Scene #2716: Prince and Thorns

Owner	Pose
Mamoru Chiba	It's a beautiful early summer day, and the sun's out in force, necessitating things like potted trees and remote-controlled wifi umbrellas that are the only 'smart home' features allowed in the apartment on their own guest wifi. Mamoru -- ahem, 'Wicked' Mask -- steps out of the air under that umbrella in henshin and, a half-second later, is already out of henshin. He's wearing his mauve-and-wine-red-roses hand-painted black yukata with the wine-red obi, his regular strap sandals, and his glasses, which are clean. His tips are frosted bubblegum pink, and his forehead is a little red in the middle where he obviously ''just finished'' cleaning the crooked moon off. He's carrying a small shopping bag in one hand, and a drink carrier with two bubble teas in it.Rr "Izou..?"
Zoisite	He'd been there for some time since leaving the academy. Light green apron on, covering his light blue jeans, brown converse shoes and a grey v-neck shirt. Strangely, instead of a ponytail, Izou had his hair twisted up and pinned with a green clip--unknowingly imitating Isamu, his other self. Had he taken any time to really think about it, he'd be slightly horrified. Thankfully no one seemed to have noticed, and the plants did not communicate vocally. So he was focused on dirt and pots and transferring ready bloomed saplings over up until he heard his name. Turning head, green eyes looking over his shoulder to see his prince in a much more casual getup and thankfully no crooked moon in sight. Sighs. Thank the gods. "You made it."
Mamoru Chiba	On the sigh of relief and relaxation, Mamoru himself relaxes a tension he didn't know he was holding, and sets the drinks carrier on the table before putting the bag down, too, and-- He holds out his arms hopefully. It's an overture without crowding. "I got you a thing. I paid for it, don't worry."
Zoisite	Stands up, and he's still wearing gloves as he comes close, reaching over to take one of Mamoru's hands in his own. Giving it a gentle squeeze, but not stepping closer for a hug. Not yet. "You know you didn't have to bring anything." Were it any other day, Izou would have been preening himself, eyes squinting with nothing but curiousness at what was brought for him. Much was in his mind, scarcely around as well, ever since their return from the future. "I was hoping I could talk to you about something serious, if you're up to it."
Mamoru Chiba	"Well," Mamoru says mildly, something in his chest squeezing and not making it to his face because he ''expected it'', he was prepared for it, "I already had it and not bringing it would have been silly." The hand is squeezed back, held between both hands for a second before being let go, and Mamoru's breath is a light thing as he steps back and picks up one of the teas, then sits down at the table. "Of course." His voice has a particular quality to it right now -- the kind of sound it has when he's drifting a little bit and is in the process of reining in his thoughts.
Zoisite	It wasn't hard for Izou to read it, and it pained him as much as it made him feel a certain quality of anxiety bubble up in his core. However, this was something he ''owed'' to Mamoru and needed to be said before anything else happened. When their hands disconnected, Izou took in a breath, and accepted the offered tea. It was cold. It felt good in his hands. Where to start... "...I am aware I made myself a fool, when it came to those twins back in Crystal Tokyo. We never had a chance to fully discuss it, and I doubt there is any reason to do so now, they are not important anymore. But there was a reason I was perturbed during my time in the future." It made sense on his mind to pick up where he started to fall apart--and everyone else noticed, including his prince. "I don't know if Masato or Kazuo spoke to you about it. It wouldn't surprise me, but I wanted to tell you myself first either way." Once more inhale, his greens glued to Mamoru's eyes. "When you and the others were with the survivors, and I had been scouting ahead to make sure the road was clear, I ran into Saphir." There. Like a stone dropping through water. "He had droids around him. But he didn't attack me, and I didn't attack him. We talked, instead."
