2404/Negotiations

Negotiations
Date of Scene:	14 March 2025
Location:	Mamoru's Apartment
Synopsis:	Mamoru is making breakfast and checks on Zoi-on-the-couch, and then things turn into a Discussion, and then a Discussion with Kazuo: polyamory negotiations. And a cuddlepile.
Cast of Characters:	Mamoru Chiba, Zoisite, Kazuo Saitou

---

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
It's morning; there's a cozy fleece blanket draped over Izou, and his shoes are somewhere, and the comfy couch has very nearly eaten him. There's the smell of omurice cooking in the kitchen, and Mamoru's back is visible whenever he walks past the counter 'window' facing into the living room.

The curtains are mostly still drawn so that the light doesn't burn Zoi to a crisp. The tinny sound of Mamoru's phone speakers is faintly audible, playing some Japanese pop punk, and otherwise, it's quiet.

Zoisite has posed:
Nothing but a tuft of orange brown hair peeks from under the fleece blanket, a little whine as he could smell the omurice in his sleep. And the soft commotion of early mornings, with gentle sounds and sunlight filtering in slowly. Of course, he had hidden himself under the warmth of fleece so he wouldn't need to deal with too much. Yet, his body was slowly waking.

Slender legs stretch, toes poking out from the other side of the blanket--and he felt a small pinch. One of the various nerves damaged during the last fight was still complaining. Izou lets out a little gasp at it, eyes fluttering open while recent memories come flooding in.

He never left Mamoru's apartment after the meeting. Ended up falling asleep soon after most of the important conversations were had, hand on Kazuo's hair.

Fingers emerge and pull the blanket down his face while he sits up, hair a disheveled mess.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Good morning, star sprinkles," Mamoru calls out from the kitchen when Zoisite sits up, and then he turns to face the redhead, and he covers his mouth, eyes dancing.

He manages to get his face under control mostly, then gestures vaguely at his own fluffy head. "Sorry. Your hair. I love that I get to see you human when you pass out on the couch. Want some breakfast?"

A beat as Mamoru straightens up and surveys Zoisite from across the great divide. "Get up carefully please, and let me have a look at your spine again. You should be healed and it's just the calcium supplements you gotta take."

Zoisite has posed:
Stubborn sleepiness still clung to his green eyes even when he rubbed them. Nothing a cup of tea wouldn't fix, and definitely a few minutes out in the sun. Of course... not looking like his hair was a mockery of a crow's nest. The moment Mamoru greeted him, he glances over to see that hand concealing whatever mirth the prince felt, only for it to be confirmed a second later.

If looks could scold. He reached back to what was once his ponytail to feel it the ribbon and gem were entangled in his curls. Izou was very meticulous in undoing it, sliding the accessory off before refresh his curls with his hands. "Savor it, I don't intend to be caught like this often. I think I left some of my hair products in your guest bathroom in case of these moments..." Now with how often they were having these meetings, and now with Kazuo... It was also one of the reasons he brought up some morning tea packets as well, along with raw honey. "I would like some, thank you." Izou's tone was calm.

Giving up on trying to look halfway presentable, he tied the ribbon around his wrist so it doesn't get lost before heeding Mamoru's word on carefully getting up from the couch. Barefoot, still wearing his clothes from the day prior--now all wrinkled-- he slowly rose. One of two stubborn nerves complained again, but the pain from the yesterday was completely gone.

"The same ones Kazuo was taking?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Those are the ones!" Mamoru says cheerfully. "I mean you should be okay without them, that was only fractures, but it doesn't hurt to replenish anyway." He takes the tea packets and the raw honey, and puts the honey on the counter with a spoon, and gets a Very Big Cup. He makes Zoi's tea not like a ritual, more like a rote action.

And then the elephant sings the song of its people, and Mamoru slidesteps over to open it up and stir the omurice, before spooning out a bowl and sliding it gently across the counter to Zoisite. "Sorry about making you blush, I was trying to muddy the waters and it was a good reason to have the same name, you know? But I don't think it ultimately matters, Kazuo is the one with the awesome mom-- but his grandparents should be all right, they have a different family name..."

Mamoru trails off as he goes to refill his coffee, and then adds, "Since she's here where she can be protected, it's really the Tsukinos we have to watch. Usa's the one the... Black Moon Clan is so unwieldy, let's call them something else... she's the one they hate."

He glances sidelong at Zoisite, either waiting to see if his cooking is acceptable or trying to figure out if he can stall the conversation until Zoisite's blood sugar has been appeased.

Zoisite has posed:
Steps into the kitchen and the tile is cold under his feet. It felt good with how often he felt warm. When the bowl is slid towards him, he takes it with a small smile, already looking for chopsticks. "Thank you." It smelled good, better than the mushy mess he ends up making instead. He really needed more practice with rice makers. At least it wasn't a stove.

The mention of the marriage announcement had him arching an eyebrow at Mamoru then. "I think you painted more of a target on our backs instead of muddied the water, but that is my opinion on that matter. The surname is very common in Japan, rather easy to pick up if someone wanted to fake their identity. " And he took his first bite of omurice, humming his approval of the taste.

"Are you thinking of bringing her family here for the mean time? Or are we just going to patrol the area when we can?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Serving himself a bowl, Mamoru glances back at Zo-- Izou-- and looks chagrined. "Sorry. I panicked," he admits, "a little. And when I panic sometimes stupid shit comes out of my mouth." He switches which hand he's holding the bowl in so he can eat sticky rice off his thumb, glancing at Izou as he listens to the last. He switches hands again and stirs his bowl, then leans against the wall.

"I'm going to buy them tickets for a three-week family cruise. I have a tentative itinerary and need to run it past Usagi before I tell everyone, then she'll tell them she won them."

Mamoru's fluffy head leans against the wall, too, the warm weight of his attention on Zoisite, affection on his face. "Besides, this place is just as likely to be attacked. The only truly safe place from their attacks is on campus, which is why that's where to bring Small Lady in an emergency."

