2533/What Redemption Looks Like

What Redemption Looks Like
Date of Scene:	14 May 2025
Location:	Crystal Tokyo
Synopsis:	After the Black Moon's attack in Crystal Tokyo, Zoisite is starting to crack a little. Kunzite pulls him aside to offer support - and discussion of Saphir, and redemption, and what it looks like in other people, and what it looks like in them. It's an ongoing process for them both. Maybe for everyone.
Cast of Characters:	Kazuo Saitou, Zoisite
Tinyplot:	Black Moon Clan

---

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
The more comfortable rooms nearest the infirmary are already taken, by the resident nurse or by recovering patients. The one that Kunzite's adopted is meant to be a small conference or meeting room; he's moved the table and chairs to one side; the pack he carried through the days in the city is perched on the table (rather less full than before), along with a tray with cups and a pitcher of water. Blankets are folded neatly and possibly inevitably over one arm of the couch along the wall opposite the door. At least the sleeping-on-couches thing is consistent between times, if not entirely reasonable.

Zoisite gets to discover this when Kunzite catches him on his way, finally, out of the infirmary, whenever he's willing to leave Nephrite to himself. With a couple of words and a light touch on the arm, Kunzite guides him to that room and inside.

And without further words, is wrapping arms around him before the door's even closed, head bowed. The scent of Zoisite's hair may be tainted with the echoes of burns and destruction and corruption. Kunzite breathes it anyhow, and for a moment, doesn't seem quite capable of letting go.

Zoisite has posed:
As arms pulled him in, his own wrapped around Kunzite tightly in equal silence, pressing face to his chest as though he wanted to hide himself. Leaving Nephrite's side was difficult after what's happened, the exchange of heavy words. And with Mamoru not being with them, it worried him the more. Had anyone else gotten as badly wounded, it would have been a massacre.

"He's stable." It's muffled quietly, fingers digging into Kunzite's cape. "I finally saw the other me and saw him working on Nephrite. Internal bruising, broken ribs... Stupid man--"

Shake of his head, pressing himself tighter against his boyfriend, if only to physically represent how much he has been meaning to find a moment for this, to just be together in some concept of comfort ever since arriving to the alternative future.

"I missed you, Kunzite. I'm... sorry I've been distant recently..."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Something eases in Kunzite at the word 'stable.' He knew it, but hearing it from Zoisite is something else; Zoisite's standards tend to be higher, in this as in so many things.

"Busy," Kunzite answers him. "Not distant." There's a little hint of something amused, there, and he adds, "If we'd been in the same room and not talking, that would have been distant."

He spares a hand for a moment to tug one side of his cape free, bringing it back over Zoisite's hand and arm to wrap it around his shoulder and side. To hold him closer still, yes. And also to bring him, symbolically and literally, inside his defenses. "I missed you, too," he says more quietly. "We've both been needed in different places. And you've had the other matter on your mind - I didn't want to interrupt you when you were working so hard on it. If I should have, tell me, and next time I will."

Zoisite has posed:
"You always have my permission to interrupt me, even if I protest." Muscles relax when he feels the cape wrap around him, comforted by the reaffirmation of Kunzite's hold of him. "Gods knows... perhaps I need to be out of my own head sometimes."

"I also know you've been with our prince the most. He needed the support, he needed you. This is an outcome that can be of his future, it makes sense why he'd..." A slow shake of head against Kunzite's chest. "...need us."

