“Do you understand what you are to become, Zoicite?” Kunzite asked the young boy in front of him.
“I do, Kunzite, sir,” Zoicite replied shakily.
“Then do you also understand that fear is not an option amongst the Shitennou?” his voice was firm and showed no sign of sympathy for the younger man who refused to hold eye contact for longer than a scant few seconds.
This was one of the first times that Zoicite could remember Kunzite speaking to him instead of speaking about him as if he were not in the room. He was 15 when he was chosen to ascend to the rank of Shitennou – a choice that he was not given, one that was decided for him by birth. It would take two years of training before he was allowed to hold his title and until then he was to become the charge of the silver haired man standing before him. Zoicite often wondered at the time if it was luck or misfortune that cast Kunzite as his guardian for the duration of his training. He was the youngest of the four and judging by Kunzite’s disinterest in him, he would also be treated as the child of the group. If he wanted to change that he would have to earn the respect of the lead Shitennou which would be no easy task – especially when he could hardly hold eye contact with the tall man who reeked of confidence and intimidation. Zoicite even feared that the other Shitennou might be just as fearful when they were all finally allowed to meet. Until then, Kunzite had been sent to Zoicite’s village to handle his training and education, something that most in his small village were not privy to.
Of course no one else felt the same discomfort for Kunzite as did Zoicite. They welcomed the man with open arms and showered him with adoration at every opportunity. The one silver lining to his presence was that his village now had the protection that it so desperately needed from the pillagers who would spread through his home town while everyone was asleep, damaging property and stealing from the already poor. None of these invaders wanted to incur the wrath of the Prince or his head guardian and so kept their distance. Unfortunately for Zoicite, he feared that bringing upon this man’s wrath was the only thing he was capable of. He had never been a fighter and so did not know how to stand up to this intimidation. Despite his attempts of courage, one look from this man was enough to make him want to cower in fear, although outwardly he made every attempt not to show it. Somehow though he sensed that Kunzite could see through it and in the end Zoicite would have no choice but cast his eyes away, ashamed at having disappointed someone of such importance.
“I know it is not an option,” Zoicite bowed his head in defeat. “It is my sworn duty to protect the Prince even at the expense of my life.”
“How will you do that when you do not watch your enemy before you?”
“But you are not my enemy…..”
“I will do worse to you than any rogue on the battlefield can imagine.”
“I will become stronger from your training, Kunzite.”
“How do I train someone so insignificant?” Kunzite looked him over briefly and then turned his back on the boy, walking over to the nearby table to pick up his drink.
“I am not insignificant.”
Kunzite put down his cup and walked over to the boy, towering over him. “You are afraid which makes you weak. Even worse you are little more than a child. How can I trust someone like you with the life of our Prince? Our Prince whom I should be protecting instead of standing here while you cower in fear!” Kunzite roared.
Zoicite’s body tensed, nervous over the taller man’s outburst. He was right by all accounts, how could a nobody like him be expected to ascend to something so important? If he had any common sense he would take the coward’s way out and run to escape his fate. But he didn’t, he had too much honor to do something of such grand cowardice. Despite his discomfort he stood rooted to his spot and answered the barrage of questions being thrown at him, each one designed to break him down until he either learned to not fear his future leader or admitted defeat. Zoicite was younger and more inexperienced and smaller, but he was proud and he wanted to show that he could be more than whatever this man’s expectations for him were. Maybe that was part of his tactics, to ask him questions to throw him off guard and to break him. Could it be that this man did not have nearly as much disdain for him as he appeared to? Zoicite watched Kunzite’s stance and took in the details of his appearance. Despite the fact that he was frowning and his voice was raised, his hands were relaxed. Normally a person who was angry clenched their hands into tight fists to further give the allusion of their aggression.
“If you cannot speak than you will be dismissed,” Kunzite growled after receiving no answer.
“Your actions betray your words.”
“Do they?” Kunzite appeared as if he were on the verge of smiling much in the same way a wolf would look as it is about to devour its prey.
“Your hands are relaxed. When a person is angry they make a fist.”
“Because of the appearance of my hands you are assured that I will not harm you?”
“Yes. Even now your stance is relaxed, your shoulders are squared exactly as they were when you first entered the room.” Kunzite grinned and stepped away from Zoicite. “Did I give you the wrong answer?”
“That is the best answer I have heard yet.”
