Disclaimer: Saint Seiya is the property of Masami Kurumada, Toei Productions (anime) and Shueisha.

Settled

Saori looked around herself with a satisfaction that teetered between pride and relief. The staircase was perfect, greenery covering the banister completely, layered with fresh white flowers that cascaded in long bunches and spilled abundantly along the edges of each step. An arrangement in the same style arched dramatically over the open front door, and through it she could see the fountain, glowing with submerged lighting and framed by tree trunks wrapped in string lights that gently illuminated the crowns of the trees from underneath. A nest of gold and pearls lay heavy as heartbreak on her chest, the buzz of the party guests waxed and waned in her ears, and gentle notes of jazz played in the background while the singer got ready to take the stage. She almost liked these galas; they reminded her of her grandfather, of hiding behind his legs, of stealing treats from the kitchen while they set up the dessert tables. They reminded her of what she had once thought life was, before she had learned the truth.

She made her way back to the formal ballroom, slowly, fluttering from guest to guest like a hummingbird, smiling and bowing and smiling and bowing. She knew by the end of the night her cheeks would be sore, but she kept at it, greeting presidents of companies her foundation invested in, fellow philanthropists from other countries, a sprinkle of celebrities and minor royalty that Tatsumi insisted on, every year. "It wouldn't be right not to invite them, milady. It wouldn't be right." She assented, she always preferred to assent unless she actually cared.

Tatsumi also felt very strongly that it wasn't right for her to appear without a date, which she found at once endearing and unnerving. The world knew that she alone was at the head of the foundation, and yet somehow the sight of her mingling with guests by herself was thought to be scandalous. So she assented again, and looking across the room she saw Seiya in his too-small tuxedo, making what appeared to be very awkward and reluctant small talk to a man who gesticulated, grimaced and laughed for both of them, all of it wild and expansive, at once performer and biggest fan. She knew this man: he was the president of a manufacturing company that had been one of the Foundation's earliest and most successful investments, and he'd been coming to this house for years. He was also one of the Galaxian Wars' most devoted enthusiasts, and she could see in Seiya's face that he had learned this fact too.

Saori would have been content to observe a little longer, but he saw her and shot a desperate, pleading look, and in any case she could only stand there for so long without one of her guests deciding that she was available. So she continued her pollination, flower to flower, until she was close enough to take Seiya's arm, flash the director a smile and ask him where his wife was. The suggestion was enough; he announced immediately that he would go fetch her, and Saori bowed and smiled politely until he was safely out of earshot. Then she whispered in Seiya's ear, "Quick, let's go."

They rushed towards the back of the room, bowing so quickly at so many people that it just felt like nodding blindly, and by the time they disappeared behind a room divider and into a discreet service corridor, Seiya was doubled over with laughter.

"Saori, he was so boring!"

"You're welcome!"

"You were brilliant. Thank you."

She made a mock curtsy as a joke, but with her formal dress, it looked too real to be properly funny. "Just stay away from him. I won't always be around to save you."

That was also not properly funny. They looked around at the dark, narrow hallway; it led around the long ballroom back to the kitchen, so that servants could circulate food more discreetly at events like this — a relic of a different time, but still used upon occasion. She knew she couldn't be gone for too long.

"This party is really beautiful, Saori."

"It's nice, isn't it? I thought they did a good job with the flowers this year."

"And the food!"

"Ah, you haven't even seen the good stuff," she said, winking. "Here, let's go in the kitchen. I'm gonna give you a preview of the dessert buffet."

"Man, I should have been coming every year."

She smiled, taking his arm again and swinging her skirt around herself as they went further into the corridor. It was Seiya's first time at the gala because it was the first year she was in want of a date: every other year, Shun had been there. It would have meant something very different, to her, to come here with him before, but tonight something felt settled. Seiya was to her as Shun had been. She could look at him now and see everything about him that was solid and lovable and familiar, without wanting anything more. It was what it was, their past, their story. She was coming into her story now. Shun had helped her do that.

She had emerged from the planetarium into the bright of dawn and her own newfound lucidity. She had been so conflicted for so long, losing herself in twists and turns that she couldn't make sense of, until Shun had shown her where she'd lost her way. Where she had branched off from the main path, the one that was smooth and straight even if it was steep.

When she had turned around that night and seen Ikki, it was almost like a question — a provocation — from the gods. As if looking on the surface of calm waters, she had seen in him all her passion, all her turmoil, all her angst. How she had taken that knife to her wrist, how she had cried. She remembered standing there in the breeze, in the glow of the sunrise, and looking directly at him. They were close enough for her to see that he was looking at her, but far enough that it was difficult to read his expression. She wondered what she would do if he came up to the roof and took her in his arms. If she would give in. If she would come down from the cross, convinced she had done enough.

She wasn't sure how long they had been looking at each other when he turned around and walked away. She had watched him until he reached the gates, and then she had come down the roof herself. She didn't expect to ever see him again. She certainly didn't expect him to be walking in the front door, standing in her foyer and looking around himself.

Looking for her.

A.N.: The next chapter is the last (besides the epilogue) and it's going to be a long Saori/Ikki scene. I want to post it together with the epilogue, which is the only thing I don't have a full draft for, so it'll take me a bit longer. My goal is to finish by the end of the month, though.