There's guilt in his voice. He had felt it when the battle ended, and in the infirmary, and when he finally was pulled away but had no item to confirm it besides the Sailors also not being able to reach Usagi by their communicators. "I should have ran after them. Besides Nephrite, I could've gone out in a second and teleported her back inside but--"

Open doors, anger, questions, the immediate threat. "I've been focused on just shadows and possibles, and not what I can do. What I'm best at." And his face lifted some, although gaze averted to the hem of Kunzite's uniform. "...I hesitated... with Saphir." Whispers.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"Zoisite," Kunzite says quietly, and just for a moment, it's not the affectionate boyfriend voice. It's the seniormost of the Shitennou speaking. "Mamoru wanted you doing exactly what you were doing. If you'd run after them, Chibiusa would have run harder - and odds are good she can teleport, too. We would have lost her entirely. And you wouldn't have been here, pointing the people fighting at the points they needed to target. We'd have more than Nephrite in the infirmary. And he'd be in worse shape. You were in the right place. Doing the right thing. Exactly what he needed you to be."

There's the slightest shift, not standing as straight, and he finds a way to work a little more of his arm and cape around Zoi as he settles back out of his more official self. "You care about Saphir," he murmurs, dropping not quite to zoisite's whisper. "About him, or about what happens to him, or about trying to make some kind of fairness in the universe where he's concerned." His other hand lifts; the side of his thumb traces lightly down Zoisite's lifted cheek. "Tell me about him? About what you've been seeing?"

Zoisite has posed:
Green eyes remained averted when his lover's voice shifted, but no word was ignored. He had been where he needed to be, even in his frustration, blaring out telepathic hints of what to do and where to aim. In all of this, he even remembers Rashmi replying back to him as some point. A very quiet understood that had not flown past him.

She, like Nephrite, were the two that knew of his plans. In the end, it was a bittersweet reminder of who was around them. Who cared.

And Kunzite repeated the word so effortlessly in regards to the man in blue and white. Possibly the best word to describe his connection to an enemy. His gaze finally lifting up to look at his boyfriend with a sense of relief that he didn't have to describe what he felt.

"Shadows. I see a reminder of someone in my past. I can't put a finger on it, but I cared about them as well, even when I was at my worst." It slipped from him with more ease than with Nephrite, and the guilt still lingered. "I also understand a lot of what he's feeling. Where he's disconnected and where I meet him at equal footing... But his story is so much more harrowing. Watching so many die around him. And now with Esmeraude."

"...When I was up ahead, scouting, that's when I saw him. Alone. He didn't attack me, and I got to talk to him again. He did not look like he did in this last battle. Cold, distant. He was... neutral, even smiled. Took more of my words into consideration. I know I'm possibly not making a dent, but I was hoping..."

Was it for his sake, or Saphir's? That question haunted him. So much of all of it haunted him.

Zoisite shifted under Kunzite's hold, one arm reaching back to open his hip pack and pull out his phone. The lock screen of his saplings and violets at his window, unlocked to the background picture of all of the Shitennou and Mamoru, sans Zoisite. All applications gone. Just a folder with files, which he began to show Kunzite. File after file of all he collected for Saphir, that he also discussed with Nephrite and Rashmi.

"I asked him if I brought him evidence to the contrary of what he believed in, would he consider it. He said he would. I have it ready for him, but after what's happened..." There was hesitation now.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"And now with Esmeraude." Kunzite repeats the words, and there's a low, quiet sigh - not interrupting Zoisite, precisely, only marking a point in the conversation, somewhere where they do not need to continue down the track to understand and agree on a dozen implications. They can take another turn, and Zoisite does, and Kunzite tilts his head a little to listen, watching for the tiny changes in Zoisite's expressions, hints of reflection of the ones he's talking about Saphir wearing.

When the phone comes out, Kunzite guides Zoisite to the couch, settles them there. This might take a while. Legs get tired. Especially when they've already been thrown around and earthquaked today before the stress of worrying over Nephrite.

"Shadows and possibilities," Kunzite says aloud when Zoisite finally trails off. He's still glancing at Zoisite at intervals, between studying what Zoisite's showing him on the phone; he can't absorb as quickly as Zoisite can, but his ability to scan visually is good. Fast. "Was he genuinely paying attention to you when you talked, listening to what you said, or luring you into emotional weakness toward him, or something of both? Would he have paid attention to evidence then, or used it as a trap? Would he do it now? Or - again - something of both?"

