Disclaimer: I own nothing of Saint Seiya except my fantasies.

Author's Note: And lo, a third chapter of EoI, right on schedule. Here we have more chibi-Saints, and a bit of some not-so-chibi Saints. I hope my portrayals of them are accpetable. Thanks to MMBC and Akiko88 for their reviews of the last chapter, and I hope the both of you, as well as other readers, will enjoy this chapter as well. This chapter is a bit longer than the others, mostly due to the second scene - there was no way to split it up, so, behold, longer chapter!

And, as always, thank you to Teakwood for beta-ing at all hours of the night. Please enjoy!

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End of Innocence

Chapter Three: Aquarius, Part Three

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"Wow. This is so much better than my room on Milos Island." Milo rushed across the room and threw himself on one of the beds, bouncing slightly from the impact. "Can I have this bed, Camus? You don't mind, do you?"

Camus looked from one bed to the other. "There's no difference," he replied with a slight shrug of indifference. The beds were spaced the same distance from the door, with a large picture window positioned opposite the door and between the two. If they drew a line down the center of the room, each side would be a near perfect mirror image of the other. Matching beds, matching wardrobes, matching side tables. There were two doors next to each wardrobe that upon inspection were revealed to be a closet and a bathroom respectively. Sanctuary might have been old-fashioned in décor, at the very least, but at least it had been updated with some modern amenities.

"Huh, no bathtub," Milo said, poking his head suddenly around Camus to look into the bathroom.

"I think there's a bathhouse," Camus replied, recalling seeing the building when he'd been walking with his master. Losing interest in exploring the small room, he wandered over to the bed that Milo had not claimed. He ran his fingers over the light bedding, a far cry from the heavy fur and woolen blankets he was used to. As with Saga and Aiolos' clothing, everything in the room was simplistically done, and yet done with the best of the best materials. Camus couldn't help but wonder if all Saints got this treatment – or if it was only because they were Gold.

"Communal? You mean, like, we all share? Yuck." Milo made a face and tugged the door shut. He turned to look at the other boy and grinned. "I bet we'll get our own once we move into the Temples, though. When do you think that'll be? Not that I mind sharing, but... but they're the Temples." He went over to the widow and gazed out at the marble structures that wound their way up the mountainside. "I can't tell from here. Which one do you think is Scorpio?"

"Scorpio will be the eighth Temple from the bottom," Camus replied, opening up the empty wardrobe on his side and finding fresh, clean, and light clothing already waiting. Quickly he started tugging off his heavier clothing and replacing it with one of the cooler sleeveless tunics, although he left on his fur-covered leggings. "The Temple path starts with Aries on the bottom and ends with Pisces at the top, just before the Kyoko's Chambers."

Milo nodded slightly, his eyes searching the visible temples. Finally he sighed and shook his head, turning away from the window and leaning against it. "I don't think I can see it from here," he said with disappointment. "What about yours? Where's that?"

"Right below Pisces," Camus replied, recalling what his master had told him about the Temple path layout. "You probably can't see it from here."

"But someday, right? We'll get to see them eventually?" Milo looked at him from beneath thick, purple bangs, looking more childlike and eager than ever.

Camus found himself nodding, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Of course," he said. "When the Kyoko thinks we're strong enough to be able to guard our Temples, we'll be living there."

Milo nodded, and then in a burst of energy flopped back down onto his bed with a whomp upon impact. He tucked his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. "We can visit each other once we move there, right?" he asked. "Not just be confined to our own? Can I come visit yours, Camus? You gotta go through mine to get to yours, but I don't have to go past mine unless I want to. Can I come see what yours is like?"

The questions surprised Camus – they were sudden and random, but somehow the teal-haired boy sensed that the answer was extremely important to Milo. "Okay," he replied, seeing no reason to say no. It was entirely likely that Milo would forget all about the request by then, anyway, and even if he didn't it wasn't that big of a deal.

There was no missing the bright smile that appeared on Milo's face at Camus' answer, and suddenly he was back on his feet again and bursting with energy. "I'm gonna go look around a bit more before Saga and Aiolos come back. You wanna come?"

Camus thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. "No," he decided. "I think I'm going to lie down for a little bit. Maybe Shaka or Aiolia will?" His trip from Siberia had been long, and now that he'd been sitting for a few moments it was starting to catch up to him. Rest seemed like a good idea, and it did not seem like it was going to be found anywhere near Milo.

"Okay, maybe Aiolia," Milo said, nodding. "I don't think Shaka's too interested in people." And with that, he darted out of the room and across to the hall to the bedroom that the other two boys had claimed.

Camus lay back onto the bed. It was comfortable, but large – designed for a teenager or adult, not a child. It only served as another reminder to him about his youth and inexperience.

He'd heard the whispers and rumors that one of his master's students would be selected for the Aquarius Cloth, but Camus had never imagined that it would be him – the youngest of the four trainees in Siberia. How could he have imagined it? The Gold Saints were Athena's protectors, her guardians. They were the strongest of the strong, the bravest of the brave. And Camus…Camus was a child. How could anyone think he was capable of protecting anyone, let alone a goddess?

