Chapter Text
I.
Both pale skin and lifeless eyes would get anyone’s attention, anywhere, as the sad, bitter energy poured from his body. Anyone else would know that, although the present body was Shun’s - the one whose soul was so joyful and whose cosmos was so protective -, his core wasn’t there any longer.
“I comprehend your astonishment, I really do. The boy who you had lived with and had battled side by side, is actually your very own enemy?”
Hades’ voice sounded not only melancholic but also calm; in a lower tone than Shun’s; echoing around the large room where Athena’s bronze Saints were gathered. Ikki was still trying to process everything, tears falling down on his injured face; Seiya, Shiryu and Hyoga were also trying to assimilate the situation: Shun was Hades’ host, chosen by the underworld god because of the kindness of Shun’s heart - that associated to the fact that Shun himself had been born under Hades malignant star.
“Understand, I am not the enemy. I simply do not wish to end with life on Earth just because of having the pleasure of destroying it, but you, humans, you have destroyed everything the Gods had brought to you… you have contaminated the Earth with your presence.”
“And what about you, uh? Do you want to destroy everything and reign to nothing? Why do you want to fight Athena, Hades?”
Hades calmly walked to Seiya, inclining himself until he reached Seiya. Pandora, who had been watching the whole scene, promptly asked her master not to lower himself to Pegasus level.
“I do not wish to reign to anything, Pegasus. I just wish to make sure that chaos takes over it. As for Athena, I do not wish to fight her, I wish that she leave to make sure no human being be saved. None.”
Hades then got up, walking through the bronze saints and contemplating their faces in different stages of grief, disbelief, and tiredness. As soon as he saw the Cygnus saint, who had been kneeling and hurt, Hades started to say;
“My host nourishes something for you… His muscle memory brought me here and I can see why Cygnus. There is something sad, dismay resonating with your cosmos.”
Without hesitation, Hades touched the russian’s face, caressing his left side. The blonde one fluttered his eyes as soon as he felt Hades’ cold hand; his face also followed the god’s stare, as if he was enthralled.
“I could turn you into my own Persephone and gift the Andromeda Saint for behaving so good, taking care of this body while I was asleep. What do you think, Cygnus?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation from Hyoga and, in a blink of eyes, the room was full of blood and the corpses of Athena and her saints. Hades then took Cygnus’ face with both hands and chastely kissed his lips, forcing him to stand up and look at the scene in front of him.
“Everything you wish, it shall be yours.”
As a mere spectator of the carnage that had just happened, Shun agonizingly screamed inside the body that once had been his before being taken by Hades.
-OOOO-
He had, once more, been awakened by the recurring nightmare that plagued him most nights. His skin was soaked in a cold sweat and his heart raced as if it wanted to burst from his chest; his throat was sore because he knew he had been screaming in sheer horror throughout the nightmare, his whole body was shaking. He then held himself, in an attempt to get some warmth and he stayed like that for quite some time, trying to remember the breathing exercises that doctors had taught him.
He didn’t disagree with the diagnosis he had received - post-traumatic disorder syndrome -, however, the medicine never seemed to work and the nightmares were more frequent now than in the past. He had no will to interact, no will to leave his room at all but his warrior soul never left him to give up.
After some time, he could feel his heartbeat and breathing going back to normal, even though he had no idea how long he had been like that - it didn’t matter anymore. For Shun, remembering and reliving all those moments in cruel and distorted ways were always compared to eternity.
He got up from his bed and walked towards the bathroom where, like every single night, he would splash some water on his face and would never look at himself in the mirror - he was very aware of his red eyes and pale skin; he didn’t want to be reminded of these things. This time, though, he did something different: rather than going back to his bed, he left his room and went to the kitchen where he prepared some tea for himself and sat at the table, waiting until the tea was bearable to be drunk.
Loneliness wasn’t such an unpleasant thing - the Kido manor was pretty much abandoned since Saori was in Greece, following Seiya’s medical treatment; a nearly fatal wound that he had received from Hades’ sword. Jabu, Nachi, Ichi, and Ban had followed her as her personal guard (and also a way to practice more with other saints in the Sanctuary); Geki had gone to Canada; Shiryu was back to Rozan, Hyoga in Russia and Ikki was in his apartment in Tokyo. At the manor, there were Shun himself, Tatsumi, and some loyal employees.
Shun was so immersed in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed somebody’s shape at the kitchen door, only watching him. Shun hadn’t noticed the person's hesitation to approach and not scare him, choosing to stay still for a long time, watching Shun staring at nothing in particular. He hadn’t noticed the sad look this person had while observing Shun from afar, how lost he was; Shun hadn’t noticed the tears running down this person’s face and how they tried to stop them from falling without their permission and, finally, when this person turned back and left the kitchen, leaving Shun by himself staring at nothing.
-OOOO-
The library lights were on and it got Shun’s attention - obviously, he couldn’t remember the whole path he followed from his bedroom to the kitchen, but he was sure that the lights were off. Tiptoeing, he made his way to the library and quietly put his head in the gap the half-opened door had left, to spy who was there. He didn’t have the habit to spy on people, but he was certain there was nobody else there. Then, he saw Hyoga’s shape near the window fronting the manor’s garden.