Mamoru Chiba	Mamoru makes a little face at the 'made myself a fool' line, but doesn't interrupt, even if his face says he disagrees. Instead, he listens while carefully sipping his own tea, then chewing on boba. "I'm glad he didn't attack you, but I truly wouldn't have expected him to -- he doesn't seem the type. Kazuo mentioned something about you working on him, I think. Did you make progress?" There's no anger, no judgement. There's only a keen interest, visible in the way he sits up and forward a little, in the way he ''focuses'' his whole attention needle-sharp on their conversation. His attention is heavy, weighted. Somehow regal even when he doesn't mean it to be.
Zoisite	"He isn't the type. You didn't see him when we fought the dragon, but he didn't lift a finger when I instructed everyone to attack him. He's not a fighter. He was the shield, and the creator of the droids." Izou explained, nodding to everything that has happened so far. "We both related quite a bit, actually..." That was a whisper, some semblance of shame trickling into his voice. He'd been hiding this for a while, the reflections he saw in blue facets--fascination, coveting more of an explanation, of a deeper connection. "At least, I thought we did. Not in the best ways... But I had his attention, enough for him to agree to consider evidence if I gave him any." This is when Izou pulls out his new phone from his apron, opening his contacts and turning it over so Mamoru could see that he saved his old numbers, marking it as Saphir's. "I asked the King for information on the Black Moon Clan back then so I could give everything to Saphir when I next met him. I had no way of giving it over besides my phone. So he should have it still." His new phone and number now made sense. And yes, he was still kept the other line active just in case. "When I gave it to him, he thanked me and left. I don't think I expected much of a reaction, he was never the type to show emotions, but I think after everything..." Gaze averts, eyes narrowing like he was keeping away the ''worries'' he had. "...I hope he saw the truth. And I wanted to text him, see if he'll meet me again."
Mamoru Chiba	Unconsciously, Mamoru's already putting his tea down and wiping his cold wet condensation hand on his yukata. He's already starting to reach across the table, that look on his face like-- he wants to use his body or his mind to shield Zoisite from the wilds of reality and emotional trauma. His hands freeze and he catches himself, the abortive movement only long enough to be noticed. He looks self-conscious as he laughs a little and crosses his arms, his own gaze averted for a second, but then returning to Izou. "I think you should text him," Mamoru says, the words bare under the shade and in the breeze blowing in from the bay. "I think you should have backup. I hope it can be me, because I have something for him and it's probably safer to give it to him with you there than with New Moon and Wicked Lady there." He doesn't look away from Zoisite again, but his head does tilt a little as he watches the other boy. "It's something I was-- thinking maybe I should ask you to give him, but it should come from Endymion." The 'young king' as the Black Moon called him, he sits back and he sighs. "I have what's left of the heart crystal of Crimson Rubeus. Or will do once Minako-san cleans the fish tank goop off it."
Zoisite	This, the attempt in reaching for him, knowing well that contact between flesh and the willingness to let his prince in--no. No not this time. Not when there were things in his mind he wasn't sure what Mamoru wanted to see, or shield him from. But the damage has already been ''done.'' Whether Izou knew it or not, he picked this for himself. There was only one ending to this story. Still, he's the one to put down his tea as well and offer both of his gloved hands. At least a tangible comfort, were Mamoru to take it. Because approving words of yes, he should reach out to Saphir again. Not be alone if they were to meet up but, yes. Reach out again. It lifted some of the weight from his shoulders, muscles relaxing. Yet the mention of Rubeus' crystal heart grabbed at his mind like a vice. That--''That!'' Minako did get it. Memories quick to flood in of when she showed it to the senshi and himself as he was making tea in Mamoru's apartment. Partly broken, like his own. Like the crystal that Saphir plucked from Esmeraude's body in the very end. Green eyes wide with that momentary surprise, before a hint of elation shone in them. Hopeful, even if misplaced. "No, not with New Moon or Wicked Lady. I know you love them, but he... doesn't care for either. Even with the evidence I gave him, I still have little idea of how he took it. For all I know, he feels the same for her as ever. And after what his brother did to you..." Hitch in breath, greens sharpening into an almost primal boiling fury before it was gone as he closed his eyes. Lungs full of air once more, and exhaling slowly. "Saphir cares for his brother as much as I do you." Eyes open, gaze returning to Mamoru. "I can't stop you if you wish to be the one to return it as Endymion. But I will still caution you, and request to be there."
