. A great giant clad in ancient black armor with green and blue accents and long sleeves and voluminous pants and - it was like that one game set in ancient China? More that than a European knight's armor, anyway. The giant had a wicked looking trident and a sword buckled on one hip, and Nero was incredibly pleased when it did not leap forward to one shot him.

"Nero Midori, child with the soul of Nephrite, I am Jikokuten, the Lord who Upholds the Realm."

Was this his boss battle spiel? He nodded, but as Jikokuten already knew his name it wasn't like he could swap introductions. "Hi," he returned instead, keeping loose and ready to run if he needed to.

"Hi," Jikokuten replied, as though amused. He tapped the butt of his trident on the floor, regarding him thoughtfully. "Nero Midori, you have impressed me with your dedication to this world and your friends. Try as they might, they could not find a dream that could capture your attention long enough to be of any good to them so long as they excluded those elements they were trying to make you forget, and in the end, when they indeed stumbled on a wish you have for your future, they could not distract you from your friendship and shared purpose. I admire such qualities, and am proud that you have carried my name."

Carried his name? But he was Jikokuten. Which… was definitely not his name?

He pointed the trident at Nero, and Nero tensed, ready to dash - "King of the East," the giant began, and just like that, everything came back to him. Mamoru, Yuu, Usagi-chan, Helios, Khalid and Kaito and Beryl, pretending to be the Prince, the fallout of that lie, being beaten up by brainwashed Usagi-chan and facing down that field filled with all those monsters and coming out victorious, only to have another problem tossed in their lap. The kid and the shapeshifters and the Archons and Yuu and Kaito being taken and - he had been taken too. He hadn't been strong enough. "I offer to you my Blessing." And, just like that, a solution presented himself. He didn't exactly know what the blessing entailed, but he'd take whatever help he could get. He relaxed and energy poured out of Jikokuten's trident and washed over him, creating black armor that mirrored the giant's, though the sleeves that were colored blue and green on the giant were colored orange for him, with some accents of blue and green. He glanced down at himself appreciatively, noting the sword on his hip - he'd like to see someone try to get through this. His hand tingled and he held it out to accept a copy of the trident that the other used. "My armor is impervious to pressure; my trident can create pillars of stone, both to punish and to provide solace to those who need it. And, should there be need of it," the trident disappeared, replaced with a stringed instrument, "My enchanting lute. May they assist you in guarding the nation."

A lute? Well, whatever, the other stuff was really useful, and, judging by what they had just been through, they needed all the help they could get. He bowed his head, grateful for the support. "Thank you for these gifts."

Jikokuten nodded, and the lute and sword disappeared, and the armor seemed to fade, falling back against him, and suddenly he was wearing his normal King of the East uniform, but as he watched the color darkened from grey to black. Buttons appeared where they had been hidden before, the snaps now buttons covered in orange embroidery; the shoulders of the jacket now had those military clasps, one of which now draped a half-cape, which looked pretty cool. Warmth at his breast returned his attention towards the buttons, where his Nephrite pendant slowly started to change; rather than the darker green nephrite that matched the pendant he had received from his grandmother years and years ago, it lightened and brightened to an orange hue, only the very heart, in the center of the gem, staying green amidst the orange stone. He looked up, pleased with the marriage of past and present with the promise of a future. "This uniform is entirely your own," Jikokuten announced, "Midori Nero, with the soul of Orange Nephrite, you are the first King of the East to truly earn my title and my blessing. Use well my gifts to uphold the realm you create together."

His voice faded on the last, echoing as the scene faded to black. Orange Nephrite. Separate from his past life but not entirely cut off. Jikokuten…

He awoke in some weird coffin, which immediately freaked him out. He impulse punched at it and it cracked, but did not shatter. With a thought his stone knuckles appeared outside the white gloves of his shiny new uniform - er, new black uniform - and tried again, the material easily shattering this time. He punched repeatedly until he created a hole big enough that he could sit up and pull himself out of it. Standing again on solid ground, he shook out his hair, the purple crystal falling to the ground like glass rain, and stretched before striding towards the only door-like thing the room had. He didn't know where he was, but he knew he was going to kick someone's ass. And, maybe -

The door opened before he got to it, and standing there, also in new spiffy black threads, was the King of the South. He couldn't believe it at first, stopping short, but as the other's blue eyes hit his through the red mask he wore it knocked him out of it. He pointed dramatically and exclaimed, "Yuu!" not so secretly enjoying the English-language pun. Laughing loudly, he rushed the last few steps and gathered the shorter guy up in a huge hug and swung him around indignantly.

"Nero," his friend replied, though he sounded a little crushed.

Laughing again, Nero put him down and stepped back, holding him at arm's length, "Man, am I glad to see you! You look okay! Well, I mean, considering circumstances."

Yuu rolled his shoulders exaggeratedly, "Yeah, well -" he paused, looking Nero over, "You were visited by Zochoten?"

"Hmm?" Nero replied, glancing down at himself as though something were wrong, and corrected him, "Nah, Jikokuten."

"You guys are loud enough to wake the dead," a voice cut through as a figure emerged from the darkness, but Nero didn't shy away from it - he strode towards it, recognizing the voice before his eyes made out the figure.

"Kaito!" but, just like he and Yuu had been, the King of the North was dressed in black, obviously Blessed as well.

"Shh!" the other replied, obviously annoyed, "Did it escape you that we're in an enemy stronghold right now?!" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest disapprovingly.

"Nope!" Nero loudly answered, his voice echoing in the hall, "Let them find me - I'll knock out whoever I have to to get home. Where are we anyway?"

North rolled his eyes, "I don't know, but we have to find West before we go knocking stuff down, and we have to make sure we decommission the person who put us under like that, and do it fast."

"Payback, I like it." Nero punched his palm.

"Then get serious," North said, pulling his mask out from his belt - the mask just appearing in his hand out of thin air before he put it on.

South closed his eyes for a moment, and Nero pulled out his mask and secured it, blinking a moment to get used to the display. South took two steps in one direction, then paused and turned the other way. "West is this way," he said, and, not going to question him when he seemed so sure, East shrugged and, along with North, they followed, seeking out the last piece of their group before they could smash this place to the ground.