Memento

The rain continued to fall thick and relentless.

They were not so different from real tears; those drops that the sky poured and that coldly fell on the land that was sacred to Athena.

The divine maiden had just finished officiating a solemn ceremony, surrounded by her warriors and by the few people who were allowed to live in that place, unknown to the most.

One by one, the participants were about to leave the small cemetery, located just outside the walls of the Sanctuary; sad and silent, so as not to disturb the significance of the moment that seemed to permeate everything: from the brown and humid earth to the crisp air of that autumn day, to the ritual gestures of those who were present.

The rain itself, which fell so abundantly from the sky, darkened by heavy gray clouds, slipped on the ground almost without making a sound.

One by one, the sacred warriors of the goddess were about to return to their ancient homes, as well.

One by one they passed by the young Leo, who instead stood still and motionless, as if hypnotized. Surrounded by an emptiness that the rain, the tears, the sight of a single tombstone widened around, and inside of him.

One by one they passed by Aiolia, unable to tell the young man anything that could comfort him in his silent farewell.

Only Milo dared to try. After all, he had just buried his beloved friend in that very ground, and he could well understand the bottomless pain in which the other was immersed. Only Milo tried to find simple and sincere words to express his and his friend's despair.

But Aiolia's gaze, searched for, did not fall on the Scorpion's, who in the end could not find any word, neither sincere nor simple, to address him.

Only, he placed his hand on his shoulder, holding it tightly as if to convey his thoughts.

Just as sad as Aiolia's.

The last to move was the divine maiden, escorted by two young maids who protected her from the water as best they could. But before going, Saori stopped in front of the young man who stood motionless, as if unable to leave that simple tombstone that had been placed there just a few moments before.

Aiolia, his eyes fixed on the cold marble in front of him, was as if petrified, at one with that stone block on which his brother's name and rank were engraved. He had not looked away from it even for an instant. Yet in that brief, somewhat spartan ceremony, his brother's grave had received no body, and had remained painfully empty. Not like the others, destined to receive and protect the mortal remains of the warriors who died in the war of the Sanctuary. Aiolos' tomb had not even been dug, nothing could be buried there, yet the goddess had strongly wished for a ceremony to remember his passing too, and to celebrate his deeds.

So Aiolia had remained there, in front of his brother's tombstone, his fists clenched, his lifeless eyes fiercely set on the smooth stone.

Raindrops on his face, mingled with his tears.

Not even once had his gaze brushed against the grave placed next to his brother's: Saga's grave that would forever rest beside the memory of Aiolos.

Saori approached the warrior, the lost boy; with a simple gesture of her head, she asked the young women who still sheltered her from the rain to go, to leave them alone. And so, she stood by her most faithful and miserable warrior. The water was cold, but the maiden cared little for it, and after a while the young man who, like a motionless and distant statue, stood alone immersed in a mute pain that had no remedy, finally decided to turn towards her.

Meeting the eyes of his goddess, Aiolia could not help but return her pitying gaze; he even tried to sketch a smile that died, however, instantly on his beautiful lips despite all the good intentions.

It's over, he thought, now Aiolos is really dead.

Now maybe he can rest in peace, he would have wanted to think, he would have wanted to convince himself.

It is so, his goddess would have answered him, now Aiolos rests in peace, now that I have returned, also thanks to him, to his sacrifice. Now Aiolos can rest in peace, because you now stand in my defense, noble Aiolia.

And it was true, it was all true.

However, it was crystal clear for them both: the only one who would never have peace, who would never truly find peace was Aiolia himself. He clenched his fists, the Golden Lion. He clenched his fists hard, very hard, to the point of hurting himself because often a smaller but present pain gives the illusion of obscuring a much bigger but past pain; just as a small lie sometimes hides a bigger falsehood.

He clenched his fists tightly, Aiolia, to contain an angry cosmo full of desolate sadness and regrets. As he had always done when the memory of Aiolos asked to be awakened and relived, in solitude, and not chased away with contempt into a dark and inaccessible corner of his memory.

He clenched his fists tightly, Aiolia, and in a whisper barely audible in the rumble of the rain he turned to his goddess, who pitifully and patiently was there to comfort him, in silence.

"In a few days, it will be his birthday."