Mamoru Chiba	That's enough for now, it's en(it's not enough)ough, it'll do. It'll do for now. Mamoru takes those dirt-gloved hands in his and squeezes, then holds on firmly but not too tight. Just right. If he follows the right formula, Zoisite won't drift away in a haze of misunderstanding, Zoisite will stay. None of that's ''conscious,'' because intellectually he trusts that Izou won't leave. The prince holds his youngest guardian's hands and watches his face carefully, watches the minute shifts of weight, watches his body language. And when Zoi reacts to the news of the heart crystal like ''that'', something in Mamoru brightens. "Yeah, they don't care for him, either. I just--" He nods emphatically. "I want you to be there. He's your project, he's your friend-- and I think, I think maybe I understand loving people who have done terrible things." Given who his best friends are, who his brother is, who their boyfriend was... "I don't think Saphir would hurt me or turn me in to his brother. But he wouldn't protect me, either. I know whose ''side'' he's on, but respect has nothing to do with sides, and neither does justice. "I want it to come from me because I want him to understand that the Earth doesn't hold what happened to them against them. I want the sovereign of the enemy nation to grant leave for the ashes of the champion to return home." Mamoru's voice lowers, and so does his gaze, as he looks down and away a little. "It's not right for us to have his soul."
Zoisite	Izou spent very little time in the presence of the corrupted princesses, and part of him knew that were he subjected to it, he'd end up abhorring the two--even more New Moon. And with the wedding preparations, Izou didn't need any fuel to torment him into thinking about sabotage, especially when everything about this was to purify and eventually be a proper wedding. Even then, it tasted like curdled milk in his stomach. Like old issues never addressed and him also unwilling to give her a second chance. It was good she wouldn't be the one to address Saphir with Mamoru. It was the last thing Izou wanted. Someone to only reinforce the dislike. Even knowing it will not end the best way, he wanted to keep trying. Knowing that Mamoru wanted to reach out, communicate something as honorable as returning the scatters of Rubeus' heart was more than enough. Especially after what they all have seen in Crystal Tokyo, the death and tragedy and the state of a dying Earth that could barely go on. A spec of forgiveness might be enough to soothe something. Hands remained intertwined with his prince's, leaning in a little as if looking for his sovereign's gaze. "It will come from you. And I'll be next to you. And Saphir will understand. He's intelligent and willing to come to the table and..." He mutes himself a little to reign it in. "I'll speak about you wanting to see him." Nods, only to pull his hands away, but not to disconnect from Mamoru. Fingers pinched and pulled at his dirt covered gloves, sliding them off to reveal his hands and finally offering the needed contact that his prince was familiar to.
Mamoru Chiba	When Izou leans to catch his prince's gaze, Mamoru's eyes flicker back up, ocean blue meeting emerald green, and there's the uncertainty of a seventeen-year-old afraid of and trying to operate in the face of what feels to him like an ongoing major rejection of self-- --but there's the certainty of a stubborn prince set on doing a thing he knows is right and ready to stare down or ignore objections in favor of doing what he wants, and that's what takes over. At least this time it's taking over in favor of something Zoisite wants, even if the reasons have differences. Boy is he going to be surprised about Zoisite's curdled milk, though. At least it'll help explain some of what he's been so anxious about. When Zoisite starts to take his hands away, Mamoru's hands briefly tighten reflexively-- very briefly, it's a split second before he notices what he's doing and makes himself let go. Then his eyes widen. He silently looks up from watching Zoisite taking his gloves off as if to try to ''read'' whether there's a catch... But there's no catch. Rudely, Mamoru's voice catches instead as he grabs for Izou's hands again and says, "You know, you know I can put my walls up around you if you don't want me-- seeing," and the tiny little pause was him reminding himself that he needed an extra word in that sentence, and since they're touching, it's blaringly clear. He hasn't pushed but it's been ''aching''-- the same rejection he received from adults and children alike when he was young, before he learned to put up his walls, before he re-found the people other than Takashi who would never have a problem touching him. Don't touch me. Stay away from me. How dare you have an extra sense. You're haunted. You're some kind of yokai, you and your weird little friend. It's a veritable flood of embarrassing relief that Zoisite's touching him, that he can feel the warmth of his soul, of his aura, in reach and safe and with him, no matter what. The volcanic heart of his youngest guardian, brilliant and furious and strong enough to melt stone, injured and aching, is something he just wants to hug to himself forever, and that love is clear and stark as shadows on a cloudless day. It's not just love, it's everything else Mamoru is, everything