Zoisite has posed:
His pointed criticism wasn't meant to be personal, merely an observation after the fact. He had some time to think over what happened, and despite playing along, it did feel like a spotlight had been on him and Kazuo. Even so, the thought of marriage still left him with a cozy pink feeling in the middle of his chest. "It's fine. Saphir might know by now our true identities, if he really wanted to. You did your best in a situation that had no right answer. Even my mind was weak by then." Izou admitted, nodding towards his prince as he reaches over to a napkin and offers it.

"Here."

Another mouthful of rice, lifting a finger so Mamoru would pause just long enough for him to be able to chew and swallow down properly. "So same plan as with Kazuo's mom. That will at least empty the house if they decide to barge in all of a sudden. Perfect. And I assume Usagi will be here or with one of her Senshis."

Looks back to his prince then, green eyes tired over the last happenings over so little time, yet still ever vibrant and alive like spring in full bloom. "We could permanently relocate Usagi and Small Lady to the Shed. It's unknown to the Black Moon Clan as far as we know."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
A napkin! The prince takes it and daintily dabs at the corner of his mouth, reaching for his tea with his pinky up. And he has trollface on, briefly, as briefly as he is an ass. "Thank you!" he says for real, using it properly on his hands. He is... going to choose to interpret that as 'even my MIND' instead of 'even MY mind'...

"Mmm," says Mamoru at the last, thinking with a furrowed brow for a moment as he chews and swallows. Then, "No, on campus itself is all right -- the Hell Planet Crew can't use their powers there, and Small Lady's very good at knowing when to hide and when to pull a gun, unless she's full of dark energy. But also I am not the boss of Sailor Moon, and only half the boss of Usagi Junior," he adds with a crooked grin. "That reminds me, though, the Rainbow Crystals are still in the Shed. Up in the rafters."

Mamoru scarfs down a bunch of his breakfast a little too fast, then considers the mosaic tiled floor under their feet for a moment. He sets his chopsticks down and leans against the counter, looking like he regrets that a little, uselessly thumping his chest. "You'd think a healer could heal food going down too slow..."

When the spectacle is over with, Mamoru holds a hand out. "I need to have a conversation with you and I need us to be on the same page. I mean we can wait until after breakfast but--"

Should Zoisite take it, there's the same sharing of feelings, the same golden warmth that's like sunshine over mossy stone. Mamoru's not anxious. The image of Kazuo doing his homework flashes across his mind's eye. "--it should be a good conversation."

Zoisite has posed:
"I wasn't suggesting you were the boss of Usagi. But I was suggesting an idea that could be useful to her were she in need of one at all." Brows furrowed as he closed his eyes, feeling them roll upwards right as Mamoru was starting to make a mockery of the napkin. He knew it was in jest, all he needed was the caffeine to kick in. Ah, the reminder of the Rainbow Crystals and knowing where they were being kept was good to know. The guns as well. Apparently most magical artifacts were being kept there. Hopefully scattered and not clumped together.

The sounds of stifled coughing and choking took him aback then, eyes opening to watch his prince struggle for a moment with the amount of rice that momentarily got stuck down the track. "You're impossible sometimes, your Highness." Although a huff was added to his comment, the fondness in the tone lingered still. Like the roll of his eyes, the willing patience he sported. Only for his prince. Only for the few he cared for.

But everything seemed to go a little still as Mamoru changed the subject, offering a hand and waiting for it to be taken. Conversation and same page felt like words that warranted some worry. Like punishment would come around the corner. Did Izou upset someone again? Was nitrogen about to be poured on him?

No hesitation though. Izou knew whatever needed to be said would be communicated one way or another, so he stretched out his hand and took the prince's. The flood of warm sunshine and moss was greeted by columns of fractured crystals. Cleaned than before, but strangely silent. No image or thought offered.

Guarded mind. Not mistrusting, but alert. The image of Kazuo presented to him only added to the fact.

Mind whispered back, continue, my prince.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
It's only a brief moment that Mamoru's distracted by the beauty of Zoisite's mind-- and then a warm laugh and a flood of reassurance: "You're not in trouble. I'm sorry it's seemed that way lately." Neither one is a lie. "I'm not jealous when it's you." Also not a lie. "I just-- I don't want to sleep alone?" Lonely, cold, nightmares. Stifled flashes of nightmares. Thetis and Beryl, the entirety of the catacombs, Hinoiri's fire, ... things that were done to other people to punish him...

"Usa can't be over all the time. I'm-- I'm just talking about cosleeping! And-- I'll get better about it, I'm sure. Emi-san says she'll help me with the nightmares, that'll make it easier."

He's anxious now, all right. "I just-- I just need him, I need to be with him, often. But I can share with you. If you can share with me." Not a lie.

There's another stray image, of a pile of them on the couch. Tactile their prince is as tactile as he was in their previous lives -- it's just that the list of people he can touch without masking is very small. Unspoken, of course, is that Zoisite's on it.

Zoisite has posed:
Gentle mirth is received, like sunrays penetrating prisms--colors dancing across smooth and cracked facets before it all reflects back the images flooding from Mamoru's mind. Ice and stone, mirrored skulls and bones and countless pathways of the underground dark. Then fire. Unlike the sunrays, it was a much darker affair, and heat was felt. Every facet shone and vibrated the pain and the worries and anxieties. Echoed deep in Izou's mind and perpetuated the horrid images again and again until--

Snap of delicate fingers. Every crystal column turning a dark green, shedding the reflective auras. Zoisites. No rubies. Just the comforting green, stone ground growing grass beneath their feet as he silently listened to his prince's words. How one's mind was indeed filled with nightmares and needs and the constant want to touch, feel, grasp--taste with nose, hear with eyes, see with fingers.

The youngest of the four knew well of his position in the group. Knew what he meant to Mamoru, as the prince equally meant the same if not more at times. He trusted the lack of jealousy, the honesty of such statements.

Yet...

"I am your knight, my prince. Nothing will change that. If touch is what you need, none of us would ever deny you such comforts." It was true. Zoisite, for all of the flaws in his stone, was aware of his shortcomings as well as what he was willing to offer to Endymion. When the oath was uttered from his lips, he meant it. Love thy Prince. And he did.

