Welcome to my fic! I did some research to help integrate the culture of each of the saints into the story, you'll see numbers next to some words - check the bottom of the paragraph he word was in to see the reference. Unfortunately won't allow me to insert the hyperlinks that point to the reference site I used for each reference... so please just take my word for it A
I will be posting other fics in my Anthology here, but they are all separate stories- feel free to jump to the story of whatever saint(s) you like best!
Constructive feedback is always welcome, and I hope you enjoy this fic!
SPECIAL THANKS TO OVERACTIVE IMAGINATION FOR HELPING ME WITH THIS SERIES!
TRIGGER WARNINGS - GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, BULLYING, RELIGIOUS CONFLICT
A wave of booms echoed in the woods as massive pine trees fell to the earth. Each cadet had been assigned a tree, and were tasked with bringing it down as part of their training. While most of the others were struggling to knock their trees over, everyone paused as one boy brought his down with a few stiff swipes of his arms.
The boy, about 12 years old, looked to his toppled tree with a satisfied smile. He was pleased with his results. It was beginning to take less effort to perform this exercise, it seemed. He could feel the eyes of the other trainees on him, both jealous and amazed, but he didn't care. His devotion to the mastery of his cosmos meant far more to him than what they thought.
"Excellent work, Shura!" said a tall youth in his mid-teens. The brown-haired and blue-eyed Grecian walked over to the boy and pat him on the shoulder. Shura turned to look up at his master-his temporary master, at least. "Thank you Aiolos," he replied. "But I think I can do better."
Aiolos smiled. "Well, I doubt everyone else here agrees. I think all of you can take a lesson from Shura's dedication," he suggested as he turned to the others. "We'll be picking candidates soon, so I suggest you put in more effort if you want a chance at the cloth!".
Some of the trainees groaned, while others chuckled with good humor- they all knew it was impossible to keep up with the star pupil.
During the morning jogs through the forest or the laps around the lakes of the Pyrenees, the dark-haired boy was usually yards ahead of group. The beams of sun that peaked through the boughs made it easier to see the deep green tone of his short spiked hair. When they were tasked with lifting heavy boulders in the mountains or scaling the white peaks that stuck out against the clear blue skies, it was always Shura that led the charge.
"How was a judio beating them? (1)" It was the question on the minds of many of the trainees. Though Shura proclaimed he was Catholic, the others knew better- his dark green almond-shaped eyes and the form of his brow made it obvious that he was of a different lineage- one that many found undesirable in his native land.
(1 - Term for "jew" in Spanish)
Their main trainer, a Silver Saint by the name of Lazaro, recognized that there were conflicts in his pupils due to their backgrounds. Knowing this, he refused to allow any form of hatred in his group of trainees. He encouraged all of his students to work together and respect each other, regardless of their past faith.
"What you were is irrelevant; you're all soldiers of Athena now, so you now have that common ground with your fellow peers." their master would tell them.
For the most part, the brunette man with steel gray eyes was successful; anyone who was caught pranking or insulting someone was automatically forced to jog extra miles or perform arduous tasks for the remainder of the day as punishment. For many, it was a huge relief and a welcome change from their past lives.
Shura was no different in his new feeling of belonging, and there was one trainee in particular that he had become friendlier with over time.
"You're really improving," an olive-skinned girl about his age said to him that evening. The two of them sat together with the group of younger cadets, whom were resting. Her thick black hair was cut short to her ears in a bob. Shura didn't know the color of her eyes; they were hidden behind the silver mask she wore at all times.
"Thanks Chana," he said to her. "But you were pretty fast yourself with your tree. I think you're getting better with your kicks!"
Chana shrugged. "I guess. I'm rooting more for you right now than I am myself. I'm pretty sure you'll be chosen for the trial."
Shura knew what she was referring to, Aiolos had mentioned it earlier that day too. It was the reason the Gold Saint had come from the Sanctuary in Athens to help them train. They were soon going to choose candidates for the Trial of the Goat. The trial was a competition to see who would earn a coveted gold cloth- in particular the cloth of Capricorn. With it, the victor would join the ranks with Aiolos as one of Athena's most powerful warriors.
"But aren't you interested in getting the cloth, too?" Shura asked her.
Chana shook her head. "Nah, too flashy for me- plus, I can get plenty done as a silver saint or a bronze one. You remember the stories Lazaro told us about bronzes of the past, right? They did plenty on their own without a gold cloth! I don't need one to kick some serious butt!" She mimicked some karate moves, making Shura giggle.
Unlike his friend, he wanted the gold cloth more than anything. It was his ultimate goal, and he was doing all he could to pursue it- even if deep down he still wasn't sure why he wanted it so badly.
"Isn't the moon pretty tonight?" she asked as she pointed to the sky, sensing her friend drifting off into his thoughts again. Shura looked up with her. Tonight the heavens were a deep violet freckled with bright stars. He nodded, gazing upon the bright white marble in the heavens. "Yeah. I feel like I want to reach out and touch it. Maybe one day I will, if I become a really strong saint!"
"I doubt it. I don't think anyone can last very long in space, Shura, even you!" she laughed softly, trying not to wake up her peers.
