Author's Notes: So as of late I've been enjoying the constant barrage of homages and tributes that Saint Seiya Omega has been throwing out during the most recent arc - each one was so well done and squee-worthy (in my opinion) that there was one in particular I was very much looking forward to...and possibly looking forward to it too much, because it ended up being a pretty big let down to me. So, in true me-fashion, I spent about thirty minutes griping about it, then sat down to pen my retaliation. The result is this one-shot - somewhat of a companion to Legacy, and my response to Episode 83.

Beta'd, as always, by the ever patient Teakwood, who continues to be a good sport about me throwing one-shots at him to read instead of actual chapters or original works.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Inheritance

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"You wanted to see me, Otousan?" Ryuho's voice was hesitant as he reached the end of the path and looked at his father's broad, gray-clad back. He couldn't help but look at him admiringly; though most of the new generation of Saints often proclaimed that the ideal image of a Saint of Athena was either Phoenix Ikki or Sagittarius Seiya, Ryuho's ideal had always and forever been that of his father, both physically and mentally. Having witnessed both his father's prowess in battle and the fortitude of his dedication and strength during those long years in which he had been trapped under the influence of Abzu's darkness, to Ryuho there was no question of which Legendary Saint he most idolized.

Ryuho knew all of the stories, of course. How his father had been trained by Master Dohko since he was a child, unknown to Shiryu that his master was in fact the Libra Gold Saint. How he had competed in the Galaxian Wars in Tokyo at his master's behest, not knowing that it would soon turn into a battle on a cosmic scale, first for possession of the Sagittarius Gold Cloth and then for Sanctuary and Athena herself. How, after defeating Gemini Saga, he and the other Legendary Saints had thwarted the revival of Poseidon. And how, against impossible odds, they had faced all one hundred and eight Specters of Hades to defeat the God of Death and bring an end to the Holy War of the 21st Century. There were even those who claimed that, thanks to the death of Hades himself at the hands of Seiya, that would be the last Holy War…but most were being cautious about that. It was far too soon to know for certain whether or not Hades would ever return, and even if he didn't, there would always be another god or deity vying for control of the Earth.

Abzu had been proof enough of that.

Just as there was no Saint he idolized above his father, there was also no moment in Ryuho's life that had been happier than the first time he had returned to the Five Peaks following Abzu's defeat. Heart lodged in his throat he'd rushed to this very spot – and had found his father standing there, just as he was now, bandages gone and eyes open with clear vision. No trace of the darkness that had been eating away at him remained, and Ryuho hadn't been able to keep from throwing himself into Shiryu's arms – though whether father or son had reached out first he didn't know, and also didn't care.

Both Shunrei and Ryuho had tried to convince Shiryu to take it easy, to relax and allow himself to gradually get back into top form, but the former Dragon Saint had only tolerated another week of rest before he began to apply himself to the arduous task of getting himself back in shape. A Saint, he'd stated, never forgot the techniques that he had learned – but they still had to keep their mind, body, and spirit at top form to make use of them.

Ryuho had dedicated himself to training along Shiryu, determined to spend as much time with his father as possible to make up for all the years when they were only able to communicate through their Cosmo, and it hadn't taken long before Shiryu had begun to offer his advice and guidance to his son once again. It didn't matter that Mars and Abzu were gone, that Saori Kido had reclaimed her position as Athena once more and returned to Sanctuary – a Saint must always be vigilant, and always be prepared. On a more personal level, Ryuho simply wanted to learn everything that his father had to teach him, that Shiryu in turn had learned from Dohko. Though Shiryu's master had died some twelve years prior to Ryuho's birth, he'd heard enough about him from both of his parents to feel as if the old master's spirit was watching over him as well as his father.

He'd awoken that morning expecting the day to be like all the rest – morning meditation until breakfast, and then he and Shiryu would go to the waterfall to train until dinner, with a brief break for the midday meal. Ryuho cherished all of it, all too aware that he had come close to never be able to share such experiences with Shiryu.