else Endymion is-- 'dirt boy', the guardian of this planet, called by his older self the Senshi of Hearth and Home, called by friends a friend, by a child a papa, called by various people and groups a prince, an upperclassman, a jerk, a role model, a senpai, a diplomat, an orphan, a trust fund baby, a good student-- someone who, in the last life, knew his place very well and grew into it naturally with help and best friends and parents and a whole world, and in this one is someone who's had to bite and claw and tear his way into having a place in the world at all when he's built to carry it instead. It's ''everything'' else Mamoru is, blossoming out with the wholeness of his power, the golden web of connections between himself and Izou, between himself and Izou and others; Zoi can see Mamoru's knowledge of where particular bright beacons currently ''are'', helping him with his sense of where and when and who he is... because beneath their feet is his building, and beneath that is his planet, and he's ''aware'' of it, and it's immense. It's ancient. It carries the weight of history and continents at the same time, and it ''cares for the life on it''. Its dreaming heart sleeps, but it cares. And look: there's a place especially and specifically For Zoisite, for Izou, for the damaged teenager, for the quick and bright knight, for ''this one soul'', and it will never be for anyone else, and Mamoru tugs at those hands to draw Izou closer and kiss him on the head. "Hi," he whispers.
Zoisite	''Hi.'' It makes Izou smile. The kiss delivered warms him like rays of sun as the skin of their hands connect and share and ''opens'' the gates to everything else in between. How long had it been since they touched? Was that even important to remember now, when the distance was no longer there between them? Perhaps when he wanted to consider details, or be too incredibly accurate of his own follies. But this moment was not meant for that. It was meant to let go of secrets, and worries... Not everything. What happened before he joined the Shitennou would still be locked behind roots and branches and leaves, deep down the caverns of stone and rubies and tanzanite, green moss and sweet smell of wet dirt and flowers. Everything else however? Yes, yes everything else. From the very beginning where the bow was set on fire, when all that haunted him was the worry of precious seconds and ''being there'' to the quiet moment he and Kazuo had spent in the Shitennou's mother's apartment. And what followed, the apologies he gave to Minako, the statement of ''not sharing.'' To the Shed where he learned how it worked and the way he felt when Usagi ''seemed'' to not care enough to press on the issue that was ''what happened.'' Curlded milk. Spoiled, tainted, even after purification. To the many worries he had of what he was meant to be in a relationship that incorporated more than just himself and Kazuo. That there was so much more than just two to consider, even if there was ''no jealousy'' when it came to his Prince. No, no there wasn't, merely the unfortunate reflectiveness that was ''him'' bracing for the pieces of ''himself'' to claw in and pull apart and scrutinize if he was even worthy to be between then two. A man he desperately loved, and a man he desperately needed to serve and give one's life to. The questions of if he knew either of them enough--if he knew Kazuo enough to be so in love. Which, such thoughts tainted his confidence enough to miss cues when he defended the Boule Brothers, heart shrieking at the possibility of them being parts of Kunzite. No- ''NO-!!'' Please stop-- To the shame that lingered afterwards. To his confession to Makoto that he would rather die than have to pick killing a tainted Kunzite or join him. Bone deep, like the roots of his heart gripping at the reality of such words meaning the truth of what he felt. He would rather die. He would rather die. And yet-- His touch did not pull away when all that came next was the echoes of Nephrite and Rashmi in the library, after so much information was downloaded into Zoisite's mind. Their worry, the emotions that spilled, how Zoisite stepped away only to sob in Minako's arms as Izou in the end. All because he didn't know if he was truly helping Saphir or not. The care extended to the Black Moon's genius in blue and black, the softness that was there, the connection--how dangerous it was in spite of everything. How close Zoisite came to connecting with Saphir, their mutual dislike of Usagi that they even shared a snicker. Yet-- Yet-- ''Everyone, attack Saphir.'' Decisions made, decisions followed. Heavy heart, angry with Small Lady's thoughtless actions of opening the Crystal Palace to invaders. Selfish thoughts that in the end were soothed and crushed by Kunzite's words. So much has happened, so much ''excuses to be cruel'' visible. Questions, realizations, a path marred in growth that he was trying to understand but perhaps never truly will. Thoughts that scared him, possibilities that haunted him. Now, it was all laid bare was the walls of his mind expanded, green crystal mosslike columns with flawed cracks shifting with flora blooming in all different colors and shapes. Zoisite was Prince Endymion's to judge fully. To keep, to look at and examine like a boy would a special rock. Izou's eyes closed then, permitting all to be seen.
