1645/Seems Like Years Since It's Been Here

Seems Like Years Since It's Been Here
Date of Scene:	02 June 2024
Location:	Mitakihara General Hospital
Synopsis:	After Mamoru teleports from the hospital room, Zoisite and Kunzite share a quiet moment as the sun comes back.
Cast of Characters:	Mamoru Chiba, Kazuo Saitou, Zoisite
Tinyplot:	Sunset of Sora

---

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
It's been a gruelling two weeks of keeping a burnt, medicated, and powerless prince from despairing, and/or helping him do things as complicated as homework and as simple as eating a sandwich. At least for the past week he's also been playing Civ and Stellaris on the laptop that Setsuna brought him, mostly at night, so he's been in a better mood in the mornings when visiting hours open again.

Today, though, the sun went out about eight minutes after Usagi and the boys felt Sunbreaker's far, far-away thieved connections do something absolutely wrong -- and it's two hours later, and that connection's come right back down to a cold and horrified Earth, and Usagi and Jadeite have gone off to fight Sunset of Sora, and now, Mamoru has sent Nephrite to make the rounds of all the others Sunbreaker put in the hospital, and also generally be errand boy.

Not that Nephrite would ever admit to being something like an errand boy.

Having gotten over his frightened aversion to empty touch, Mamoru's been holding hands with everyone he'd normally seek the touch of, on and off -- right now, his left hand's clenching the sheet as he looks out the window at the dark sky, unable to tell how things are going, unable to feel Usagi or Tamaki. "I know I won't be able to do anything about it! But you'll tell me, right? You'll tell me if something goes wrong? If she gets more powerful, if she's angrier, if she's happier--?" he asks anxiously. Her meaning Sunbreaker; she's the one they can all, unfortunately, locate.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Imperial Messenger. Okay, technically royal messenger, but Nephrite will go for the more impressive carriage anytime he can actually get away with it.

Kazuo has been Kazuo, till today, every day that he's spent time at the hospital, which is essentially all of them. Now it's Kunzite leaning against the door, listening for nurses who won't let even sudden unexpected and overlong eclipses get in the way of taking care of their people. (He shifts back down when they come in, and trades morbid jokes with them about even the sun being overworked these days and having to go for a lie-down.) He's too wary of someone trying to take advantage of the fight against Sunbreaker-by-any-other-name not to have all his senses active, and sensing energy is something he can only do properly in uniform.

"We'll tell you," he says, as patient this time as the first time he said it. Two hours ago.

Zoisite has posed:
Out of all the people to play nursemaid, Zoisite is... probably not anyone's first pick. But he's been here, present and accounted for, so that must mean something, right?

He looks up from the magazine he's been reading -- one he brought from home, thank you, not just a cast off he found in the waiting room -- and levels a steady look at Kunzite until he answers, and then Zoisite's lifting an appraising look towards Mamoru.

"Why would we keep anything from you?" he asks, his eyes narrowing. He's in his Shitennou uniform as well, and yet still looks utterly casual and at ease, with one leg crossed over the other as he lounges in his seat. "I'm certainly not going to lie just to spare your feelings."

Admittedly, no, that's very much not like Zoisite, is it?

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"I didn't think you'd lie," Mamoru protests, indignant, roused out of his anxiety into something a little more himself, "just that you might, I don't know, forget or something..."

Despite the number of times he's asked in the intervening two hours, they could forget to tell him.

Across the city, the fight rages on; in the room, Mamoru wrinkles the sheet ruthlessly. "Sorry, haha, I just... sorry. Should I play some Stellaris so I don't keep bugging you? I'd sleep but that keeps beeping," he says, accusing the heart monitor of doing its job. At least his left hand will continue to be strong.

There's a sudden change at the end of that connection: something like desperation.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"I'm stunned you haven't started sleeping through it by now," Kunzite says conversationally. Clearly Mamoru has been only doing his school homework, and not his sleep homework. He makes no comment on Stellaris, largely because everyone there already knows he'd just point out that Mamoru would just start talking about not being able to concentrate on the game. In the mean time, he continues holding up the wall by the door --

-- until his eyes flick abruptly to Zoisite's.

