2539/The Freedom to Accept It

The Freedom to Accept It
Date of Scene:	16 May 2025
Location:	Crystal Tokyo
Synopsis:	Esmeraude is dead. The royal family is missing. In spite of everything, Zoisite chooses to give Saphir the truth. Saphir... does not decide how he feels about that.
Cast of Characters:	Zoisite, 280
Tinyplot:	Black Moon Clan
Tinyplot2:	BMC: Dimension Future

---

Zoisite has posed:
Pitch black beyond the windows at night. Lighting slowly dimming as the hours go by, preparing the palace for the eventual time most would be falling asleep. Possibly a bit sooner as well, considering the anxiety that was shared by almost everyone. Mahous, survivors, staff, even the King. Now with Mamoru, Small Lady and Usagi gone, nerves were definitely sensitive and prickly. Minds tired. Muscles wanting to relax.

Yet Zoisite paced along the long corridors that ran along the front of the palace. His careful footsteps a gentle echo as he did. Alone in the half glow of crystalline lights.

His mind was full of many things. Of his prince and little princess, of his brothers and Nephrite being injured and recovering in the infirmary, of the mahous that muttered worriedly in their corners while resting... Of Kunzite and the sweet voice the man had. Comforting, still feeling the stable touch to his cheek.

A sigh left him, stopping as he approached the heavy set of front doors, but did not come any closer. A little too fresh still, the image of Small Lady running away... I hope you're keeping them safe, my prince. And yourself as well. His thoughts whispered, leaning a shoulder against the window before turning his attention to the remains of the battlefield.

Carcass of a dragon and a woman, not rotting in the bleak night. Part of him wondered if leaving Esmeraude out there was a good idea at all.

Another part had an inkling that it was, as she was a droid like the Specter Sisters. So there was indeed a chance that someone would come along.

Blue Saphir (280) has posed:
Esmeraude's humanoid body was taken away, carried off in Saphir's arms as he spat his final taunt.

But her wings had been enormous things, longer than a football field, and they had had gushed ichor as they were cut away by Sailor Uranus' vicious blow. They had not been recovered. They had not been burned, or destroyed, either. They were still there.

And so Saphir appears, at the battleground, beside one of those enormous wings, scalpel in hand, prepared to take samples.

Prepared to take more than samples, if anyone gets in his way.

But for now, there is no one there. The looming shadow of Crystal Palace rises behind him, and Saphir gets to his grisly work.

Zoisite has posed:
It took a second to notice, but when he did, the form was unmistakable even at a distance. A gloom shadow on one of the giant wings, dull shine of steel against blue. Zoisite lifted his head and frowned. Even at night, such a lonely approach would be incredibly gutsy--despite him considering it one of the few outcomes.

And he was very aware that what he was about to do was foolish, right after a fight that strung high emotions tightly in its grasp. But...

There was a hope there, that this would be worth it. And if he needed to, he could teleport away.

Soft rustling of petals, the smell of cherry blossoms as Zoisite appears in the air with a respectable distance behind Saphir.

"Intelligent, quiet, and with balls of steel." A quip. "Don't tell me the ship had games on it."

Blue Saphir (280) has posed:
"If it did, they didn't survive," Saphir says - but the words are dry, quiet, without cutting edge. "Is this about your evidence, Izou Saitou?"

What he had found, what he had said he would find. Saphir almost doesn't care right now. But only almost. He has ever had a hunger for knowledge, and the foreign emotions Esmeraude provoked in him, with her selfless, final acts, have settled enough that he feels himself again.

"I wouldn't have thought you still cared for such things."

Given the prince, missing from this dying planet, in his own brother's eager hands.

Even as he speaks, he continues with his work, cutting through leathery skin, withdrawing samples from the form before him.

Zoisite has posed:
"There's a lot I don't care about." Legs crossed over the other, leaning elbows to his knee, chin to folded hands while he watched the man in blue work. "I told you about quite a few of them, in fact."

Usagi, the dead of this particular timeline, the stupidity some were able to show during moments of stress.

Tongue clicked, looking over the length of the wing, discarded and forgotten by most except the two of them in that moment. "This, however, isn't one of them."

Sigh left him, the silence lingering just enough before he came down from the air and softly landed on the ground drenched in ichor. Buckle of his pack opened and he pulled out his phone. "Considering what's to happen next, I don't know if we will have a chance to talk again."

Blue Saphir (280) has posed:
"So you did," careful hands place samples of muscle fiber, nervous tissue, and even scrapings of bone into vials seemingly conjured from the air, banishing them just as deftly in the moments after. "For someone who cares so little about near everything to do with this conflict, you remain quite committed to the side you've fallen on."

This is the first time he has commented so directly, so boldly, on Izou's loyalties. He does not look at Izou, as he works, not now - he has samples to collect, before they are interrupted.

"Tell me what you found."

Despite everything, he shows no fear of being attacked, again. This, after all, matters. It's possible that Izou could be the sort of man who could strike even if it tore at his heart, but Saphir is not helpless. And he does not believe his counterpart - for what is Izou but that - has it in him.

Not when he's here, now, without a word of his missing prince breathed between them.