And yet, a voice whispered into his mind, you were chosen. Doesn't that mean someone, somewhere, thinks you are capable?

The thought, oddly, didn't bring the young boy much comfort. What did it matter if other people had faith in him, if he didn't have it in himself?

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Although their first few days within Sanctuary were quiet and calm, the four new Gold Saints were quickly indoctrinated into the hustle and bustle of training by their second week, and gradually fell into a routine over the following months. As promised, Aiolos and Saga oversaw their combat training, though the actual technique work was left to their own devices. Camus was nervous about this at first – he'd never trained by himself before – but after a few hours he found that he really did remember everything that his master had relentlessly drilled into his head. The Gold Saints were given a private training field, each of them granted an allotted time to be able to use it for their own personal use if they so chose.

Aside from combat training, nothing else was regimented for them. Use of their scheduled times was left to their discretion, but Camus was in no way confident enough to miss his allotted times, and even took advantage of the open moments when no one else was present. Sometimes he found Shaka already there, or passed Aiolia on the way – but never Milo. As far as Camus knew, aside from combat training Milo never set foot on the grounds. Oh, that wasn't to say he spent all of his time in the barracks or around Sanctuary goofing off; he'd disappear for entire stretches of time, and when he returned he'd be all exuberant energy and smiles. But he never offered where he'd been, and Camus had no interest in prying.

Now he pushed those thoughts from his mind, taking a deep breath as he stood in front of a large slab of rock set up in the center of the training grounds. It was late in the afternoon, lost past his scheduled time, but both his technique training and combat training hadn't been up to his personal standards and he'd found out that neither Shaka nor Aiolia had planned on using the field that day. He had every intention of taking advantage of the extra time, even if it meant working through the evening meal.

Closing his eyes, the young boy focused his mind as he reached deep within himself to build up his Cosmo. Unlike the other Saints, as an ice master (or one in training) Camus didn't use his Cosmo to create power within, but rather to diminish it in others. It was his ultimate goal to master the ability to reach Absolute Zero, the lowest temperature point, and only those able to reach the greatest of all goals of the Saints had any hope of reaching such a level.

Another deep breath, and Camus began to move his arms and legs, feeling his Cosmo surround him as he moved. When his master had first demonstrated this technique to him, he had almost fallen over in a childish fit of laughter. He hadn't, and when he had had to attempt it himself for the first time he suddenly understood the necessity for the movements; each step of the foot, each wave of the arm, was designed to channel one's Cosmo in a perfect line to execute the maneuver at its maximum potential. As strange and bewildering as some of the motions were to an observer, doing them, sensing them, was another matter entirely.

"Diamond Dust!"

And Camus knew at once that he didn't have enough power behind the attack as his Cosmo flowed out of him, ice arching towards the stone slab – only to fall short and fizzle out, falling in snowflakes and ice shards towards the ground, melting before they even had a chance to touch.

Frustrated, Camus could only stare at the rapidly evaporating water particles. He knew that it wasn't the temperature he worked in; if he'd built up the right strength his attack would have maintained its own core temperature regardless of the outside. No, the technique had failed because of a problem within Camus himself, and it was that that frustrated him. The Diamond Dust was the simplest of all major ice attacks. He'd mastered it well over a year ago, and yet for the last few days he'd been lucky to get it to execute correctly. If he couldn't even maintain a constant Diamond Dust, how could he hope to master any of the more advanced techniques that his master had shown him?

How would he be able to reach Absolute Zero, let alone the Seventh Sense?

Camus' vision blurred, and to his horror he realized that it was due to the tears welling up in his eyes. Hurriedly he reached up and rubbed at them with the back of his hand, willing them away before anyone had the chance to see them. Crying during training? He'd be embarrassed if Shaka, Aiolia, or Milo saw him; mortified if Saga or Aiolos did. He was a Saint. He was Aquarius. He was no longer afforded the same liberties other children took for granted.

And yet he stood there sniffling, holding back tears even after the last traces of his failed attack had vanished.

A shadow fell over him, and then a heavy but gentle hand landed upon his shoulder. "Why so distressed, young Camus?" a kind, soft voice asked.

Camus' eyes widened, and before he could stop himself he gasped and spun around, staring up into the kind eyes of the Kyoko himself. He remembered his shock the first time he had seen the Kyoko without his mask; Shion, former Aries Saint, might not have the strength in him to don his armor any longer, but his eyes betrayed the powerful spirit of a legendary Saint. Camus had only seen him a handful of times since his initial welcoming, and never outside of the audience chamber. He couldn't help but gape for a moment. Not only was Shion without his mask, but he was also without the traditional robes, wearing a much more functional tunic and pants, a hooded cloak fastened around his shoulders. Although Shion's age was betrayed by the white of his hair and the lines of his face, he still retained a powerful sense of vigor that made him seem far younger than his two hundred plus years. It would be a mistake to ever call this man aged.