Columns trembled softly in return a second later, the gentle echo of cold electric touch. Anxiety ran through his bones as well, nerves tight, even the sensitive ones healed by golden touch. Reciprocal worries, as he wondered if his next words would be understood then.

"This is indeed a conversation we need to have. But I am afraid further talk without Kunzite's presence will be for naught." Deep, steady breath. "His presence, his being is just as important as the two of us, so are his words. I cannot make a decision without him knowing so, and I cannot speak for him as well as to what would be best for his comforts, yours, and my own." And like stone, these words were solid in his heart.

Childish, impish, spoiled brat as most saw fit to call him. Spitfire, feral creature. Yet what he felt in his heart was real, deep as tree roots. Green as his eyes.

"We can wait for him before continuing."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Yes, okay," Mamoru says in a relieved exhalation, and he lets go of Izou's hand only to lean and hug him. "I get what you mean." Not a lie: every piece of Zoisite's carefully-set-out and steady explanation, he agreed with, every step of the way. "For the record, we did talk about you months and months ago. Um, actually I think over a year ago. If that's any kind of reassurance. I just couldn't interfere. All I could do was set up moments! I know the way he looks at you."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Was he watching? Probably not, not inside the apartment. Did he pick up on Mamoru's anxiety and relief from that far away? Maybe. There's the quiet sound of a door closing, though, and then a silent pale figure at the end of the corridor. Not interrupting. Just taking a moment to stand and watch Mamoru hugging Isou. And not, quite, hide a little smile.

Zoisite has posed:
Momentary disconnect, leaving Izou blinking at the emptiness only to have the flood of light and warmth back at full blast when he's hugged. It was such a surprising move that it made him realize that during the conversation, he'd unknowingly fell into his knightly persona at full blast--armor, shield and rapier gleaming and ready. Why? Truthfully he had no explanation for it. Certain emotions were incredibly new to him, and powerful enough that he wanted to protect their existence in his life.

Muscles that tensed some relaxed under the comforting touch. Cheeks began to redden under the extra information however.

Since then? I see... Mind was pondering then, looking back at earlier moments. Did he miss any? Possibly. Izou leaned his head against Mamoru's shoulder, wrapping his arms around the prince. Thank you for understanding. His mind remained the comforting green, full of greenery and life with budding flora.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
The hug is really nice. And Zoisite's fluffy hair always smells nice, too. The thought/impression is shared carelessly, affectionate, clear. Nothing weird tangled up in it, just more Endymion.

"Of course," murmurs Mamoru right back, out loud to something silent, and then he steps back, his hand already seeking Izou's again, and he half-turns and grins full-on bright at Kazuo.

"Hey, I didn't hear you sneeze, did you hear us talking about you?" he asks, and it's maybe a little rueful, but he gestures for Kazuo to come closer. "We need to talk about relationships! And there's omurice for you, and tea. Good morning." A beat. "I think that may have been backwards."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"No. I just have hidden sensors to alert me for adorable things, in case Small Lady visits. The two of you set them off instead." Kazuo's smile doesn't actually grow a fraction wider, but somehow the part of it around his eyes does, and he comes closer to settle on one knee in front of the couch and the pair of them. "Very good morning."

Zoisite has posed:
Oh. Kazuo. Of course he's here, and of course he didn't pay attention to how it happened, but Izou turned his head quickly to look he could feel his ears turn a bit pink as well. Adorable things. That makes him smile. "Good morning, Kazuo. The omurice isn't half bad, it didn't detect my presence." An attempt of a joke at his own expense, not able to cook anything on the stove. He'll get there eventually.

His hand gives Mamoru's a small squeeze, ready whenever they were.

Anxiety? Yes. Controlled now, only knowing it would bubble up once words were exchanged too close to thoughts and fears he had--and there were many. For now, he was focused on the present, the smell of omurice and earl grey and both Kazuo and Mamoru being there.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
That 'very good morning' in that tone with that smile, that close, with Kazuo looking up at them...

Mamoru's a little pink, and his smile's pleased. Zoisite can feel Mamoru's wistfulness, and can feel his automatic polite behavior kicking in, don't be rude, don't kiss Kazuo right now it would be rude, et cetera. It doesn't show on his face, but it shows in his body language-- just a little lean, a little shift, a little change in the tilt off his head... but he does not let it show on his face.

"You need to eat some food, Kazuo. Don't be so distracting. Besides, you're adorable. I'm not adorable."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"You're both adorable," Kazuo corrects. "And you told me 'come over' and 'relationship talk.' Even omurice takes second place to those." Cooking on the stove is an acquired sk-- okay granted it might not be the easiest skill for the person who likes fire to learn. He settles down a little more firmly, crosslegged, not quite on anyone's feet. "So. Where were you when I interrupted?"

Zoisite has posed:
Pyromancy, for a pyromaniac. Not the best skill to have on a stove when the first inclination is to make sure the chicken is dead. Twice. Out of childish glee and curiosity. Not to mention he wasn't very well practiced outside of electronics and prep work. Little Zoisite things.

When Kazuo sits down with them, there's an inhale and a hitch. Fingers still connected with Mamoru's, he could still hear the quiet murmurings echoing between their minds. The politeness when it wasn't needed. He was the one stepping in and disrupting--

Exhale.

"Mamuro said he needs you. Very much." Izou nods.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"... that's fair," Mamoru says to Kazuo's version of 'food can wait'; he looks sheepish.

And then Izou picks that to say to open with, and the prince's eyes widen and he realizes what just happened, and suddenly he's alarmed, and instead of yanking his hand away from Zoisite's he reaches out to grab Kazuo's with the other, and he replays the conversation thus far in a bit of a scramble, then sorts it into chronological order.

He uses his words, too, though. "I did say that, and it's true, but it's not where we left off!! We left off with my trying to matchmake you two for months after blocking Obsidian-Zoi for months..."

But then Mamoru shakes his head. "The important thing is that we all need to be happy, and I-- I don't think that'll be hard? I just need you often. And I'm more than happy to share a lot of that often time with you, Izou, I mean, the guy has two arms."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Kazou reaches and sets his other hand on Izou's knee - it'd be on their joined hands, but knee is in reach, and he's shorter than the two of them for the moment. He 'listens' to Mamoru's nonverbal summary, careful not to let his own emotions out to confuse the matter more --

-- and then, thoughtfully, slowly, as considered as words would have been, he gives his own perspective to the connection. It's in feelings, in symbols, rather than in word.