Shura smiled. "I guess you're right." he could still dream of it, at least. He imagined being up close to the moon. He wondered if it would pass judgment on him, given how much his life it had born witness to.
[2 YEARS AGO]
Barcelona was rather relaxed in the mid-afternoon, and today was no different. With the sun high in the sky, cars remained few and far between on the streets. Children were picked up by their parents after school, and shop owners relaxed for their daily break at the restaurants that remained open(2).
(2 - During the mid-afternoon, Spaniards have siesta, which is a time for resting. Shops close while restaurants remain open for those wanting to eat and drink)
Surrounding the resting denizens were the aged red and brown buildings of centuries past. Several of them were proud cathedrals, boasting crucifix-topped steeples that scraped the clouds of the sky above. There were some that, though large, were of odd design and color. These had towers with white domed roofs decorated each with a crescent. The locals would pay no mind to these old buildings, letting them go to disrepair. Their pride instructed them that they were to not be associated with a faith from the Middle East.
Then there were those- most no longer in use for their original purpose- that were of more modest construction. They were simple buildings of regular businesses in the streets or alleyways. Odd etchings of a foreign language that was considered taboo were etched atop them. Owners of the buildings would slather paint, lay on cement or place a sign in front to cover the letters and star-shaped symbols.
Running down one pathway was a boy of ten. He was dressed in a white button-down shirt, tan pants and a maroon neck tie. The tie waved like a banner over his shoulder as he dashed through the crowds. He tried to speed past the people as quickly as he could, constantly looking back to make sure there was distance between him and his pursuers. His black leather shoes stamped the ground furiously as he ran.
Three of the boy's upper classmates, dressed in similar clothing, were chasing him. "¡CORRE SHURA!"(3) one of them mocked as the others laughed cruelly, catching up to their victim.
(3 - "Run" in Spanish)
Shura turned down an alley, his small schoolbag tucked under one arm with the other free to catch himself should he fall. His heart pumped furiously, trying to keep up with his faster pace. He quickly ducked behind some garbage cans, crouching to make himself as unseen as possible. The three bullies turned down the alley and looked around for their after-school punching bag. The younger boy held his breath, his eyes focused and alert as he looked between the cans at his school-day vexations.
After a half-hearted attempt at searching, the pursuers' interest in chasing down the boy wore off. "We'll get him tomorrow," one of them said, joking that they should force him to eat ham to see if he would squirm. Once they left the alley, Shura waited a few more minutes before leaving his hiding spot- just in case they would come back or were waiting for him to leave. Once he concluded they were gone, he rose from his spot, stretching his stiff legs that ached from crouching for so long.
"Morons…" he muttered, tired of having to outrun the bullies at least a few times each week. He headed out the alleyway, relieved that he survived today's chase with only dirty shoes. That soon changed when he tripped on the sidewalk and felt a sting on his knee. He recovered from his fall and looked to the injury, noticing a tear in his pants. He sighed with frustration as he wiped the blood off his scrape with a handkerchief from his school bag.
"Mamá isn't going to like this…" he thought nervously, anticipating the scolding he'd get at home once she found out.
Shura returned home, walking down his street as he passed by several modest-sized houses before arriving at his. He knocked on the door and waited for it to be opened. He tried to figure out how he could explain the tear in his pants, or better yet, get away with his mom not noticing at all. He came up with a solution just as the door opened, his mother at the entryway to greet him. She gave her son a warm embrace and let him inside.
The walls of his home were a light sand color, with matching wooden floors and ceiling beams. The sofas and other seats had a redder wood finish with white cushions. The steps leading to the second floor were lined with ceramic tiles on the risers. The tiles had leafy, symmetrical designs in blue, green and yellow (4).
(4 - Spanish tiles are a common décor in the homes of spain)
Fan-shaped windows close to the ceiling poured warm light inside; the regular windows of the first floor of the house were normally kept with the blinds closed. In each room of the house there was a small prayer table with candles, aprayer bookand a rosary. These little tables would either have a framed picture of a bearded man smiling gently or a cross on the wall.
"Hijo, how was your day?(5)" Shura's mother asked him sweetly.
(Hijo - Son in Spanish)
"Good mami," he said with nonchalance, relieved that she hadn't seemed to notice the scrape. Holding his schoolbag on top of it seemed to be working.
"That's good sweetheart," she responded, pulling her forest green hair back into a bun as she headed to the kitchen to continue preparing dinner. She was in a simple yellow dress with a pattern of small white flowers on it.
She never wore jewelry or dressed herself in any formal attire outside of Sunday church; as she would often tell her son, it wasn't wise for the Karo family to stand out too much.
"I-I'm going to go change and start my homework…" the boy said as casually as possible, heading for his room upstairs.
"That's fine dear, just be sure to give me your pants when you're done changing so I can stitch them up again." She scolded, placing stern emphasis on the last word, "And you will tell me what happened."
"Damn…" he muttered. She was good.
"Cómo?!(6)" Shura's mother demanded, peeking her head out from the doorway of the kitchen with a hard glare at her son.