Zoisite has posed:
"Is it really a surprise that I am where I am, after all that I've told you?" The phone is secured in his hands as he watches Saphir collect samples. One after another. "I tolerate very little, especially when someone tries to use me for their own gain. I can be a monster, but I'm not anyone's monster but my own."

Steps closer to get a better look at the process of extraction, the metallic smell a strange welcoming change from that of pure sweet decay. "I found several things. Most of them were a surprise to me, but they won't be to you, I'm sure. Pictures of the families that were aboard, schematics of the ship, reports, videos, communication logs between earth and the ship and the colonies, even the trajectory planned for the ship."

There's a pause then, taking what all Saphir was gathering. Samples. Samples... Not a body. Or a pure heart piece. No. Just samples. And he remembered Esmeraude's face, her actions, those Saphir had mentioned were his companions he brought back again and again. The way the dragon grabbed Saphir from the air and threw him far away, saving him from the attacks.

"She saved you."

Blue Saphir (280) has posed:
"Yes," Saphir says, frank. "You hate to be manipulated. You hate to feel out of control. You despise sentimentality and display little to no love for your 'fellow man', as the ancient sentiment goes. And yet, despite that, you are demonstratively proud to yoke yourself to a woman you dislike, to stand at the side of a man who would choose that woman over you without a second thought."

Scales are carefully removed with the edge of the scalpel, placed carefully inside - these vials are filled with solution, and the vials are banished.

"You call yourself your own monster, but are you truly? Or has your prince simply placed you on a long enough lead that you've forgotten you bear the yoke?"

Now, he turns. Now, he faces Zoisite.

"Yes. She saved me. And I will drag her back, as I will all the others, as many times as it takes, for that is my yoke, for I am Demande's monster."

Zoisite has posed:
"So, that was your brother." Demande, the man in white like he was copying King Endymion.

As Saphir turns to him, Zoisite lifts his head to connect their gaze. "Is that how you see it? Emotions or care? A leash others can yank on? Or is this more literal?" No sharpness, but he was aware. "Something I tied around my neck out of duty? Kneeling, taking on the burden to protect him? Die for him, if he requires it? Yes, you could say that I do have a metaphorical leash then. Or a red string of fate. A commitment I wish to keep my word on. Yes, I can be his monster if I desire it. But that would also imply I would be out here by his command, or wish."

Shakes his head then. "What about you, Saphir? How long is your leash? Long enough you don't see the one around your brother's neck?"

Blue Saphir (280) has posed:
"It was. We are the only two who remain, for the time being."

It will not always be that way. He is going to bring them back - he has already started, though it's taking longer, with the others, without their bodies, without remnants of their true forms, just scraps of their souls to work from to get it right.

Recreations get more difficult as time goes on, as there's less material to work with, as he's forced to rely on his own incomplete memory, and the memories he has stored. Esmeraude, Rubeus, Calaveras, Berthier, Petz, he can restore to their proper states, proper ages, with time, with effort. Koan, he may not manage. The awareness of his failure - potential failure - doesn't sting, but only because he does not allow it to.

"What is caring, if not bondage? When you care for another person, is it not referred to as the 'bond' between you? To care is to leash yourself to another. I am aware of that. I have ever been aware that it is my neck I bend to my brother, to make his dreams reality."

Sentimental, if not for the cold bluntness of the words, their implacable truth.

"You are in his service as much as I am in my brother's, but my brother has never forced me to serve a woman I loathe." He meets Zoisite's gaze with challenge, to ask if he can say the same - only to pause, brows furrowed. "Speak plainly. What did you uncover, that you think my brother leashed by anything more than sentiment and vengeance?"

Zoisite has posed:
The only two. How utterly lonesome has that been? As lonesome as he had felt in the past, or when his entire world were three other boys like him before they all left Obsidian. It hit Zoisite how tightly Saphir and Demande probably were simply due to how alone they were. How much hatred sprouted in their hearts alone and possibly entangled their own roots to one another that if one dies, the other...

Nephrite was right. The grip on his shoulders, reminding him of such cold realities. And Rashmi being the soft light of hope that he wanted to keep grasping on. But so was Kunzite, so very sweet in approach. They all had points in what made everything so complicated in his attempts to pull Saphir closer to them.

"It's not bondage. Such a crude word to describe something that the human race craves at a basic level. Care, a bond, companionship, friendships, love have poems and stories and music--countless pieces written over so many years exploring the very notion of what makes us do what we do for those emotions. It's not just a strap of leather tied to your throat. It's the warmth of a hand holding yours, a comforting presence with no words exchanged in between, or a tight grip on your shoulders that only wishes to stabilize you."

Wasn't that what they all wanted in the end? The reaffirmation of being cared for by someone else?

"It can also just be a stranger extending their hand to you." That was a little more quiet, alluding so finely to what all he learned in the past few days.

His own gaze had not left Saphir's, noting the furrow. A hint of worry? It was only then that he lowered his head to the phone in his hands, before extending it to the man in blue. Turned on, a little sticky note on it with 1949 written on it. The passcode.

