2340/Show Me: Zoisite Edition

Show Me: Zoisite Edition
Date of Scene:	16 February 2025
Location:	Mamoru's Apartment
Synopsis:	Zoi is in trouble. Takes place after all the dunk scenes.
Cast of Characters:	Mamoru Chiba, Zoisite
Tinyplot:	The Demise of Bow-chan

---

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
It's a few hours later that Mamoru lands lightly and dehenshins, letting himself in via balcony and kicking off his shoes once he's inside. Door closed against the blast of cold air, the prince still shivers and shrugs out of his jacket, but leaves his hoodie on for now.

His voice is mild, and he hasn't looked at him yet, but he says, "Hello, Zoisite. I don't know what you talked about with Kazuo..."

That's a lie, but it's a face-saving one.

"...so do you want to start?" he asks, coming out of his bedroom.

Zoisite has posed:
'I get a choice?' was on the tip of his tongue, and he bit down on it, refusing to make this worse than it would already be. Having been waiting in the living room, back leaned against the counter with arms crossed. Patient seeming, yet anything but calm as his eyes looked over to his prince.

It was better to get this over with. "Did you notice it after it caught fire?" Green gaze averts then. "Which form I'm in, I mean."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Yes, I figured you were just-- being exceptionally paranoid today," says Mamoru, tilting his head a little. "Do you want to do this like you're in trouble and I'm the mean prince being authoritative or like we're friends who love each other but I'm responsible for you? Because I like the second one more, but you're so defensive already."

Zoisite has posed:
Lips pursed, eyes focused on the floor for a considerable pause. It was much harder to make his choice for some reason, mind wanting to focus on the smaller details such as being defensive. Wanted to say no, he wasn't, but that would have been a lie as well, and he was there to tell Mamoru. Not continue the process of whatever this was.

Turns his head to Mamoru, but eyes didn't follow yet. "It wasn't just today." No choice made. "It's been a while. "

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
And here it is.

Mamoru, there in his argyle socks, skinny jeans, and Babymetal hoodie; Mamoru with his smudged glasses with the salty rims and his fluffy, windblown hair-- he's Endymion in his stance and bearing, Mamoru in the specific knowing gentleness of his expression, Endymion in the quiet command:

"Show me."

He holds his hands out to Zoisite, bare and still chilly from the outdoors, though he'd been in henshin when he came in.

When their hands make contact, it's clear what the prince wants to see: what he's afraid of. What he feels like physically. Whether he's been taking care of his body, whether it's just every morning or while he's sleeping too. What he feels like emotionally. What happened, what he felt like at that time...

When their hands make contact, there's a flood of warmth, alive and full of joy that Zoi is alive and here with him, a deep well of happiness underneath everything that's Usagi and Chibiusa, the awareness of the deep connections between all of their souls; there's a fleeting glimpse of all of that and of the host of fears and worries Endymion harbors all the time as well.

It's shoved away, all of it, despite how glitteringly bright or brittle and dark it is, in favor of putting literally the weight of all his attention on Zoisite.

The weight of mountains. The depth of oceanic trenches, the molten heart, the geological time that the tectonic plates dance to, the age of life and magic on this Earth--

It's all pointed at Zoisite, behind eyes as blue as the oceans from space.

Zoisite has posed:
Even in the quiet, he could hear Endymion's soft command. Steady, but entailing all the obedience one could offer while also seeking after the touch of bare skin. A connection, to see and witness what stirred within the mineral shell that was Zoisite. And he could not deny his Prince this required vulnerability, even if there were parts of him that wanted to hesitate--the same ones that bristled at Kazuo's recommending of telling everything to Mamoru.

Yet, green eyes looked to his Prince, body erect in attention and arms uncrossing to offer his own hands in return. His fingers were warm in contrast, like late spring, bordering summer. And suddenly there was nothing but waves of tender warmth and presence confronting every little reflective facet that was within the Shitennou. So many spaces polished clean, some forcibly chipped away, shoved to deeper depths and forgotten. All there was what he permitted himself and Endymion to see... Red rubies and lustering fractures shining in bright light at the presence of Earth's being, and the shadows slithering in between in hopes of hiding.