"Aiolia! Aiolia!"

From the top of the small hill overlooking the arena, Aiolos looked anxiously for his brother. His call reached Saga first, who with attentive and severe eyes was observing the morning training to which the novices destined to the golden armors were subjected. As soon as he looked up at his friend, the young saint of Gemini saw him hastily hurrying down a rough path, the nervous approaching of the agile and quick Sagittarius was enough for him to feel an unusual crack in the cosmo, so familiar to him, of his companion.

"Aiolos, are you alright?"

He asked immediately, as soon as the other was beside him. Aiolos, having calmed his panting from the race as best he could, before answering Saga's question looked around once more, directing his gaze towards the arena, where he could make out the tiny, well-known silhouettes of Milo and the other children.

But not Aiolia's.

"He's not even here."

He whispered to himself, and without even matching Saga's puzzled look, he took the latter by the arm, gently but with obvious impatience, moving as far away as he could from the ears of the curious little ones.

"Have you seen my brother?"

"No, he hasn't come here yet."

"I've been looking for him since this morning, but I can't find him anywhere."

"He must be around here somewhere."

"It's not like him to disappear without telling me anything."

"Aiolia is a very conscientious and responsible child, you know that. Maybe he wants to concentrate on training alone."

"No, he would have told me! Something must have happened to him!"

The abrupt tone and the altered voice surprised Saga, used as he was to the seraphic calm that Aiolos always showed, and unconsciously transmitted to him as well. Seeing his friend in the throes of that small panic attack disturbed him, but at the same time this new aspect of Aiolos made him soft: the young and valiant warrior, who fearlessly stood before the most dangerous of enemies, now discovered a side of human insecurity in fearing the fate of his little Aiolia.

"Don't you think you're exaggerating, my friend?"

Saga tried to rationalize the other's fear, barely laying a hand on the outstretched shoulder of his companion, who only then realized to have unintentionally gone too far; feeling a bit embarrassed he kept his head bowed, disconsolate.

"If so, we would have been warned of it by the stars of Leo, don't you think?"

"Yes, perhaps you are right, however..."

"If you're looking for Aiolia, I know where he is!"

The little ringing voice that distracted the two young warriors from their reasoning belonged to Milo, who had been observing them for a while, curious; his big, shrewd eyes lit up with bright blue. The child, having aroused the attention of the two boys, approached further.

"If you're looking for Aiolia, I know where he is!" he repeated, in an almost triumphant tone.

"Really?"

Aiolos bent over his knees, bringing himself face to face with the kid who had soon become his brother's best friend; the dust of the arena, and the fatigue of training spread all over his chubby little face wouldn't have ever sap his sunny, infectious smile.

"Yeah, but I can't tell you."

"And why is that?"

"Because I promised him I wouldn't" the little one innocently replied.

"You don't have to worry; he'll be back soon."

"He'll be back? And from where?"

"I told you, I promised. I can't tell you!"

"You know very well that you are forbidden to leave Sanctuary alone, if the Kyoko learns of this you will both be punished."

"But I haven't moved from here!" protested little Scorpio logically.

"If you don't tell us where Aiolia went, it's as if you were his accomplice."

Saga also tried to convince the kid, kneeling in turn to bring himself up to the height of his young companion.

"But if I tell you, he'll then get mad at me!"

"Milo, listen to me," the Archer stretched out both hands resting them firmly on the child's shoulders, belted by two large bronze shoulder covers full of dents and cracks, proof of the hard training he was undergoing along with his mates.

"You have my word that Aiolia will know nothing, but now tell me where he has gone. There may be many dangers outside the Sanctuary, even for you who are future holy warriors."

The narrow and twisted streets of the small village that morning were full of the vitality typical of market days. The loud, shouting voices of the vendors, at times confused with a thousand other noises; the chatter among the women busy with their daily shopping; the children chasing each other, challenging the intricate paths formed by the legs of the adults, oblivious to their innocent games. The scents and colors of the goods displayed on the stalls almost warmed the air made icy cold by a rather cold autumn, even in those parts where the sea could be seen simply by gazing in front of you. Towards the horizon of the white line.

