Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon.

(A.N: Sidefic to 'Crystal Eyes'.)

Only Happy when it Rains
By Silver Sailor Ganymede

He was only happy when it rained: it had always been that way. Even those rough streets of his were almost deserted in that kind of weather; those with enough intelligence and money to do so were sheltering inside their posh, overly luxurious houses while their goons were hiding wherever they could find shelter, though they knew they'd be killed or worse if they didn't get their assigned jobs done in time. Hell, even the Dark Kingdom's servents and bosses were too sensible to go out in such conditions: that's why the streets were deserted, because of the rain and the storms, but that was why he was out.

He had a job to do, he always did and always in the black of night or the garish lights of some scuzzy bar, but there were no clients out that night and that pleased him somewhat; he was sick of doing this kind of 'work'; he couldn't understand why his mother still did. She said it was because she had no choice: he thought she was completely wrong. Then again whatever ambitions Aino Minako had once had, they had been crushed a long time ago: Zoisite wasn't his mother though, in fact he hardly even looked like her. Maybe he was a Dark Kingdom changeling, he mused; it would explain why his mother was so scared of him… and why she made him do such 'work', just like she had to.

Zoisite wiped the smudged makeup off his face; it was only a matter of time before the rain did it for him, he knew, but he preferred to get it off as soon as he could. He hated the makeup perhaps even more than his 'job'; he knew he was beautiful without the makeup and, if anything, it made him look less stunning than he already was. Zoisite knew that most would find him vain for thinking such a thing but he knew that it was true, he was stunning with his golden hair and his eyes the colour of zoisites, the stone after which he was named.

He wondered at that as to why his 'name' he used on the streets was Sakura, a flower. Flowers were not stones, flowers were not cold as death; stones were, like his emotions, like his eyes. She had told him it might have had something to do with the past, but even she wasn't certain. Zoisite knew that he was no flower except in his looks; then again perhaps that was good, perhaps it was necessary that he pretended in his entirety to be someone he was not while he 'worked'.

He continued to trudge along the backstreets then caught a glimpse of himself in a shattered window. Zoisite noted that his pathetic excuse for an 'outfit' combined with the remnants of the makeup on his face made him look somewhat younger than his fourteen years, a girl got into her mothers make-up. He rolled his eyes; yes, a girl; he was mistaken for one frequently enough. Still that worked in his mother's favour most of the time; it was rare for one to be androgynous to such an extent as he was.

He paused for a moment and continued to look into what remained of the grime-caked glass. His eyes looked even more eerie than ever when it rained like this; they were practically glowing in the darkness. He smiled slightly; he only smiled when it was like this, dark and raining, when he was alone. It was almost as though the light gave him, unlike any others, a sense of hatred; he did not belong in the daylight. He had thought for a while that this was because he had 'worked' for so long in the darkness, spent his waking hours in the blackness and in the arms of whomever was willing to pay. Even as a young child he'd woken in the darkness, laying awake and hearing his mother's screams in the rooms across from his own. Still he knew by then that it wasn't because of this; it was something else, something from a distant time and place, a memory from a dream… or in this case maybe a nightmare moreso than anything else.

Zoisite heard footsteps behind him and looked around, wondering whom else would be out on such a night as this. He briefly caught a glimpse of silver hair and purely argentine eyes. The man in question held himself as though he were a king, but he did not have the trademarks of a boss, nor did he have the same arrogance in his gait. No, there was something about him that was almost unreal, like magic. He looked at Zoisite for a split second, recognition of some sort filling his gaze. Zoisite blinked, confused, then looked again and saw that there was no one there. Maybe he had just imagined the man in question, maybe the drugs he had taken had finally taken effect… but maybe, just maybe this was the magic he had heard his mother speak of. But magic didn't exist; only hatred and corruption flowered under the Dark Kingdom's rule; after all, if it did, maybe Zoisite would be happy in the sunshine and be able to smile in the light, where he could be seen… but of course that was never going to happen; he was hidden behind the veil of rain and shadows forever.