“Hyoga… when have you arrived?”
“Hey Shun… I arrived two days ago, but Tatsumi has told me that you hardly ever leave your room and I didn’t want to bother you. I heard you coming down to the kitchen but you were so into your head that I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“I apologize then… my manners haven’t been the same. Welcome back, Hyoga.”
There was no effort to smile - he simply had no strength or will to force a smile, as well as giving no explanation for any of his actions. Truth to be told, he had will for nothing and he was aware of how it reflected on his appearance, thoughts and actions.
“Thank you, Shun.”
Hyoga’s voice sounded shy and his face was reddish as if he was ashamed or embarrassed by something. His eyes were also puffy but Shun decided not to question his friend, standing still where he was, observing the russian. His stare, lost, was focused on the other man but his mind was empty.
“... Shun?”
Hyoga had approached him and yet Shun couldn’t say when that had happened. He also had noticed how Hyoga’s lips were moving, that icy blue eyes were following his only to check if he was paying attention.
“I’m sorry, Hyoga; I couldn’t catch what you were saying.”
“No worries… I had asked about Ikki, is he around here?”
“Yes, he’s in town, I have seen him around these days. What day is it today?”
“Thursday, 17.”
“Oh, well… It’s been a couple of weeks then. I’ve lost myself when it comes to time and days...”
Hyoga smiled, but it was a sad smile that barely moved his lips upwards. There was no pity when it came to Shun - and he would never show such thing as pity because he knew how his friend had been through a dark period and, upon a conversation with Ikki, the blonde decided to return to Japan. Shun didn’t want anybody to see his panic attacks, he had never wanted to be the reason for anybody’s distress and, while functional, he would rather stay alone. He had refused Ikki’s offers to live with him in his apartment and also refused Saori's requests to travel to Greece with her. Hyoga understood Shun very well since the russian himself had his own demons and his depression, but he also knew how hard it was to accept help or even to start all over again by himself was, however, he wouldn’t leave Shun by himself.
“Do you want to get back to sleep?”
Shaking his head, Shun denied.
“Well, I know you’re not in the mood for small talks or any kind of talking, but if you want to make me some company, I appreciate it. We don’t need to talk about anything if you wish.”
Hyoga then grabbed a book that was on a table, sat down on one of the comfortable armchairs, opened the book - which was duly bookmarked with a pencil - and started to read. Shun noticed that the book was an old pocket edition, deteriorated with time, but also something that Hyoga valued a lot, given the delicacy that the blonde held it. The blue cover had a picture of two men and Shun realized that he had been trying to decipher its title.
“On The Road?”
“Yup, Jack Kerouac. Aside from the classic literature that we would read back in Russia, this is a book from Camus’ collection that I’ve been dying to read, but who’s got the time?”
Shun smiled. He knew how his friend loved to read and how Camus had been an avid reader himself, the kind of reader who loved to discuss literature with his pupils when they weren’t practicing, always regarding his pupils’ education.
After some minutes, Shun also sat on one of the most comfortable chaise longue and, without thinking twice, put his feet up on the furniture. As he had mentioned before, his manners hadn’t been the same in a long time.
He then heard Hyoga repeating some muffled words in another language and, after a while, he realized that the book his friend was reading was in another language as well.
“Is the book in russian?”
“No, it’s a french edition. I’d promised Camus that I would try to read it in french, but I still have problems with verb tenses,” he answered, without taking his eyes from the book, writing something down on the page. “I write down the words I can’t understand and later, I look them up in a dictionary.” He raised his head, looking at Shun.
“It must be very cool to know different languages… I only know basic greek and I think I’m okay at english.”
“Do you remember when I first got here and barely spoke japanese? I mean, you were the only one who took their own time to teach me something and, to be honest, I’m still terrible at kanjis and all the stuff.”
Shun glanced at Hyoga, who seemed a bit embarrassed to admit that he still had difficulties with the japanese language. It made him remember their childhood, especially the three years they had spent together before being sent to their respective training places. Some sort of nostalgia feeling took over his mind; his childhood, as weird and painful as it was, couldn’t be compared to the teenage years he was going through. At the age of seventeen, he had seen so many things that people three times his age wouldn’t even dream of; he had felt so many things that he wouldn’t wish upon anyone. He took a deep breath and looked to the ceiling.
“Yes, I do… I was also learning how to read and write and everything I learned, I would teach you.”
“I remember those children’s books and how I took them to Russia with me. I was so terrible at those kanjis, everything was always wrong…”, the russian pouted.
“I remember how neither Tatsumi nor the Kido’s employees had no patience to teach us or even help with the homework; I remember how the teachers from the orphanage used to help us… When we were sent to the training places, one of the demands that Kido-sama made was that we would continue to study japanese.”
“Yeah… poor Camus! I swear that he did try to understand everything but, in the end, I was the one teaching him some words… silly words, let me tell you. ‘Ice cream’, ‘Good night’, ‘penguin’.’”