Among those existences that were crossing their paths in those ancient streets, a child with curly blond hair was wandering around with confidence, holding tightly between his hands resting against his chest a small colored paper bag.

He walked briskly; his chubby face flushed because of the crispy breeze that hit his exposed cheeks, and a smile of satisfaction for the success of a small venture which he was so keen to accomplish, despite the certain punishment that awaited him for having transgressed one of the strictest rules of the Sanctuary.

But this was not the moment to think about the price he would pay for his little mischief, all his thoughts were focused on imagining his brother's reaction. Aiolia was already fantasizing about the amazement with which Aiolos would have learned the reason for that unusual disobedience of his, but he hoped Aiolos would have welcomed that small gift with joy, though.

Although I would have liked to give you something more precious.

He would surely have scolded him for breaking the rules, for making him anxious. And Aiolia would have simply accepted the punishment decided by his master, aware that after all he deserved it, but happy to have finally found a way to show his older brother his affection. The reprimand, the punishment, nothing mattered now: for the first time, he would be the one to honor his brother's birthday.

It would be worth it.

As he was making his way past the excited crowd, he unintentionally bumped into the back of a stranger, causing him to lose his balance and nearly crashing into a group of kids visibly smaller than him.

Aiolia apologized and promptly went back on his way, but that very same stranger held him back by pulling him of the short rough woolen cape he was wearing to protect himself from the cold of that morning. Without being able to avoid it, the child found himself surrounded in the middle of the circle that those street kids had immediately created around him to close every way out.

An evil smirk upon those kids' faces stated how they were already foretaste the unexpected diversion in that morning, until that moment the same as many others.

"Could I please come by? I have to go," Aiolia asked politely.

"Go?"

The older boy, presumably leading the little group, stepped up to him without bothering to hide the rather grim look on his face.

"No, you need to stay with us for a while!

"I'm sorry but I have to go home. My brother is waiting for me."

Aiolia tried to gain ground, but was allowed only a few, uncertain, steps forward.

"Do you know what you did? You almost made me fall!"

"I hadn't seen you because I was absorbed in my thoughts. I apologize again."

"How the hell do you talk? You sound like something out of one of those annoying books they make us read in school!"

The big fellow, stocky and with a nice hole between his incisors, taunted him. A grimace coated his mouth soaked with what looked like chocolate and bread crumbs. In the meantime, the others had begun to snicker maliciously, always around the little one whom they were tugging hard, pulling him from one side or the other.

"I... I have to go!"

Aiolia tried once again to make his way through them, wriggling out of the way as best he could. He knew that he was in trouble, that they wouldn't let him go so easily, but he also knew how easily he could get rid of those braggarts, who were unaware that they were dealing with a future sacred warrior of the goddess Athena.

"What have you got there?"

Suddenly asked one of the bullies keeping him surrounded, noticing what Aiolia was trying to hide in his hands.

"Nothing!"

"Show us!"

Everyone began to get closer, and threatening, reaching for the bag the child was clutching tightly to his chest.

"Give it here!"

Taking advantage of the crush of hands and arms reaching out to the child, the big boy managed with a tug more determined than the others to grab the bag, tearing the paper from the top.

"Give it back!"

Aiolia rapidly stretched out a hand to get his precious envelope back, but the others, from the simple pushing and threatening done until that moment, had moved on to more concrete gestures, starting to give him various punches and slaps that the little one took, however, without reacting.

"What the hell is this?"

Tearing off the poor paper wrapping completely, the big boy pulled out a long strip of red cloth. At the sight of the ribbon extracted from the bag, ended up on the ground in a thousand colored pieces fluttered here and there by the biting wind of that morning, the little Greek boy shook himself and finally reacted by forcefully grabbing one of the hands that held him down, thus managing to free himself from the grip.

My brother should have been the first to open it!

"Give it back!"

Intimated the child, whose sudden and convinced reaction aroused no small wonder.

"What if I don't want to?"

"If you force me to, I will not hesitate to fight to get back what is mine!"

"Do you think you can scare us, you little brat?"