He exhales, long and slow. "If he's genuine, then it may be a good thing he was able to collect Esmeraude's body. Less --" He is not going to use the words 'friendship decay.' He is not. That is horrible on too many levels even for him. "-- damage done. Even if we might have to deal with an upgraded dragon in future."

Silence again, regarding the phone - and then giving up on it, looking directly at Zoisite, keeping his attention there the way he's keeping his arm around Zoisite's shoulders. "Is that the question that has you running in circles in your head? Or is there another one?"

Zoisite has posed:
"It's more than that now." Zoisite mutters, accepting the phone back and shutting it down. He also noted that the battery was fully recovered as well, which... huh. Thank you Jupiter?

Hands free, leaning his body onto Kunzite's side, head lowered as he tied the events that have happened up to current. "Nephrite and Rashmi know of me meeting Saphir and wanting to give him the evidence. Rashmi is for it, as long as I'm careful, but Nephrite... I was hoping I could have appealed to him. Perhaps just..." It broiled, his chest. The aches since it all came crashing down in the piano room. "He said I wasn't ready, that I don't know what redemption looks like and he's right... I don't." It hurt to admit it.

"But when I talked to Saphir the second time, he seemed genuine. He shared his story after I shared mine. And by his expressions, it felt as though he took them in. My questions as well, hoping he'd look at things at a different angle." Of their history, of the Queen, of knowing Usagi. "I willingly gave him my emotions and what we went through, being manipulated. Having our minds warped and not knowing what is truth or a figment to make us hate as much as we did. I wanted him to be aware that this wasn't the first or last time this could happen, and that he is more than likely playing into someone's hand."

Like they did with Queen Beryl, destroying the Silver Millennium.

"He said that they were raised by Death Phantom. And for a time I thought your future self was among the dissidents. I buckled... The idea of killing a version of you--" It bubbled up from his gut, the shiver of those emotions clawing their way back through his throat. "It makes me wonder if I even know you at all, if the others were so sure it wasn't you. Even Mamoru... I felt inept for feeling what I did. That I should have connected with something the others did when it didn't for me."

Did he know Kazuo at all? Or Kunzite? Was it so obvious a thing he should have known, especially as Kazuo's boyfriend?

"I'm sorry, my mind is everywhere. Not just Saphir, but he has also been very present a thought. If me hoping to make hm see what I see is even worth doing. He's defending his brother, who I assume could be the other man we saw today... So he has similar reasons as us to not let go. But he did pay attention to me. That or I am wishing he did."

"That's why I hesitated attacking him. I didn't look his way. Made it easier to fight."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Thank you someone. It's Jupiter's electricity, anyway, and Kunzite isn't saying a word. More to worry about than the batteries.

"I didn't know what redemption looked like," he says, "when I met you all. So. Nephrite's correct, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's right." He touches Zoisite's hair lightly, drawing a few strands back into a semblance of order with his fingertips. "And I damned well wasn't ready. But there wasn't an option of 'wait till ready' or even 'wait till someone else ready shows up.' Sometimes, the options are go in over your head, or lose. The question is whether the risk is worth it."

He takes a breath. Glides past the version-of-him, for a moment. Focuses on Saphir. "Have another question. If you proved to him that they're being used, that all the deaths were ultimately at the hands of the person lying to them ... if he used that to break free of control ... and then still decided to attack anyhow. Out of love for his brother, maybe, or maybe on his own. What kind of outcome would you consider that?"

Not claiming that that's what's going to happen. Not addressing whether he's right or wrong. Asking what if - if the answer is less than simple.

Zoisite's always less than simple, himself. Kunzite doesn't doubt that he's considered this.

Zoisite has posed:
It wasn't just Zoisite that felt lost in knowing what redemption was. Other have too. This washes over him, lifting his head to gaze at Kunzite lovingly, leaning in to press lips to the older Shitennou's cheek in a quiet, physical thank you.