(6- An exclamation of "What?!" in Spanish)
"NOTHING MAMI!" he said hurriedly, dashing up the stairs before she could ask him anything else.
As the last rays sunlight left the sky, Shura could hear the front door open and close downstairs. A man's voice greeted his mother. "Eloisa, my darling!" it exclaimed, followed by a warm laugh from Shura's mother.
"And where's my son?" the man asked, raising his volume so the boy could hear him.
"Coming Papá!" the child replied, finishing up his last bit of homework. He then closed his books and headed downstairs to greet his father.
The man had short, curly black hair and green eyes that smiled back at his son through glasses. Kneeling down to Shura's level, the two greeted each other and hugged.
"What did you learn today?" he asked his son, but before Shura could say what he was taught in class, Eloisa answered for him.
"He learned that he can't outsmart his mother," she reported, furrowing her brow as she held up the newly stitched pants. "They chased him again, Salomón."
Salomón frowned and sighed, upset with his son's misfortune. "Well," he reasoned with a small smile as he scanned the boy's condition over, "At least I won't need to close any stitches this time." he let out a soft chuckle, glad to see that his son was relatively uninjured. Shura smiled and nodded, glad to know his father's skills as a doctor wouldn't be needed that day.
At dinner, the parents conversed in Catalan so their son wouldn't understand- he was only just beginning to be taught the language in school (7). Shura listened in for the few words he did recognize, pretending to be focused on his meal.
(7 – Catalan is a second language spoken in Spain, especially in the region of Barcelona. For numerous decades it wasn't taught in schools, finally being allowed to be taught for a few hours in the early 70's)
"Hopefully one day, if it ever passes, this teasing will stop." his father said with strained hope, taking a sip of some wine.
Eloisa shook her head as she cut into her chicken. "You and I both know that's wishful thinking." Salomón sighed in agreement.
There was silence for a few moments as all three ate. Shura guessed they were talking about a law for anyone to practice any religion in Spain. Unfortunately, the large populace of the country had yet to agree with such a sanction. While the Karos themselves were Catholic, and had been for generations, their surname and facial features told the rest of the world that they had roots in another faith. And if in looks or name you were different, it was enough to cause you endless harassment in your day-to-day life. Eloisa could barely handle it, which led her to stay a housewife.
"When he gets older, it might be better." The mother chimed in, trying to lift her husband's spirits.
"Maybe," he replied, biting into some rice. "He does have your hair, it can be cut pretty easily and it's straight."
"And he has your skin." she added, noting that her darker hue that made her ancestry a dead giveaway. This was in opposition to Salomón's paler tone, which Shura had inherited.
Picking up the gist of the conversation, the child was uncomfortable with talk of his looks. It was as if the only way he could survive being mocked forever was based solely on his face.
"Well, seeing as he has your smile," the father flirted, reaching across the small table to hold his wife's hand, "I'm sure he'll be fine."
Eloisa blushed and turned her head away bashfully. Shura smiled softly to see that his family still loved each other despite their struggles. The moment of warmth was sadly cut short as the sound of snickering emerged outside, followed by the hiss of a can of spray paint.
Salomón's warmth was replaced in a flash with rage. Pursing his lips as he tried to contain himself, he pounded his fist on the table. His wife and son jumped as the flatware and utensils clattered harshly. He quickly rose from his seat and threw his napkin on the chair, storming outside and muttering under his breath as he slammed the front door behind him.
The air was tense in the dining room as Eloisa and Shura heard the man of the house shouting at some troublesome teens. They listened to the delinquents laugh as they ran off.
The youths often pulled harmless pranks on the family, but his normally temperate father would get so enraged when telling the offenders off that Shura never knew how to appropriately respond. He simply got up from his seat and scurried to his mother's side. She covered his ears so her son wouldn't pick up the swears that Salomón unleashed when he was this upset. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the incident to come to a quick end.
The doctor made it back into the house, rubbing his temples with his hands. He returned to the table, calmed himself with a few deep breaths, and picked up his fork to resume eating.
"Shura, once we finish dinner," he said to his son gravely, "get the paint."
–
Shura helped clean up the graffiti that had been painted on the front of their house. His father always told him not to look at the wall until he was done, just to be there to pour paint into the tray for his roller. Before the vulgar messages commenced to be erased though, his son's curiosity would get the best of him- he glanced quickly at the wall to see what the insult was this time:
"DIE CONVERSOS"(8)
(8 – Conversos - Jews who were forced to convert to Catholicism)
"They've been worse," the boy thought out loud, quickly covering his mouth with a small gasp when he realized his mistake. His father looked down at him, crestfallen at the reality he couldn't shelter his son from.
Shura, thinking quickly to try and make his father smile again, tried to say something clever as he filled the tray with more white paint. "Well they have, remember when they drew the swastika with the legs all messed up?"
Salomón chortled. He was relieved that if anything, his son had resilience. The two shared a brief laugh as they covered up the message, leaving no trace of the marks of hatred on their home.
That night as Shura prepared for bed and ended his nightly prayer, his father entered the room. "I have something for you," he said, opening his palm to show his son a pendant on a thin chain.