Without another word, the little Greek freed himself from the grip of those who surrounded him, showing himself incredibly agile, and strong. One by one the boys who had previously beaten him with ease fell to the ground. It had been so fast that they realized they had been hit only because of the pain they felt spreading from the parts where the child had landed his punches. The big boy suddenly fell silent, losing the smirk that until that moment he had proudly shown to the world. He didn't really understand much of the scene he had just witnessed; he only knew that his companions were lying battered on the ground, defeated by a child who looked no more than four years old.

He tried to dissimulate his surprise, and feigning indifference recomposed himself, showing even more aggression.

"If you hope to get away with this you've miscalculated, brat!"

Without hesitation, Aiolia looked him straight in the eyes, advancing a few steps in his direction. He really looked like a Lion ready to launch another deadly attack.

"I don't intend to use my true strength against you, so give me back what you stole from me!"

"If you care so much, come and get it!" the other hastened to reply, hiding well the shock of fear that the feral gaze with which Aiolia was pointing at him had conveyed; then he stepped up to him in turn, extending towards him the hand from which a strip of cloth was sticking out. But as soon as the child was about to take back his precious gift, the bully changed his arm with a sudden gesture and with his free limb grabbed him by the wrist, kneeing him in the chest.

"Ha ha! You thought it was so easy?!"

Aiolia bent in two from the pain, falling helpless at the feet of the big boy, who got just ready for the coup de grace, a hand suspended in mid-air closed like a fist to hit him again. The little one closed his eyes, unable to get up because of the pain and therefore unable to defend himself.

"Hey! What the heck are you meddling with!"

Looking up with difficulty, Aiolia saw a hand clasped around his opponent's wrist.

"To pick on such a small child is cowardly," the youth's familiar voice rang out firmly, fearfully stern, as he stared straight into the eyes of the bully who seemed instantly to have lost all arrogance, "but to mistreat my brother is stupid!"

Aiolos increased the strength of his grip, so much so that the other in response began to scream in pain, cursing the newcomer and his intrusion.

Aiolia, still on the ground, while relieved by his master's arrival found himself almost happy that that boy could not feel the threatening aura emanating from Aiolos' cosmo. He himself was surprised, as until then he had never felt such anger in the always peaceful astral energy of Sagittarius.

However, even if the other did not possess the ability to sense a cosmo, the menacing gaze of the newcomer, and the sort of strong electric discharge he gave off, was enough to make the boy understand that that one was not bread for his teeth.

"Now go away," intimated the Archer, finally letting go.

Stumbling back on his own feet, the bully retreated until he collapsed on his friends, who had watched the whole scene in both disbelief and admiration and were now picking up the pieces ready to slip away as far as possible.

"And mind that I don't come to know you still bully helpless kids!"

This time the young saint addressed the other brats as well, and the tone in which he had pronounced those words and the unfriendly look that flashed over them was enough to make the little group of rascals startle, and without the need of repeating it a second time they ran away quickly, not even turning back to take a last look at those two strange guys.

Once they were alone, Aiolos made sure of his brother's condition.

"Are you alright?" he asked, helping him to his feet.

The tone of his voice was back to the usual one, sweet and affectionate as Aiolia knew it.

Leo stood, however, silent and with his gaze firmly planted on the ground.

He expected a well-deserved scolding from the other for his imprudence.

"I... I'm sorry," he stammered.

"I'm proud of you, brother!" Aiolos surprised him instead, while he wiped off the dust from his brother's clothes. The child stared at him with wide blue eyes, full of wonder and anticipation.

"I watched the whole scene from a distance. You stood up to boys bigger than you without resorting to your true strength. And you stood up to that loudmouth without fearing him, too. You did well!" and then he vigorously tousled the thick golden curls of his little brother, who was struggling to rationalize the emotions he felt prey to at that moment.

"Even though I've always told you that you should never let your guard down, let alone trust your opponent so naively."

Aiolia listened to him in growing disbelief.

"Now though, you have to tell me what you're doing outside the Sanctuary without my permission, brother."

"I had... I had to buy something!"

"Buy?"

"Yes, I asked the Kyoko for permission to come to the village, because I had to buy something important!" was the little one's confident explanation.

"Aiolia, I don't understand. You disturbed the Kyoko for what trifle? You could have told me what you needed."

"No!" rebutted the child shaking his head vigorously.

"I was supposed to buy it! It's important!"

"And what is this thing that is so important that you would lie to me?"

