Disclaimer: Saint Seiya does not belong to me. The angst, however, does.
Notes: This is possibly the darkest piece I have written and posted online. It is perhaps the darkest piece I have written period. But certain things have put me in a dark mood, and this is a representation of my thoughts. It's me speaking, but yet it is not me. The actual narrator is Shaka... I have only used his voice as a vessel for my own. The setting is some time in the thirteen years between Saga taking over Sanctuary and the Bronze Saints coming during the actual show.
I do apologize for whatever trauma this causes anyone. Review if you want...this was meant to be an outlet for me. If you like it, that's great, but if you don't, I won't really mind. Thanks.
A Voice In the Darkness
He breathed outward, listening to the sound as air spread from his lips. It was loud and almost harsh in the silence. Noise was muffled in the world, though he was not sure why. It was strange not to know…he had always known. Another breath startled him from his reflections, the sound of being alive disturbing his melancholy, only to deepen it beyond what he thought imaginable.
After living for so long, after being who he was, he thought he had already forsaken foolish hope. He thought he would no longer have good expectations, nor would he feel disappointment when the things around him shattered. Somewhere far away, there were people and worlds, but here, in his person in his world, he knew there was only darkness and pain anymore. He sighed, hearing the rhythm of his breath change.
Why did humans deign to love? Why did humans choose to do things they knew would cause them pain? He wondered these things over and over in the darkness, when no one was around to see him waver in the absence of surety. He felt as though he stood on the brink of two worlds, and he did not know which choice would be better. If he stayed, if he spoke up, if he rebelled…nothing good would come of it. And if he left, if he abandoned the world to its fate, he would be miserable forever, knowing he had let so many die. His love for these people only made it worse for him; choices would be easier to make without friendship to dissuade you. These were all people he had trusted, in whom he had believed the world would walk to a better place. And now…every single one of them was broken.
Some had turned to evil to shield their own sufferings, while others hid behind masks of apathy, and anyone not in either previous category had run away from the darkness. He himself had done all of those things. He pretended not to care, and aided what he knew was wrong, and finally, avoided all the others. Even if it was a bad choice, he knew he would not be able to face seeing them in all their beautiful shattered glorious pain. It would be easier simply to pretend it all away.
One day, he always thought, one day everything will be all right. One day everything will be revealed and we will go back to being happy with ourselves. One day the pain will go away and we can see each other smile again. One day. But not today. Today found him still thinking to the beat of his breath and watching the sun rise in the hope that salvation might come. Humans were so foolish to believe. The sun did not bring healing. The sun did not bring hope. A new day did not mean anything had changed.
And Sanctuary did not mean a safe place. Sanctuaries could be filled with danger and lies and corruption. Sanctuaries could have rotting innards that were hidden beneath smiles and false faces. Sanctuaries could hold secrets and constant fear and monumental pain. So it was in his Sanctuary, this place that should have been kind and homely. And in the end, he felt as though he were standing on the bank of the river again, watching the bodies float away past where other people were bathing.
Humanity was made for this. They spent their lives fighting and hurting each other. And yet, they also spent their lives believing, and hoping, and imagining worlds without pain. Still…he liked to pretend it could happen, even knowing that once humans entered that world, it would fill with pain again. Humanity was such a beautiful fragile thing, too easily wasted, and even more easily broken. There was a sadness beyond belief that encompassed the world, singing its misery in the unending night.
He breathed out again, listening to the voice of life as it whispered in the darkness.