It was in those darker spaces of cold where his fears resided. Starting from Kazuo, to the realization of lace burning as Minako was in shock, to the broiling stress and jealousy he felt and could not hold back as the same girl spoke about Kazuo--Kunzite, 'their' Kunzite--his--his...--, then to his worries over Mamoru and their discussion about music, and homework, and the lack of time--

Seconds were precious. All it took was a moment to have something precious taken. Like Mamoru's heart. He wasn't there when it happened, but the aftermath of an earthquake always flooded islands miles away all the same. To think he wasn't there because he wasn't fully connected as it was, mind and soul to his own powers, to teleport and be 'useful.'

That was his purpose. 'Izou' was an empty shell, a place holder to recover in. So he used it at nights to recover. Sometimes a little longer, but never truly enough. And in the mornings, he was back to being Zoisite. If only to know when he was needed and to teleport the very few he cared about away.

No, there was no sense in this equation. Stress muddies the water like debris after the ocean swallows cities whole in the echoes of a prior disaster. It also tires and weakens the body, focusing on such things. He hasn't really stopped focusing. Hid it, yes, almost too well this time. But every stone has its limits, and his already had cracks. Now more visible...

It's all visible now.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
It's true, Zoisite can't deny his Prince this vulnerability, it is required, it's part of how they operated in the Golden Kingdom, and its breakdown and the associated secret-keeping and yelling led to disaster... so in this life, after a near-apocalypse also related to Mamoru not being on the same page as his Shitennou, it's a brace against that kind of disaster happening again.

Zoisite attacking Minako, even accidentally, was a warning sign-- but yes, telling Mamoru and letting Mamoru help neatly derails continuing the process of slippery-slope sledding. Mamoru isn't even sorry for giving a command, which he normally would be. He just lets it sit, an admonishment in and of itself.

But he's watching and listening, and he sees the slithering cold shadows, and Zoi can feel the Prince's resolve that there will be purification as part of this, rip. He doesn't chase all of them, though, he knows some of what hides behind the cold and brittle dark parts that Zoisite has shoved away, and there's some regretful thought that some things might have to be revisited.

The shadows he does chase are the ones that lead between the spaces of What Was for the boy who existed before Hematite recruited Zoisite, the ones that are more recent, less stable, existing in strata for an archaeologist to piece into a timeline.

(He does not shove the image from Minako's point of view into Zoisite's head, it only exists a little off to the side for Zoisite to notice and understand when he's not too busy. He does not leave directly in the path the immediate scent of singed hair and the heat and stickiness of the cocoa, he does not show the boy of ice and the boy of fire and the boy laughing at her from her standpoint-- this, too, he lets sit.)

And then they get past the immediacy of what happened into the underlying trigger for the constant henshin. Seconds were precious.

The warmth doesn't recede in the slightest. Instead, it's suffused with sorrow and apology for not noticing, not seeing that Zoisite hadn't yet built a new identity outside of Endymion's knight. It's the memory of what Zoisite had shown him before, the Lost Boys, the relief that there was someplace he did belong and how happily he went along with Hematite, and--

--all of a sudden, the contact flickers as it goes from hands to heads, as Mamoru pulls Zoisite into an almost crushing hug, bent down, face against the side of Zoisite's head, and then there's another flicker and loss of strength in the hug as Mamoru lifts his head to rip off his glasses, and then it's just HUG AGAIN, and the connection from soul to soul and power to power, heart to heart.

"My knight, you cannot take the blame for what wasn't your fault," he murmurs againse Zoisite's neck. "My friend, you can take the blame for setting Minako-san on fire, but not for missing it when Eudial shot out my heart. You're not the only one protecting me, and I was protected. I'm here, I'm here. And I need friends more than I need bodyguards."

