A/N: The next chapter! It lives! Thanks to all you people who are still actually reading this headless monster. And a big thank you to all my reviewers. I'll warn you now that I have no idea where this story is headed, just that I hope to finish it somehow (someday). This chapter: The long-awaited meeting! Dum dum dum...And a twisted surprise. I swear, if something sounds improbable or weird or not quite believable, it's probably because the idea occurred to me when I was half-asleep. .


Seven years passed. Everyday Zoisite grew happier and happier. He loved Haruka and Michiru and Shiitake, and all in all, he had no complaints about his life.

He learned to stifle his secret nighttime tears into his pillow. When Shiitake stopped waking up to his sobs, he congratulated himself on having mastered the art of suffering in silence. He only wished he knew why he had to suffer at all, especially given how well he was living, and how content he was, but a sense of shame persuaded him to hide his inner brokenness from all others.

Twice a month, the senshi would take him and his brother out, usually to the city or surrounding countryside. At first they had visited the sights, the museums, the towers, the old castles and temples and shrines, but more often than not, they simply went to mingle in the crowd, enjoying everything that the city of Tokyo had to offer, which, in terms of saleable goods and food, was nearly limitless.

On this particular winter Saturday, Michiru had some business to attend to, so she had asked Mizuno Ami to take the boys out. Zoisite was thankful for the change. Haruka and Michiru generally advocated their outings to be "family time," and tended to keep close to him and his brother. The blue senshi of Mercury was responsible when she took them out, certainly, but she wasn't family, and he could count on her to give them plenty of free rein. There was one place that he was longing to visit, unsupervised.

"Where do you want to go today?" Ami asked, and Zoisite, trying not to appear too eager and doing his best to feign indifference, casually made a suggestion.

"How about Asakusa?" Asakusa, the old district that attracted droves of visitors with its Edo-era set-up. Shiitake had sighed, and muttered, "Again?" under his breath, but said no more after Zoisite elbowed him.

Red and white were the colors of Asakusa. Vendors lined the street leading to the temple, watching the visitors shuffle past their small shops and open-air stalls. Some of the less frequent comers would be quickly lured to the array of azuki-filled snacks, tea, masks, stuffed animals, postcards, posters, and more, while the more regular visitors went first to the large temple at the end of the path, paying their respects there before emptying their wallets on the goods in the street. Red and white striped tarps gave shade to the shopkeepers in their stalls, and drooping branches of pink and white plastic balls, simulating the effect of cherry blossoms in full bloom in spite of the winter season, hung from the shops.

"I know you've been here several times," Ami said when they arrived late that morning. "I need to go to the bookstore a few blocks away, but I'll come back to pick you up. Is two hours enough for you?" She checked her watch. "How about meeting back here at two-thirty?"

Zoisite tried to hide his disappointment. Two hours was more than enough, more than he had expected and more than he had had for a long time with him. "Three o'clock," he said.

Ami shook her head. "Maybe two-forty at the latest. Remember, Serenity-sama wanted to have dinner with all of us tonight, and Michiru-san said you had a piano lesson scheduled in the afternoon, so we can't stay out too late."

"I know, I know. Fine."

Ami left the two boys to find their own amusements in the crowded street. Zoisite checked to make sure she was out of sight as he bought cups of tea to warm Shiitake and himself.

As they headed down the street, dressed inconspicuously in warm winter coats, Shiitake sipped his tea and asked, "Are you going there again?" The younger boy, at the age of twelve, had grown a good deal, but still he barely came up to Zoisite's shoulder. He had long since done away with his mushroom cut. His dark brown hair was still short, but had grown messier in keeping with the contemporary trends Haruka considered chic for adolescent boys, and though his tone toward his older sibling was respectful as always, he couldn't suppress an edge of impatience.

Responsive older sibling that he was, Zoisite picked up on the younger boy's agitation. "To the fan shop, yes. You don't have to come along, you know." He regarded Shiitake with some irritation. The years had graced Zoisite's form most enviably. He was slender, and with his fair, effeminate features and long, copper-blond hair, had charmed the majority of the people at the palace, servants and senshi alike. He only wished for a few more inches to make his presence less sylph-like and more manly, but at seventeen, he could still hope that his growth spurt hadn't quite ended yet.