As for the main question, the what if of it all, if Zoisite were to succeed... What then? Saphir showed a similar loyalty to his brother as the Shitennou showed to each other and mostly importantly, Mamoru. And that also churned in his gut like jagged rocks. Head tilted some, brows furrowing in deep thought. No, this would not have been the first time he's considered this. But the images of possibilities always flashed by in his mind.

He was never good with losing people he cared for.

"King Endymion said that his knights betrayed him twice. Didn't find out until it was too late that they were manipulated. I imagine some died with rage in their hearts. I know I probably did, knowing myself." Even though the Palace's version of Zoisite seemed to glow in personal confidence. He envied that. "But I would rather die knowing the truth, than die a fool and let it consume me into my next life... Even if I was forced to fight."

Nods. "My pick will always be Mamoru. If Saphir has to be struck down, then he will be, knowing or not." And that ached him as well to think about. "...I think he'll know why it has to be this way as well. Like today."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
The kiss at his cheek wins a little smile from Kunzite, no matter the topic at hand. He stays steady while Zoisite thinks, though. Quiet, letting him run through the things he's thought before, hunting for new possibilities, searching for ways to put them into words.

Putting things into words is tricky. Finding the right ones is only one part of it. Finding what you're willing to say out loud at all is sometimes harder.

"That," he says quietly, "is the only part of redemption that other people can do for someone. Letting them have the truth. Letting them have the option to accept it, and the freedom to choose whether or not to exercise that option. About the facts, the world, themselves. If they choose to continue on their path anyhow - that's to be respected. If that path is one that involves killing other people, then that respect sometimes has to take the form of killing itself." He hesitates. "That's not some kind of holy writ. That's only what I've worked out so far, keeping Mamoru's priorities in mind."

A beat. "So. You know Saphir better than the rest of us do. That means that what risk you're willing to take is your decision. But remember - you said your pick will always be Mamoru. Losing you would be a wound to him -- and to me, and to Nephrite and Jadeite -- that none of us, not him, not Usagi, no-one, could heal. So please be careful what risks you decide to take. If Saphir might be recoverable, that's important. But to us, you are more important still."

There's one more topic to pick up from Zoisite's tossing out of threads; but he waits to touch on that. To see if more questions arise. To try to see if Zoisite can accept what he's already said.

If he's ready to think about believing he might matter to people yet, or not. One step at a time; but if he's ready to take that one, that's important to know, too.

Zoisite has posed:
Another nod, taking in Kunzite's words little by little. They were just as firm as Nephrites, but sweeter. Gentler. Kinder. It made processing the scenarios easier, even when some were not wanted, like having to consider killing off someone he's been connecting with--for better or for worse.

"You know, the twins that I had mentioned to King Endymion, that looked like you? I had..." Hesitates, but makes himself continue. "I couldn't attack them either. But both Jupiter and Nephrite did. And I accidentally hurt Jupiter by intervening. I didn't want anyone to attack them, even if they were."

Looks down to his hands. One nail pressing into flesh like a distraction. "I admitted to her I was being weak because I didn't want to attack someone I thought could be you. There was more to it than just that but all of that was me just being... Hateful." There was an uncomfortable note in there. One he didn't want to fully look at because it dealt with aspects of himself and the current people around him that he felt forced to tolerate.

"I was very candid with Saphir before that fight too. He told me nothing to manipulate me, but I might have shared my... distaste for Usagi, even while defending her. How it felt easier to not care and be myself. Let my anger grow. This was after he criticized purification and I tried to show him both sides of it and dark energy." So quiet.

