Chapter 4-The Black Shadow
Zoisite had walked away from Crystal Tokyo and its pristine beauty readily. At last, he felt equal to his task. There was nothing for him in the cold crystal city; no hint of his shadowy past would be found in its artificial flawlessness. Its glistening walls were without warmth or solace for him, and there resided a lingering darkness in the utopian metropolis. He could sense the dusky shadows clustered in the interiors of crystal buildings, and it unnerved him. Crystal reflected light but generated none of its own.
Crystal Tokyo felt too new to him. Its surfaces were hard and gleaming; it was all angular sharpness rather than soft curves. The light that played off the dazzling facets was piercing and chill. He had worked with crystals before–he had been able to grow them in his laboratory. There was no competition in their uniform lattices for the beauty of the natural world.
His power had been firmly rooted in the earth, and there was a slight itch in the back of his mind as his eyes took in the fields of grass. The grass seemed almost too green and too perfect. Each individual blade was painfully straight. The multicolored flowers that sprouted everywhere looked alike to him, and they were small and commonplace. It was pretty...but it didn't suit Zoisite's tastes. A wisp of memory teased his mind...
*flashback*
Zoisite was fifteen years old, awkward and unsophisticated. He had lived in a remote little village at the foot of the Alona Mountains all his life–until the day that his power had broken out.
He was short and skinny for his age; this coupled with his effeminate looks made him a preferred target for the bullies. One day, he faced down a group of three burly, older classmates from school with his glasses hanging lopsidedly off one ear, his clothes torn, and blood pouring down his face. A surge of brilliant green power had activated the seeds of crawling vines in the ground, and they had grabbed onto his tormentors–and refused to let go.
Kunzite's father, the previous High General of the Earth, had been passing through the mountain range with his son, who had been a year older than Zoisite. Kunzite had grown up with the heavy burden of his parent's expectations his entire life, and he'd borne it uncomplainingly. His father had recognized the power in Zoisite that marked him as a future general and taken him back to the palace; along the way, he and Kunzite had become fast friends.
Now Zoisite stood before the king, a charismatic man with ebony hair and dark, commanding eyes. He had shaken like a leaf, and his mumbled answers brought mocking laughter from most of the court present. He had wanted to die then, as he heard the rumors circulating that this countrified bumpkin couldn't possibly become a general. Kunzite had stood by his father quietly, as was his place, and Zoisite misinterpreted the compassion in his eyes as pity.
He had fled, as soon as possible, and found himself in a maze of greenery. His heart sang with happiness: he was used to working with gardens, although he had begun working the fields with his father a few years ago. Of course, there were no crops growing here: there were beautiful flowers with exotic scents. Zoisite's fingers brushed the leaves and petals gently, and bathed in the sunlight, he felt much calmer.
Suddenly, a voice behind him spoke. "So you're the plant boy."
He whirled around, hunching defensively. But he met the speaker's eyes without fear and was pleasantly surprised: the sparkling, azure blue eyes crinkled at the corners, and the expression on the blond's face was open and friendly.
There were two others with him: one had brown hair, the other black. The latter nodded at him in a amiable matter, and his sapphire blue eyes shone like the color of the Assana Lake back home in summer. The brunet's expression was less easy to read, but his navy blue eyes were kind as he remarked, "Ignore Jade. He's only teasing–it's basically the only thing he can do." Without a hint of surprise on his face, the brown-haired boy sidestepped a light punch from Jade.
"I'm sorry you weren't welcomed to the palace properly," the raven-haired boy said, hooking his foot around Jade's ankle in a swift, subtle movement. He seemed not to notice the blond's affronted yelp as he went sprawling in the dirt (mercifully missing the flowers), but a smile began to tug at his mouth. He held out his hand to Zoisite, who looked at it uncertainly.
Jadeite, who had recovered himself, bounced up, grabbed Zoisite's hand, and began shaking it energetically. "I'm Jadeite, master of the universe; this dummy who thinks he knows everything is Nephrite, and–"
"This is Prince Endymion," a stern voice cut in. Kunzite was close to precious few people in the world, and he had been concerned for the younger boy when he had shot out of the throne room. While they had been traveling together, he had resolved to keep an eye out for Zoisite, but he'd had no intention of being a nursemaid. For one thing, Kunzite was busy enough as it was, and for another, Zoisite had his pride.
Kunzite was relieved to see who the other two boys in their company were; he nodded to Nephrite and ignored Jadeite. But his attention was focused on Endymion and Zoisite. Would the prince accept this youth as his future general?
Zoisite turned pale. He was done for. Why hadn't he recognized the prince?? Idiot! he scolded himself furiously. He only looks just like the king you just saw...they even have the same hair! And here was Kunzite to witness his stupidity. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "My apologies, your highness."
"I don't want you to bow to me, Zoisite. I need friends–true friends–more than servitors," Endymion said softly, holding out his hand.