Shiitake sulked, and Zoisite wished the younger boy weren't quite so clingy. They needed time apart, and especially here, Zoisite didn't really want him hanging around. "Look," Zoisite said, stepping into the role of the older, responsible brother trying to get rid of an unwanted younger sibling with practiced ease, "I'll be at the shop the whole time. You know where it is. Here, take some of my money. Go buy yourself some lunch, have fun, be independent for once and grow up. Just find me there before we have to meet Ami-san."

"Aren't you having lunch, oniisama?" Shiitake asked as he looked hesitantly at the money Zoisite had just handed him. They were pushing steadily through the crowd, and the fan shop had come into sight.

"I'll be fine," Zoisite answered, looking distracted. Shiitake didn't understand why his brother's eyes seemed to shine more when he was going to this shop in particular. He gave it up as a lost cause when Zoisite slipped away from him and into the shop. The young boy sighed heavily and walked on in search of lunch.

Zoisite loved the fan shop. Folding fans of all kinds were displayed on the shelves inside and hung on a line outside. Paper fans, Cloth fans, wood fans, golden fans, undecorated blank white fans, painted fans, flowery fans, fans that snapped open and closed swiftly, fans that closed awkwardly, miniature fans, meter-long fans. But even better than the fans was the shopkeeper.

"Welcome," came the deep, familiar voice, and Zoisite couldn't hold back the broad smile that stretched so wide across his face that his cheeks almost hurt.

"K-san," Zoisite greeted. His heart was suddenly thumping nervously.

Startled silver-gray eyes turned toward him, sweeping over him lingeringly. The shopkeeper's long black hair looked more lackluster than Zoisite remembered it being before, but otherwise, the tall, dusky-skinned, kimono-clad shopkeeper the youth knew only as "K-san" had not changed.

"Zoisaito, it's been a while," K-san said.

Zoisite inclined his head apologetically. "Six months," he said. "It's been hectic. We traveled around the world for three months, and then after we got back, Shiitake had a list of places he wanted to go to in Kyushu and Hokkaido, so our schedule's been packed."

"I see," K-san said. "Sounds like you've been busy."

"I'm sorry." Zoisite shook his head. "They like to keep us busy. But today…I'm supposed to meet Shiitake and Ami-san—the senshi, I mean—in two hours or so. I'm free until then." He looked hopefully at K-san, willing him to understand that today, his visit didn't have to be just a few short minutes.

But after a short moment, K-san only sighed out a vague, appraising, "Hnm…"

Zoisite's eyes swept around the shop, empty but for the two of them. In the silence that fell, he suddenly felt awkward and self-conscious as the silence of six months of separation bore down on them. He realized that whatever it was about K-san that stirred something deep within him, the fact was that they weren't much more than friendly acquaintances. He knew very little about the handsome shopkeeper, and had spoken to him only a handful of times. Zoisite took a step backwards, towards the door. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't keep you from your work…"

The shopkeeper shook his head, tired black hair waving back and forth with the motion of his head. "It's not terribly busy, as you can see." He smiled slightly, and the expression sent an electric thrill of pleasure through Zoisite. "I could take a lunch break now," K-san said. "Perhaps you would care to join me?"

"Of course!" Zoisite tried not to seem inappropriately eager, but he couldn't help the enthusiasm that came with his answer, nor could he do anything about the silly smile that seemed to have become a permanent feature of his face.

He had met his friend the shopkeeper on his very first trip to Asakusa with Shiitake and Michiru and Haruka three years ago. A natural aesthetic, Zoisite had lingered to look at some of the more exquisitely decorated fans while the other three had gone on ahead of him.

"May I help you?" someone had asked right behind him, and Zoisite had jumped. Turning around in embarrassed annoyance, he found himself face to face with quite possibly the most handsome man in the world, with dark hair and a dark complexion contrasting oddly, but not unattractively, with a set of pale eyes. His indignation at being surprised melted away into awkward self-consciousness.

"I…I'm just looking," Zoisite had answered, suddenly all too aware that staring, especially at a perfect stranger head-on, was rude.

The other man had stepped close, and asked, "What kind of pattern would you like?"

"I don't know, really." Zoisite turned and scanned the fans, though his awareness was hyper-focused on the man next to him. "I mean, these look beautiful, but I just wanted a paper one…"

The shopkeeper glanced around his shop and strode purposefully to pick out a fan displayed right by the register. He handed to Zoisite. "How about this one?"

Zoisite handled it carefully. The fan had a bamboo structure, on which was mounted sturdy, white, gold-flecked paper. On the paper was the motif of a sakura branch in full bloom, pink flowers scattered across the fan by an unseen wind.

"It's beautiful. It's perfect."