"Which is why I felt connected to Saphir when I felt disconnected to most around me. Or why I felt the need to defend the twins when I did, because I love you and whatever form you take. And if I had to pick between you or Mamoru, I told Makoto I would rather die than hurt you..." Voice wavered a little. "I pick Mamoru. That's the right thing. Not what I want the most however..."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Kunzite listens to him. Does not interrupt; listens closely, word for word. When Zoisite looks down to his hands, Kunzite glances down as well - does not uncurl Zoisite's fingers, but slides a hand under that one, cradling it.

"Want is a tricky word," he murmurs at the end. "We want a thousand things, all contradictory. We make our selves by the ones we choose. That doesn't make the other ones not exist."

He turns his head and leans, presses a kiss to Zoisite's temple. "For the record - I'd far rather you not die. Being hurt, I can recover from." Zoisite dying -- no, they covered that. He doesn't need to say it again. He doesn't -- "I don't know that I'd recover from losing someone I love."

He draws Zoisite just a little bit closer to him for a moment. The hell with 'need,' sometimes.

"But you used another tricky word, and went right past it. 'Weak,' you said. You stood up against Jupiter, and Nephrite, and the rest of them, for the sake of someone who was literally attacking you. Why do you call that being weak?"

Zoisite has posed:
"Oh Kunzite,"He whispers, leaning in as he felt the kiss and the pull of arm around him. Heart felt like a bird trapped in his ribcage, pecking at bones and sinew.

Want was tricky, and to want was not a sin in itself, nor does it go away when something is picked over another. Kunzite was correct about this. Yet the remaining question was still a hard one.

'Weak.'

"It was weak of me, Kunzite. I broke a rule without meaning to. I injured a senshi, over a reflection of you. And I put the entire fight in jeopardy because of what I did, even if I did keep Jupiter from having her fist stuck to a wall. I almost picked your reflection over Usagi and Mamoru and Nephrite and..."

He didn't know how else to spell it to his boyfriend. There was a knot between his brows and eyes searching over Kunzite's face. "This is why I say that I was weak. Weak for you, and anything that could be you, when I am supposed to be a knight Mamoru can depend on. I failed. I failed and those few seconds would have been used on something else. And the senshi do not waver in their thoughts. Even..."

Eyes closed, a sorrowful smile spreading on his lips. "Even Minako said she'd step in if I couldn't pull my sword on you." Looks up at Kunzite once more. "That's not her weight to carry. It should be mine."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"Izou."

The name is spoken quietly, low, and Kunzite lifts the hand he has cupped in his - bends his head to lay a kiss upon it gently, whether or not Zoisite is still trying to open his own skin with a fingernail. He lifts his head. Takes a slow breath, studying Zoisite's face in turn. Meeting his eyes.

"Someone taught you," he says, "whether or not they meant to, that caring about people is weakness. That learning is weakness. That passion is weakness. I do not expect hearing this once to make a difference, so I will tell you and try to show you as many times as you need to begin unlearning -- these things are not weaknesses. These are your strengths.

"You mismanaged the situation, yes. You acted out of fear; but fear is always related to caring. You acted without thinking; but that was because your emotions are strong. You made mistakes; but if any of us didn't make mistakes, they'd be doomed. The first time they encountered something dangerous and new they'd freeze up and stand there and die.

"This is not weakness, Zoisite, Izou. None of this is weakness. This is only that you are new to this instrument, and are trying to play complicated sonatas before you have the individual notes down to muscle memory. This is lack of practice. And you are doing exactly what you should be doing: thinking about what happened, and how to do better next time."

He tilts his head, letting go Zoisite's hand, touching Zoisite's cheek near the corner of his lips. "That's how the senshi have gotten to where they don't waver. That's how Minako has. I won't say 'that's how you will.' But the reason I won't say that is because I don't know how your strength will develop. Jupiter is an oak; of course she doesn't waver. But a willow's strength is in bending. A flower or a flame is made to sway and nod. You'll find which paths work best for you, and which to choose when. You're doing that already."