Mamoru as the ground beneath their feet, as soil supporting the trees and grass around them in a park, as the comforting shadows in the night, as the solid, welcoming reality that sustains him; as the existence that lets Kazuo himself become the steady support that he tries to be.

And Zoisite - Zoisite as the sunlight, sharp and painful to the eyes, but in turn feeding that green, and letting beauty into the world; Zoisite as firelight, leaping warm and dangerous and guardian and lethally beautiful in the shadows, in the night, in the winters when the sun is cool and dim; Zoisite as the blossoms on those trees and the flowers in the grass, lovely and delicate and full of thorns for the unwary, a thousand colors and scents.

He loves both of them, in a hundred intricate and intertwining ways. And he wants, far more than anything else, for both of them to have what they need to be happy - not in the sense of momentary pleasure, but in the sense of long-term well-being, purpose, joy.

"What do you need?" he asks up to Izou, when he finds his words again.

Zoisite has posed:
Mind is silent when everything is explained, not hiding what his own explanation was in that moment, how his voice rang or the knightly self blooming strong in the middle of it all. This was his first time truly letting himself feel utterly vulnerable--especially when Kazuo barely saw the inside of his mind, how it worked, how it shapeshifts in colors and purpose and can be just as sharp cold as mountain crystals or as warm and gentle as the green he's mostly known for.

He took in the small desperation from Mamoru, pleading a case that perhaps was in question in Izou's mind but not because of the prince's presence. No, that was not it. And when the view of Kazuo's mind was offered, the way the two were described as Earth and Light, ground and flora, the components that were just as necessary to make a world exist--

And to be asked what it was that he needed.

It's hard to know that. What one wanted could be an erroneous guess into the wind. Wishes were never granted for many reasons, and usually it's because he didn't deserve them. But what he could offer are the things he knew he was not. Things that they both saw of him, and even if he knew much needed to be weeded and cleaned, cracks are a forever thing.

So, columns of crystals shift, small but new openings to further in his mind are granted. Not everything. Just... enough to get his point across. From the recent conversations he had about the last incident with Minako's bow and the snowball that it formed of consequences he knew he'd feel for a very long time, to a thread of thoughts that linked it all back to much, much older sentiments--from even before the green bow ever existed, or when his hair was ever that long to begin with. Of a grand piano in a large empty but beautiful space, a child appropriate cello and chalk, and the Alps. Green. Green. But solitary. Lonely. Nothing else but a view and solitary. Then shouting. Perhaps it was abrupt how it slipped in, but the bursts were violent, enough that the scenery that had been permitted to peek through was abruptly set on fire, extinguished and replaced by--

Just emotions now. Deserved and caged. Disciplined. Again and again. Then it changed form, new entities would do the punishing. Strangers. That's all he knew for most of his life. And he was nothing but wild sharp teeth in sentiments, jaded and cut again and again. Jealous of thing he would never have. Coveting. Finding joy in the little places he could. Nurturing what brought reactions to his existence, even when it was cruel. Sadism. Bluntness. Fire. Entitlement and selfishness. Hollow foundations give birth to hollowed trees that bare no apples or blooms. His branches were as long as his roots, looking for anything that would keep him from going.

And that was Mamoru. Now, Kazuo.

The sharp pang of jealousy of anyone besides the Shitennou and Mamoru approaching Kazuo was known. And Izou permitted that to unleash itself again just as a reminder. To where the roots were buried in his mind, he did not share. Just knew it was entangled in everything else in his mind. Like a rose bush full of thorns. A violence that was part of him and possibly would never be fully healed or dulled. One could try to prune, maintain and have patience...

Or leave it behind.

And the message was clear in his mind, and not directed or ever aimed at Mamoru. Just the rest of the world. Izou was not willing to share Kazuo. Perhaps it was selfish of him, and he admitted it. Never was he a benevolent creature to begin with. There was worry in all of this as well. The fires he would continue to cause, the poison he could let through, the cracks so visible. Like Mamoru's fear of fires and nightmares, Izou's was the expectancy of being discarded enough for bark-like callouses to form. It would hurt but he's willing to step aside if what he was was too much to keep near.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
It's-- he's not--

Reactions to Kazuo in feelings and images: Kazuo, holding him after he felt crowded in his own room with guests, after Beryl. Kunzite, holding him when he was so very small (a child who is a prince is still a prince, still a prince, and he already reminded his poor Small Lady of this). The mess of dissociation and being left out and left behind-- of others being punished-- of snide and casual cruelty, of the especially toxic corporate culture (how to avoid assassination in the workplace), of red red red

Tall and long-white-hair against the wall, with a child in hand who was falling through the shadows on the floor, dissociating, but then. He was paying attention to her, and even then at that moment he wanted Kazuo's eyes on him, snapping into reality into the here and now

he feels so small and distant, the prince is always apart, hematite was never even really one of them, jadeite said he said that what she did to them is what she wouldn't do to him, he was never one of them, he was never one of them

he wants so fiercely

he is so possessive and he wants to keep all of them close, but not... welded to him, omg, not naming names jadeite but omg

(so small and distant and left out)

(even when he asked for it even when he gave and gave and he had his sword in hand fighting the demon off and Kunzite hid Zoisite's vulnerability, and Endymion granted it, it's so wrong, that he would grant someone time or privacy, there's so much wrong with him) (a prince is a prince) (maybe it was still leftover mindset from having been in Obsidian for so long, maybe maybe maybe, but--)

It was never envy. It was never 'I want what you have instead of you'. It was always, always the fear of being lonely, being left behind, being abandoned.

The ground may be there always, may nurture and give, may be blasted and scarred but there, may be fertile or salted, rock or sand or clay or soft loam, but it's dirt. It's dirt. He called her bunny girl and got dirt boy. He wants to be flowers and sunlight too. Roses and gold. Green green Elysion, images of it, clear beautiful perfect memories of it--

They're all necessary components. He needs them all. He needs them all on that general existence level. But he wants more than that from Kazuo. And he--

--makes himself fucking relax, because he KNOWS he has more than that from Kazuo, for pity's sake.