The boy gasped softly in awe, taking it in his hands. The pendant was round with brass filigree along the outer edge. The filligree encircled a blue piece of porcealin, which had a six-pointed star painted in brass on it. The star was constructed of interlaced triangles. A Hebrew letter was painted in the direct center of the star. On the back there was an inscription, also in Hebrew. The necklace seemed to be quite old; it was tarnished along the edges of the filigree and looked as though it had been handed down for centuries.
"We may have converted now, but I believe…" he said softly so his wife couldn't hear, "You should know where you're from. That faith can be relative, and God will always watch over you no matter how you pray."
He placed the pendant in his son's hand, kissing him on the forehead. Shura smiled as he looked at the relic, running his fingers on the Hebrew etchings on the back. He didn't know what it said, and his father said he didn't know either. Regardless, Shura was glad, perhaps even honored, to have the keepsake.
–
That night Shura's eyes stirred under his lids as he dreamt. He imagined himself running again through the streets from his classmates, but the sky and people in the crowd were shrouded in darkness. He saw the glowing eyes of the people looking down at him, glowing mouths grinning with sharp fangs.
He turned to see the bullies morphing into a similar state. A thick fog covered the street, making it hard for Shura to breathe and see. Occasionally a flash of lightning illuminated the buildings. They had the messages he had seen on his home scrawled across them, looking to have been done in blood.
"HITLER SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOUR KIND TOO"
"LEAVE RATS"
"CONVERSOS ARE LIARS"
He turned into the alley he went down that afternoon to hide behind the garbage cans, but instead he saw a dead end. He turned to see the shadowy forms gaining on him. His heart pounded and he felt himself begin to sweat. He tried to run again, but his legs felt stuck. He looked for anything near him to throw at the shadows, but found nothing. Soon he could hear their demonic laughter get closer to him as they shouted at him.
They urged him to die, telling him he was Judio scum. Goosebumps rushed to his skin as he felt the shadows creepcloser to him, feeling nothing but dread down to his core. He braced for the worst, curling into a ball and squeezing his eyes shut.
Suddenly, he heard them shriek. Looking up, he saw the monsters cowering and looking up in terror towards something behind him. He could feel a warm presence near him- an aura of kindness and power he had never felt before. He turned slowly, wondering where this mysterious force could be coming from.
A woman draped in white robes and donning an odd helmet faced him, glowing a beautiful white-gold. The presence of the figure overcame Shura, filling him with exhilaration and wonder. He looked to see that a sword rested on the palms of her hands. She leaned forward, presenting it to him.
"With this sword Excalibur,"she said in a warm voice , "May you strike down those who hinder you from following me. May you conquer those who wish not my will of good unto the world."
Shura's mind echoed each word, and he felt compelled to pick up the ornate weapon. He held it with trembling hands, seeing his eyes in the reflection of the razor sharp blade. As if it were second nature, he turned to the shadowy figures. He raised the weapon high, and swung it down with all his might.
The blade sang as it cut through the air, and an instant later a golden beam shot out and sliced the demons. They all dissipated into thin air with piercing cries.
Seeing the creatures vanquished gave the little warrior an irresistible sense of joy. It was satisfying to have the power to stop the malicious beings. He looked to his sword, which began to glow gold. Suddenly, he could see the blade begin to meld into his arm. The youth felt an immense amount of power flow through his veins as his body began to glow gold as well. The strange event frightened him, causing him to cry out.
He shot awake with beads of sweat on his forehead. Realizing it was just a dream, he looked outside the window beside his bed. The moon was out in a crescent that night. Shura looked down at his arm with curiosity. He raised it straight up, hearing the familiar hum of Excalibur softly emanate from it. With wide eyes he lowered his arm, looking to it in shock. Was he still dreaming? There was no way his arm could be a sword now, it didn't make any sense!
Bewildered and light-headed from the vision, the boy lay his head back down as he recalled the strange dream and the beautiful woman. Even though she never said it, somewhere in his back of his mind he knew her name.
"Athena..." he whispered, falling back into a dreamless sleep.
"What do you think of him?" Shura asked Chana one morning as they completed their jog, looking over at Aiolos. The Gold Saint was conversing with Lazaro.
Chana looked over at the saint. "I can hardly tell through this damn thing, but he seems cute!" she said playfully.
"I didn't mean his face, jeez you're such a girl!" he joked as they sat down to stretch their legs.
"I know that, I just wanted to see your reaction. You jealous?" she teased. Shura envisioned the face under the mask giving him a sly smirk.
He rolled his eyes at his friend's humor. "You wish. But seriously, he seems to have a pretty powerful cosmos, don't you think?"
She nodded. "I guess that's why he's a gold saint. But even then, I think he's holding it back. Maybe to be polite?"
"Maybe, but I like him. He seems nice. He gives us more breaks during training than Lazaro does."
"That's true. You could probably take a lesson in humility from him too, Mr. I'm-going-to-touch-the-moon!"
The two laughed as they stood up, twisting side to side to relieve the tension in their backs. Lazaro then approached the trainees, with Aiolos close behind.
"Everyone, line up! I have an announcement."Lazaro bellowed, as the trainees complied. They stood at attention, waiting to see what the news was.
