2664/Heart-Shaped Box

Heart-Shaped Box
Date of Scene:	01 July 2025
Location:	Riverside Path
Synopsis:	The young king and his knight return the remains of the enemy warrior to his friend.
Cast of Characters:	Mamoru Chiba, Zoisite, 298
Tinyplot:	Black Moon Clan

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Mamoru Chiba has posed:
It rests on padding of dark red silk in a pretty wooden box all carved with flowers. The box is closed, held between gloved hands, its contents secret. The owner of the hands is Tuxedo Mask, leaning with his back against a tree instead of standing on a lamp post. He doesn't really wear his hat anymore; his pink-tipped hair fluffs free in the breeze that comes in from the sea before it filters through the city.

They're skipping school to be here. It's the middle of the day and the park is mostly deserted, though there are boats out on the water in the sparkling sun. Traffic and river and waterfowl sounds intermingle into a quiet background wash of normal Earth noise.

Zoisite has posed:
Standing next to his prince, Zoisite's attention is split between two places. Not school, as he has caught up enough to not worry as much, and teleportation does help him get to places on time without delay. But that day was a bit more special, so cutting the rest of his courses for a few hours it was. No, his mind lingered on the box that Tuxedo Kamen held so carefully, prepped like it held a relic--or like the stones King Endymion kept so near and dear. An honoring sight, in Zoisite's opinion.

The other half of his mind was on his phone, waiting for another buzz in case Saphir would say something more. He had set the date and time and they were there. But just in case anything changed, he wanted to pick up as quickly as possible.

Saphir (298) has posed:
Izou's old phone returns to Earth's cell service, pinging off towers again, though texting is, for the moment, unnecessary - the man in possession of that phone is here.

In the space between one breath and the next, the emptiness before Tuxedo Kamen and Zoisite is filled, and the genius behind the Black Moon Clan's greatest strength stands before them. It's an entrance with little fanfare, and the man himself is quiet, and to Izou's sharp eyes may seem ever so slightly lesser - diminished, as though something vital has been snuffed out. Perhaps it has.

It's a terrible thing, to learn that you have been pawn from cradle to coffin.

The young king's pink frosted tips are studiously ignored. Deep blue eyes flick from guardian to young king, guarded, curious.

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
Mamoru - the young king, now even married to the young queen - pushes off the tree and straightens up, not stiff but deliberately assuming a formal bearing, expression grave.

He and Saphir are more or less of a height, but Mamoru's face, behind the mask, still has the softness of adolescence; he's not just a young version of the king, he's young. And yet the way he's holding himself...

Tuxedo Kamen takes a step forward and holds out the box, and he stays grave as he says quietly, "It's not right that we should have this."

He remains still, holding it out, the breeze kicking at all their hair, the sound of the leaves in the cherry trees around them like the whispering of a hushed audience.

Zoisite has posed:
The guardian also stands upright from his leaning against the bark, eyes quickly focused on Saphir's facial features as it would be the first time he'd seen the other since the truth was revealed. He feels a pang in his nerves, noticing some spark has left those blue eyes. And even if this was a rather official exchange, a small hint of concern flashed through Zoisite's greens before settling close and steady to his sovereign.

He doubted anything untoward would happen. Yet, there is some tension.

Saphir (298) has posed:
Tuxedo Kamen is young in a way that Saphir is not, even with not quite a decade of physical aging separating them. His face carries a soft roundness that Saphir could not recall seeing in himself or his fellows, in their youth on Nemesis. He had resented that softness, in the face of the young king, his butlers, his companions, and most especially the young queen, for all the safety, comfort, and privilege that softness promised, but now, his bitterness focused solely on Wiseman.

He would never like the young king, but now that he knew that the horrors he and his fellows had endured were not to be laid at his feet, the boy was nearly irrelevant.

Nearly.

"And yet, it is right for it to be in my hands?"

The words are a quiet drawl, even as he steps forward, even as he extends his hands to claim the box. He doesn't know what the young king could possibly possess that is better suited in his hands (at least, he can not think of anything that the boy would grant him), and that curiosity is what drives him to open the box, fingers moving with the care of physician, a mortician, a investigator.

The padding of dark red silk that the fragment of crystal rests on is likely softer than anything Rubeus had ever encountered in life. More luxurious than he had ever felt, uninterested as he was in raiding and robbing the 21st century as Koan and Esmeraude had been.