Zoicite frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“When presented with a problem, each man will react differently. You used your intellect to assess the situation, unlike your brothers who both attempted to react with force. Nephrite’s response was to strike out at me which showed his temper. Jadeite was calculating and thought that he would be able to unsheathe his sword before I could my own. But you, you are a thinker. I’m impressed.”
“You are?”
“I will test your limits with each new task, and it is up to you to show me what your maximum potential is. Your training will not be easy by any standards, you will want to quit several times before we are through and I will never stop you from doing so.”
“What happened to the other two Shitennou?” Zoicite asked, unsure if he wanted to know what types of punishments were handed out.
“They were dealt with, you needn’t worry any further,” Kunzite’s face became serious again with his words. “You may go now; we will need to get an early start in the morning.”
“Thank you for -.”
“Don’t thank me,” Kunzite looked at him sharply. “I am not here for you. I am here because my Prince has ordered me to do so. Don’t mistake any kindness on my part for friendship. Now go.”
Zoicite recognized Kunzite’s look as a dismissal and slowly backed out of the room. His town had been quick to provide lodgings for Kunzite on the outskirts of the town where he would be afforded privacy. Once Zoicite began his training he was sent to live in the large home so that his lessons would be kept from prying eyes. Despite his moment of confidence, he knew that there would be no winning with this man nor would he ever compare to him in stature. Kunzite was the type of warrior he could only imagine becoming, and even then his allusions would fall short.
As promised, Kunzite worked Zoicite physically and mentally. There were days where his body was so sore that he lacked the strength to lift his own sword, while other days he would spend in bed recuperating from near fatal injuries that were often a result of his own clumsiness. Fighting with a sword was not his forte but it didn’t seem as though he were being given any other options. That however, didn’t mean that he couldn’t change strategies. Without talking to Kunzite and asking for his approval, to which he was normally denied even on the smallest of requests, he began to alter the uniform he had been given. It was nowhere near being as impressive as that of a Shitennou’s uniform, but it was comfortable and most of all allowed for him to sew patches on the inside to hold a series of small daggers.
Their practice sessions using swords normally consisted of Kunzite instructing him on how to hold and move, never providing him with an actual sparring partner. What made matters even more so difficult was that Kunzite was left handed. So when Zoicite would practice maneuvers he would be forced to adjust for the difference in their stances. Once Zoicite had made the mistake of stating how it was unfair to be forced to fight at such a disadvantage only to be silenced by a look from Kunzite. So he quickly learned that debating fairness would get him nowhere. At night he continued to work diligently on his uniform, hoping that for once Kunzite would be impressed by his ingenuity. Several days later, he again found himself on the losing end of a maneuver where it was painfully clear the other man wasn’t even trying and so quickly withdrew one of his hidden daggers, throwing it with amazing accuracy past Kunzite’s side, leaving a tear in the blue and brown cape. It was at that moment he truly learned the meaning of fear. With hardly a glance to assess what damaged may have been done, Kunzite quickly disarmed him and knocked him to the ground unceremoniously. Kunzite’s boot pressed against his chest and he could feel the tip of the sword pressing into the flesh of his neck. For several moments the two men stared at each other, neither saying a word. Zoicite was in awe of the quick, fluid motions that were executed with deadly accuracy. Again he found himself longing to be what the man before him was, defeat slowly filling his mind of how he would never come close. Kunzite withdrew his sword and his hold over the boy, extending his hand to help him back up to his feet. They continued to train as if nothing had happened, although Zoicite could feel Kunzite’s eyes evaluating him and perhaps even picking out where he had tucked away the other daggers. As the sun fell lower in the sky, Kunzite finally allowed him to stop for the day, insisting that he get a decent night’s sleep for the long day he would have tomorrow. Slowly Zoicite started to head back in doors, but not before turning to cast one last look at Kunzite who now welded his own sword, sparring lightly against an imaginary opponent and moving with a grace that no ordinary man could possess. As Zoicite observed the other man’s movements he noticed a slight coppery coloring on the side of Kunzite’s white tunic and realized that the dagger must have come closer than he intended. This only lead to more adoration as he admired the way Kunzite had taken no notice to an injury that normally would have forced Zoicite to break so that he could bandage himself. It was at that moment that he realized the full scope of what he was to become - an awe-inspiring demigod who would bow to no one and nothing, not even death himself.