"As you know, Aiolos, the new Sagittarius Saint, has been here over the past week to help us choose candidates for the upcoming trial," he explained as he walked up and down the line, "which is why he has taken over training. After some review I am glad to announce that we have now chosen those candidates!"
Shura felt a nudge on his side. He turned to see one of his peers, a boy a little younger than him, grinning. He smiled back, anxious on the inside as he hoped his colleague's suspicions were right.
Aiolos approached the trainees and stood alongside Lazaro. "When I call your name, please step forward." he instructed.
"Rafael!"
A man with dark hair stepped forward. A group of his friends pat him on the back as he moved up.
"Miguel!"
A blonde man stepped up from the line, with his allies rooting him on.
"Alejandro!"
A fair-skinned youth about two years Shura's senior emerged.
"Guillermo!"
The fourth, a man who was the tallest in the group, walked to the front.
"Shura!"
Shura dashed forward to meet the others. He kept as straight a face as possible even though he wanted to grin from ear to ear. The younger trainees cheered him on the loudest, led by Chana who was practically shouting as she jumped up and down. He turned quickly over to her, his eyebrows raised in surprise from her sudden burst of energy. She stopped and placed her hand behind her head in embarrassment.
"All of you will now be training exclusively with me for the next few weeks, starting tomorrow. You'll be doing twice the exercises and get twice your usual rations for meals." Aiolos explained, clapping his hands together. "And I look forward to seeing which of you will become my new colleague!" he finished with a smile. The candidates all looked to each other excitedly, while Shura scurried back to his friends to celebrate.
That night, Aiolos joined the trainees at dinner. He found Chana eating pieces of chicken, bringing them to her lips as she lifted the mask from her chin to eat them. Seeing the gold saint approach, she quickly stopped and placed the mask back on her face completely.
"Oh, there's no need to stop because of me," Aiolos said, kneeling down to meet the girl at eye level.
"It's okay, now that you're this close I can get a better look at you through this stupid thing," she replied, tapping the side of her mask with her fingers. All female saints and want-to-be saints had to wear one. She also had a chance to better see the red band he wore around his forehead.
Aiolos chuckled softly at the girl's spunk. "I know, it must be tough to wear that. Many friends of mine in Greece have to wear one too, and I respect them a lot. Speaking of, aren't you friends with Shura?"
"I prefer to think of myself as his long lost relative with the way we get along. I'm Chana." she replied, putting out her hand to shake.
Aiolos accepted the gesture. "Hana? I apologize if I'm mispronouncing it." he said politely.
"It's okay, you just need a little phlegm behind the 'H' in the beginning. I know it takes practice. Shura tried ten times until he got it, the crazy perfectionist that he is." she noted, shaking her head. "You can't see it, but I'm rolling my eyes over that idiot."
The gold saint laughed. "By the by, where is he if I may ask? Do you know?"
Before she could respond, a gust blew through the bushes beside them and a large thud shook the ground. Aiolos, unsure of what it was, immediately got on the defensive and dashed into the brush. Chana followed closely behind, knowing full well where the ruckus came from.
They eventually encountered Shura in a clearing, beside a boulder that had been perfectly cut in two. He stood before it with his hands resting at his hips.
"It only took one slash this time!" he cheered as he turned to Chana, who had rushed to his side.
Her whistle of admiration was muffled in her mask. "Nicely done!" she praised, giving him a high five. "I wanna finish the job!" she cried excitedly, dashing towards the chunk of boulder that had been cut. She leapt high into the air,flipping and slashing down hard with her heel on the rock, shattering it into pieces.
"NICE!" Shura complimented, deeply impressed by her prowess. Once she had completed her attack, she dusted off her pants. The two of them supported each other with their arms over each other's shoulders. They looked to the wrecked boulder with pride.
"Oh by the way, Aiolos is here." she noted casually, letting go and heading over to the half of the boulder that still remained intact to sit.
"Wh-wha?!" Shura gasped, turning to see Aiolos beside him.
Clearly embarrassed and intimidated shown by the flush that came to his face, he turned back to his friend.
"You could have told me that before Chana!" the boy shouted.
"Whaaaat? I got excited and forgot! You've never been able to cut a rock that big with only one hit before!" she retorted, flopping onto her back.
"Well, I'm very glad to have witnessed it, then," Aiolos chimed in, kneeling down to meet Shura at his level. "I know I've been training you for some time now, but since I'll be your direct instructor for the next few weeks I thought I'd just come and formally say hello." he said as the two shook hands.
His embarrassment subsiding, Shura eased up a bit. "Sorry my friend over here is such a scatterbrain." he chided humorously, his eyes sliding over to Chana.
"HEY!" she snapped back.
Aiolos laughed at the hilarious exchange of the two children. "There's nothing to apologize for. I see that you're very committed to your training. Have you eaten yet?"
"This fatso eats the fastest out of all of us." Chana contributed factually to the conversation.
Shura grunted, crossing his arms. "Yeah, I did." he conceded.
"But you know that training is over with for today, correct?" he asked his new pupil. "Why are you still practicing?"