That morning, however, he'd awoken to find his breakfast already waiting for him, with instruction from his mother that Shiryu was already waiting for him at the waterfall. Ryuho's pulse had quickened in anticipation – the few times when their routine shifted always promised a new experience for Ryuho. He'd rushed through the meal, then donned his training gi and rushed up the mountain path to the greatest of the Five Peaks waterfalls, a place that had been as much a home for him as the house he shared with his parents or his dorm room at the Palaestra.

Now he stood there, hands clasped behind his back in an imitation of Shiryu's own stance, waiting for his father to turn and greet him.

Shiryu tilted his head back slightly, the gentle mist of the waterfall spraying against his face as a slight breeze ruffled through his long, unbound hair. He opened his eyes and turned towards his son, a smile on his face. "You came quickly."

Ryuho blushed at the approval he saw in his father's eyes, and he stepped closer. "When Okaasan told me you were already here, I thought you'd want me to hurry," he said. "Did you already do your morning meditations?"

Shiryu shook his head. "No," he said. "I started early today so that I could be sure I was ready to begin this next lesson for you."

Ryuho's pulse quickened. "A new lesson?" he repeated. "Another one of Dohko-roshi's techniques?"

The corner of Shiryu's mouth lifted in a mysterious smile. "No," he said. "No, the technique that I'm about to begin teaching you isn't one that I learned from my master, Ryuho. This technique was bequeathed to me by another – someone very dear to me."

Ryuho blinked at this revelation, brow furrowing slightly in thought. "I didn't know you had another master aside from Dohko-roshi, Otousan."

The look in Shiryu's eyes changed, growing sad and turning his smile wistful. "I didn't know him long enough to be able to call him my master," he said with a shake of his head. "Our lives touched for only the briefest of moments, as is so often the case for us Saints. But despite the short time we had together, I am proud to be able to count him as a friend and comrade – and I will never take for granted the gift that he left with me." Shiryu lifted his right arm, looking down at it. "The Holy Sword, the pride of the Capricorn – Excalibur."

He shifted his gaze from his arm to his son. "Shura left with me his legacy, Ryuho, and one of my greatest fears as Abzu's darkness ate away at me was that I might die without preserving his gift for future generations. I could teach you many things in the state I was in, but not this. All of the training we've done since Abzu was not only to strengthen your Dragon, but to prepare you for this."

Ryuho's eyes went to Shiryu's arm as well, and he felt his pulse quicken with nervousness. "I never knew the Excalibur had been passed down to you, Otousan," he said softly.

"Few do," Shiryu acknowledged. "Are you prepared to take this step, Ryuho? The choice is yours. The preparation for this technique is unlike that of what you've already learned from me; it may be difficult for you to grasp."

Ryuho didn't have to think twice. That his father wanted to eventually entrust such a gift to him, one that clearly meant more to him than Ryuho could comprehend, filled his heart with warmth and his body with anticipation. He knew that there was only one answer that he could give.

"Yes. I'm ready, Otousan."

Three weeks had passed since that morning, and Ryuho was beginning to suspect that he had been overly-optimistic about his readiness to train for the Excalibur.

Shiryu had not been exaggerating when he had stated that the preparation was unlike anything Ryuho had already done – the differences between the Rozan techniques of the Libra Saint and the Holy Sword of the Capricorn were so vast that Ryuho almost couldn't believe his father was a master of both. He had said as much to Shiryu after the first week, when he had found himself comparing the training basics of both to each other – at which point his father had admitted that, while the Excalibur had been passed down to him, he was far from being a master of it. Shiryu could use the technique only with his right arm, whereas the last bearer of the Holy Sword had been able to utilize it with every limb, arms and legs alike.

If this was only the training necessary for the right arm, Capricorn Shura must have been an impressive man indeed.

Ryuho reached up and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, then shielded his eyes as he found himself staring up at the high noon sun. Despite the typically temperate climate of the Five Peaks, enhanced by the high elevation and abundant waterfalls, the past few weeks had marked an atypical temperature high for the region. Between his Water element's preference for cooler temperatures and his tendency towards a higher fatigue rate thanks to his weak health as a child, Ryuho could already feel his stamina flagging. He'd started his training immediately after his morning meditation, and hadn't allowed himself a break in the time since.

