Thread:YingHe/@comment-36159587-20190602041917/@comment-36159587-20190606012504

Aiolos

What felt even better than the warmth of life I had not felt in a long time was the glow of pride I felt as I looked upon my comrades. Never mind that we were in the Underworld; no matter that the resurrection of my soul was only temporary, to say the least. For an instant, I felt as if we were all standing in the training square again, sitting together to eat a meal…all of the Gold Saints, together, for the first time in a decade.

Mu was looking at me, astonished, though his demeanor still held calm. In him, I saw the silhouette of the Patriarch, with his knowing eyes. He could see through everything, and he could hold his calm through everything. I had always appreciated that about him—he was truly fit as the disciple of Him.

Aldebaran, with his broad shoulders and towering height, was taller than even me now. However, with his casual smile, I could tell that he still carried the gentleness and generosity he always had. He was loyal, and had fought for what he always believed in, just as I had knew he would.

Saga’s eyes were shining as usual, his gaze flickering. I wasn’t used to seeing my friend in this vulnerable state. It was like when he told me of the dreams he had, thirteen years before. No doubt, he was thinking of the exchange of a loss and a return. His twin brother had redeemed himself with the death in the name of Athena’s Saint, Gold Saint Gemini Kanon. I knew he was comforted by this, and yet, he knew not how to approach me. He took comfort that we were reunited, and were going to join his brother soon as well, yet the past’s ties had not yet broken.

Deathmask still had the recklessness in his eyes, but the sadism I had always worried about was mostly faded. His gaze, though still harsh, gave the impression that he really did care. He smirked at me slightly, his way of welcoming me, and I gave a twitch at the edge of my lips as the response, just as I had when I found him somewhere where I knew he would be, and a place where he shouldn’t have been at the same time. Only, I knew this time, he was somewhere where he was supposed to be, and we were all supposed to be here.

Aiolia looked at me with a mixed expression of pride, longing, and astonishment. I was almost startled by his likeness to me: His hair style, his eyes, and his posture, even. When he stepped up to meet me, I could almost see a likeness in our gaits. His grip was firm, and warm. His eyes had the brightness of Lightning Plasma within them, glimmering with the holding back of tears, and his thoughts seemed to be rushing through his head at faster than light speed. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t cowardly to cry. Yet, I found myself holding back my tears as well.

Shaka stood by, watching, his brilliant blue eyes blinking once in a while. I saw him standing next to Mu, and some part of me relaxed—Shaka had always been so reclusive, and I was glad he had found trusted companions, and a good friend in the Patriarch’s disciple. His aura was powerful—more powerful than even I as a mentor had anticipated—yet I knew something about the source was different. It did not just come from being the Man Closest to God; it came from his view of the world. He had stepped down, closer to the mortal world, only to become even higher in perspective.

Dohko—Roshii. Somehow I knew it was him, though of course he had shed the wrinkled skin. He was glowing with the aura of a young warrior, yet I saw wisdom in his eyes. He smiled at me, edging me on, just as he had mentored me along with Shion those few times, sharing his quiet strength and wisdom, and yet, also his unrivaled energy.

Milo looked at me, smiling, yet something was off. No longer was he the young boy who pulled off tricks on the other Gold Saints, or the carefree youngster bounding around the Twelve Temples. He had been replaced by someone more serious, yet just as dedicated. It was as if the bloodshed Scarlet Needle caused had shed off some layers of his heart, until only the strongest core was left. In that instant, I remembered despise for war; how it made the most innocent one a killer. But I still saw it in his eyes—kindness, and mercifulness. The smile was in his eyes still, as was the brightness. It was like the Sun, and would be shining brightly until the ending day, as long as its life still burned.

Shura—his eyes were strong, as per usual, but something was wrong. But strong as always, not even a hint of tears within, but I could see—remorse, asking for forgiveness. I saw the boy he had changed from into the man that he had become, but the question he repeatedly asked himself, mentally, was: Did I change for the better or for the worse? But I saw his Holy Sword, Excalibur, by his side, shining as usual—and I knew that he needed not the answer.

Camus—such a determined, passionate young man underneath his cold exterior. I had watched him strive to keep his weaknesses at bay, yet never had he truly believed that love was a weakness. After all, he loved his friends, companions, and disciples—and yet he still was strong. He was a loving teacher, friend, and companion, and he had at last proved himself to be strong.

Aphrodite—I had always found his own regard to his beauty amusing. Yet, as he said, a warrior needed to be beautiful. Indeed, in skill—but also in heart. In kindness. He was never a vain person. He was selfless, thinking for others, and the thorns of the rose were still yet only masking the beauty inside.

It was almost time. I could feel my fingers pulling the bowstring taut, as our Cosmos powered from their core—our hearts. It was not the strength or talent of the warrior at the end, but the passion. I had watched the youngest of them grow from trainees to warriors, and perhaps…I did regret not being able to see more than that. I had seen the rest change and grow, as I had myself. My strength would have to equal to any of theirs, I knew. I didn’t want to let them down, just as all of them had once strived to equal my strength, and were now.

“Are you ready, everyone?” I asked, putting my sight in front of me. My view was full of gold, brimming with light of everyone’s Cosmos.

Nearby, Saga and Dohko nodded. Deathmask, Aiolia, and Milo met with almost-enthusiastic “Yes!”s. I heard Shura, Aphrodite, as well as Camus, and myself, chuckle at their attitude. Aldebaran confirmed heartily. Mu and Shaka nodded their calm and placid consent.

It was time. I fed the last of my strength, and felt the warmth of more than just Cosmos.

Perhaps a tinge of regret was there still? As I would have so liked to listen to their stories, one by one, as we could reconcile together. But once again, there was no time…once again, we had to perform our duty as Athena’s Saints, to sacrifice ourselves to Death, which awaited behind the walls—

And hope—believe—that our sacrifice, alone, would be enough to keep Him from taking the Bronze Saints’ lives as well.

But…as our own golden light engulfed us and erupted into the cold, dark night of the place that had never seen such a thing before—the Underworld, a place our souls would still be forbidden from… Surrounded by the smiles of my comrades, Athena’s honorable Gold Saints of the 20th century, and the one of my own content…

I decided, that instant, that I would hold no regret as we opened the path for the bright future.

For extinguishing our own light…would mean light…would continue to shine…