The boy shrugged. "I want to get better. Sharpen my skills," he explained, though the words sounded hollow.
Noting this, Aiolos tilted his head to the side curiously. "But you're already quite good, I'd say. Why do you want to push yourself to train even more?"
Each time anyone asked him this, he provided the same answer. "Because I have to."
Aiolos was intrigued by the simple response. "You just have to?"
Shura nodded. "I just feel like I have to." he wasn't ready to go into detail about his dream and Excalibur with his new trainer. "Hey Aiolos, may I ask you something?"
"Of course! Ask away." he replied warmly. Chana rose from her spot and approached the boys, curious to hear what Shura was going to ask. "Athena...have you seen her?"
The Saint shook his head. "She hasn't been born yet. But she will be soon, the Pope says so," he answered.
Shura looked to the ground in frustration. Nobody can see her, but she's all-powerful and coming soon. It sounded frustratingly familiar to Shura. He rolled his eyes at hearing the same drivel again from another mouth. He always had to shake the image of the Vatican out of his mind too whenever someone mentioned the Pope of the Sanctuary.
Chana sensed her friend's disappointment at the response and placed her hand on his shoulder for comfort. He looked over to her in dismay and back at Aiolos, thanking him and wishing him a good night. The two trainees then headed back to camp.
That night the boy slept in his usual spot with the other younger cadets. He was turning the necklace in his hands. He would keep it in a velvet pouch his father gave him along with the necklace, buried nearby during the day. He would unearth it when it was time to go to sleep. While he was sure none of his friends would mind that he had such an heirloom, he preferred to keep the secret of its existence to himself.
He wondered again why he felt so committed to his training. For all he knew, this path to Sainthood was just a trick; they could be stuck in the woods forever, just exercising for nothing.
He looked to the brass star. It dully reflected the dying flames of the bonfire the cadets had gathered around before bed.
No, he concluded. He couldn't fake the power he was given that night, and the impact it had on his life.
"And then she gave me a sword, Father," the young student said to the priest early the next morning in their school's church. He arrived before the regular proceedings that started their day, just to be sure he wouldn't be interrupted. He thought speaking to a higher authority about what happened would help him make sense of what his strange dream meant.
The elderly man, bespectacled and robed in black, listened intently as they sat in one of the church pews. Their conversation could only be heard by the stained-glass apostles on the windows and the statue of a crucified man at the front of the church.
Shura told him about the sword and the message, which seemed burned into his mind. As for how he came across her, he would only say that it was demons chasing him. He didn't mention the writings on the walls or what the monsters called him.
"I see," the priest said, remaining silent for a moment to reflect on the dream. He placed his hand gently on his chin as he contemplated.
Finally, he spoke. "Well, it appears that the Virgin has come to you, encouraging you to be a faithful servant and speak up against those who have malintent." The old man concluded, smiling gently with satisfaction as he turned his head towards the cross at the front.
The boy moved his head in that direction as well, not pleased with the answer. "But father, I don't think it was Maria. She had a different name," he countered, "Athena."
"Athena?" the priest's brow furrowed as he turned to his lost little lamb. "My son, we don't speak of pagan names here." The serious look on his face unnerved Shura- the normally genteel priest's eyes were hidden by the glare of his glasses as the morning light reflected off of them. He looked down at Shura. "I'm sure you saw Santa Maria. It would be best if you believed that too," the elder man told the child, who was too intimidated to respond.
Was it really that serious if he had such a dream? The boy thought, unable to continue as the rest of the students entered for the morning prayers.
–
That afternoon when the church bell signaled the end of class, the green-haired boy headed towards the gate back home. Unfortunately, the three upperclassmen from yesterday were there to greet him.
"Hey Shura!" one of them said in a false friendly tone. They picked him up, causing him to wriggle in order to try and break free.
"We missed you yesterday!" another one said as they carried him through the schoolyard. They took him the back of the chapel, where nobody would bother to look for them.
"LEAVE ME ALONE! I'M NOT A JEW!" Shura screamed in frustration, flailing and punching the bullies in the face as they pinned him to the wall.
Shura struggled to break free, his will to fight back causing him to glow gold. The boy who had him pinned dropped him.
"What the hell?!" one of them yelled, having never seen anything like this before.
Shura stood back up, his tie disheveled and his shirt now dirty. He caught his breath as a powerful energy flowed though him.
A gentle voice whispered in his head:
"May you conquer those who wish not my will of good unto the world."
The boy's eyes widened. Am I supposed to attack them? He asked himself. These guys weren't good, that was obvious. But… did he actually have Excalibur's power?
"HE'S GOT TO BE A DEMON! GET HIM!" one of them cried, leading the attack on the cornered youth.
Out of options and the adrenaline rushing through his veins, Shura closed his eyes and swung his straightened arm upwards. He heard the hum of the blade, and opened his eyes to see, once again, that after a brief instant a golden beam of energy left his arm. It sped towards the boys, who managed to dodge it just in time. All four of them watched in shock as it sliced a garbage can several yards away.
The bullies turned to Shura, speechless. The gifted child himself had no words to say, seizing the opportunity to try and run. However, one of the boys caught him by the collar, pinning him to the wall again.