"It complements your own beauty," the other man said, and Zoisite had flushed.

"Thank you," he answered politely while his insides twisted and did excited back flips. He handed the fan back to the shopkeeper. "Then I'll take it, please."

"Five hundred yen," the other man said, folding the fan closed and packaging it into a paper wrapping.

Zoisite hesitated, his hand on the five thousand yen bill in his pocket. "That cheap?" He had expected to pay two or three thousand for a fan of such obvious quality.

"Are you opposed to a discount?" Unreadable gray eyes watched him.

"Thank you, but it's not necessary." Zoisite looked at the packaged fan in the storekeeper's hand. "I'm not lacking in money, and I'd rather you not lose money on my account. Please tell me how much it really is."

He wondered if the man would be offended and think him ungrateful, and immediately he regretted his words. However, the man didn't appear surprised. Instead, he said, a smile ghosting his lips, "For you, the fan is five hundred yen. If you think that amount is inappropriate, you can repay me by coming again to my shop."

Zoisite had hesitated, not entirely comfortable, and finally nodded. He would certainly return to the shop again. After he paid, on impulse, he asked for the shopkeeper's name.

"Just call me K," the other man said.

Zoisite had been puzzled, but chose not to press the issue at that time. "Thank you, K-san," he said, bowing, fan held tightly in his hands. "I'll see you again sometime." Then he'd turned and run to catch up with his family, feeling short of breath as he clutched his new fan to his chest. "What held you up for so long, Zoi-chan? Meet someone cute?" Haruka had asked with a grin when he caught up with them, and red-faced, Zoisite shook his head.

After that, he tried to come once every three or four months for his bi-monthly outings. Any more than that, and he was afraid the senshi would become suspicious. He wanted to keep K-san a secret, as though the shopkeeper were a diamond to be kept hidden, for fear that it would be snatched from him upon discovery.

It was hardly easy. Even if they came to Asakusa, Zoisite could only manage a few stolen minutes of conversation with K-san before he had to return to Haruka and Michiru, who believed that he had gone to the restroom. Only when Ami-san chaperoned them one day was Zoisite able to spend real, quality time with K-san, chatting over tea and building on the foundation of their acquaintance.

K-san had never made another open compliment again, but Zoisite remembered their first meeting clearly, and held sacred their ensuing acquaintance. He told him what he could of life with the senshi within the walls of the Crystal Palace, of his lessons, of Shiitake, of the secrets that were obviously kept from him. K-san listened, sometimes offered advice or commentary, but all the time, he paid attention, and Zoisite found the attention flattering.

But Ami-san chaperoned them only once in a long while, and then, Zoisite knew how suspicious it would be to request to go to Asakusa every single time she was with them. He had suppressed the yearnings of his heart many times thereafter, requesting to go to Yokohama or the amusement park, or letting Shiitake make the requests, each time Ami-san chaperoned them after that. But it had been six months since he had seen even a glimpse of K-san, six months since they'd had a few stolen minutes to exchange friendly words, and even if they didn't know each other that well, Zoisite had missed him terribly.

Zoisite waited as K-san closed the shop, and then the pair went across the street to an udon noodle restaurant.

"Are you going to tell me your real name today, K-san?" Zoisite teased as they sat down at a table and ordered.

The dark-haired man regarded him gravely. "Wouldn't that take the romance out of our acquaintance?" It was always like this, oblique jokes and sidelong flirtations that perhaps, or perhaps didn't, hint at a deeper interest. Zoisite suddenly felt tired of the way the conversation was heading. From the very first time he met him, he had had an unwavering crush on the man, and after six months of not seeing him at all while his image haunted his mind, he wanted more than the usual banter.

"I missed you," Zoisite admitted, fiddling with his chopsticks.

"Hnm," was the response, and Zoisite felt like a fool. Then he heard, "It was quiet these past few months," and Zoisite imagined that K-san meant, "I missed you too."

Feeling more uplifted, Zoisite asked, "How have you been? You look a little tired."

"I do, do I?" the other man mused. Unexpectedly, he asked, "How old are you, Zoisaito?"

Zoisite was sure he had told him last time, but he answered truthfully, "Seventeen and a half."

"Seventeen and a half, and still your senshi parents restrict you to two outings a month? Surely you aren't satisfied with that."

"Well…no, I'm not," Zoisite admitted. "But there's plenty to do inside the palace, and besides, my brother's only twelve, so—"

"And even though you're five years older than him, you are not allowed any more freedom than he is," K-san said, his voice neutral.