Hyoga put the book aside, looking to the ceiling and smiling. Shun followed his eyes and, after a while, he finally asked.
“You used to call Camus ‘penguin’, didn’t you?”
“For some time, yes… but soon as he learned the kanjis, the joke was no longer funny!”
Shun genuinely smiled for the first time in a long time.
“In the end, Camus decided to learn japanese to help me.”, said the russian, breaking the silence after some time.
It had been quite some time since Shun last talked to someone - or, what was supposed to be a normal conversation. His conversations with Ikki could be summarized as a few words exchanged between both; sometimes, the uncontrollable cry from the youngest one because he never felt able to express everything he was feeling and the oldest one wasn’t able to control his anger due to the situation. Shun was aware his older brother wasn’t angry at him, but couldn’t avoid the blame for his brother’s mood. ‘Had I not been born, I wouldn’t have been such a burden to Ikki. Had I died…’
“Uh, I think I got it. Dean dreamed that he was… giving birth?!”
Listening to that absurd made Shun come back to his surrounding, not leaving him to complete his thoughts. He dried the tears that had started to collect in his eyes and took a deep breath before raising his torso from the chaise longue, looking at where Hyoga was.
“What?”
“Dean Moriarty is one of the main characters, right? It is written that he had had a dream and then, this part: ‘avoir un bébé et son ventre était’... ‘avoir un bébé’ is ‘having a baby’ and ‘ventre’ means belly, stomach, womb.”
Shun’s widened (and reddish) eyes showed how the present situation was a comic one. Hyoga got up from his armchair, handing Shun the book. Then, he made his way to the bookshelves, full of books, looking for a dictionary and, when he found the one he was looking for, he was going through the pages, searching for what he had in mind and, as soon as he found it, he showed the page to Shun.
“‘Avoir’... ‘to have’... For the gods’ sake, Hyoga!”
The russian smiled, feeling somewhat proud for being such a good observer and recognizing that Shun was about to lose himself in his negative thoughts again.
“The american counterculture was quite insane, wasn’t it?”
Shun couldn’t help but notice that his friend was observing him, however, he didn’t feel cornered by such observation: to him, it made more sense that someone who had been and lived the insanity of being on battlefields and had known all along what happened to him observed him - and even analyze what had been going on. Not that the medical team that Saori had hired didn’t know the extent of their battles, but one thing was knowing and the other was living what each one of the saints had been through up to that point.
Extensive wounds that could kill a mere mortal being in a matter of seconds; going through intense training in their formative years - emotional and psychological abuse aside -, having their bodies possessed by The Greek God of the Underworld and having their own memories distorted, seeing their friends being horribly, cruelly torn apart only for the simple pleasure of being seen agonizing? Is there any Hades vestige left inside me, essence or whatever?
“No, Shun. The most traumatic experiences we have had follow us for a while. There isn’t anything of Hades left in you. You, yourself, fought him and, along with Athena’s blood, you expelled him from your body.”
Shun then became aware of his rapid breathing but, at the same time, it seemed that he was calming himself down; the dictionary and Hyoga’s book were fallen on the ground and the blond one held him by his arms as if he was preventing him from falling to the ground as well.
“Did I say all that aloud?” - the weak voice evidenced all the fragility and vulnerability that Shun avoided exposing to the world. Even if during the battles he showed himself as vulnerable as means to avoid violence, such fact couldn’t be compared to the vulnerability he was presenting then: he felt broken, grounded to the point he was sure he wouldn’t be able to piece the shards again. The weight of the memories and the guilt he felt for worrying everyone around him were similar to the weight of a rock tied to his neck, making him sink in the immensity of an ocean.
He simply didn’t thrash anymore, he only accepted the weight and sank lower.
Hyoga’s hands held him tighter, in a clear gesture of comfort.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want that you feel pressured to do it, but I want you to know that I get you. Up until today, the images of that ship sinking with my mom tantalize me; many nights I wake up gasping for air, shaking, crying, yelling… I know it isn’t exactly the same, but I get what you meant…”
Shun lowered his head, a bit embarrassed by the scene he had caused and his feelings of resignation before everything they’d been through.
“I’m sorry, Hyoga… I…”
“There’s no reason to be sorry, Shun. You don’t need to apologize for your humanity. The elderly ones often say that it can be a sign of weakness, however, that’s bullshit, especially when we’re not on a battlefield. It’s humanity.”
Before kneeling to gather the fallen books, Hyoga tightened his hold on Shun’s arms once again - his left thumb caressing Shun’s arm a couple of times before he let go of Shun’s arms and got the books from the floor. Shun sat down on the chaise longue and stayed there. The static noise was gone, thoughts were organized and, after a while, he slept. Hyoga used one of the blankets that were stored at the library - some of the saints used to fall asleep in that particular room as a way to escape the feeling of confinement that the walls of their bedrooms provided.
----
Back and forth, I sway with the wind
Resolution slips away again
Right through my fingers, back into my heart
Where it's out of reach and it's in the dark
Sometimes I think I'm blind
Or I may be just paralyzed