Zoisite has posed:
Purification. He had assumed as much when he felt the decision made. No hitch of breath or indignation or thoughts, merely a sentiment of resignation weighed itself on his shoulders for needing one. Even if it was by accident fueled my emotions too strong and stressed to their limits, he should not have 'been' able to access his fire. It could have been much worse, had he focused on anything else. The coffee cup boiling hot until it exploded, or the golden locks themselves. Such beautiful hair, going up in flames instead of the bow.

The slithering parts of himself that snuck behind pillars of crystal and stone in his mind snickers cruelly, finding a sense of pure glee in Minako's suffering. Every stone had its flaws, and unfortunately this was one of them. The delicate line between being amused and being sorry.

Yes, he was sorry, but for the right reasons? Probably not, but he didn't wish to dwell on it at that moment. When he's alone, he will think about it. It's better when no one else is looking. Perhaps then he'd see the point of view left behind for him, of his wild green eyes echoing jealousy and envy, of the smell of milk and sugar and powdered chocolate--enough to make his skin crawl at night when he lays in bed with thoughts of the day.

Then, the sudden surge of apologetic sorrow, enough to make his brows furrow and eyes narrow at the dull ache of it. The cynical part of him wanted to call it pity but he knew so well that this was genuine. It was still hard to accept. Zoisite didn't focus on this, as he wanted to just see the end of it. Defensive, yes, even in vulnerability. Always smirking, all knowing little shit that he was. Condescending with a bite to words. Here he was nothing but a boy that made a mistake and barely knew where to start in feeling the remorse of it, or noticing why it was so wrong besides 'it upsets Mamoru. It upsets Usagi. That is all there is to it.'

Zoisite has posed:
What followed next was the hold on his body, light taking its time to connect to his own, only to tight its embrace around his limbs, press face to his neck and the warmth that followed touched the stardust of his soul. This time, his breath did linger in his lungs before exhaling, his knightly stance melting into all boy, simple and guilty for something he truly had no control over.

Images came quickly into his mind, questionings, quiet panics of the days that followed the incident. What ifs, what ifs, what ifs--one horrible outcome to another, of defeat, or grief, of 'loss' that not only he but the other 'three' would feel. The crumbling structure of their home and all within it. Love, friendship, companionship that was as old as Earth itself it seemed.

"I 'am' your friend, but you're also what gives me purpose. And that purpose is to 'be' there when you need us the most." His voice his muffled but steady, like he wanted to scold himself, set inward fire to scorching his mind in punishment. 'I was part of the reason you died once. I do not wish to repeat it again.' "I..."

Finally, he admits it. "I was scared of losing you again."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"You're going to have to ask for purification, you can't just say you agree," Mamoru says quietly. "She never wants to purify any of us unwillingly again. And-- I don't-- I'll hold your hand so it doesn't hurt, but I don't think it'll hurt anyway. I don't think you're full of dark energy. I just think you're heartsick, and Usako's healing is refreshing to the heart and soul."

It's a statement out loud, and in the back of his head is running a quote, wry and mildly frustrated and very affectionate: I don't know how to explain to you that you should care about other people. It's not entirely fair, but it's there, and the prince is wry about it, not condemning. It takes time to heal the kind of wounds Zoisite carries, and Mamoru know that, and he is exceptionally patient.

"I'm not mad at you for losing control," he murmurs when the guilt trickles in. "I'm just frustrated that you didn't talk to me sooner. We could have avoided the whole situation, you know?" And then Endy's just holding him, holding him for the rest, for the feelings, for the thought unspoken, and then the version that makes it out into the air.

Squish. "I know," he says so softly. "I know you were. I know you are. But it hurts all of us if you can't stop catastrophizing, so we're going to have to look for a solution to that, too."

Finally he pulls back a little, leans down to put his forehead against Zoisite's. "I'm going to have to call a meeting," he says, "and I'm going to have to make the basic rules explicit, including my rules. One of those is 'don't tank lethals anymore you dumbass'."