"Well…" Zoisite couldn't think of anything to say to that, and so he sat in embarrassed silence as the food was delivered to their table.

Once they had begun to eat, the storekeeper continued, "You'll come of age in two and a half years. Twenty." Zoisite nodded. "What do you plan to do then?"

"I'll be done with my studies by then. I want to serve Serenity-sama somehow and repay her and her court for everything they've done for me."

"Is that all?" K-san said. "How bland. I'm disappointed." It was the first time K-san had spoken so dismissively to him, and Zoisite found his temper rising.

Green eyes flashed and irrational anger seized him. "There's nothing wrong with my plan. Maybe after I repay my debt of gratitude, I'll do something else. Or maybe I'll have a fantastic career in Serenity-sama's service, while you're still stuck here selling fans. You'll see."

K-san ignored Zoisite's intended slight and laughed through his gray eyes. "You're seventeen and you still require a chaperone. Clearly, the Sailorsenshi don't trust you. Exactly what kind of gratitude are you repaying them for?"

"What do you know?" Zoisite shot back. "You're not the one who lives with them. They didn't save you from a miserable existence at a run-down orphanage." He turned his attention angrily back to his food and slurped the thick noodles, trying his best to calm down and not ruin the precious time he had with K-san.

The shopkeeper reached across the table, touching Zoisite's hand as he put his bowl down.

"K-san?" Zoisite felt a tremor of delight. They never touched. What was the other man doing?

Looking intently at him, K-san murmured in a tone far different from his earlier sardonic one, "If the Sailorsenshi hadn't come for you at the orphanage then, we…" And he trailed off. His light colored eyes bore steadily into Zoisite's.

"What?" Zoisite asked, suddenly curious, caught by K-san's intense gaze and still hyper-aware of the other man's hand on his. "We what?"

K-san withdrew his hand. "Finish your food. We can talk more afterwards."

Zoisite heaved a sigh, but obeyed. Two bowls of noodles were finished off in heavy silence. Zoisite's mind was filled with a tumult of emotion—confusion, resentment, desire, curiosity—and he dared not speak when he couldn't understand his own emotions. As for K-san, God only knew what was on his mind.

The silence persisted as K-san paid for both of them, and it followed the pair back to the fan shop. There, however, in the private back room of the shop, Zoisite broke it, pinpointing where Kunzite had left off.

"If I hadn't been adopted," he said, "I wouldn't have met you." It wasn't a question, but it sounded like one.

"And how do you know that?" K-san challenged calmly, Socratic in his questioning.

Zoisite shrugged. "Because I wouldn't have come to this kind of place on my own, at the orphanage. It was the senshi who insisted on bringing us here the first time, for our education."

"And who says I would have been here if you hadn't been adopted?"

"Why not?" Zoisite asked, a slight frown furrowing his eyebrows. "What the senshi or I did seven years ago had nothing to do with you."

"Are you sure about that?"

Zoisite fell silent, not knowing where K-san was going.

"Let me tell you a story," the shopkeeper said. "Make yourself comfortable." The two sat at the low, square kotatsu table in the middle of the small, mostly empty room, warming their legs in the heated, blanketed warmth.

"Once there was a boy, around your age, perhaps slightly younger. Like you, he didn't have family or friends, but he had memories of a past life, if you believe in such things."

Zoisite nodded in affirmation. The senshi all had past lives, and he'd grown up believing in things like past lives and reincarnation.

"One day, he happened to see a young boy who he recognized as someone from that past life. The younger boy had no family and was raised at an orphanage. Not long after, a woman came to adopt him, but he ran away, into the forest. The older boy had been watching, and waiting for a chance to talk to the younger one. He found the younger boy, and tried to persuade him to leave the orphanage with him, but the younger boy was hesitant. He didn't remember the older boy because through whatever twist of fate, he didn't have memories of his past life.

"In the end, the younger boy returned to the orphanage and was adopted, while the older boy, haunted and unable to give up his acquaintance with the younger boy, watched for an opportunity. He set up a shop in a popular tourist area that he felt the younger boy might come to one day. And one day, he did come, and they met."

K-san's eyes, which had had a far off look as he told his story, locked onto Zoisite's. "Before the younger boy returned to the orphanage to be adopted though, the older boy asked him to remember something."

Zoisite searched his mind but couldn't come up with anything, not even a faint recollection of this meeting that was supposed to have taken place. "What was he supposed to remember?" he asked in a hushed voice, a sliver of worry creeping onto his face.