The thought of that - what a waste it was, what a waste it had all been - flashes through Saphir's mind, as he beholds all that remains of one who had been adversary and rival and comrade and irritant and outlet and begrudgingly, oh so begrudgingly, friend.

"...do you know what became of the others?"

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
"Destroyed with their bodies before we knew they had them," Endymion says, his hands fallen to his sides, his eyes watching Saphir steadily. He glances at Zoisite, then back to Saphir, and he sounds nakedly honest when he says, "I'm sorry you can't bury all your dead. I was asked by several people who knew I was giving him back to ask that you avoid making him fight us again, but... you can't, can you. Not from what's left."

Zoisite has posed:
Zoisite nodded, confirming what Endymion shared with Saphir about the hearts of the Specter Sisters having been destroyed or lost in battle. Nothing left but ashes. Rubeus was the only one, and he remembers so vividly the moment he laid eyes on it in Mamoru's apartment, how it glittered in Minako's hands. Zoisite thought so little of Rubeus, not bothered by the death that had occurred.

It was a little different now, with context. With the knowledge of everything.

He remained silent, only listening to Endymion and Saphir exchange words. This was the prince's moment. Not his (unless something stupid was said).

Saphir (298) has posed:
It isn't a blow, to hear this final truth on the fate of the others. Esmeraude is the only one Saphir can return, and he is no longer sure that he should. She had saved him, in part with the expectation that he would do all he could to restore her -

But the understanding on which they had built their world was fundamentally altered, now. They could finish the destruction of the world they had wrought, but it would bring no satisfaction, not when it would prove them be nothing more than programs following the coding of their master.

"No," Saphir says, and shuts the box. "I cannot bring him back."

Rubeus is gone. The Spectre Sisters are gone. Esmeraude, too, is gone.

He cannot bring himself to thank the young king, even now. He cannot meet his eyes, either. The box holds his fixed attention.

"We have never been prosperous enough to bury our dead," he says distantly. "There has been too great a need for them. Rubeus would be pleased to be the first."

Mamoru Chiba has posed:
It's a mercy shown Saphir, the heart given back. So is this:

The silence doesn't stretch too long after Saphir speaks last, just a moment in the breeze, the red and black silk of Tuxedo Kamen's cape whispering with the trees; a splash as a frog jumps into the river from the grassy bank; the sunlight dapples the ground and dances as the leaves shift overhead--

Not too long.

"Farewell, Saphir," the masked prince says, his voice heavy, carried along the grass instead of light on the wind.

He turns, and as he does, he catches briefly at Zoisite's hand, his own glove vanished and his thumb sliding up under Zoisite's sleeve:

There's the image of Zoi and Saphir talking alone in the park and wandering off, then the image of Mamoru "watching"-- Izou's seen the zoom in on Mamoru's awarenesses of his 'beacons', his Shitennou and ~his wife~ and Chibiusa (she's the pink one) and to lesser degrees, Takashi and Kyouka, places, things, anchors. He shows Izou that he's focusing his locational awareness on Zoi but not getting in the way otherwise. He's worried but he's keeping an eye out, and he'll have people on call, but that's a formality.

Mamoru trusts Izou, and that's there, blindingly bright and firm and solid. I know you'll come home. I know you won't leave me without you. Love you! Be safe!

And then the split second is over and Tuxedo Kamen's still walking away, pulling his glove back on.

Zoisite has posed:
For what it was worth, the attempt had been made. Mercy given does not mean it would be accepted, but it was noticed. To this, Zoisite was sure. At least by experience, nothing seemed to escape Saphir's eye and consideration--even when he had a slight bias towards the man before him.

And perhaps it was felt when Endymion spoke farewell and turned to lightly touch at Zoisite's wrist. It was there, the quiet care that was confusingly there and focused, steadfast with a purpose. Nothing that could bare any resemblance to the duty he felt and would act upon if any harm were to approach his prince.

Yet, the warmth received back was of great comfort. To know he'll be watched and focused on, that Endymion trusted' him to do the right thing in the end. No, he would never leave his prince's side. His roots were tied and bound long ago, fused to the the purpose of protecting Mamoru. Even more now that his own compass seemed to slowly realign.

Now, with footsteps upon grass quickly widening the distance between, Zoisite waits for a beat before he steps forward towards Saphir.

"I also have something for you."