And back to Mamoru, after the heartbeat's worth of silent 'did you feel that to?' is checked. "Emotion change," he says. No more detail than that. Because trying to sort out the difference between emotions is, shall we say, not his specialty.

Zoisite has posed:
The only acknowledgment Zoisite gives is a quick little "Mmhmm," which, thanks to the scoff infused into the sound, says all he needs to say. It says how could we possibly forget, given how often you remind us just, you know, without quite so many syllables.

He looks up from an article he's been trying to read for the past five minutes (who knows what it's about, he's reading some imported foreign magazine) to lock eyes with Kunzite, his breath momentarily stalled in his chest, before he gives the most miniscule nod of acknowledgment.

And then, after Kunzite takes responsibility for informing their prince of the new development, Zoisite adds, "I'd say she's feeling like she's on the losing side, right about now."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
In his sudden excitement, of course Mamoru immediately tries to sit up further from the forty-five degrees he's at. Of course he doesn't get any further than his muscles tensing to do it before his shoulder reminds him that he Absolutely Should Not and he winces, then painstakingly makes himself relax again. "Good! Good," he says--

--the desperation turns into a mess of hurt and despair, and then the two of them can feel the connection snap back spatially to the boy in the bed in the room with them, and it's probably whiplash to go from Sunbreaker's despair to Mamoru's giddy relief as the power wells back up into him.

He's glowing for a hot second, all of him; it concentrates in his hand and shoulder, then; it finally dissipates, that glow.

His eyes are so bright behind his glasses, and then he says, completely unnecessarily, "You're right they're winning! But Usako isn't done yet-- she just--"

And then there's armor in the hospital bed, and the heart monitor with one long solid beep, and the IVs dangling, and Endymion's sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "She needs a hand. BRB!"

...he just... leaves. A quick bright flash of gold and he's gone.

Zoisite has posed:
The sudden influx of uncomfortable emotion makes Zoisite frown, and he looks across the way to Kunzite again to have another one of those silent conversations before--

Well, that's no longer necessary. His head swivels towards the hospital bed, and he opens his mouth to say something, but then Endymion's gone.

A pause. A blink.

Then Zoisite flips to the next page of his magazine. "Did he really just say BRB out loud?" he asks, voice a sigh.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
That silent conversation is half-held: Kunzite's slightly wider eyes agreeing that they're sensing the same thing, the beginning of a frown anticipating Mamoru doing something less than immediately wise, the start of a push off from the wall --

And then Kunzite's shoulders and cape hit the wall again, with a sharp exhale, because Mamoru is Endymion and Endymion is gone.

Yes," he says, resignedly addressing a point about midway between the top of Zoisite's head and the ceiling. "Yes, he did." They can't even steal his phone to enforce a texting break; he probably has three backups tucked away in advance, just out of habits from the last couple of years. His mouth tugs up at the corner after a moment. "And yes, we are still limited to being tempted to strangle him when he gets back." Even just a little. As a treat. At least he's reminding himself at least as much as Zoisite.

Zoisite has posed:
"Tempted doesn't feel like a strong enough word," Zoisite says, but he just shakes his head instead of offering up increasingly more antagonistic synonyms. He sets his magazine aside and stands, one hand lifting to flick a strand of hair over his shoulder before he walks over, the heels of his boots clicking on the hospital floor's linoleum.

"I suppose it's just the two of us then, until Nephrite is done with his official duties," he says, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a bit of a smirk. But then he subsides, quieter than normal, as he leans one shoulder against the same wall Kunzite's been holding up for a while now.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Kunzite doesn't quite watch him walk over; his eyes track him, but not directly, holding him in near peripheral vision instead. Not that it matters so much. When times are calm, he can see just about as well that way as looking straight-on. His body language shifts a little as Zoisite settles, actively making space for him, letting him know unobtrusively that his presence is welcome.