"GET HIM BY THE ARMS!" the leader shouted, pinning the small boy to the wall accordingly. The other two began to punch him in the face and the stomach.
"LET GO OF ME!" Shura shouted, kicking his legs. The upperclassmen wouldn't break their hold on him, so with all of his might Shura's body glowed gold once more and he swung one of his legs upward.
The boys dropped him immediately as they heard the familiar hum. A beam of light left Shura and raced across the yard to a tree, which split completely in half.
All four were silent. The boy with the power of Excalibur looked down to the ground, his eyes wide in amazement.
"IT'S IN MY LEGS TOO?!" he exclaimed out loud, grabbing the one he just kicked. He could still hear the faint resonance of the metal.
"RUN! JUST RUN!" the leader of the bullies ordered, and all three darted off screaming.
Their former target rose from the ground, dusting himself off. His mind had never felt so blank. He was dumbfounded by what just occurred.
This was real. This Athena woman had given him some kind of strange power. With Excalibur, he could fight back when people came to harass him or his family.
He immediately headed home, greeted at the door by his mother once again. Before she could ask him about his black eye and soiled clothes, he eagerly told her about the woman in his dream, and what had happened in the schoolyard.
Eloisa clasped her hands and looked to the ceiling. "God has blessed my son! The Virgin has given him a gift! This must be a sign!" she rushed over to one of the prayer tables in the living room, and kneeled down in front of it. "Christ has forgiven the sins of our ancestors…" she declared, tears of joy streaming down her eyes.
While her son was pleased that this new found power made his mother happy, it bothered him that she thought his lineage was dirty, given what his father told him last night.
It especially irked him, more than the thought it would, that she called Athena the Virgin.
In the weeks that followed, Aiolos was no longer a laid-back trainer. The reps and exercises were not only doubled in length, but in intensity. Told to climb higher cliff peaks or to knock down more trees, even the grown men that were candidates had begun to feel worn out. It didn't help either that they were ordered to keep their cosmos ignited the entire time, permitted by the gold saint to rest only if it burned out entirely.
The candidates' muscles screamed at the end of each day, Shura notwithstanding. However, he pushed himself to keep up with the demanding regime. If going through all this meant it got him closer to the Gold Cloth, he'd endure the training- no questions, no complaints.
The other trainees often observed the intense training, feeling rather lucky at times that they weren't chosen to participate in such a rigorous routine. Chana continued her own pursuit for a cloth, out matched all of the other trainees and even the larger adults. Her efforts proved worthwhile, as she had rightfully earned the silver Cassiopeia cloth after a series of matches with her peers for it.
While everyone praised the girl for her achievements at so young an age, nobody was more ecstatic than Shura. Aiolos conducted the inauguration in place of the Pope, and felt honored to present the cloth to such a spirited fighter.
It was now two nights before the Trial. Feeling certain everyone was asleep as the bonfire died, Shura unearthed his pendant from where he had buried it that morning. He turned the heirloom in his hands slowly, with it thoughts of his own progress going through his head.
"That's a nice necklace you have there," someone said behind him in a hushed voice.
Shura snapped around to see Aiolos. He quickly tucked the necklace away, glaring up at the gold Saint like a wolf protecting its cub.
Aiolos, sensing the younger Saint's aggression, smiled nervously. "It's okay," he said with a chuckle, "I was only admiring it."
The boy still kept his glower. "Oh...well, is there something you wanted to tell me?"
"Just to say what a great job you've been doing so far," the Saint replied as he sat down by Shura's right. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine." he replied. It seemed like Aiolos wasn't going to take the pendant. Deciding it was safe, he brought the star out again and twirled it. "Whatever needs to be done for the Gold Cloth, I'll do it."
"So it seems…still not sure why?" Aiolos asked.
Shura shook his head. Soon they head soft mumbles as a sleepy Chana shuffled over to join them.
"Shura, why are you still awake?" she groaned, seating herself on Shura's left.
"Hey new Saint, did we rouse you from your beauty sleep?" Shura joked.
She gently punched his shoulder. "Shut u- What is that?" she asked, looking towards the necklace.
"O-oh, this?" Shura stuttered. He wasn't at all ready to have his necklace revealed to anyone tonight, much less Chana. "W-well..."
"It's a Seal of Solomon!(9)" she blurted as she shot awake, trying her best to keep her voice down. "I-I haven't seen one in so long..." she was so overwhelmed with emotion she almost choked on the words. Shura had no idea she would be so moved by jewelry.
(9 Seal of Solomon - a symbol similar in appearance to the Star of David)
Aiolos was equally surprised, but pleased to see that she was trembling from joy and not fright. "Chana," he inquired, "If I may ask, are you from-"
"Israel, yeah." she replied, looking over to Aiolos and nodding.
"W-well here," Shura said, handing it to her, "so you can take a better look at it."
She lifted her mask briefly from her chin to wipe her eyes, placing it back and taking the pendant. "Thanks Shura. Is this yours?"
"Yeah, my dad gave it to me. I don't really know what it says though, but-"
"Shin. It's a letter. On its own it can mean a name for God, or can represent your heart.(10)" Chana stated, holding the pendant close to her mask to see it through the eyeholes.