What do *you* need? asks Kazuo of Izou, and Mamoru is relieved to get out of his own tangled mess, shove it away, focus on Zoisite, on Izou.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
And-- cracks are not a forever thing. Kintsugi. If something is cherished, cracks can be turned into art, gleaming gold and a new kind of perfect. The mental image of Zoisite as some kind of lava superhero with awesome-looking magical glowing crack patterns is beautiful but also funny.

Every punishment's scars are on display in Zoisite's very personality; Mamoru does not pity, but he absolutely emotionally and spiritually embraces Zoisite in the mantle of his power. He remembers.

He remembers picking Zoi up, giving him his name back, this bright fierce feral thing he already loved-- no wonder, no wonder. (And Kazuo-- him with his sword, Kazuo holding Izou--) First Mamoru, then Kazuo. Mamoru doesn't want to be replaced either. He doesn't want alllll of Zoisite's attention on Kazuo, he wants some too, but he doesn't want it because Zoisite thinks they shouldn't be able to deny him anything.

He doesn't want to be the prince. He has to be the prince. And if he weren't their prince, they wouldn't even be here, so he has to be grateful that he's the prince even if it means he will never be one of them.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
You are always one of us.

That to Mamoru, certain. One metaphor, one symbol, is not the world - and Kunzite remembers Endymion standing, eyes laughing with delight, and the way they all borrowed something of Zoisite's to turn to him like flowers; remembers Mamoru's little smiles, at Zoisite or Usagi or Small Lady or at Nephrite and Zoisite and Jadeite razzing each other lazily, and oh, there are his blossoms in turn. And they are all earth, in turn, in their ways. They move through phases - sunlight and stars, flowers and earth, the deep sea and the glaciers, down to the magma, to the molten iron at the core of the world, up to the magnetic fields arching above. They soar and dive, take turns with each other's roles, realign.

That Mamoru is the center of the dance does not make him not one of the dancers - it's only harder to see, from his perspective.

And then to Izou --

-- there is only admiration. For how much he is himself. For how much he retained, and regrows, the ability to care. For the way that even half-drowned in the Dark Kingdom he wanted to reach out. For the brightness he found a way to retain even through the dark. For the way he lived --

(There is the smallest fraction of a memory drowned in time and death, a child using cold and shadows to condense droplets of water from desert air, one tiny bright chance at survival at a time. He understands something of the desperation it took to grow those roots so far, the determination it took simply to keep trying.)

Aloud, Kazuo says, almost forgetting he's speaking, "You should know - I have a temper, this time. Like when I flew off the handle, punched Jadeite. I get angry fast. But if I have a little while to think, I get over it fast, too."

And it's all right, is the underlying certainty, that cool and steady support. It's all right. Violence, fire, poison, rage - these things are tools, are weapons in Zoisite's hands, as easily as they are problems. Learning to make them answer to him? That's something Izou's already begun doing.

And as for Kazuo's role in that -There was a possibility that in time he and Minako might have become people who could have been matched as well. But that is a possibility. Izou is now. They are already intertwined.

"I can't keep other people from approaching me. But I can tell them no." And will. When he --

"I can't guarantee that I will notice when other people approach me. Or when you're upset. Mamoru can confirm that sometimes I have the emotional intelligence of a dead clam. We may have to set up a signal. If you pick elbowing me in the gut, please try to keep it at a level that won't make Mamoru complain about needing to fix my kidneys."

Zoisite has posed:
Loneliness.

Green eyes lifted when similar sentiments echoed back. Where one expected, the other feared. Products of a cycling world that felt no pity of the apples dropped near or far. Sapplings always took to fertile earth and would grow. Crooked, small, sickly, brutally, but they'd be there. The right to exist.

Mamoru was more than just support, and Izou understood that. Perhaps his mind was far too young to parse what it was, to give that level of emotion a word, but it was there and it was strong. Primordial as the core of the planet itself, or the columns that maintained the ancient memories of his mind life after life after life. And as Kazuo whispered without words, yes, they were all a part of the whole, made by and of one another, connected by what they were in the past, what they are now, and would become in the future.

If the invaders of the future were anything to go by, they all now have something so much larger to protect and look forward to. Be part of. Never alone.

Delicate hand held tighter against Mamoru's. Be what would come, he'd never leave Mamoru's side. Not just the prince, but the human. The one that gave him purpose long before becoming a knight. Someone he could disagree with, sass back, become enraged and shake but care for.

As for temper, Zoisite knew that well too as his attention was drawn to Kunzite. Kazuo. You don't have to be careful with me still rang true. There was something almost worrying in how willing Izou was in wanting to accept most flaws and shadows of those he kept close. Noticed them, found how the natural darkness had shapes that always molded against their skin. Kept them cool from moments that reminded them that it is, sometimes, okay to lose control. Nature produced wildfires to burn down centuries of growth, prune and reshape the landscape for new possibilities.

And Jadeite had needed a punch. Or perhaps a few more.

But the last few few statements pulled his gaze to fully take in the man he was very much in love with and willing to let go of if that's what it took to keep the other happy.

"Are you sure?" Out loud, quiet. He didn't want his poison to be strong, to lock away true happiness if it was found. But were the answer yes, Kazuo was sure, Zoisite would be entrusting the man with more than his heart. Come rage, come coldness or misunderstandings.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
'Always one of us'-- Kazuo and Izou can both feel Mamoru gently rolling to doubt but keeping open minded about it. Maybe he'll truly believe that someday, but he can't, right now. There are things that still sting a little too much, and not getting to keep his Hematite identity is one of them. But gentle, gentle, it's packed away in between mental blankets as irrelevant to the current moment.

He soaks the rest of it up there, their interplay, their all being in the dance, what links them and what puts them at odds, his alarm when the at-odds is too much, and the angry lasts too long. What he relies on them for, what he hopes they can rely on him for-- protection from the judgement of the world until they don't need it anymore, a shield against terrible misunderstandings, the healing of minds and souls over time as well as the healing of bodies. He wants them to be whole again.