He was training solo that day, having insisted on it both to give him a chance to work without his father's watchful and critical eye and to give Shiryu a chance to take a day of rest. Not that he was likely to do so, but he would at least respect Ryuho's wishes to train alone. It wasn't often that he preferred it – only at times when he was feeling particularly troubled over something specific.

Ryuho looked down at his arm, a slight frown marring his face. The key to Excalibur, his father had told him, was to focus your Cosmo into one specific point of the body. The arm was the easiest, being able to mimic a sword more closely than any other. It wasn't enough to just focus Cosmo, however – you had to be able to release it as well, and with enough force and energy to slice through solid objects.

Closing his eyes, Ryuho took a deep, steadying breath and began to draw on his Cosmo, allowing it to fill him as it did whenever he prepared to release his Meikyo Shisui or Rozan Shoryu Ha. He could feel the soothing calm of his water element rising steadily within him, patiently waiting in his center for his next command.

He waited until the flow of his Cosmo stilled, waiting, then extended his arm and focused, pushing that Cosmo down along the length of his arm. When he could practically feel the limb humming, he brought his arm up slowly – then swiftly slashed downward, mimicking the movement of the sword. His Cosmo burst forth…and then promptly fizzled out, its fierce current tapering to nothing stronger than a trickle.

The rock which had been his target stood before him untouched, its surface almost mocking him with its smoothness.

The young Dragon Saint sighed, shoulders slumping in dejection. Maybe it wasn't that he was doing something wrong – maybe he just wasn't cut out for wielding just a legendary blade as the Excalibur. Just because it had been bequeathed to his father didn't automatically make him the next successor. He knew his history; the blade had passed over countless Capricorn Saints in the past, coming only to those it truly believed to be worthy. And Ryuho wasn't a Capricorn Saint. It made sense, then, that the Holy Sword would elude him.

Why then, if it made perfect sense, did the thought weigh so heavily upon him?

"You're allowing your Cosmo too much control over itself. A sword needs a sure hand wielding it, not a gentle touch."

Ryuho paused at the unfamiliar voice; he'd thought for certain that he was alone. Only he and his parents lived on the mountain that moment, though at times residents of the village that rested at the foot of the Peaks traveled up the paths, so it wasn't uncommon to come across them, particularly when the weather was welcoming. With this heat, however, he was surprised anyone would make the journey. Perhaps they thought the mountain air would be cooler than in the valley.

The moment he turned, he knew the speaker was no random villager who had just happened to stumble upon his training site. Not only was he clearly not Chinese, nor any sort of Asian, but the gold-trimmed white of his tunic and pants, along with the brown leather sandals that wrapped up his calves to his knees, bespoke of pure Greek influence. He stood at least half a head taller than Shiryu, with moss green hair shorn at the nape of his neck, natural curl causing the sides to curl around the line of his jaw, the top strands swept back into spikes tamed only by their short length. His narrow eyes were so dark a green that it was impossible to differentiate iris from pupil until he drew closer, their intense gaze combining with the aristocratic line of his nose and the straight set of his mouth to create an air of seriousness. Most of all, however, it was the way he carried himself – this was a man of power and strength, and Ryuho was certain he could have only come from Sanctuary itself.

Instinctively Ryuho moved into a salute, but paused halfway when the man's mouth curved upwards into the slightest of smiles and shook his head. "No need for that," he said. "I'm the one intruding on your training; if anything I should be saluting you in greeting."

Ryuho's cheeks flushed. "I've never had anyone defer to me, nor have I wanted it," he said quickly. Some of the newer Saint trainees at the Palaestra had tried, after finding out who he was, and he'd quickly dissuaded them of the notion. He'd never wanted special treatment because of who his father was, or even because of his own skill. It was what it was; he didn't need to be praised for it.

"Think of it as a courtesy, not a deferment," his new companion advised. "Still, if that's what you prefer then I'll acquiesce to your wishes." That slight smile was still there, and despite the otherwise severe countenance of his expression there was a touch of warmth in both his eyes and his tone that caused Ryuho to gradually relax in his presence, despite the still overwhelming urge to bow his head in respect. Who was this man?