Granted, what he brought wasn't anything as important as the fragmented heart Endymion was about to return. Not even close. But the still held some importance in his mind.

Knowing now that Endymion was at a safe distance, Zoisite finally begins to dehenshin back into his uniform. Gaudy and formal, messenger bag strapped over his shoulder. At least he had gone to class for the first few hours before skipping the rest.

Fingers undo the magnetic buttons and sipper, producing a paper box from within. It was tied with a ribbon--blue. Matching. It was a detail Izou wondered if it should have been included at all, in light of what just happened.

He hands it over to Saphir.

Saphir (298) has posed:
Mercy - unasked for, unearned, and in all ways, unwarranted. That is what the young king has offered to Saphir, and it is for that reason that Saphir cannot look at him.

Even with the truth revealed, there have been too many years of hatred and envy, of bitter resentment and self-valorizing disgust, for it to all be so cleanly washed away now. The young king offers mercy, and Saphir is forced to accept it, even knowing how this will end, some day soon.

The Rabbit has fled, and Wiseman grows by the day ever impatient with his remaining pawns, who have shown none of the expected desire to pursue the conflict, to steal back the Rabbit. What does the girl matter to Demande, who would rather possess the young queen, her mother? What does the girl matter to Saphir, who would have the young queen's Silver Crystal, and with it, the chance to crack the mystery of its power?

This unwanted mercy is something Saphir accepted with the box in his hands, and even as the young king walks away, he understands that this too, is mercy - speaking with Izou Saitou, the king's own man, outside of the weight of his knowing gaze.

He does not offer a farewell. It is very likely that when next they meet, one of them will fall.

Instead, he looks at Izou, and when he steps forward, Saphir tucks the box and its burden under one arm, watching. This, at least, he could expect - his measurements were offered to Izou with his own hands.

A paper box is offered in turn, the ribbon blue, blue, blue, as striking as Saphir's own hue. It is sentimental, unnecessary. Mercy offered by a king, compassion offered by a knight whose neck bowed beneath a leash, one dog to another.

He opens it in front of Izou, the ribbon precisely unwound, tucked into a pocket. The paper box opened with delicate, careful hands.

The clothing, revealed piece by piece - cornflower blue slacks, a white show with an array of delicate silver buttons, black leather shoes, a belt of matching leather, and a black jacket to cover the affair. A watch, and a pair of silver studs, to fill the holes in Saphir's ears.

"Even I can appreciate your fine taste," he says, voice quiet. "Thank you."

A breath.

"As you might imagine, my schedule is quite clear. I will meet with you at a time and date of your choosing, for the outing you offered."

Zoisite has posed:
Gratitude touches Izou's ears, the compliment bringing a smile to his face. He had hoped it would be a style familiar to Saphir's own, while still human and in current fashion. Knowing that the man in blue and white accepted and approved of it was enough to set him at ease. "You're welcome." Izou offers back, just as quiet.

"Well, the Academy and club hours won't leave much time in the day for a proper outing during the week. So what if we tried for a day I don't have to worry about any of that? A Saturday, maybe?" He offers, pulling out his new phone to look a his calendar. Everyday now he had Music Club, and he could push homework for the Sunday after. Taking a screenshot of it, he marks the day they are on now, and circles the one he's suggesting for the two of them before sending it via text to Saphir's phone. "That way you'll have a reminder."

Looking back up, he offers another small smile. "We can also meet here, in the morning, and return to this same spot when it's time for you to return to your brother. Does that sound suitable for you?"

Saphir (298) has posed:
The clothing is carefully tucked back into the box - pants folded over the shoes, watch and earrings tucked over the parents, shirt on top before the box is tucked under his other arm, opposing Rubeus' heart crystal.

The smile on Izou's face is - pleasant, in a dull and distant way. In another time, in another life, he might have - no, would have - wanted to return the gesture, if only for the novelty of wanting to. But this isn't another time, and with the young king's mercy on his mind, all he can see it as is a stay of execution.

What an execution it would be, though.

"Does this Academy actually improve your education?" It's a matter of idle curiosity, and he waves it off, confirming the date that's been texted with a simple nod. "This date will work."

Returning here, to this park, is also a logical plan, with familiar territory.

"I'll see you then, Izou." There's a moment, hesitation, as power swells for the teleport, and then, just before he's gone, the words are forced out. "Give him my thanks."

Saphir and the two gifts, both heart-felt tokens of very different meanings, are swept away.