He wants them all to be whole again, it's as important to him as saving the world is, which maybe means his priorities need some work, but it is what it is.

"And I will complain. About having to fix his kidneys," Mamoru assures Zoi.

Underlying it all is a deep, deep current of unconditional love, and the feeling of interlocking destinies and how that helps him be closer to being whole. And also Mamoru desperately not wanting to be left out, left behind, moved past, unnecessary, unneeded, ignored-- he understands! He understands that there are things that the guys share that he can't be part of, like there are things the inner senshi share that Usagi's not included in. But the door... he doesn't want the door in his face.

He feels selfish.

He feels selfish but Izou's touch reassures him the same way Kazuo's does -- they won't leave him, even if he can't be part of everything. Zoisite won't leave him. Kunzite won't leave him. That, he can believe except in the middle of the night if he's alone after a bad day, and who could believe it at a time like that?

But Zoisite's squeezing his hand, and Mamoru leans toward him, leans on him for a moment, greedily soaking up the contact and the attention and the love. And when Zoisite asks Kazuo if he's sure, Zoisite can feel the currently less-than-fully-verbal prince's certainty of Kazuo's answer, and of his own.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
Is he sure?

The spark in Kazuo's eyes answers before words can; but it might or might not register to Izou. After all. Laughing and warm and affectionate is how Kazuo looks at Izou so often, it's possible he might now recognize that it's not a default.

"If you're sure - knowing that I'm involved with Mamoru, too; knowing that it's possible I might get angry over something stupid and stalk off for a little while, but that it would be only to come back and apologize; knowing that I may not recognize when you need something, and I hope you'll be willing to tell me or at least prod me to provide it - if you're sure, knowing all of that, then I am more than sure."

He leans his head down for a moment against Izou's knee, hair falling lightly over it, then straightens.

"And neither of you," he says quietly, "should ever have to be alone after a bad day. Not if there's anything we can do about it."

He loves them. And for the two of them... even if it's technically Jadeite's bailiwick, for the two of them he feels he can find all the patience in the world.

Zoisite has posed:
Physical touch of Mamoru's soft hair against his shoulder, the steadiness of it and the humming of connected minds. Knowing that they still were held as such high priority for the prince even when the world itself needed the same, filled Zoisite with a strange kind of pride that was difficult to explain then. To be a priority was...

Strange. Addictive. But he knew that would not last long. Deep down, somehow, he had felt it before. Not being the priority of someone. Anyone. Or losing the chances. It had no shape, the memories, but the sentiments were there swirling in the depths of his being.

It was overwhelming, in a way, how much seemed to bleed in and how of his mind, and how much as willing to open or close in terms of what was hidden inside of him. But the reassurances, the touch and transmissions and lack of filter offered even from Kazuo's connection through Mamoru was pleasant. Calming--left no what ifs to be guessed.

And he appreciated that Kazuo spoke out loud all the same as well. That was their form of communication. Verbal, the unknowing of one's mind and no way to confirm otherwise in the end. He would need to trust his lover, come what may. And he would.

Or try...

"When you say, not left alone when a bad day happens... What if we both had one, but we're not willing to be around each other. What then?" A sobering question from him, but one that he wondered about. As a lad that did treasure his own privacy, the alone moments with who he specifically picks, he wanted to be sure what to expect.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
The question doesn't take Kazuo by surprise, and that he has answers ready, that he's thought about this, is conveyed through quiet . . . not certainty. Not confidence. Because there's always the chance of getting things wrong. But a readiness to deal with it. "Mamoru has Usagi to lean on, too," Kazuo says. "If whatever happened didn't take her somewhere else, then there's the first answer. If whatever happened did take Usagi somewhere else - then I'd be very surprised if you weren't willing to be around each other, because I think you'd be wanting to support Mamoru, too, Izou. But for the sake of working out the hypothetical - and presuming that Nephrite and Jadeite can't help, and for some reason no-one outside can help at all - then I'd guess, if we're capable of figuring it out, whoever is doing worse gets to lean on me. Whoever is doing slightly better gets my plushie as a promise, and checked in on as often as I can manage."

His plushie. Because ages ago, when they were hiding from Beryl at the Gates of Time, Setsuna gave them all plushies of themselves, and Kazuo's has not been seen since.

Apparently this hypothetical moment of awful is what it takes for him to admit it still exists.

"If you need something other than that - or if you have another way of making the decisions - then I'll listen, and I think Mamoru will, and the three of us will work it out."

He always wants Zoisite to be heard. Always.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
The answer Kazuo gave isn't a surprise, and Mamoru's not fussed about it at all -- of course Kazuo is sure. Mamoru knew from the moment Zoisite came bringing someone else's KFC into his dorm room and then had A String Of Moments that Kazuo was sure. There's a flash of that in the background, and a flash of the thorns everywhere after he was tortured into losing control of his body, and what he did to Zoi, and collapsing in Sailor Moon's arms at the end and Kazuo going off to fish Zoisite out of the rubble of the building Dark Endymion had flung him into--

Mamoru's mind and heart are rueful, apologetic still, but also confident that Kazuo knew exactly what he was doing, and confident that Kazuo made the right choice, even if he was stomping out the embers of his greedy tears, he wanted Kazuo to help him, and he wants to be able to help Zoi, too, to be that close, to be someone Zoisite can cry on, but Kazuo did the exact right thing and non-tortured Mamoru is perfectly happy with it.

"And," Mamoru says out loud, but quiet, his voice a buzzing murmur against Zoi's shoulder, "I'll always get over it if I get butthurt about something. And, you will always catch me at it if I am, because either I'll be sulking out of contact or I'll be in contact and unable to lie about my feelings, haha. And-- I like touch. But only with you guys, and Usako, and Small Lady, because you're comfortable with me-- I hate touching people who aren't. It hurts to see a smile and know you're not wanted."

Zoisite has posed:
It wasn't the answer he was expecting, but perhaps one he needed to hear in that moment. Realistic, logical, filled with rational what ifs and reminders that perhaps in the long run, maybe he will be mature enough to admit when his hurt can be pushed aside or not. Or willing to wait. When Mamoru already had a support system that was growing outside of the Shitennou, and Izou didn't.