The blond-haired boy scrambled to his feet. Unruly tendrils of hair fell into his eyes, and he began to extend his own hand–until he realized it was streaked with dirt. He began scrubbing it furiously on his worn trousers until Endymion grasped the dusty palm firmly. Kunzite smiled, plainly relieved, and Nephrite grinned openly. Their ranks were complete now...and the touching moment lasted all of two seconds, because Jadeite's next action was to tackle Endymion (repayment for tripping him), and a good-natured scuffling match commenced.
*end flashback*
Zoisite blinked dazedly as his attention spun back to the present world. He was on his knees, and his hands dug into the grass, uprooting some clumps so that light brown earth showed through. Shaking, he got to his feet. His heart was heavy as he looked out across the foreign landscape that sparked no further remembrance...
He had forgotten how much a part of him his fellow Shittenou were, and while they were dead now, he was not. The realization left a gaping, unhealed wound in his heart. That precious gem of a memory had given him a glimpse of a happier past with those he regarded as brothers, but it had also increased the weight of the burden on his shoulders: if he failed, they would never get the chance to redeem themselves. He could not allow that to happen. Zoisite stored away the memory of their faces and their mannerisms as a safeguard against weakness and cowardice; they would be his spiritual protectors along this journey.
Reminded of his power by Jadeite's teasing nickname, Zoisite reached for his power mentally–and found an emptiness there. He tried again and again, wondering if he had done something wrong. Where was it? Where was that glorious, verdant green lit with gold sparks?
There was no hint of it in his mind. Without its presence, Zoisite felt naked and abandoned. His anger was white-hot, a raging lightning storm inside him. How could they have taken it from him?
When the blazing fury inside him finally gave out, and he stood there feeling empty and alone. The Endymion of the past, the Endymion he had known, would never have stripped him of his power. What kind of person had he become? Like Ami, Endymion had become a stranger to him. Strangely enough, Endymion's forsaking him in cold indifference had hurt even more than Ami's unresponsive coolness.
Zoisite suspected that it was because he felt that Ami had more of a right to be angry: he had betrayed her and their love. But what exactly had he done to Endymion? he wondered. He let out frustrated sigh–if only he remembered the events of the past...
And they hadn't even told him that they were taking his power from him. Dully, Zoisite thought that the monarchs of Crystal Tokyo–he had to think of their present incarnations that way–must really want him dead to set him a dangerous and possibly lethal task with nothing but his own two hands to protect himself with. That train of thinking stopped him short: did he still remember how to fight? He stood there panicking for a few minutes until he felt a chill iciness on his skin.
Zoisite fished out Minako's chain from where he had concealed it under his shirt. It wasn't what was causing him discomfort–besides, it was supposed to warm up when there was someone wishing him ill nearby, not freeze him to death. Dangling from the thin golden chain was Ami's pendant. He still hadn't been able to determine whether it was a tear or merely an innocent drop of water, but it was glowing with a soft blue light. When he cupped it in the palm of his hand, its radiance increased, but the maelstrom of negative emotion in him dissipated.
He was left calm and soothed–not in a dreamy state, but with a clear mind. Zoisite slipped the necklace and pendant back under his shirt so that only part of the chain showed. The pendant no longer felt icy, and it rested against his skin with a comfortable, light pressure.
Once more, he turned back to his problem: could he recall his martial arts lessons? In the depths of his mind, assurance remained. He shifted automatically into a fighting stance with his weight firmly on both feet. He knew what he could do if an enemy attacked him, and although there was the knowledge that he could kill with his bare hands, he was relieved to discover that he remembered many more ways to disarm an opponent. The motions felt natural to him, and he moved almost instinctively.
Zoisite remembered, then, about the sword Endymion had given him–and felt like an idiot. For ten years of his life during the Silver Millennium, he had never gone anywhere without it buckled at his waist. Feeling foolish, he rummaged through his pack to see what else he had forgotten about–he didn't think he needed Uranus's daggers on his person, but he slipped Neptune's ring onto his finger. The aquamarine glinted brightly in the sun, and he stood up straight again with his sword (in its sheath) at his waist and the staff in his hand. He decided that he would have to wait to try a few passes with his sword later: it was time to get a move-on.
Belated, Zoisite remembered the task at hand. He untied the emerald green ribbon of the tiny parchment scroll he had been given and squinted at the words.
Un frêne. Une mare.
Les deux sont un combinaison
D'une signification du nom d'endroit.
Zoisite cursed inwardly. Ordinarily, he liked solving puzzles, but he wasn't in the mood for brainwork at the moment. He realized that the clue was not in Standard Terran–or at least the Standard Terran he remembered. It was in French, a language that had been spoken on the European continent. He wondered if it was still spoken in Crystal Tokyo and hoped that his translating skills were up to par.
Sighing, he realized that the best thing to do would be to cross the gray divide labeled on his map and try to figure out the clue later. An area labeled "The Boundary" ringed Crystal Tokyo. Outside the innocuous grey expanse lay land rich in rivers, mountains, and other landforms. It appeared that he would encounter the divide in another hour.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zoisite stopped short when the first bare patch of land met his eyes. The landscape ahead was charred to ruins. Ashes lifted off the ground by the breeze blew into his face, and he coughed for a few minutes, trying to clear the smoky odor. Grimly, he walked on, his staff barely touching the ground. There was a feeling of dark contamination here.