Mamoru Chiba	It's not long at all after the final battle -- less than an hour. It wasn't long, after all, before @emit How long ''had'' it been since they touched? There's a unit of measurement calling itself 'too long' floating around as a vague half-reaction to Zoisite's self-interrupted musing, but this ''isn't'' for that, no, and... it may surprise Zoisite that Mamoru sees the block, recognises it for what it is while admiring its inherent beauty, and doesn't even come close to breathing in its direction. It's also clear that he's not incurious, he just considers it Not His Business unless Zoisite decides it is. It's funny-- Mamoru's not looking for secrets, per se, either. He's not looking at anything aside from what Zoisite shows him specifically, at least not initially: looking deeper requires an active effort, and is part of a conversation he doesn't often have. The first conversation they're having, though-- for the litany of Zoisite's recent history, he's reactive, and everything comes with a quiet background hum of faintly sheepish relief and slow relaxation as anxieties are put to rest. The bow on fire incident garners a wince, and Mamoru's memory of his own shame for laughing is tangled up in it, and for the briefly angry exasperation Usagi had with Mamoru after the laughter and his ''asking Usagi to let him do the talking with Zoisite'', out of sight of anyone else -- their current division of responsibility still runs along Moon/Earth lines, and neither of them wanted the other's guardian humiliated any further. With the introduction to the Shed, there's a willingness to ask Usagi what happened to clear up what he's positive must have been a misunderstanding, and a gentle encouragement to talk sooner, because that was... a while ago. The 'not sharing' also gets a wince, tangled up with the equal number of worries, and the rueful ownership of some jealousy of his own -- there's no lying mind to mind. He shows Zoi he's a jealous person; he shows his jealousy over Chat Noir flirting with Usagi, he shows himself getting jealous of Koji, Chiyo, and Minako even having crushes on Kazuo-- and it's not so much jealousy he has when it comes to Zoisite and Kazuo as massive FOMO. He doesn't want to be cut out. Sometimes he needs Kazuo to himself, but not most of the time -- he'd be, for example, quite happy to cosleep with both of them if they were interested. ''Contact''. It's contact he craves the most, contact with his Shitennou and Usagi, and now Chibiusa. More importantly, he's willing to do all the legwork it takes to make sure that the three of them all get what they need. His determination is rock solid, is unwavering and unreserved. There's an awareness of how connected Kunzite and Zoisite are, how trying to keep them apart is like trying to keep himself and Usagi apart in some ways. But likewise, there's a connection between Mamoru and Kunzite that's different from Mamoru's connection with the other Shitennou (no lies mind to mind, but then, it's obvious isn't it?) -- and part of ''that'' is tangled up in Endymion's memories, interspersed with Mamoru's own. Kunzite was a presence in his life life the longest. What had been admiration and a kid-crush turned, in this lifetime, to an immediate rush to ''claim him'' when he was Hematite, and an awkward fumbling of how to do it, because oh how he wanted to be close to him forever--
Mamoru Chiba	Oh, there's embarrassment, a meandering mind that has to snap back to Izou's patient unreeling of memories and feelings and suppositions and reactions. "You know him with your soul enough to be so in love with Kunzite, and Kunzite is an inextricable part of Kazuo. Knowing Kazuo better comes with time and effort," the Prince says with total confidence, keeping one hand in Izou's but lifting the other to push a stray strand of Izou's hair away from his face in the breeze. "He wants you in. He's already let you in. You came pre-let-in, you're on a very exclusive VIP list. You already react like a unit in fights. You look out for each other. I can rest safely assured that you'll