There is an empty clearing, far away from the hurried training grounds frequented by most of the golden army, where a man is moving slowly, surely through different katas. This is his private training space, set in land he owns himself; a place he may go where no one will disturb him. There are few who know even of its existence, and fewer its
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"I'll be your opponent, if you want." It'll be nice, to fall into the rhythms and patterns of swordwork with him.
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"Oh? Such a challenge cannot be taken lightly."
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"If you aren't ready, I'll defeat you." She can't resist this sudden impromptu playacting. Of course, not even drills are truly playacting; he's taught her that. Every combat must be treated as a potentially deadly encounter, or the serious battles will be lost.
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"I didn't interrupt you on purpose," he says peevishly, forestalling any complaint about it. But as he gives Kunzite a second look, he notices it, the long pale scar.
"What happened there?"
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Since then, however, things have changed.
He halts his movements only to give the shortest of bows to the prince, before speaking.
"It is a gift from my own counterpart."
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"Kunzite! You were in a fight with your alternate?" Obviously. But Endymion's chosen his words carefully to acknowledge it as a fight between two men, accusing neither immediately.
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"Zoisite."
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"Kunzite." He returns name for name as he steps around another tree, making a tight circle.
"You have come here to be alone?" It might be an offer to leave quietly, or a prompt to tell the white-haired man the thoughts that have brought him here.
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"Kunzite," he acknowledges the man in front of him.
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"Master."
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"I am pleased to find you acknowledge me," he admits.
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"Jadeite."
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"Welcome to my private land."
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