Zoisite has posed:
Tears welled up, and he closed his eyes and began to shake his head. It wasn't a rabbit hole he wanted to go down, but it was one Kunzite was bringing up. And it stung much stronger than what he was ready for. Bedrock roots, small and neglected. How he survived, he wasn't sure. Someone somewhere surely gave him enough water and sun, earth to grow in. And yet...

He leaned his face into the gentle touch to his face, letting it steady him. "It's not just the mistakes, Kunzite. It's the hatred that is there too. My anger, my want to scream and..." Both of his hands lift to gently grasp around Kunzite's wrist, like an anchor to keep him from drifting off.

"I told Minako, I told Nephrite and Rashmi. So many dead here, seeing them take form of droids and scrambling around. I felt nothing for any of it. I felt the want to disrupt, to cause chaos, scream at the senshi like this was still their fault. Is that not weakness, Kunzite? When I am possibly one of the worst of the four of us, I can't even pretend of make myself believe my own bullshit like Jadeite does? Is it not weakness to be disconnected, to be a danger when I could easily be the reason Mamoru could fall and die?"

"I told Rashmi I would fuck with her when she came to me the first time. I can't bare looking at Usagi and remembering that she told me she didn't need to know what happened and why. And even when Mamoru says I shouldn't hold any secrets from him, I did anyway. And now he's gone--"

A sniffle, he's doing his best to not crumble again. "It's not my fault but I could have done so much more, Kazuo. Maybe I'm spiraling back into the same trap I was in when Mamoru lost his heart crystal and I was in henshin for weeks on end. Or I'm looking for excuses to want to be cruel. I still feel that connection to when I was before being purified, missing parts of it. How easy it was. How much stronger I was."

"That's weakness, my love. That's my weakness. Falling back into habits I wished I was stronger in fighting against. I shouldn't be so trusting of Saphir to begin with, I shouldn't be hateful of Usagi or her girls, I shouldn't have felt anger when Small Lady ran out the door or when our first survivor came to us and I asked him to bleed for us instead to prove he wasn't a droid. I could have cooked him, Kazuo. I would have been... so easy."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Kunzite is silent - touch to Zoisite's face held in place by slender hands; arm around him cradling him, holding him. Inside his defenses. Both defending Zoisite, and vulnerable to him, intentionally. Silent, and he listens - his breathing steady, his body an anchor. Absorbing Zoisite's words, letting them sink in, the upset, the confessions, the self-accusations. His arm tightens gently again at the sniffle, a hint of more reassurance. Of support. Affirmation that he'll be there for tears again, too, if Zoisite needs that - an if without an expectation. Letting Zoisite navigate his own emotional path, rocky as it is.

And the first answer is to his last statement, absolutely calm: "But you didn't." Could-haves don't count. The restraint he has been showing does, even if it's not to the standards the others might wish for.

There's the space to draw a breath, and a second, before he speaks again. "I think," he murmurs, "it might be my turn to tell a story. I can't give you answers to most of this, beautiful one. You need to find your own balance. But I can tell you, if you want to hear it, how I've been dealing with something like parts of it. You might be able to use some of it. Take it apart and find the things you can adapt to what your own heart needs."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
'But you didn't.'

Lips kiss the palm of Kunzite's hand, keeping the touch close to him, even with the reaffirmation of tightening hold around his shoulders--it was comforting. Skin to skin, soft in tenderness despite how much larger Kunzite was. It didn't help him keep his composure, but it did keep him stable in the thoughts and worries he held in that moment, introducing a different point of view that he needed to listen to.

Just like Nephrite and Rashmi did in the library. Like Minako when she sat next to him at the piano.

"I don't expect answers to my dilemmas, dearest. But I will always listen to what you have to tell me. Especially if it is about you, and how you deal with your own struggles." Lifting his gaze to watch his senior, offering a soft smile in the slow forming comfort that was offered.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
It's that lifted gaze that is what keeps Kunzite from leaning his head down against Zoisite's instead of speaking. It would be a comfort, probably for both of them. But that comfort can come a little later.