"Or until the triumphant return," he says, lightening that quiet with a thread Zoisite can either pick up and play with, or let drop without fear. Whichever he chooses in that unusual-for-him quiet. "Whether by teleport, by walking in the front door and blinking innocently at the people protesting that he should be in bed, or by forgetting that the windows don't open and staring in woefully while hanging on to the wall. Any bets?"

Zoisite has posed:
When Kunzite moves unobtrusively to make way for him, it prompts Zoisite to settle in a bit more heavily than his original, tentative lean. He folds his arms over his chest, and looks away, out towards the windows.

Maybe that's why he laughs when Kunzite mentions the theoretical possibility of Mamoru hanging from the wall outside it; or maybe it's the very real memory of Usagi having to do precisely that, because Zoisite only ever reads texts sporadically, and didn't open the window to her that one time. Either way he does laugh, tucking a hand up against his mouth to cover it.

"I like the thought of that last one," he says, his eyes shining.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
The little half-smile grows to a full one - nevermind that Kunzite can't see Zoisite's eyes directly while he's looking away. He can hear the laugh, see the hand move, see the line of his shoulders and the angle of his head. "Well," he says. "If he picks one of the others, then, I'll have to tell him he's disappointing you, he needs to go back outside and try to come in again."

Zoisite has posed:
"You do that," Zoisite says, his lips pressing together after to fight back a smile. He leans there for a moment or so longer, but his feet prompt him to move, and given that they're focusing on the window so much, well, he might as well head over there.

So that's what he does, taking the few quick steps necessary to cross the room, his gaze momentarily fixing on the hospital bed as he passes by. Once he's made it across, he leans both hands against the windowsill and looks out at the city beyond.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
This is not the time of day to see the city by its own light. But there it is, turned up bright against the dark and the cold. Somewhere above there are stars, drowned out by electric glow; stars that shouldn't be seen this time of year.

If it were anyone else, Kunzite would warn them to be careful, that when the sun comes back it may do so all at once, unbearably bright to the dark-adapted eye. But it's Zoisite. If there's anyone who doesn't need warning about a shock of light in the darkness, it's him.

Kunzite falls silent, instead, watching Zoisite look out at the city, watching the play of neighboring buildings' lights on his hair. Waiting with him. Maybe waiting for him. More likely he's not concerned about the difference. Zoisite is there. There's never a time when that isn't enough for him.

Zoisite has posed:
There's no fear on Zoisite's face as he turns towards the window. His expression is serene, eyes on the horizon as he lifts a hand from the sill to open the window, which slides open on an easy glide.

"Maybe we should be proper knights and make sure he's able to save himself from falling flat on his face," he suggests, though knowing Zoisite he has ulterior motives for opening the window. He leans out it until he can feel the wind in his hair, just enough to get some fresh air. And then he's back fully in the room, looking over his shoulder at Kunzite. "You have this sort of look on your face, you know," he says. "I can't decide if it's expectant or not."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"The only thing I expect from you is that you will do whatever you decide to do with brilliance and grace whenever possible," Kunzite replies. There's the tiniest further twitch at the corner of his mouth, but mostly the intensification of his smile is in his eyes. "Like opening the window, for example. When I asked one of the nurses about it, I was told they weren't able to be opened. Safety measure to keep patients from falling out of them. And yet." A little gesture of one hand, mimicking that easy lift.

He falls quiet for a moment before he confesses, "Though I was wondering how long I could get away with looking your direction before they finish." And the sun comes back.

(The sun had better come back. It's a side note at the moment, though.)

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
The sun comes back, not like flicking on a light switch, but like some great darkness clearing from the sky; its warmth floods the city, the world, the room. There's a second of silence, and then the distant sound of cheering from outside, and closer but muffled, from the hospital itself.

Traffic is one hell of a snarl, though.

There's a group text from Jadeite somewhere in there.