It was only then that Aiolia realized that he had not yet recovered what remained of the bag, let alone its contents. He looked around, spotting on the ground not far away a small piece of red cloth emerging among the scattered remains of the paper wrapper.

"There it is!"

He said, immediately rushing to retrieve his little gift.

"May I see what it is?" Aiolos asked, stepping closer.

Aiolia, having picked up what he had fought so hard for just a few moments before, stood not too far from his brother; he turned to him, but kept his little hands well hidden behind his back.

"Close your eyes first!"

"Why?"

"Come on, close your eyes! It's a surprise!"

Aiolos patiently obeyed; he closed his eyes and waited for his brother to make all his mysterious behavior clearer. In the meantime, Aiolia took one last look at the cloth from which he removed a few grains of dust and fragments of colored paper. Then, moving closer to his master, he stretched out his hands towards him.

"You can open them now!"

"Hmm?"

In the palm of Aiolia's little hands there was a band of simple red cloth.

"This...?"

"It's for you, brother!"

"For me?"

"It's my gift for your birthday!"

"Aiolia..."

"I wanted to give you something more beautiful and precious, but I didn't have a lot of money. I could only get this headband."

Aiolos put his hand close to his little brother's; then he took his gift and looked at it, a feeling of tenderness spreading in his heart.

"It' s beautiful!"

"Are you sure?"

Aiolia watched him put the band near to his head. With one hand Aiolos moved aside the thick curly bangs on his forehead, placing the tissue on the skin on which his ruffled curls fell again. Then Aiolos tied the tissue band's ends securely behind his head.

"So how does it look on me?" he asked little Leo, who still stood silently, watching unsure his older brother's face.

"Do you really like it?"

"It's a wonderful gift, brother. I thank you!"

At hearing those words, Aiolia threw away every hesitation and forgot everything else: the pain that still burned in his chest from the hit received, the fatigue, the tension, and the fear; he dived into his brother's arms, pouring out all his joy on the youth; Aiolos simply welcomed him, holding him tightly to himself.

"This band will be my lucky charm; I will never take it off!"

The child's face, still hidden against his brother's warm chest, lit up of the same smile that had lit up the Archer's face.

"Happy birthday, Aiolos," Aiolia whispered in his ear.

Holding him tightly in his arms, Aiolos walked with his brother towards Sanctuary.

This band will be my lucky charm, I will never take it off.

Aiolia unclenched his fist. He had been holding tightly in the palm of his hand the band that had been Aiolos'.

"He lied to me..." his voice trembled, and the fading rain could no longer hide the bitter tears that furrowed his face "...he promised me he would never take it away."

And all the weight of the past poured on the child's shoulders first and then on the young man's, all that weight sustained with stubborn pride and without ever feeling sorry for himself, was now to be felt as never before.

And Aiolia collapsed, kneeling before the girl, the goddess to whom he had always been faithful.

Like Aiolos.

The goddess for whom he had sacrificed his life.

"He lied to me...he promised..." he kept repeating to himself, to his memories, clutching hard, even harder than before, the band in his hand.

"Aiolia."

The girl bent on her knees, not caring about the mud that soiled her white dress, so she could find in the youth's tear moist eyes the noble look she knew so well. She took in hers the hand in which Aiolia held the memory of his brother.

Delicate hands of a girl, but those gentle hands were also able to transmit all the strength of a superb and immense cosmo.

Hands of a girl and of a goddess.

"Aiolos knew very well that he would never be able to return to the Sanctuary again. And he knew all too well that you would never find any comfort, even after you knew the truth. Especially after knowing it."

Leo just lifted his head, and his blue eyes, moist with tears and rain, rose to meet in the end those of the goddess.

"That's why Aiolos wanted you to have this band, because he considered it an important part of himself."

That was a simple truth, that only pain hid from him as if behind a thick and cruel veil, a truth that his goddess now revealed with extraordinary clarity, holding the saint's hand tightly between her own.

"Now, Aiolos has come home."

And in the divine cosmo of the goddess, Aiolia felt Aiolos' never extinguished one.

He had indeed come home; he was beside him again.

The gray clouds, now emptied of their burden of rain, were thinning, as a timid sun claimed its rightful place in a sky still too dark.