K-san leaned forward over the table and placed one hand lightly on Zoisite's cheek. "This," he whispered, and kissed Zoisite chastely, briefly.

Zoisite's eyes were wide open in trembling, delighted surprise. "K-san?" he murmured when they parted.

Then his eyes stayed wide open for a different reason entirely, as the memories of their first kiss, their meeting in the cave, his sakura conjury magic, the glowing ball of light the other boy taught him to produce, his resentment and discomfort towards the senshi, and everything that the ginzuishou had veiled from his consciousness flooded back to him in shining clarity. He remembered.

"Kunzaito?" he whispered, wide-eyed, at last able to recall the waking dream where he had learned the other boy's name. "Kunzaito-sama?" And then tears flowed from his eyes, and somehow Kunzite was instantly at his side, holding him while he cried. As he soaked the front of Kunzite's kimono with his tears, Zoisite realized that the hollow, gnawing pain he had felt all these years that haunted him at night was from being denied the memory of Kunzite.

"I missed you I missed you," he managed to say as his tears gradually subsided. "I wanted to go with you, not the senshi. But I had to watch out for Shiitake. Stupid little brother." Zoisite smiled tearfully, emotions exhausted. It turned into a troubled frown as he added, "But I still can't remember this past life we had, I'm sorry. And the senshi—Queen Serenity-sama, she used the ginzuishou on me and so then I couldn't even remember meeting you, but I missed you so much…" His eyebrows furrowed and he tugged at a few strands of black hair. "Didn't you have white hair before, Kunzaito-sama?"

Kunzite chuckled, not loosening his arms around Zoisite in the least. "It would be troublesome if the senshi recognized me," he explained. "It's only a wig."

Zoisite was reaching to uncover Kunzite's real hair when a yell, and then the sound of someone banging on the door, screaming, interrupted them. In the background, a deeper voice roared angrily.

A shadow came over Kunzite's features. "Nephrite…" he growled.


Nephrite had been strolling through Asakusa, minding his own business. Kunzite had come here earlier in the morning as he had done nearly every weekend for the past several years, on the off chance that Zoisite would show up. Nephrite doubted Zoisite would show up; after all, he hadn't made an appearance for the past six months, from what Kunzite had said.

Of course, none of that particularly interested the second Tennou. The kingdom was rebuilding…perhaps not quickly, but adequately, at least, and he had decided to get away for a few hours, relax, perhaps sneak a chance to see his colleague dressed up in traditional human costume running a fan shop like a mundane human. He smirked at the thought.

Kunzite's fan shop was closed when he passed it. It was lunchtime, Nephrite realized, and so he wandered further down the street, wondering what he wanted for lunch, when, gazing toward a nearby ramen shop, he saw the boy.

He recognized him instantly. The coloring was all wrong: the short hair was brown, not blond, and the eyes were also a soft brown, instead of cold blue. The face was still a little chubby with the lingering remnants of childhood, but Nephrite recognized him nonetheless.

Jadeite.

What was he doing here? Where had he been all this time? Did the senshi have any idea of his whereabouts, or his existence, even?

Nephrite unfroze from his shock.

"Jaedaito!" he called.

The boy didn't even look his way, though a few other heads turned briefly. Nephrite changed tactics. "Hey kid," he tried instead, approaching him with his most charming demeanor.

This time the boy saw him and tensed, a wary expression on his face, but he stayed where he was.

"Where are your parents?" Nephrite asked. It was a horrible question to start off with, but under normal circumstances, there really was no easy way for a grown man, a stranger, to approach an adolescent boy. Still, Nephrite wasn't interested in stepping delicately around what he wanted to know.

The boy's eyes narrowed defensively, and with an unexpected pang of welcome nostalgia, Nephrite thought, "So it is you. Hello, old friend."

"They're at home. I came here with my older brother."

Nephrite could tell that the boy wasn't lying. Clearly, despite his instincts putting him on alert, the boy still possessed too much naivety to know when to lie. He grinned. He had never associated Jadeite with naivety.

Seeing the stranger grin for no apparent reason, Shiitake took a step back. His instincts were telling him to run, but there was no way he could outrun the man before him. He wished Zoisite were here. But he wasn't, and even though the fan shop was only about a hundred meters away, he didn't think he could get there in time. Like Zoisite had been telling him, it was time for him to be independent, time to grow up some. He summoned his courage.

"What's so funny?" he shot back at the auburn-haired man.