keep each other from being too reckless." Mamoru's hand drops to Zoisite's shoulder before he can think about how soft Zoisite's face is, and then back down to his hand again. Gentle, gentle understanding with the defense of the Boule Brothers, and the reassurance that it's better to err on the side of concern, of empathy, than it is to err on the side of not giving a damn. He can understand Zoisite feeling like he'd rather die than decide whether to zorch or join a fully corrupted Kunzite, and (there's no lying mind to mind) he accepts that Zoi has sided with Kunzite over Endymion once. (Izou can also see something almost insouciant about Mamoru's understandings of pain and death, which should probably be desperately concerning, and which echo back to Zoisite's old worries that Hematite was possessed of a death wish. There's no death wish though, just no fear of it as more than a temporary inconvenience, the same with pain.) Oh! Oh there's some jealousy, that Izou could fall apart on Minako but not on Mamoru; there's a little frustrated idea of 'should I be more pushy like she is?' but he can also see that 'right time and place' did a lot of heavy lifting. There's also a pang of 'oh how I wish you liked Usagi' at the snicker shared between Zoi and Saphir, but that's all it is, he's not going to try and force it. As far as Saphir goes, Mamoru just pulls Zoi into a hug, full-on, the contact relegated to sides of heads and maybe bare arms. "It's ''always'' better to err on the side of empathy, to try to reach people, to try and make connections," he murmurs out loud, emphasizing the idea from a second ago. He continues the quiet hum of words, "Izou, I want to be your best friend, or at least second or, or third best, not your obligation. Were you afraid I'd be mad? My mad shouldn't hold that much weight. We have to be able to get mad at each other." He ends up too distracted to look further right then.
Zoisite	Afraid? He wasn't sure, but there was a pang of it that rumbled from beyond the block. A reaction at least meant that there was still ''care'' laced in between, the same way Nephrite showed such frustrations only for Zoisite to realize later on that it was out of care. In a way, reactions and small hopes are what he looks for. The same way the small snicker shared between himself and Saphir also sparked a hope of a deeper connection, perhaps pulling the blue one away from a fate that reserved nothing but death. No, afraid wasn't the correct word. Worried, yes. Nephrite could say all he needed, but the prince's voice was law in his mind. Even if it caused him to flare up like kindling to embers, scream and yell, he'd still obey in the very end. Unruly bastard, brat, but yes, belonging to Prince Endymion one way or another. It was a worrisome thought, to be so willing to ''belong'' in such a way. But for now, it worked. For now, it kept his mind organized. However... "I thought we already were very close." Izou whispers, but there was an awareness of the acidic jealousy from Mamoru. To see Minako take in and hold Izou as he broke in front of the piano. A rare scene. A rarer reaction. And with a senshi, no less. But yes, it was a combination of being at the right place at the right time. Had it been Mamoru, it would had been more than mere tears. More than guilt. Shame. What it would have been, he would never know. But there was always that special exception for Mamoru. A sweetness to it that was affectionate and willing to bend. Like a sunflower seeking the warmth of the sun. "You said I needed to be nice, Mamoru... Minako is nice in return. She's very sweet. I want her to be happy. That does not compete with what you are to me. You pulled me out of hell, so I'm yours to the very end." Green ribbon tied tight to his red locks, like the steadiness of his thoughts. "Let's spend time together, the two of us. Or with Kazuo. You can join us in bed too, like in your thoughts. You don't have to be alone, or worried." Each word was heartfelt, inviting. "Be best friends. Inside and out." Presses closer, cheek to cheek, everything