"Until this last couple of years," he says, not quietly precisely but certainly for Zoisite's ears and not anyone's listening at the door, "I hated the world. It wasn't what it was supposed to be, and everyone kept treating it as if it were normal, and I hated almost every one of them; I was angry all the time. My mother did her best, and I granted her that, and tried for the sake of the duty I owed her to keep it under control enough not to come back on her too often. But it didn't stop the anger, or the hatred, or the contempt.

"I had a handful of people I'd listen to. A couple of teachers who tried hard enough I didn't cause trouble for them. few people who decided they'd rather get into fights alongside me than against me. I met Makoto back then, mostly because she managed to land a punch on me, and we got along all right - we didn't see each other much, though, we were going to different schools. Just about everyone else I wanted to hit at best, break or kill at worst. For my mother's sake, I only started fights when I was handed an excuse, and when I wasn't likely to get caught; and I didn't aim for permanent damage. But it was getting harder to keep that way."

Now he leans his head down for a moment, close enough to get half a breath of the scent of Zoisite's hair again; then straightens (with a little tug of his head to clear his own hair from between them) and continues. "Then the bunch of you showed up, and Mamoru. It didn't make me less angry, not right away. But it made things interesting. I could put anger aside for that, let it burn on its own while I tried to work out what was going on. And the more I saw you all, the more I started actually caring about what happened. To the four of you, directly. To the four of you, indirectly, because the more damage got done, the worse you might feel when we got you out.

"That was dangerous. Is dangerous, still; I haven't stopped being angry. You know how closely related anger and dark energy can be. But the first time I transformed, the first time I used magic on my own, was fueled by anger - because I wanted to protect Nephrite, and Naru, who was at least aware that things were wrong and angry about it herself. I changed, and I used my anger to burn an attack clear of dark energy and send it back.

"And then," his voice turns rueful, almost laughing for a moment, "afterward, I went to a miko I knew to talk to her about what the hell had just happened. To move toward understanding what I'd done, and how I could do it safely, and what parts were dangerous and needed watching, and what parts were too dangerous and needed to be avoided, and how I could practice paying attention so that it became as automatic a reaction as wielding a sword."

Kunzite settles back a little more against the back of the couch, as if inviting Zoisite to lean. "That's why I said 'fear is always related to caring.' Because I've had to be aware that every emotion we think of as negative is born out of defense, somehow. Fear says 'I am perceiving a risk to something or someone I care about.' Anger says 'I believe that someone is trying to harm or treat unfairly someone or something I care about.' Hatred says 'I believe that this person or thing is so dangerous to someone or something I care about that even coming into enough contact with it to understand is too great a threat to tolerate.'

"These things are not, in themselves, flaws. They are defenses. The problem happens when we let the defenses take over and dictate our reactions. So I am trying - to understand my own defenses, and my own reactions. To look for the places where my anger is trying to overwrite my sense, or my ability to handle risk assessment, or my ability to consider other people's points of view."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
He pauses, and he focuses on Zoisite's eyes, and his mouth goes very wry. "Which is one of the reasons I spend so much time by myself. I'm not just watching the monitors. A lot of the time, I'm closeted and meditating. I don't think that'd work so well for you, but I'd make the uneducated guess that gardening does some of the same things for you that those sessions do for me. Which means two things. First, that when we get back, I'd like to offer a hand if you have any unskilled chores that could use one. And second, that when we get back, I need to give you a key to my room, so if I'm not watching the monitors or paying attention to my phone, you can still find me."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
As Kunzite leaned back against the couch, a small invitation given, Zoisite does indeed follow behind by leaning himself against his lover. Almost did he want to tuck his head under Kunzite's chin, close his eyes and listen to steady heartbeats while ear is pressed to chest. It's not a habit he had before, but one he was growing more fond of when the two of them were alone. The rhythm was steady, like a tempo to a song he could one day craft. Wouldn't that be sappy of him? Yes, it would... And he'd do it anyway. But for now, he kept his head lifted to listen and watch his boyfriend speak on about an experience he had not been fully aware of.