"Nothing at all," answered the stranger. "You just remind me of an old friend of mine." He sighed and held out his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Look, I don't mean any harm. I was just concerned, seeing a kid like you alone."

"Well, thank you for your concern, but my brother's here, so please leave me alone." Shiitake glanced around. There were plenty of people around, so he doubted the stranger would try anything.

"Really? Where is he, if I may ask?"

No, you may not ask, Shiitake wanted to retort, but he trembled at the thought of being so bold toward a man who, as harmless as he was acting, was putting all his senses on high alert. He answered, "He's close, just in the fan shop down that way."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I just passed by that way, and it was closed."

"He's in there. I saw him go back in with his friend after they had lunch."

"His friend?" Realization slowly dawned on Nephrite. Hadn't Kunzite mentioned that Zoisite had some kid brother tagging along after him all the time?

"His friend owns the fan shop. What's wrong?" Shiitake asked when he saw the thoughtful look on the other man's face.

"I believe I know this friend you're talking about. Why don't we go take a look?" The stranger put a hand on his shoulder, but Shiitake shrugged it off.

"I don't want to. Oniisama doesn't want me around when he's with his friend."

Nephrite nearly chuckled. Oniisama? Zoisite was getting some high respect. It would be a riot when Jadeite recovered his memories. He cleared his throat. "So his friend has never met you, I take it."

"No. I've seen him from a distance, but we've never been introduced." That explained why Kunzite had never mentioned seeing Jadeite.

"Well. That's awfully thoughtless of your brother. I'll introduce you, what do you say? What's your name?"

The boy still eyed him warily, but responded, "Shiitake." Nephrite found the name mildly amusing, but refrained from commenting.

"Shall we go?" he asked.

Shiitake didn't budge. "But I don't know you."

Nephrite's patience was running out. Charming people was his strong point, but for whatever reason, probably because underneath all the layers, this was Jadeite he was dealing with, the boy wasn't being lured at all.

He grit his teeth and then took a deep breath. "Look, Ja—kid, you don't understand, but this is important."

"No!" The boy stomped his foot childishly and set off in the opposite direction. Nephrite grabbed his arm.

"Let me go!" He shook his arm furiously as he pulled. Several heads were turning in their direction. Nephrite cursed as he held onto the boy's arm.

He turned a frustrated but charismatic smile onto the bystanders and said loudly, "Sorry everyone. My brother's being a big pain today."

The people laughed, smiled, went back to their own business, shaking their heads when the young willful boy screamed, "He's lying! He's not my brother! I don't even know h—" Nephrite twisted Shiitake's arm behind him, and clamped a hand over Shiitake's mouth when the boy gasped in pain.

"Listen," he warned in a low, disarmingly pleasant voice, "I could kill you now, right now, right here, in front of everyone. But I'd rather not. Just be quiet and do what I say. Understand?"

Shiitake nodded, hardly daring to breathe. He needed to reach his brother…

"Now let's go." Nephrite let go of the boy's arm and put a hand on his shoulder. The pair walked down the street towards the fan shop. Just as they approached it, Nephrite heard the boy yell, and simultaneously, felt a sudden pain in his groin. He doubled over. The boy had caught him off guard with a quick spinning roundhouse kick to the midsection, except he had clearly aimed slightly lower…

Nephrite glanced up to see Shiitake running to the door of the fan shop, banging desperately on it. "Oniisama, oniisama! Help! Oniisama!"

Nephrite stood up as the pain subsided. Before the boy had time to look even more terrified, Nephrite was before him, holding him suspended in the air by the front of his winter jacket. "How dare you!" he shouted, infuriated.

The door suddenly unlocked and slid open. Kunzite glowered at Nephrite, while peering from behind Kunzite, Zoisite saw, to his shock, Shiitake being threatened by a tall, handsome young man. He instantly hated him.

But before Zoisite could make a homicidal attempt at Nephrite and save his little brother, however, Kunzite had pulled Nephrite and Shiitake inside and slid the door shut.

Zoisite was aware of suddenly being at the center of the auburn-haired man's attention. Even if he hadn't caught a glimpse of the hatred on the man's face, he was sure he could have felt waves of animosity coming his way. He felt only too willing to return his feelings. It certainly wasn't his main concern, however.

"Shiitake!" Zoisite ran forward and caught the boy as Nephrite dropped him.

"Oniisama!" Zoisite gave Shiitake a reassuring hug as he finally raised his eyes and met the glaring man's anger with his own.