"Ah…what did you mean, about my Cosmo?" Ryuho ventured with a touch of hesitation. "About allowing it too much control?"

The man nodded, gesturing to Ryuho's arm. "Your Cosmo goes where it will – you guide the flow, but you don't command it. You can attempt to will it into a container, so to speak, but the moment you release it, it'll go where it wants to go. For a deluge attack, such as the Rozan Shoryu Ha, this is fine – but a skill such as the Excalibur requires a much firmer hand."

Ryuho's shoulders slumped – the man's words were practically a confirmation of his own thoughts. "It's because my Cosmo Element is Water, isn't it?" he asked, unable to keep the sadness out of his voice. "Except…my father has the same Cosmo, and he can use the Excalibur without thought."

"Shiryu is a Saint of the pre-Abzu age," the man reminded Ryuho. "Cosmo had a different form then, a different sense of itself. Elements existed, but weren't a dominant force. Though most Saint techniques of this age either revolve around the Elements or have been adjusted to suit them, there are still certain ones that remain apart. The Excalibur is one such technique, and Shiryu, having been bequeathed the sword prior to Abzu's coming, would have the inherent knowledge necessary to temper the blade."

Ryuho wasn't reassured by that, though it made sense. "Why wouldn't he teach me those techniques, then?" he asked. His farther had always been such a meticulous teacher; Ryuho couldn't imagine him excluding such pertinent information.

There was that smile again, and this time it was much more prominent – and, unless Ryuho was completely misinterpreting it, affectionate. "Knowing Shiryu," he said with a light chuckle, "it probably never occurred to him that you wouldn't already know them." He paused, head tilting slightly to one side in thought. "Nor," he added, "would he have known they were needed. The Excalibur is, after all, typically passed down to Capricorn Saints. Shiryu is the first Saint under Libra to ever claim ownership to it."

"Hontou?" Ryuho looked at him, surprised by this bit of news. So little was known about the Excalibur – Ryuho could remember reading about it in the texts of Palaestra, but all they contained was information on its origins, and not much else. "I know that the Excalibur was first granted to a Capricorn Saint by Athena during the 6th century, but I didn't realize it was only used by Capricorn Saints." Techniques weren't restricted to just one Saint, though typically if a Saint passed on what they knew, they only did so to a limited number of students, and those most likely to be their successor. He frowned, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "Ionia never used it."

At the name, the man's expression darkened, any hint of mirth vanishing beneath severity. "Excalibur is not a technique to be learned simply because one wishes for it," he said harshly. "Only one who shares the same deep loyalty towards Athena that its first bearer possessed can hope to master even a portion of its strength. Professing loyalty is not enough to be chosen by the blade – it must burn deep within their selves, true devotion that can only be reflected in the strength of their Cosmo. Ionia coveted Excalibur his entire life, yet his misguided ambitions and false perceptions only drove him further and further from it." His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes narrowed in anger, and for a moment Ryuho felt uneasy – what would it be like, he wondered, to be on the opposing end of that glare?

Then he shook his head, the anger clearing. "But he's not why I'm here," he murmured, almost to himself. His gaze focused again on Ryuho. "The previous Capricorn Saint saw in your father's soul a rare and deep quality of loyalty unparalleled by any other that he had ever met, Ryuho. It is why, at the moment of his death, he sought to pass the Excalibur on to him and save his life, rather than use his strength to save himself.

His eyes shone with a deep intensity that made Ryuho feel as if they could see right through his physical self and into his heart. "You've inherited that same quality, Ryuho – that same strong sense of loyalty and fierce devotion. You can learn Excalibur, perhaps even master it. You only need to learn how to wield its blade."

Ryuho's pulse quickened. Though the man was a stranger, there was an honesty about his words that made Ryuho instantly inclined to believe him – he could feel the truth of what he was saying within his Cosmo. "Can you teach me?" he asked, a note of hope in his voice.

"The true Excalibur can only be found through one's own perseverance," the man replied, "but I can help you lay the foundation you need with which to reach it." He stepped forward, took a position at Ryuho's side, and motioned to his arm. "Guide your Cosmo once more, like you did before."