Jadeite TXT: hi its mamoru we'll be a bit bc everyones getting an uber
Jadeite TXT: well usa & i might teleport back to heal the hosp

That's Mamoru texting all right.

Zoisite has posed:
That Zoisite smirks after mention of the window not opening is all that is necessary to indicate he definitely had something to do with getting around those safety measures. He jams his hip against the wall next to the window and leans one shoulder back against it, nearly leaning against the window itself, and rolls his other shoulder in a light shrug.

"It's only a great height from a normal person's perspective, anyway," he says. The implication that they--and by extension, their friend group--are anything but normal is certainly there in his tone.

Just as he turns back to consider the city skyline again, the sun returns, washing him in warm tones. Zoisite doesn't sigh with relief but it does make his expression gentle, slightly, and he turns his face into the light.

He, notably, doesn't check his phone when it pings. Instead he looks expectantly at Kunzite.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
There's warmth in eyes for that smirk, nevermind that the only people likely to catch on to it are Zoisite and Mamoru themselves. A little inclination of Kunzite's head conveys approval and appreciation. And agreement to those words, without a yes aloud necessary.

This time, the breath out that Kunzite gives is a soft one, not a sharp one, when the sun begins to glow, in the moment before the wave of cheering. By the time their phones ping, he's dropped back down to Kazuo - to avoid blinding himself with the sunlight, most likely, but 'to have a phone in the first place' is a useful side effect.

Deadpan, still looking at the phone, when Zoisite looks at him: "They'll be back in forever. They decided to get an Uber." A beat. "Until Usagi and Mamoru lose patience and take the fast route."

Zoisite has posed:
Yes, it is time, Zoisite supposes. So he's back to a slouchy sweater and slim-cut slacks, his fingers no longer subtly twitching for the familiar weight of his sword in hand. The danger has passed. He can relax, if only slightly.

Because there will always be some other villain to take up the cause. He knows this.

"Let them then. We'll be the welcome party, when they get back." Zoisite rolls his eyes a little bit at the thought, mostly of himself being welcoming in the slightest. "It's done, then."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"It's done, they're both in good shape - probably Jadeite, too - and they probably didn't even have to kill her." Some other villain. Maybe the same villain. Or maybe she'll have learned; they did, after all. Kazuo lifts a hand in a familiar absent gesture, fingercombing his hair back and out of his face. "And they're going to provide protective coloration for Mamoru's sudden recovery." By trying to heal everyone else. Things that make sense only to their principals. "Which will let us get off of hospital duty. Sounds like as many wins as we could ask for, right now."

Zoisite has posed:
Zoisite muses over this new information, the confirmation of their friends' success, as he looks out on a celebratory Tokyo. "Of course," he says breezily, because why would he expect anything less of their prince? The return of the sun (or rather, its implications) apparently has him pleased enough to take this in stride, without too much snark.

"This terrible lighting does nothing for my complexion, so I'll be glad to leave it behind." It's a flippant comment, made to divert attention away from any real concerns Zoisite might have had, about Mamoru, or the others injured previously. But mostly Mamoru, of course.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"It does nothing for anyone's complexion. They must have chosen it to convince the patients they're sicker than they are, so they'd be more cooperative. Still. Your complexion is flawless under any lighting." As light as Zoisite's comments, because of course neither of them were ever worried in the first place. Isn't that so? Good, they're both in agreement. Clearing the worry away as quickly as the brighter light and fresh air are cleaning the disinfectant and medicinal smells out of the room --

Oh. That's something he could be doing.

Kazuo pushes absently away from the wall, and goes to start packing Mamoru's things for clearing them out of the room, too, once he's officially approved. Beginning with the bizarre little kale smoothie plushie that has been hanging around the edges in various woeful or shoved-aside positions for most of Mamoru's tenure there. (It knows what it did.)

Zoisite has posed:
Of course, Zoisite preens under the compliment. There is no other reaction he could give in that moment, except to slide his fingers through the loose hair of his ponytail before flipping it over his shoulder. His smile is genuine, possibly the first since Mamoru had landed in the hospital.