Decisions could be made and tested. Nothing was meant to be a fool-proofed accuracy the first time. So Izou accepts it as he nods, watching Kazuo carefully and with fondness glittering in his eyes--even as he remembers the sting of rubble having once crushed him down, only to be pulled out of it in the end by Kazuo.

A gentle glance was offered to Mamoru then, one that accepted the apology, as many times as it would come he would always accept it. It's whispered back, mind to mind, before looking back to Kazuo.

"I don't know what else I would need besides that. You're my first real boyfriend. I don't... know what else I need to expect." Or ask for. Or know what is common. Nothing.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"We'll find out," Kazuo says. It's not extending a promise, per se. It's an expectation of how the world works. Things fall downward unless something's tinkering with gravity. The sun rises in the east unless someone's tinkering with the sky. They'll find out what Zoisite will need; they may make mistakes, but mistakes are a part of learning.

And then Kazuo takes back his hand, and pushes himself up, and leans in to let go of Mamoru's hand for a moment and lean in, wrapping arms around both their waists, turning his head to rejoin the contact with his cheek to Mamoru's hand. "We'll find out."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
!! Mamoru is squisht along with Zoisite, and a laugh bubbles up out of him and he looks down at Kazuo with an ocean of affection, and turns his hand around to cup the side of Kazuo's face for a moment, brush his thumb against Kazuo's cheekbone, run his fingers through Kazuo's hair, then putting his hand back where Kazuo can continue to cuddle it, amused.

"He's my first boyfriend, too," he says to Zoi sheepishly. "And in this life, I fell for him at the same time as I fell for Usagi... but if you're counting the Golden Kingdom, yeah, okay, Serenity was my first romantic relationship. And figuring out timeshare has been a little bit of an adventure, and it's going to get even more involved, and we'll all navigate that together too. Because-- to me-- because of my own schedule, and my own connections-- there are four people in this polycule, not three. Even if you're not dating me or Usagi, even if Kazuo's not dating Usagi, I am. And-- and I'm going to tell you something."

Before he even tells it though, the flood of hot embarrassment at his own childishness precedes it, and Mamoru chews on his lip for a second. "I'm-- especially greedy, Izou. I do cherish my alone-time with Kazuo at night, and I-- know I'm not going to get nearly as much of it the older we get. So I'm going to be fighting to keep that sense of running out of time and greedy grasping off you until I can get it under control. But I'm sorry in advance if I get prickly on occasion."

Zoisite has posed:
A nod, an understanding, eye to eye connection where a childish demeanor meets another. And one where Izou was very familiar with. It takes only an instance for him to willingly share what he felt the moment Minako mentioned her first kiss being from Kazuo, and how that scorching jealousy consumed every nerve he had. And it was still there, in the corners of who Izou was. A jealous man, just as greedy and demanding. Someone that only is accepting of sharing due to it being Mamoru. No one else, not even Minako or Usagi would take away something he adored.

So that much was indeed felt in common.

"I don't remember my past fully, you know this. I only remember glimpses of it. So I can only trust what I know now with a grain of salt." And an extra bit of honesty was shared as well when the bit about schedule was also voiced. Girl time and boy time was stupid. It was Usagi time and everyone else time, if they wished to be so nitpicky, but that was indeed added with the caveat of it being Izou's damn opinion.

"What do you mean, running out of time?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"--I mean my time is already split now. My time with Kazuo is already limited. It will become more so when Usagi moves in, and more so still when we have kids," Mamoru says, spilling it all with words, a strange sense of shame burning his face. "I don't want any of that any less, even though it will cost. Small Lady is a princess, Zoi, her mother and father are the queen and king of the world. Princes do what they want. Kings don't."

His body language is a little more closed in than it was, curled up a little more, more tense. His voice goes from quick and quiet to quick and quiet and raw by the end of it.

Responsibility. He's afraid of what it means, even though he'll shoulder it. Endymion felt trapped, sometimes, knowing where he was going to end up-- on the throne of the High Court, married to whoever, not able to spend all his time with his best friends, potentially trying to pacify a stranger-- and how freed he initially felt when he met Serenity, because she was so kind and good that she would let him spend as much time as he wanted with his best friends. Especially since so would she.

If only that whole pesky fucking royalty thing hadn't been in the way of literally everything.

This is unfiltered but scattered, the images and associated feelings flowing freely, and it's underneath what's out loud.

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
And there is the Fade. Kazuo acknowledges that silently, the unspoken threat, the problem that Mamoru is not thinking of --

But Kazuo is not afraid of it. Kazuo is absolutely, silently, convinced that it is something they are capable of fighting. Capable of winning against. Yes, if they take that for granted, they'll lose. But somewhere, if they work hard enough, if they ask the right questions, if they look at the right things from the right angle - and 'they' is not limited to the Shitennou, but includes the dozens of others - somewhere, somehow, there is an answer to be found. There is something they can do.

There has to be. Queen Serenity's wish would not have brought her daughter back now only to abandon her in Lethe.

Besides. He remembers the aching emptiness that chased him all through his childhood and the first half of his teens. He knows that he loved them before he remembered them. If he should forget again for a while, he will not forget them - he will love them still, until they find the key to unlock him again.

(There is that confidence in them, and another kind, too, when Izou shares that instant - because while he needs more control, yes, he had enough control that it was only the bow. Even if the journey is far from finished, he's proud of Izou for having come as far as he has.)

"Parents don't," Kazuo says with a brief sigh. "But you won't be parenting alone. Your children will have a dozen or two aunts and uncles to share the burden around. We'll find ways. Maybe we'll even find ways that everyone can get sleep." His mouth tugs up at the visible corner, and he glances up to the pair of them, so well as he can from that angle.

Zoisite has posed:
Love was such a weird sentiment. The want to multiply even more as his own experience had been a negative as a child. However, he shared a sense of sympathy with Mamoru--and he wanted to remind his prince that once the Fade comes, there would be no worries about being the King. Such responsibilities would be long gone in the end.