"Who are you?" he demanded at the same time Kunzite barked, "Nephrite, explain!"

Zoisite turned a puzzled look on Kunzite, but Kunzite's attention was on his second-in-command.

Nephrite was gazing at Zoisite with an expression that suggested he would have liked nothing better than to stab Zoisite with whatever was handy at the moment and mince his body into a thousand pieces, and grill those pieces to a solid, black charcoal. Backing his intense hatred was an undeniable aura of power, and it was that, even more so than the raw emotion, than scared Zoisite. But only for a second.

He felt Kunzite step closer behind him, and he gathered his own strength and stood up. He didn't know what the other man had against him, but he wouldn't back down like a coward, especially not in front of Kunzite. A smile, perhaps more of a smirk, quirked his lips when he heard Kunzite say in deadly calm warning, "You are not to lay a hand on him, or try anything. Understood, Nephrite?"

The auburn-haired man, Nephrite, subdued his hatred into a look of contempt, which he turned onto Kunzite. "I'd like to hear you say that if he'd killed you. Oh, my mistake. A flea would never kill the dog."

"What?" Had he killed this man before, in his past life? Zoisite juggled the idea, and surprisingly, found that he was not uncomfortable with it. "I don't think I'd mind killing you again, if this is the way you speak to Kunzaito-sama!" he retorted.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Zoisite, quiet," Kunzite said, and reluctantly, Zoisite obeyed. "Leave your petty quarrel for later," commanded the first king, addressing Nephrite, "and tell me the meaning of this." He gestured to Shiitake, who had risen to his feet and was looking wide-eyed between the three of them.

"Are you blind, or am I going crazy?" Nephrite placed a hand on his hip and waited, fixing his gaze pointedly on the young boy.

Kunzite looked back to the boy, Zoisite's adopted brother, who he had generally ignored all these years. He'd never actually met the boy, he realized as he gazed absently at him. And promptly regretted his negligence.

Though he made no noise, Kunzite's eyes widened in surprise. Then his vocal cords unclenched, and he said, disbelievingly, "Jaedaito?"

"No, he's my brother, Shiitake," Zoisite tried to explain, confused.

Kunzite stared down at the bewildered boy, not quite believing his eyes. "Shiitake, look at me," he said. His tone commanded obedience, and accordingly, the brown-haired boy looked at the one who had spoken.

"Jaedaito…" Kunzite shook his head as assurance returned to him. To Zoisite, he said, "He's Jaedaito, one of the Shitennou who served the Dark Kingdom after betraying Endymion. Just like you are."

Silence. Zoisite could have sworn that the world had stopped spinning and that he hadn't heard right. "He's…I'm…what?"

"The four of us are the Shitennou. Surely even if you don't have your memories, you'd heard of us? Or have the senshi kept even that knowledge from you?"

Zoisite looked to Shiitake, who looked just as uncomprehending has he felt, and then slowly, back to Kunzite again. He even spared a look at Nephrite—and immediately regretted it when the auburn-haired young man smirked condescendingly back at him.

He remembered, of course he remembered the story of the Shitennou, the traitors of the Silver Millennium. But how could he have been one of them?

"Kunzaito-sama, please explain."


Generally, there are things that everyone accepts, like the sky is blue, or one plus one equals two. Then there are things that are scientifically proven and accepted, even if not entirely understood by everyone; for example, a potassium atom has one valence electron. Then there are things like religion, that have little to no proof and on the whole, require a fantastic leap of faith. Who's to say there's one god, or eight million gods, or no god at all?

Who's to say the Zoisite who was born in Crystal Tokyo and adopted by Haruka and Michiru was the same Zoisite who was once a part of the Shitennou? Logically, Zoisite could see what Kunzite was saying, but comprehending it was beyond him at the moment, and accepting it was on another level altogether.

Nephrite snorted in derision. "Give it up, Kunzaito. You're wasting your time. The Sailorsenshi have completely brainwashed him."

"No they haven't!" Zoisite shouted, tossing Nephrite a dirty look. He continued, more softly, more hesitantly, addressing Kunzite, "I want to believe you…I mean…I believe you're telling the truth, but I just…I can't understand it. Why don't I remember any of it?" His face crumpled with the effort of remembering something, anything, of this past life Kunzite had briefly summarized. Failing to come up with any semblance of a recollection, he felt disappointed, empty. Tears threatened at the back of his eyes, but he blinked them back. As though he'd cry in front of Nephrite! And how disappointed must Kunzite be with him now?