Anger, hatred, a painful searing sensation in one's veins when soul wished to boil blood to vapor, feel the life slip away from another being. Or feel bones break under fist or foot. In a way, Zoisite had been lucky in the past, before meeting Mamoru and the rest. Words had ways to both hurt and shield, letting others pick bones while he watched. There was a quiet wonder if he would've carried more visible scars then, instead of unseen. To which, in a certain way, he admired Kazuo's sincerity for carrying all of that along with the willingness to cause harm when needed. Had they met earlier in life, he's almost certain they would have connected and been a frightfully dangerous duo. Perhaps another in another life as well, another timeline, far from their own and Crystal Tokyo's.

Hand lifts, finger caressing over Kunzite's brow and shifting away white locks.

"You're so much more disciplined than I could ever hope to be. I know you hold back so much, always so careful, even able to comprehend something I couldn't even see yet with my own mind." Thumb caressed over cheekbone. "I'm... unrestrained in my emotions. Makes me feel like there's relief in expressing my emotions by actions and cruelty. There's a triumph in there, of making other feel that pain. But..."

-- But you didn't.

At least, not in some time.

"All I can really do now, besides talk, is filter what I feel through talents I know I own." To which he nods at the stated observation of what seemed to calm Zoisite's nerves. "Before gardening, I learned how to play the piano. Then the cello. And when... screaming and crying never worked to calm me down, or... other unruly things. All I did was sit down and pluck away at notes. Whatever my heart felt. At least it made the room I was in less quiet." Gaze averts a bit then, wrinkles between brows. "I don't entirely remember why I became infatuated with gardening. But I spent many hours out in nature. Learned when I was very little that they were all alive, and breathing. Just couldn't speak, so we have to pay attention to what they need. And you're right. It does calm me down when I care for each seed. Nurse them, watch them grow."

Gaze returns to his lover, "In my room, I have a pot full of African Violets at my window sill. They require special care. Water will make their leaves wilt, too much water and they will drown. Slow to grow, takes time to see them bloom. Patience. They're one of my favorite flowers." Soft smile on lips. "When we get back, would you like to learn how to take care of them? Besides helping me move the saplings up to the roof and putting a greenhouse together? I think.. I think I would like doing that with you."

"I'd also give you a key to my room but... That's Nephrite's home. So I hope you don't mind if I slip into your room much more often."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Not in some time. And each time, that's a victory. Kazuo, Kunzite, both facets of him, find it a privilege to be able to perceive those silent invisible victories. To be able to appreciate them.

And another privilege to lean his head just a little into that light caress. He doesn't speak to that sense of triumph; if Zoisite needs to hear again that that's a temporary and treacherous thing, they'll find out in time. IN the mean time, he's been doing well. Reminding him of what he already knows would be an insult to that. Listening - listening when Zoisite chooses to talk is a far better option.

He used to risk talking seriously so rarely. That he is opening up this much, this soon? Better to pay full attention, every time. Because every time is a gift of trust, and if not treated as such, there might not be another.

"I'd like very much to learn how to take care of them," he says, in that quiet, close way. Only speaking for Zoisite, still. He would like to be able to take care of the things that are important to Zoisite, should Zoisite somehow not be able to. To make sure they stay intact, healthy, thriving, to welcome him back. "And I'd be happy to help you move the saplings, and build the greenhouse ... and figure out how to keep a greenhouse intact seven floors up." There's a spark of humor there, but it's warm and interested, a shared thing. "And I don't mind at all if you slip into my room. You're welcome there. Your company is always welcome, to me."

Perhaps someday Zoisite will learn to really believe that. The tentative belief he's showing is another gift, though, and more than enough of one for now.