When Kazuo starts to busy himself around the room, Zoisite, naturally, does nothing to help. He's propped himself up against the wall and made himself a pretty picture to look at, and in his book that is more than enough. Really, he's doing everyone a favor, just by being here. "We'll have to do something to mark the occasion. A celebration, for our collective escape from this place. Don't you think?"

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Kazuo glances up from refolding spare clothes, most of which have been utterly unnecessary. "I think they're planning one," he says. "But a celebration for us, rather than for the other patients ... yes." Before any of them crawls right up the wall, which has probably been getting tempting for Tamaki. "Do you have anything in mind, or are you looking for suggestions?"

Suggestion one, which goes without saying: not a barbecue.

Zoisite has posed:
"It's perfect beach weather," Zoisite points out, seemingly out of nowhere. One glance out of the window confirms it, at least for him, now that the sun is back. He lifts one pale eyebrow in Kazuo's direction and then leaves it to the ether, or maybe just someone else, to run with.

He steps forward to survey Kazuo's handiwork, then shakes his head in a way that seems almost fond as he circles around the bed. Is he headed towards the door? Hard to say. "I'm sure the two of you will want some time to yourselves first, though. I'll be waiting, though." For once, there's nothing implied by his words, beyond patience.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Next step: figure out how to get access to a beach area that isn't going to be entirely too crowded to survive. Difficult, especially for someone like Kazuo who isn't all that inclined to dealing with large bodies of water, but not impossible.

The laugh at Zoisite's suggestion is a low one, affectionate. "I think you mean the two of them will want some time to themselves first. Which is fine. Gives me time to think about beaches." He puts out a hand as Zoisite passes, not to stop him, not even to slow him, just a brief touch of fingertips low on Zoisite's sleeve. No encoded messages. Only confirmation that both of them are real, and here.

Zoisite has posed:
Zoisite waves a hand, his head shaking. "After. There's always time, anyway," he says, in response to Kazuo's correction. He turns towards the door properly now, though he's stopped by the hand on his sleeve, his body half-twisting to face Kazuo again.

For a second there's something hopeful, maybe even searching in his gaze, but then it shades into his usual distant haughtiness. "I've had enough of this recirculated air. I'm going to go feel the breeze and maybe find our wayward Nephrite, if he hasn't been completely waylaid," he says, an amused smile curving one side of his mouth.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
There's a little tilt of Kazuo's head at that smile, and he studies Zoisite for just a moment - just a split-second, because when Zoisite moves, he often enough moves fast. And then he turns away from getting things done, and steps toward Zoisite. There's enough time to recognize what he's doing. There's enough time to avoid or forestall it, if Zoisite chooses. But if he doesn't ... then Kunzite will close the distance between them and wrap arms around Zoisite's shoulders, hugging him close (if perhaps sidelong) for a few moments before he can leave.

"He probably got his hair caught in a revolving door," he replies mid-embrace. "If you find him before he can get loose, you might even get pictures."

Zoisite has posed:
Zoisite hesitates for the barest second at the initial moment when he realizes what Kazuo means to do, but before there's really time to react to that hesitation, he steps forward into the embrace, fully. No sidehugs here. Briefly, his head turns to rest against Kazuo's chest, and his eyes go half-shut. Not all the way, but nearly.

"He was probably distracted by a pretty girl," comes Zoisite's amused reply. and then with a sigh he pulls away, looking up through his lashes at Kazuo before his lips purse and he turns on his heel. "I'll go rescue her from him. And then him, in general." A quick flick of his wrist throws a wave over Zoisite's shoulder before he departs.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Behind him, Kazuo does not move for a moment. When he does, it is not to resume working. It's to sit on the edge of the bed, arms resting loosely on his knees, looking thoughtfully at the insides of his hands, wrists, forearms. As if he expected them somehow to have retained the glow of Zoisite's hair against the sunlit window.