Perhaps...

[ginnezu_notes]

It's a slow thing that creeps upon you before you can realize it is there; soft and almost sensual as it caresses your senses, more than just the quiet sound that surrounds you, less than you might expect of such sure and serene music. You can barely discern it from the background noise of the world, and you can't pinpoint when it might have begun

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[ginnezu_notes]

And it is not, indeed, how it is. There will be no such utterances from this man, if the music has not proven that, for it is music that will make that pitiful woman quiver. It is music that will lay claim to those she has deceived, those she has ensnared, and it will free them forever. It is music that will, with time, ensure that the past is never so truly forgotten as she would have it. So it is that when that music dies, for the moment only, and those pale eyes turn to the man who has appeared, the look within them is measuring.

"Kunzite."

[ginnezu_notes]

Ensnared he has been; ensnared shall he ne'er be again. Freedom has come to this man, drawn from a single touch of his master's hand and earned through battle, and reprieve. What it has taken to have that freedom... He can only hope that that time was not misspent, and that it is not too late, as his seeking eyes find those of a man he once called leader and friend; shall he use such terms once more, in this new life, or have they been lost to the time he paid for his freedom? Time may yet tell.

"Do you remember, Kunzite?"

[ginnezu_notes]

It is a step in the proper direction, and whatever the reason it is so, he is thankful that it is. It lessens the work he has yet before him, and how far he has to go to fulfill his goal. A critical gaze sweeps over this man whom the music has brought to him, taking in what the eye may see, taking in what the eye may not see, and then he turns to the piano once more. His eyes leave Kunzite to focus on those pale keys that fit him so well, worn by his fingers, all but meant to be molded to his touch, but his mind does not. His mind is yet focused on that tall, dark form, as the melody begins anew.

"You remember..." The question that the music begs, that remains unspoken, is how those memories have changed him.