(10 - The letter shin in Hebrew. Can represent a name for God, and also the heart.)
Shura's eyes widened. "Y-you can read it?!" he asked.
"If she's from Israel, then yes. Hebrew is used there." Aiolos explained, moving so that he was seated in-between them. He himself was fascinated by the sight of such an old relic and wanted a closer look.
"Then, can you read the back?" Shura pleaded, eager to know what it said.
She turned it over and brought it even closer to her face. "Not with this thing on," she concluded, removing her mask. "Aiolos, can you hold this?"
Shura gasped and covered his eyes. "Y-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" he asked in a loud whisper.
Chana chuckled as she shushed him. "Taking off my mask so I can read this. What's the big deal?"
"Y-you know what the big dealis! I can't look at your face! Otherwise you have to marry me or kill me!" Shura exclaimed, trying to look away.
"Shura, really. It's fine." Aiolos assured him, holding her mask while she took a closer look. "Nobody else is around, and I won't tell anyone. I promise."
"B-but" he stammered, keeping his eyes shut as he turned back to Chana.
"But what? I don't want to marry you dummy, and why would I kill you? You'd probably end up killing me anyway if I tried. I don't want my head lopped off after all this work to get my cloth."
Shura relented after the reassurance from the two of them, and looked over at Chana. Her jade green eyes scanned the back of the pendant. "It's too dark to read." she grumbled.
"Let me help," Aiolos offered, burning his cosmos ever so slightly from his hand to provide light.
She thanked him and continued. Shura noted her face, that of a girl with a fire inside. The shape of her brow was, oddly enough, not too different from his own.
"Ah," she sighed with nostalgia. Here eyes gleamed as she recognized the etching. "It's the priestly blessing."
Though the words that she uttered next were foreign to the both of them, Shura and Aiolos could feel their spiritual weight.
"Yevhārēkh-khā Adhōnāi veyishmerēkhā
āʾēr Adhōnāi pānāw ēlekhā viḥunnékkā
Yissā Adhōnāi pānāw ēlekhā viyāsēm lekhā shālōm"(11)
(11- The priestly blessing in Hebrew)
"It's a blessing for God to watch over you, to shine on you and bring you peace." she noted, handing back the pendant to its owner. "It's beautiful. But does that mean...Shura, are you actually Jewish?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No, but...apparently my ancestors were. I think that's why my dad had it so long. It's just really important to me, which is why I kept it." he reminisced, placing the pendant close to his chest.
Chana nodded with understanding, taking the mask from Aiolos and placing it back on. "I can understand why. If I had the chance, I...I would have tried to save something too before I left." she lamented.
Aiolos listened to the tales of the two children intently. "You two must be very used to a lot of religion in your lives."
They both shrugged as they sighed in agreement.
"It must have been very confusing." he continued.
"Definitely." Shura responded, placing the necklace back in its pouch.
"And then there's Athena thrown into the mix! I couldn't possibly imagine how confusing that must have been for you." the Gold Saint said sympathetically.
There was a pause as they absorbed the truth of how the goddess had reshaped their lives.
"Plus I started having sword arms out of nowhere." Shura joked.
The trio laughed softly as they realized the craziness of it all.
"She came to me in a dream- Athena. She said I had to follow her, but I had never heard of her." He tucked his knees into his chest. "And she gave this power to me. She kept telling me over and over again to use it. I've heard her so many times now that it's just become background noise in my head. But…I don't know if this is the right way to use it. I don't really know if there is a right way."
"Of course there is! To fight for justice! That's why I decided to stay at least," Chana boasted, leaning back on her hands to look up at the night sky.
Shura shook his head. "I want to fight for justice, sure," he trailed, looking to Aiolos. "But for that I could have just been a policeman or a judge. It doesn't make sense why I was brought here. Why I stay. Or why…" he looked to his arms, hearing the hum of metal as he pointed his open palms.
Aiolos looked to the ground in thought, once again struggling to find the right words to say. "Look up at the sky," he said. Shura complied, taking in the night above. "You know how our cosmos is hidden within us, that it needs to be tapped into, and connects with the cosmos up above?"
Shura and Chana both nodded.
"The Pope tells me it's the same thing with our destinies. Even if we don't know what it is yet, once we find it, it all becomes clear and connected with the destinies of others." Aiolos explained, rising up from his spot to dust himself off.
"With time, I'm sure you'll realize you knew the answer all along. Sometimes it takes longer to figure out. The truth is deep down within all of us. You'll be able to judge what the right way is then, and why you decided to pursue Sainthood," he told Shura, bidding the two children good night to let them ponder and rest.
The two of them sat in silence, turning what the Gold Saint had told them in their heads.
"...What do you feel deep down, Shura?" Chana wondered, laying down beside him to sleep beneath the stars.
The boy paused, trying to comb through his feelings to figure out the answer. He buried his necklace in a safe place while he strained to find the answer within himself. With a defeated sigh, he laid down in the opposite direction of his friend once he had finished hiding the pouch.
He finally responded with a sigh, "Guilty."