Izou, however, did not share that now. Wrong moment, wrong thing to say. They all had a clock over their heads, progressively losing time with the powers and responsibilities they had. Soon, he'll also turn eighteen, and soon, he'd feel the rot of his mind, losing memories so precious to him of his past life, of what he learned, suffered, and served back. His connection to his Prince and the Shitennou and even Mercury.

A terrifying prospect of the horizon they all would need to endure. Let Mamoru have the fantasy that the mantle of King would still be draped over those shoulders. It would hurt no one, hopefully.

Maybe then, Zoisite would not have to worry so much, looking over his leige, with the rest of his brothers. Trapped in a cycle of forever bending the knee to whatever comes by Fate's design.

One day, a much deeper talk could follow, when such fears were controlled.

And as Kazuo adds that there would be help to look after children in the future, of uncles and aunts and other able hands willing to carry the little one known as Small Lady, Izou nods to this. babysitting was something common, and children are smarter than they look. He would know, having been one that dealt with being alone. Independence comes rather soon, so does learning.

But they would all learn how to deal with children in time. "I think you worry too much about what the future will hold for you. Borrowing anxieties when you still have too graduate from university." Izou comments, side eyeing Mamoru. "The now also needs your attention, don't you think? Not what comes after."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"The now is why I'm clinging to Kazuo with both hands while I still can," laughs Mamoru, and it's a loose thing that shakes itself out of his chest. "That's all. I have now. I don't know how much else I have. So-- we're sharing, and it's not effortless, but it is easier because it's you, because I love you too."

Technically Usagi has Mamoru time and everyone else time, too, but either way its silly and unsustainable -- but it's also not something Usagi or Mamoru enforces...

There will be many deeper talks, of many different kinds. There will be more words, there will be better sharing, there will be the lot of them growing up with or without the Fade.

The Fade: Mamoru still can't think about it. He passively wanted to not wake up in the hospital when he was burned to shit and had no powers. His senses, the entire way he perceives the world, had been excised; his connections to the souls of the people he loves were gone and he couldn't tell where they were or who was coming into the room, he couldn't tell which way was north, he couldn't sense things through the world that's as much a part of his proprioception as his actual hands.

He didn't want to wake up.

He thinks forgetting while slowly going into sensory deprivation is something teenagers and young adults shouldn't have to worry about -- those are things that happen when you're really old, right? He thinks forgetting will make it worse.

He, too, remembers what it was like existing without any of his bright beacons introduced to him yet. He remembers life without his Shitennou. He remembers life without Kazuo, without Usagi. He doesn't want to.

Mamoru hides his face in Zoisite's shoulder, silent for a moment. Then he squeezes Zoisite's hand and speaks up, muffled, "Sorry I know you're not saying anything about it, for me. Sorry."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
"I keep telling him to outsource the worrying to me," Kazuo says to Izou. Joking, gently. "It doesn't seem to be working as well as I'd like it to yet."

Silent promise: you will not lose us. That to both of them. He doesn't know how it will be kept. He only knows that death itself has already not been a barrier. They'll find ways.

For now, he holds on to them both. Literally.

Zoisite has posed:
"Don't apologize. I just don't think it's something we should worry about now, when the conversation is about a relationship I intend to keep past the Fade. I'm assuming it will be the same for you." It was the tone of matter of fact. Simple for now, where his own thoughts were muted by simply not having gotten used to thinking about it when he's not alone.

It meant vulnerability he wasn't ready to share. Thoughts that were controversial. His ability to be a devil's advocate when Mamoru did not need that. So it's kept so very, very quiet.

Later, he whispers. Later. Squeezes Mamoru's hand back and turn's his head to place a kiss upon his prince's head. Chaste, of a knight loving his sovereign.

"I also don't want you carrying everything either." Glancing up at Kazuo, half tempted to pull at the older lad's cheek. "The Fade I understand, we're all worried about it. But if one of us is worried about something you don't understand, you don't need to. Imagine you trying to comprehend my stress over a coming performance when I have yet to reach the perfect fuoco fortississiimo? How would I even explain that to you? The sentiment I'm after?"

Izou realized he lost himself in the weeds and sighed, now leaning his head on Kazuo's shoulder. "Sorry."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
--and Mamoru's not looking, but his walls are always down with the boys. He's a little sheepish. But, with the reassurances, with the kiss on his head, they can watch him let go of it again and calm down, from the inside. They can see him let it go.

He doesn't have to apologize. He wants to apologize for apologizing; he doesn't, but there's a little smile, he's amused by his own impulses. And he's so grateful to, and for, Zoisite--

Zoisite is a priority for him, no matter what else. They won't let go of him, and, "Okay, but I can carry you sometimes?" Mamoru asks, face still warm, but no longer shamed. Just so grateful. "And-- yeah, I mean, I hung on to our relationships with my teeth through death, yeah, and now our relationships are more complicated and we'll hang on to it anyway, yeah."

That didn't make a lot of sense, probably, but Mamoru doggedly continues, sinking further into the couch and the closeness, "What I mean is, okay. And -- also -- we get to talk about things if they go wrong. And -- I think I'm just repeating you both now. I'm so happy we're all here. And I'm so happy you're together. And-- I'm definitely sorry for making that about me. And I get what you mean, like, I'm not going to fret at you about, um. Uruk."

Kazuo Saitou has posed:
They're a gentle tangle now, the three of them. Kazuo's smile is audible, both at Zoisite's sigh, and at Mamoru's gentle babble. "You're right. I wouldn't be able to understand, not yet. But I'd like to learn what I can. To be able to appreciate better what you do, and learn how to support you when you want or need it. The smaller things are hard for me, sometimes. The big ones are just ... part of the landscape. Like the buildings and trains and buses, the seasons and the weather. If I want to get somewhere, I have to take those things into account, that's all. But the small ones, the ones that matter to people... those I need to learn. Even if 'Uruk' and 'fuoco' are equally confusing right now."

A breath. "You'll need to teach me about tea, too. Matcha I understand, and coffee. The teas you like are so very different, and I don't want to get something wrong at a bad moment. And I'm allowed not to want that. Just like you don't need to apologize." That audible smile grows more so. "Boyfriends are allowed to fret at each other."