Zoisite has posed:
To ask sounds more than a bit humiliating, but he knows it's not the intent of it. The Moon Princess means well, and giving him the autonomy to choose is noble. For that, he respects her. "Heartsick..." He chuckles, sounds so absurd to him. But Mamoru was more than likely right. "You don't have to hold my hand. I'll... ask her when there is a moment. I swear it." And he does, truly.

There was hope that it would quell some of the scars he had. Whereas the rest would have to be mended by himself. And he knew this.

Including caring about others, which... rarely fit into his mind. More like an obligation that sat in a corner, not matching the rest of the decor. Out of place. There was comfort in the normal routine of the few he did know and cared for. In many ways, Zoisite found it better to be disliked or tolerated. Weeds out many in one go that wouldn't stand him anyway. Was it really necessary to care about everyone? Or was he confusing 'types' of caring? Perhaps. It was easier to care when it's someone you adore and cherish.

Minako was not one of them. Nor was Makoto or Rei. His mind refused to bring Ami into the picture however. Not now. Still, he relented to the reminders, the quiet frustrations shared by his prince. He'd get there, but it would take time.

When their foreheads touched, eyes closed as he let out another sigh. A meeting. Stars damn it, he winced at this, heat reaching his cheeks. "Is a meeting really necessary?" Truly? Even with Nephrite and Jadeite? "An email would do much better in my opinion."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
This time it's Mamoru's turn to kiss Zoisite's forehead, and when he steps away, even his smirk is affectionate.

"Sorry, buddy," he says with a rueful laugh, "Neph wouldn't take an email seriously. And don't worry, it's not JUST about the rule with your name on it. Jadeite's lowkey in trouble for a different one."

Zoisite has posed:
Oh, Zoisite was pink in the face now, a pout forming on his lips and it was a mixture of both the kiss to the forehead and the tease of the others joining in. He would have much prefered a bollocking to having the others guess what he did to find out why a certain rule was made explicit. Doesn't take a genius to find out.

However the mention about Jadeite had him curious, crossing his arms. "Oh, so me and him then?" Great. "What did 'he' do?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
The prince's eyebrows go up. "Do you want me to tell him what you did?" he asks, grinning again. But then he relents. Partially. "I said lowkey. He keeps trying to tell me what to do. There's other stuff too but it won't be coming up in the meeting. You both have identity problems, though."

Zoisite has posed:
It's not like it'd be a secret for long. Surely someone will say something to someone and it'll reach another someone before getting to Jadeite's ears. It's whatever, he didn't care (oh he did care, immensely). He had to hand it to his blond companion, the guts (or lack of control) it took to tell their prince what to do was impressive. But such thoughts scattered a bit at the subject of identity problems.

Apparently he wasn't alone. "Too much Jadeite, too little Tamaki."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Yes," says Mamoru, reaching again, this time to tug Zoisite kitchenwards. He opens the fridge once he's in there and takes out a ginger beer, offering one to Zoisite and using the fridge door's magnetic church key to open his own. "His family situation is very different, but his not really being what he wanted to be until meeting Hematite was something you have in common. I think he also-- I think what Beryl did to him, and what my having to literally put his brains back in his had did to him... I don't know if there's any original Jadeite left, either. Original Jadeite acted more like he does when he's Tamachan, sometimes..."

Zoisite has posed:
Accepting the beverage, Zoisite just listens. In a way, he and Jadeite seemed similar, however for very different reasons. Some of it, much worse than past traumas.

"What do you think would help him find himself?" He places the beer's tip against the key as well, popping it open. "If he's building from scratch, was there anything he loved to do that was his own thing?" Something that he is trying to do on his own, with various levels of success. It's a very tame starting point.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Well... he has his art, and sculpture, and last time we had to drag him out of his cave, he'd been drawing all memories from home. I mean, memories from back then. And Ami-san got him some clay and he's been making ponies with it?" Mamoru offers hopefully, then takes a drink of his own ginger beer and shivers at the afterburn.