Camus realized that he was standing there with his mouth open like a fish, and hurriedly snapped it shut as a blush crept up along his neck. He stepped back slightly and gave an awkward bow. "K-Kyoko," he stammered.

Shion chuckled, pulling his hand back. "There is no need to bow in my presence now, Camus," he said. "We aren't in the audience chambers, nor in a formal setting. Here we are simply two Saints exchanging a greeting. Now, tell me – what is it that distresses you?"

Camus' blush only grew worse as the words registered and he realized that Shion must have seen his lapse in strength. "I…" He hesitated, knowing that he should not lay his problems on Shion's shoulders, and yet… yet. "I am having difficulty with my technique training," he said, a touch of shame creeping into his voice. With the way that Shion looked at him, it was impossible not to tell him the honest truth.

"You're here every day, are you not?" Shion asked, and Camus nodded. "Not only for your scheduled times, but also afterwards, when the training area is not in use. You come here as soon as it's available and do not leave until evening falls – and even then Aiolos tells me he has to come and retrieve you."

Camus gave another slow nod – after all, it was true.

"Why?" Shion's question brought surprise, followed by confusion, to Camus' face. "Why do you feel the need to push yourself so hard? You haven't even been within Sanctuary for a month, young Camus. Barely two weeks. What drives you?"

Camus swallowed. Why? He didn't understand. Wasn't the answer obvious? And yet Shion didn't seem to know. He was waiting for Camus to tell him.

"I'm…I'm a Gold Saint," Camus replied shakily. "But I…I'm not strong enough… I'm not trained enough… I'm not ready…" He felt his lower lip tremble slightly and pressed them together tightly to force it to stop.

"Is that what you think?" Shion sounded amused, and Camus raised his head to look at him. "Camus, the mere fact that you were granted the Aquarius Cloth in the first place means that you are ready for such a responsibility. It is true that most Saints are not granted their Cloths before their teenage years, but many are ready for them far in advance. I wish I could have staved off placing this responsibility upon your shoulders for a few more years – but circumstances being what they are, I had no other option.

"Yes, you must still train. You are not quite at the level of Aiolos and Saga, and it may take some years before you reach it. But then, they are older than you; they've had more time to train, more time to grow. You cannot compare yourself to them as they are now, and no one expects you to."

"But I can't even maintain the techniques I have mastered!" Camus blurted out. "My Diamond Dust… I can't build up the strength of Cosmo to sustain it! How am I supposed to find the Seventh Sense if I can't even master the most basic technique?"

Shion went quiet, and the silence was enough that Camus could hear his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn't that he was comparing himself to Saga and Aiolos… it was that he couldn't live up to the expectations that he himself had put on him.

At last the older man spoke again. "I am going to give you a command, Aquarius Camus," he said, and the words drew Camus' attention and focus back to him. "At the end of the main path is a large building – you will recognize it by the owl carved above the doors."

Camus ran through the tour that Saga and Aiolos have given him, and then paused. "The…library?"

"Exactly." Shion smiled. "For the next three days, I want you to go to the library and retrieve anything from its shelves that you like, and spend the time that you would normally train your techniques on reading through the material. You will participate in combat training, of course, but give your Cosmo a rest, Camus. Even it can tire out when overworked."

"But…" Camus stopped himself when Shion put his hand back on his shoulder.

"After three days, attempt your Diamond Dust again. I think you shall find yourself back to normal. You must learn to take care of yourself and move at your own pace, Camus - not your master's, not mine, and not your fellow Saints'. Only yours. Nothing is more important than this." Shion stepped back. "Go on now. You'll want to spend some time there before dinner, I'm certain. Athena's library contains quite the collection."

Camus couldn't hide the spark of interest in his eyes – one of his favorite ways to relax was to enjoy a good book, and he had always been above his peers in terms of academic capability. He had already gone twice over his master's library, taking in the works of authors such as Dumas and Dostoyevsky at a very young age. "Yes, sir," he said, relief flooding through him. Shion wasn't thinking down on him at all, and when put so plainly before him Camus could see the wisdom in his words. "Thank you. Ah…will you be joining us for the meal?"

"I am afraid not," Shion replied with a smile and a shake of his head. "I have business to tend to in Tibet for a few days; I will be leaving Sanctuary under the delegation of Saga and Aiolos while I'm away. Enjoy your three days, Camus, and I look forward to observing your true Diamond Dust when I return."

The look that lit up Camus' face made Shion even more certain that he had set the youth on the correct path, and thankful that he had interceded in time before Camus inadvertently burned out his own Cosmo. "Yes, sir!" Camus said. Then, under Shion's watchful eye, he turned and hurried from the training grounds, clearly intent on carrying out Shion's "order". The rest, Shion hoped, would truly do Camus good in more ways than one. It had not taken a perceptive eye to see how tense the boy had been since arrived; Shion hoped that this respite would do the child some good.

Shion's expression grew soft as the small form disappeared from view. "Degel, my friend," he murmured, calling to mind a face from so very, very long ago. "Welcome home."

And then Shion was gone, vanishing in the blink of an eye, as if he had never been there at all.