Reprise
©2000 T h r e a d s

Zoisite hated his life. He hated everything about it. He hate his queen, he hated his comrades, he hated the world he now lived in, even part of him hated Kunzite, but most of all, he hated the fact that he could remember a distant life, like somewhere in his dreams, a life on earth, a life protecting someone, a life where he meant something to somebody, a life…that he could remember no more. With each passing day, this old world he once lived in became further and further away from him, this life now seemed to him as an imagined life. It was a life that he was happy in…but that didn’t matter anymore. This old life, he once could have lived did not seem plausible anymore. It was only a dream.

Like Lady Ami of Mercury, a woman he thought he once loved.

A woman he once knew, a woman who once cared for him, who once loved him, and he had once loved her, but she was only a dream. Just like so many other things.

Zoisite slid back into the hard, wood chair. It was dreadfully uncomfortable- it wasn’t designed for something human to sit in it seemed, or maybe it was just designed to cause discomfort and pain, like everything else in this dark world he now lived in. The oaken desk before him was a dark brown in color; it was of an elaborate size, and carried one too many drawers for inkwells and papers. It was a nice desk, awkward, but nice- it was his desk though, so he had to hate it.

He glared at the book in front of him. Yet another thing Kunzaito-sama required him to read for his training. He didn’t understand why he had to train. He already knew how to survive, how to plan, how to fight, how to kill. Why did he still have to learn? But everything always returned to that dream- he had been Kunzaito-sama's student there; he still had to learn there. He still had to learn here. Why did he have to listen to anybody now? He didn’t want to take orders from anyone anymore, he didn’t want to have to answer to somebody, or feel shame when he failed. In that dream, he only felt shame when he failed himself…or his prince- a faceless and nameless man now…only a dream.

Zoisite continued to glare at the book before him. He had to read it, but he didn’t want to. He would see Kunzaito-sama soon, and he would be very angered at Zoisite’s lack of discipline. He was always failing somebody now, it seemed. Kunzaito-sama, his queen, even the other shitennou, Nephrite always found fault in something Zoisite did. It was never like that before, in his dream. He may have been the lowest rank of the four, but still held the same respect as the others. It didn’t matter now, dreams never counted for anything.

Zoisite hated that even more. He felt so raw inside. He was so confused now. This old life he faintly remembered- a place where he was loved and respected, it was all gone now. It counted for nothing now, and he hated that. The tears from all that pain began to well up in his eyes.

He wasn’t loved anymore, he wasn’t respected anymore, he wasn’t skilled anymore. He now meant nothing. Nothing. Just another life the queen could take at any moment, just another life among the thousands under her command. Another life that could be easily replaced. That filled Zoisite with even more pain and rage. But still the tears in his eyes fell.

And what would Kunzaito-sama say of this? Of this weakness? Of this vulnerability? What would Kunzaito-sama say?

Kunzaito-sama.

He was the only thing that remained from his dream. His love for Lady Mercury was now a forgotten reality, but those forbidden feeling he felt for his mentor had remained. Was it love? Did he long for something more? Or was Kunzaito-sama the only thing keeping him from death? Zoisite hated that too. He hated the idea dependency; and he hated being dependant on someone even more.

Shame began to brood up inside himself and he wiped the tears from his eyes. He would have to meet Kunzaito-sama soon. He was in no condition to present himself to the King, to his mentor.

Zoisite picked up the old volume on warfare tactics and tossed in into an undesignated drawer in his desk. Why bother reading it when he could easily lie his way though it.

What would Kunzite do to him?

Nothing Zoisite could not handle.

Zoisite straightened his uniform and teleported to Kunzaito-sama’s room. The lesson would begin soon.

****

Kunzite scowled at Zoisite.

Zoisite had failed him again somehow, he always managed to. But there was something different about the look he sent at Zoisite. It wasn’t that he hated something that Zoisite had done, but rather something that Zoisite was. This bothered him greatly.

Kunzite sat down by a desk similar to Zoisite’s, and in a chair likely just as uncomfortable. The King crossed his legs and looked off into the distance while Zoisite stood at attention a slight ways away. Kunzite’s top button of his uniform was undone, that was a statement as to the power he held. That he could get away with things that no other shitennou or agent to the jigoku could dare. Zoisite looked over at Kunzite, at his mentor. He sat there, cold, stoic, calm, unfeeling.

Then Zoisite realized something. The man before him was just as pained and hate filled as Zoisite was. Everyone in this kingdom had some painful memory- a memory of a lost love, a lost family, a lost home, a lost life... There was so much hate and fear in the world he now lived in. Not like his old life, his old dream. He had found some happiness there, at least while he was there.

Zoisite broke his stance and walked over to Kunzite and stood in front of him. His mentor did not look up. Zoisite looked down, his soft green eyes fixed on the cold face before him. He knelt down on one knee and reached out to hold Kunzite’s hand. Zoisites knew Kunzaito-sama would flinch away, would rebut his move and probably strike Zoisite for his inappropriate behavior.

But Kunzite did not. Instead he slowly looked up into Zoisite’s face, his cold expression gradually melting. He leaned forward slightly, reaching his free hand out to Zoisite’s face, and stroked him affectionately. He moved his hand away from Zoisite’s and placed it on the opposite side, still stroking. He held Zoisite’s face in his hands gently, a thumb rubbing his cheek almost sensuously. Kunzite leaned in even closer, his eyes still fixed in Zoisite’s. He pulled Zoisite close to his face, and kissed him gently.

He paused, shifting away from Zoisite slightly. Zoisite looked back up into his eyes, he pulled his arms up around Kunzite’s large shoulders and held him closely, kissing him again.

Zoisite hated himself for what he was doing. He was giving into his vulnerability. He was letting another win, another hold power over himself. But wasn’t his life like that anyway, dream or otherwise.

But still, for a moment as Zoisite kissed his mentor, he felt a little less hate for his life. For his queen, for his comrades, for Kunzaito-sama, for the world he lived in, for the dream he once dreamt.

He still hated his vulnerability, but that would change one day. For once, in all the darkness and despair that he lived in, he had found happiness.

But Zoisite still hated everything.

Fin

Comments: well that’s it. See how screwed up I get when sleep deprived.

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