He recognized the aftermath of power-filled magical battles, and he wondered what had happened here. Surely Endymion and Serenity would never have had reason to punish their people to this extent. Was the entire area that had been marked on his map, sectioning off the crystal city, like this?
As he went on, he saw a few scattered graves and several skeletons of the houses that had once stood upon this land. Zoisite frowned as he walked on through the debris, pausing to swipe at his watering eyes every so often. The acrid smells of fire and decay were thick, and he hurried the pace of his strides, eager to leave this place. The memory, however, lingered in his mind. His heart cried out against the defilement of what must have once been beautiful, fertile land.
He knew the land would have been rich and green, because as he went on, he saw purple-blue mountains, capped with fresh snow, on the horizon. The people seemed to have reverted back to times of old; the lodgings here were constructed of wood or stone. There were acres and acres of farmland.
Zoisite had seen no way for the inhabitants of Crystal Tokyo to feed themselves, and he was beginning to wonder what kind of system had been devised to accommodate these two vastly different worlds. It was as if they originated from lengthily-distanced points of time to be flung together on the same planet. Zoisite had a feeling that whatever arrangement had been made was not a comfortable one for either party.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He had stopped at the first town he came to for lunch and was suddenly made aware of how fortunate he was that Setsuna had included a tidy sum among the things she had deemed necessary for the journey. Zoisite sighed as he flung himself across the roots of a great oak tree. He disliked being dependent on what he saw as charity.
Self-sufficiency had always been an important issue for him, more than it had been for the other Shittenou, because he had arrived at the palace much later than them. By his mid-twenties, however, Zoisite had amassed a personal fortune for himself in the Silver Millennium. He owned nothing now, and he didn't like the feeling. He was used to having something to fall back on, just in case. But it seemed that he didn't have much of a choice.
Zoisite reminded himself, grimly, that he would keep track of how much he owed Setsuna. If–when he returned to Crystal Tokyo and found some means of supporting himself, he would begin to repay him debts to her. They were more than monetary: she had given him friendship and understanding where no one else had. She had tried to explain the situation to him. It was frustrating to be punished for an action he couldn't even remember.
He groped for the pendant on his neck unconsciously, holding it for a few minutes. When he could focus again, he turned his attention back to the clue. Zoisite was relieved to discover that he could decipher the French, even though it took a few tries–some of his attempts at translating made nonsense of the words. Finally, he decided it could read:
An ash tree. A pool.
These two are a combination
Of the meaning of the name of the place.
Zoisite unrolled his map and stared at it blankly. There were no mentions of ash trees or pools anywhere. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind: the names of the cities and landmarks on the map were mostly in old Terran, and many of them had other meanings... Like the way "Ami" meant "friend"–or "beloved." Tearing his mind away from that train of thought, he started to wonder if he remembered what the meanings of the places were.
At last, as his eyes traveled busily over the parchment page, he was drawn to a black dot by what appeared to be a sea–either that or a very big lake that went off the page. It was named Aesclin Harbor...and the meaning of Aesclin was ash tree pool. Never mind that it didn't make much sense; he was relieved that he finally knew where he was headed. The problem was, it would take several days to get there.
He didn't let the thought dampen his newfound enthusiasm–Zoisite surged to his feet with renewed vigor and started energetically down the dirt road on his map. His reflexes were still intact, but they were a little rusty. He had looked up at the sky only out of curiosity and to try and gauge the time. There was a lack of awareness of his surroundings present in him. When he had first departed from the gates of Crystal Tokyo, he had neglected to notice the bird of prey swooping high above him. There were no vultures or carrion eaters in the city. As the day dragged on and the shadows lengthened, Zoisite failed to see the darkness that haunted his steps and eclipsed his light. The only thing on his mind was that with luck, he would be at the next village by nightfall.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AN: It's been an incredibly long time since the last update...sorry!! ^^;; I'm sorry the end was so...well, ominous. Thank you for the reviews, everyone :)
I would write faster if I could just come up with Serenity's task for Zoisite. I have all the other senshi's and Endymion's planned out (somewhat), but I have no idea how she could test his "goodness of heart" or something to that extent. Ideas, anyone? ^.~
Please forgive the French in this chapter. Since it's the only language besides English that I can write in, all of the clues will probably in French (but forgive any grammatical mistakes I make, because my French is quite bad). I'm not good at writing prophecies or riddles, but I'll try to do my best. The reason I am writing the clues in French is because the English version will sound less absurd because it's translated ^.~
There will be more flashbacks of the Silver Millennium, because I'd like to expand on Zoisite's relationships with the other Shittenou (and possibly Ami). The flashback was possibly my favorite part of this chapter...never mind, it was. ^.~ Next chapter, the introduction of a new female character will be introduced ^^. Please forgive the delay, and thank you for reading! :)
~Ice
A General's Journey