"Look for yourself. I realize that finding information in the palace and public records on earth could be seen negatively by you, but I still think you should see it for yourself what all was communicated and planned. If your clan was indeed exiled, pushed away with so little care by someone cruel, you lot would have been made examples of, correct? Keep in mind that a monarch, a tyrant, uses fear to control their people, and examples made of."

If opened, beyond the candid background, just he folder is seen. And among the many documents and logs and communications and pictures of the families and babies and careful tracking of the ship's trajectory and the colonies that also watched over them, hosted them--and the original pathway they were supposed to take. Never Nemesis. Not even close.

"You and your brother were not meant to be examples." Zoisite steps back only a little, to give Saphir the space if it was wanted.

"As for your question on why I serve Mamoru... Love makes you do many stupid things. It can bring down kingdoms if it wants to. I, like yourself, just want to see him happy, after he gave that to me. Isn't that something you'd do for your brother? If he needed someone, even if you don't like them, wouldn't you do what you could to see him happy? That's not a leash around your neck. But what's around your brother's neck might be one."

Blue Saphir (280) has posed:
Was it lonely? Perhaps. Perhaps it is. Perhaps their home on Nemesis is too empty, with the two of them alone, without Esmeraude and Rubeus' bickering, without the Sisters and their squabbles, but it is what it is, and it will be that way until Saphir finishes his work, and he is not the sort of man to lament that which only he can change.

"Nothing you've described changes what it is," Saphir says, unblinking. "It can be romanticized, it can be praised to the high heavens, the subject of worship, even, as it so dearly is on Crystal Tokyo, and love will ever be the yoke on our neck, that ties us to one another."

He isn't angry about it, or sad.

"I do not diminish it's power - I only acknowledge that to care is to place yourself in another's power. To love is to diminish your own freedom, by accepting upon yourself the knowledge that you will place another's wants and needs above your own. I am not of Crystal Tokyo, to desire peace above all other things, to want for nothing but another's hand to hold. I am of Nemesis, and love is the hand that clutches your heart in it's hands."

It is a violent thing, a terrible thing, to be known and unmade in an instant.

"I don't know why you've decided to take such interest," Saphir acknowledges, "Save that you can see that we are alike."

And he takes the phone, and looks through the logs, copying data with his own unique skills, and applying it to the hardware embedded within himself.

"We were..."

And he falls silent. He scans the logs. He looks for evidence of alteration. He looks for - anything.

He finds nothing in the meta data, though that can be used to counteract this, and he -

"This... what this argues -"

He is frozen, and still, as he compares the articles on the Black Moon Clan, as he compares the logs of the ships, the passenger manifestos, the path that was outlined, the colony that was chosen, all of it to the tales of his youth, the stories they were told, the evidence on their own ships, and finds it in opposition to everything he knows. There is emotion painted clearly on his face, now.

Disbelief. Horror. Fury.

Zoisite has posed:
There was a genuine question in all of that, as to why Saphir was a subject of Zoisite's interest. And yes, part of it was a selfish endeavor, partially fueled by shadows and a sense of care that sprouted forth. Now an understanding that there was much more to wanting to extend a hand to someone he barely knew but wanted to maintain that small connection with--even if it might be broken in the end.

Zoisite wanted to explain a little more about that, but perhaps such aspects of feelings and lost memories and clinging onto foreign fragments that reminds him of these moments, would be lost on someone like Saphir. It was understandable. So long chained to a planet that held nothing more than dark energy and malice, so many deaths...

Once the phone was taken from his hand, whatever he had to share then about his thoughts were stilled in favor of watching the man in blue. Looking at how the information was taken in from his device, the words that came from Saphir--

The changes in expression.

The wrinkles on skin that spoke more to the igniting fire somewhere deep in the man.

Again, Zoisite was so very aware. And he waited, quietly. This was Saphir's moment to take in whatever it was that caught the man's attention.

Blue Saphir (280) has posed:
"...So this is Crystal Tokyo's side of the story," Saphir says finally, the words hissed between his teeth, gas escaping a valve, pressure released before an explosion.

The irrational, emotion driven side of him wishes to rail against these documents, against this view, against these claims, that all their suffering was unintended, was never meant to be. It is what Rubeus would have done.

Saphir is not and never will be Crimson Rubeus. He is a man of thought and inquisition, not unruly action, and he will not give way now. (Even if he wants to. Even if he wants to, surrounded by the parts of Esmeraude, on a planet dying, on a planet he hates, on a planet that may not have exiled him -)

"Thank you, for sharing this."

Words, quiet, but not without emotion, not tranquil, not measured, but instead issued from a throat that tightens, and a voice with the faintest of quivers.

Saphir vanishes. He is there one moment - he is gone the next.

Zoisite has posed:
Anger. Nothing but broiling anger.

Then nothing else. Saphir was gone after gratitude expressed and Zoisite stood there in the dark alone, eyes wide and blinking. Lips parted, hesitating. What was he to say or expect now, with no one there?

What was he...

Letting them have the option to accept it, and the freedom to choose whether or not to exercise that option.

A deep inhale. It was out of his hands, now.

"...you're welcome."

Small light beams as cherry blossoms takes him back inside the palace, to find Kunzite again and perhaps some sleep.