visible from every facet. "Get to know me, let me get to know you, all of you." Like him and Kazuo spoke of before travelling to Nemesis. Spend time together. Find ways to connect in more ways than one. Of course, for him and Kazuo, it was the romance between them. For Mamoru it was... primordial. Any connection would do, and if what was requested was for them to be best friends, then that was what it would be. In time, more understanding would come. More parsing, patience, less need for so much to be delivered at once. For now, it was this. Brightness, a holding tight and close, an intake of air at being understood, the ''relief'' it held for him that-- He didn't realize his earrings shimmered, or that ember petals danced around the two of them due to the emotional connection. But his uniform was on. Not just his uniform, but something extra flowing behind him of silver and green. And a sudden heat from his chest-- ''THUNK-'' The bluntness Izou felt between himself and Mamoru's chest had him jump up and away from his prince, only to see fire flowers from his own sternum and the intricate basket hilt of a rapier having protruded out of and against Mamoru's own. Wide eyed, Izou--and Zoisite--had a litany of question at the sight, cheeks burning red from a sudden embarrassment as he both henshined without knowing and there was now a damned sword popping out of him like a chest burster. ''"Oh gods--"''
Mamoru Chiba	Law? Endymion's voice was law in his mind? There's oh, such a warm mildly-exasperated very-amused feeling at the very thought that a seventeen-year-old with other hobbies knows enough to make laws. That a seventeen-year-old twice over would have enough lived experience to be ''right all the time'', even. "You know I can be confidently wrong, right? And you're allowed to call me out on it and argue. The only time I don't want arguing is if I make a call and need you to do something in a fight, when it's time sensitive-- but if you have information I don't, and there's no time to tell me, and it's going to save someone's life... that's what you ''do'' have judgement for, and we'll sort it out later. You know...? We have different things to worry about in this life. If you don't ''trust'' your judgement, and you're using mine as a temporary morality chain while you sort yourself out, that's different, I'm glad to help. But I'm not infallible at all." And then Mamoru mumurs, "We're close in the soul but we're still getting there in the mind, I think. You're right. We need to get to know each other better in ''this'' life." There's a spill of reckless joy when Izou says Mamoru can come cuddle with him and Kazuo if he's lonely, and the prince's eyes sting a little, and there's a vast relief at ''that'', at not being shut out, at not being alone with his nightmares. "I'll text you first in case you're making out I guess--" And abruptly there's Zoisite realizing his chest is hot and Mamoru has the stirrings of alarm settling in before THUNK, and before Zoisite jumps away, the knight can feel the instant kick of wild amusement the very second Mamoru realizes that something just popped up. Zoi jumps away and Mamoru lets out a whoop of absolutely inappropriate laughter, then practically squeaks (still laughing), "Are you that happy to see me...?" But at the same time he starts forward and the smile drops, because Zoi has a SWORD COMING OUT OF HIS CHEST, and Mamoru is, amongst everything else, ''some'' kind of rightful royal heir to kingship. And you know what kings do. They pull swords from stones. In this case the stone is Zoisite-- It's swift, in fact, one hand settling strong and solid on Zoisite's shoulder, and the other firmly grasping the hilt protruding from the shorter boy's chest; he pulls it out the rest of the way in one smooth motion, expression intent and serious. When it's free, and Mamoru Chiba, high school senior in a black yukata with roses painted on it, tips of his black hair bleached and frosted pink, is standing there with a beautiful rapier in hand--? He says softly, "I'd wondered what became of this."