Ryuho nodded, then lifted his arm up, keeping his fingers aligned in mimicry of a blade as his father had showed him. As before he was easily able to direct his Cosmo into his arm, and he held it, his eyes focusing on the rock pillar that he had been attempting to target before.

His companion reached up and wrapped his hand around Ryuho's bicep, a light touch that Ryuho could have easily broken if he'd been so inclined, yet the grip still firm and unrelenting. "Now," he said, "when you go to deliver the strike, do not let your Cosmo completely free. Maintain control of it, as if you were grasping the hilt of a sword, and direct its path. You must guide it to the rock, rather than rely on it to find its way alone. Otherwise, your element will simply seek to fill whatever void it's been given, as a river does when the dam holding it back breaks."

Ryuho briefly hesitated before giving a slight nod of assent. Instead of visualizing a release of Cosmos such as what the man had described, he instead imagined molding his Cosmo into a rigid pipe…no. That was wrong. A blade, a sword's blade, as the Excalibur was. He'd never held a sword in his life but he could picture one, imagine his hands wrapped around the it, the edge of the mental blade in the sunlight, and the strike… this his Cosmos, extending out from the blade in a forceful flash, cutting in a straight line.

The hand left his bicep, and Ryuho brought his arm down hard.

There was a sharp roar as if the air in front of him had been abruptly sucked into a vacuum, a brief second of pure silence, and then the cracking, shattering sound of some heavy, rigid surface being struck. Ryuho opened his eyes – he hadn't even noticed that he'd closed them – and stared in disbelief at the rock that had been his target. It wasn't sliced in half, as he imagined his father would have accomplished, but the telling, inch-deep diagonal slash against its surface had not been there mere moments earlier. He looked over at his impromptu teacher. "I…I did that?"

"You did," the man confirmed. "And with practice, and a stronger belief in yourself, one day you will be able to cleave a rock such as that in half. Excalibur will not forsake you, Ryuho. Not so long as your loyalty remains true."

Ryuho's heart fluttered in his chest at the thought; he hadn't realized until that moment just how important it was to him that he be able to do this, that he be able to inherit this technique from his father, who in turn had had it entrusted to him by someone he greatly valued and respected. Whereas when he had started that day's training he had been apprehensive about his father finding out about his lack of progress, now he found himself eagerly anticipating being able to show Shiryu what he'd learned.

As if summoned by his own thoughts, Ryuho felt the familiar warmth of his father's Cosmo approaching from the direction of their home. "Otousan is coming," he said abruptly, for the benefit of their visitor, a smile spreading across his face as he turned to look at him.

Forest green eyes were focused in the distance, in the direction that Shiryu's Cosmo was coming from. "Yes," he said with a slight nod. "Which means that it's now time to take my leave of you, Ryuho. You have much to discuss with your father, I'm sure."

Ryuho looked at him in confusion. "Demo…didn't you come here to see my father?" he asked. After all, why else would anyone from Sanctuary come to the Five Peaks, if not to speak with Shiryu?

He shook his head. "You were the one I came to see, Dragon Ryuho," he said. A distant look appeared in his eyes, one full of sadness and regret. "And it is not yet time for my path to cross with Shriyu's again. Someday…but not now. And hopefully not for some time yet. You'll understand one day, Ryuho." He crossed his arm over his chest, closed fist against his heart in a salute, then stepped back and turned to walk back towards the woods he had emerged from.

"Wait!" Ryuho exclaimed, a sudden thought occurring to him. "You never gave me your name!"

The man paused, then looked at Ryuho over his shoulder. The clouds parted above them, a stream of sunlight bathing the meadow in soft golden light, brightening green eyes and casting a soft halo of light around mossy hair. He said nothing, simply smiled – a true, honest smile – and then he was gone.

Ryuho stood there, staring at the empty spot where his unknown companion had stood just seconds early, a dumbfounded look on his face. Then, slowly, his eyes widened as first realization, then disbelief, washed over him. It couldn't be possible – and yet, in his heart of hearts, Ryuho knew.

He turned to greet his father, who had just entered the meadow via the forest path from their house. As Shiryu approached him, Ryuho met his warm gaze steadily and smiled.

"Otousan…I met Shura today."