Shiitake, meanwhile, was struggling in a different way. It sounded to him like a fairy tale—either a very wonderful one, or a very horrible one. To have power, be grown up, be Zoisite's equal…To the young adolescent, it was frightening in a wonderful, otherworldly way. But equally, to fight the Sailorsenshi who raised him, to follow a cause that was not Serenity-sama's…It was hard to wrap his mind around.

"Can you prove it?" Shiitake asked. "Can…can you give me power?"

If Zoisite hadn't been wondering the same thing, he might have felt self-righteous enough to scold the boy.

"Nephrite." Kunzite nodded his head. "The kurozuishou."

Sighing, Nephrite pulled out a long, black, faceted crystal. It fit perfectly in the palm of his hand.

"Kurozuishou?" Zoisite asked, looking curiously at the object.

Nephrite explained to the younger boy, ignoring his former antagonist, "See, Shiitake, normally when we force power into people, they become youma. I doubt the same would happen to you, being who you were, but we're not going to take chances. If you use this, it should return you to who you were relatively painlessly, memories and all."

He made to hand it to Jadeite, but Kunzite stopped him. "Give it to Zoisite," the senior king said. "You know he's far more adept at crystal manipulation than Jadeite ever was."

The look Nephrite gave Zoisite was one of anger and bitterness. He sneered, "There was a time you killed just to have this crystal in your hand, you know." And he tossed it disdainfully up into the air.

"Shut up, Nefuraito," Zoisite snapped, and thoroughly sick of the other man's attitude, snatched the crystal as it came back down. The auburn-haired man just gave him a cold, haughty stare.

Zoisite grasped the crystal close to his chest. It felt warm in his bare hand.

"We don't tell the senshi about this, right?" Shiitake asked, diverting everyone's attention.

"Do that, and you'll regret it for the rest of your life," Nephrite answered.

"Okay," the boy replied. And he smiled a very un-Jadeite-like smile, the pure smile of a twelve-year old.

It was no wonder Jadeite had completely slipped under the senshi's radar, Nephrite marveled. Young Jadeite was completely unlike the cold, ruthless, friendless man he remembered from the Dark Kingdom. If the kurozuishou worked as they had calculated though, that would soon change.

A cheerful melody played from Zoisite's pocket, and Zoisite pulled out his cell phone, frowning. He'd lost track of time. "Hello? Ami-san? Sorry, I forgot to call you. Yes, we're both fine…We need to leave now? But…it's only two-thirty-eight…" Zoisite looked helplessly at Kunzite and murmured, "I don't want to go…" Then he became agitated as he listened to the senshi at the other end. Loudly, he said into the phone, "Nothing. …Fine, okay, five minutes. Whatever."

He hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket. "Kunzaito-sama, I don't want to leave," he appealed. He finally remembered what the ginzuishou had blocked from his mind, and he knew, he could feel, that he was on the edge of discovering and remembering so much more. His life until now had been happy, more or less, but how ready he was to give that up, if only he could spend more time with Kunzite-sama in return.

"You must go," Kunzite replied steadfastly, though Zoisite saw regret in his grey eyes. "The kurozuishou, by its very nature, is attuned to the ginzuishou, and it'll work best if the ginzuishou is close by."

Zoisite already hated showing weakness to Nephrite, but he couldn't stop himself from grabbing Kunzite's sleeve and saying, "Can't you take us with you? Isn't that what should have happened all those years ago? Don't you want us to come with you?" He couldn't bear the thought of being separated from Kunzite for another three, four months, knowing what he knew now.

"The senshi must not become suspicious yet, as they will if you linger here any longer." Kunzite steered Zoisite towards the door, Shiitake and Nephrite following.

"I don't care! I want to stay with you. I'll help you rebuild the kingdom, or do whatever you want to do. Please, Kunzaito-sama."

"And betray me to the senshi afterwards?"

"But…" Zoisite was about to protest, but the words died in his throat. "I…"

"'I wouldn't do such a thing?' Your loyalties are split now, Zoisaito. You know that as well as I do. Until you find yourself again, you can be of no use to me."

The words hurt, but Zoisite couldn't bear the thought of letting go of the man he knew he'd loved for several lifetimes.

"But Kunzaito-sama!"

"When you regain your memories and powers, you'll know where to find me. I will wait for you." Kunzite let his fingers graze briefly over Zoisite's cheek, but would allow himself no more liberties while the other two members of the Shitennou watched. He sent Zoisite out the door, with Shiitake following close behind.