Zoisite	What else was he supposed to feel besides utter embarrassment with what was happening? Of course, this was not planned, like most things in their lives, but he could have at least felt a change when he henshin'd. Instead, he was too focused on the sharing of thoughts and the golden wavelength the two were sharing to consider that the bright spots in his mind was the magic he possessed. So yes, he was that happy to see and connect with Mamoru, still red in the face like bright beets and tomatoes, frustratingly so. The hand on his shoulder and the pull of the sword from his chest at least made it less so, the steel still emitting a warmth that almost stung when it was pulled from his sternum. From tip to hilt, it glowed like molten metal until finally cooling off in Mamoru's touch. Polished, shining against the day's light, and basket hilt made of vines and leaves and gold in appearance. A stunning work of art, one that called back to Izou's lost memories like a punch to the gut. He knows this blade with every fiber of his being, but he could not place how he attained it back then. Just that it was connected to Prince Endymion, and the rest of memories long scrambled and poisoned away. "You remember..?" Green eyes looked up to his prince, then the rapier.
Mamoru Chiba	Mamoru's not going to say, well, it's not the sword you used on the moon, though he might mention it later -- it's a bad moment for it. It's a good moment for lightly holding the sword out hilt first, carefully balanced on fingers so as to avoid cutting himself. "It's your sword of office. I had it forged for you when we were twelve, and I have to say I always thought it was the prettiest."
Zoisite	Sword of office. So it was a gift from the prince to him. He wished he could remember it, how it happened, what that day looked like and if the others were involved. Nephrite had his own sword, a different kind, thicker and meant to cut opponents, similar to Jadeite's. Were those also gifts? At least, his was the prettiest one. It made his smile, looking down at the hilt as it was offered back and he carefully took it as to not cut Mamoru's fingers. There was a double edge to them as he looked closer to it. Even with gloves on, he could tell it was sharp and meant to be deadly--respected. "This explains why I am drawn to fencing." His comment held a smile, looking back at Mamoru. "I had no memory of it until now..."
Mamoru Chiba	The prince's voice is quiet-- ''Mamoru's'' voice is quiet, pink tips in his hair and smudged glasses and all-- and quietly affectionate. A little hopeful. "And what of your memory now?" But he's also moving back the little ways toward the table, where he left his drink and the little shop bag. He's smiling as he reaches into the bag and pulls out something that looks like a... pink tube--? It unrolls into a pink t-shirt that has a picture of a midcentury white American housewife on it, fussing smilingly with a trowel and some little plants, and across the top in English and in large print: GARDENING, and below the picture in smaller print, 'Because Murder Is Wrong'. "Your hands are full but I wanted to see your expression," Mamoru says, eyes twinkling. "Sorry it's not a sheath or anything. I'd say we should get one made for it, but if you're gonna go full theater kid and pull it out of your chest every time, that's dope. I think the Star Drivers do that, but their swords aren't pretty."
Zoisite	Good question--what of it now? His memories so fickle, evading him when he most wanted to remember. Especially when it deals with his prince. So little is clear. But the rapier, now in his hand, gleaming in the sunlight as though it had been never used, recently polished and kept safe for all these eras... It spoke to him. A connection as old as his soul, fit in his hand perfectly like a tailored glove. Fit his ''style'' like it knew what trickeries he'd bring in every fight. A palace, green eyes beaming with excitement, muffled sounds of observation and warmth. So much warmth. ''But...'' "It's like it never left me. I knew nothing of my own sword until you returned it to me. Now, it's like it has always been there." The blade is lowered, the length resting carefully against his left hand before intent was summoned to put it away. The rapier glowed again, embers and vine-like flames turning molten metal malleable before it returned to his body. Not through the chest, but the palm of his right hand. The cape followed suit, poofing into cherry blossoms that fluttered away in the wind. At least that answered that question about a sheath, for now. The sword out of the way, he was more able to look at the ''actual'' gift Mamoru wanted to give him. The pink shirt that reflected the type of humor that made Zoisite--''Izou''--chuckle, grin reaching his eyes. He dehenshins before reaching out to it, turning the piece around to press against his front. "You're a bloody genius, is what you are. This, to me, is better than a sheath." His gaze returned to his prince--no, his friend, absolutely touched by the gesture. "Thank you."