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Chapter 3

Hyoga had walked for hours without caring where he went. His tears had long since stopped. No matter how much he tried to direct his thoughts somewhere else more productive, like what to do now, they were like a mosquito that was will-lessly attracted to the light, over and over again pulled back to the looks Saori and his friends had thrown at him..

He was alone from now on. The last of his family, albeit an unorthodox one, was gone. Worse than dead because that's what he was to their eyes. Dead and forgotten. Part of him said that it wasn't important as long as his loss meant Shun's safety, but he could not keep from thinking about Athena's words, couldn't keep guilt from rearing its ugly head. No matter how much it hurt to admit, she had been right. He had endangered innocent lives. What if he had failed? What if Natasha had found him out? Thousands could have died. He would have provoked a tragedy. What gave him the right to do that? He had indeed betrayed everything a Saint was supposed to be and the more he thought about it, the more he had to conclude that he lost his right to be one of them for good reason.

Maybe it would have been better indeed, had he died in the house of Libra, or better still in Siberia, instead of Isaac. Isaac had told him that he was not made to be a Saint. Why didn't he listen back then? It would have spared many people a lot of grief.

A deep rumbling sound of not so distant thunder ripped him from his thoughts. He raised his head to the sky and saw that thick clouds had pulled together and transformed the blue of the horizon into dark gray.

'Just wonderful', he thought. 'That's all I need. Rain.' Just as he finished the thought, the first lonely drop of rain landed on his face, followed soon by one friend, and another and another…. Hyoga only now realized the drop of temperature since he had faced Athena in the forest, a now seemingly unbelievable long time ago. The rain began to pick up in intensity and drove the cold into his skin with each droplet of water and Hyoga just knew that, with his current luck, the temperature would drop still further in the next few minutes. The temperature itself was not too bad. Nothing compared to the chilly temperatures of Russia but Hyoga knew that, should he get soaked before he found shelter, he would be in for an uncomfortable night.

Which drove the thought home that he had no place to go to. His bank account was empty and he was certain he could no longer use his credit card. Athena had been all but unclear of his new status. And to make things worse, his broken wrist started to throb painfully again. He had used the last of the pain pills from Sergey at the airport and so had no choice but to suck it up.

Besides, there were more urgent problems at hand anyway. He knew that he needed to get a job as soon as possible to get through on his own, without the Foundation. He also knew that there was only one person he could think of who could help him until he got back on his own feet, so he walked off in direction of the part of town where the old woman lived. He hadn't gone more than a few blocks until the sky finally opened its lock and the rain poured down in all its force. Hyoga saw the other pedestrians pull the rim of their coats over their heads and hurry for shelter. He just lowered his head and walked ahead.

By the time he had reached the shop of the old lady, Hyoga was soaked to the bones and shivering. He walked up to the glass door only to find it locked.

With a muttered word of frustration he moved close to the window, trying to make out anything through the glass door, but didn't even see a flicker of light. He let his head fall forward in resignation, turned around and let his back hit the glass, before he slid down to the wet, cold gravel.

With new awakened weariness, he watched the drops, which fell from his soaked bangs. He would not find any shelter here. If the old lady didn't let him in now, she would not do so later. He didn't know how, but Hyoga was certain that she knew about the events, which had happened and the only reason she was not helping him now, was because she must have been unhappy with something he had done. He sighed. Another door that was closing in front of him.

It was as if the whole world had conspired against him. Hyoga felt the cold rain trickle from his collar down his back and shivered, pulling the already wet coat closer around him. Not that it did much good. He was only pressing already soaked through material against his skin. On top of it, the pain in his hand wandered unhindered up his arm, pulsing in tandem to the beat of his heart. Feeling cold, in pain and terribly tired, he knew that he would have to find some shelter if he didn't want to catch a bad cold in this weather. But where could he go now? The Kido mansion was out of question, as well as Seiya's apartment. Athena had made sure to let him know that he was not welcome anymore and the looks of the other Saints had told him that they shared her opinion of him. Hyoga was not the type to go beg them for forgiveness either. Especially not when he could see their decision's rightfulness so clearly, himself. They had had every right to act the way they had done.

He was a traitor and could be happy that he was still free and not on the way to Cape Sunion.

No, he would never bother them again.

Neither had he the means to pay for any hotel, before he didn't get a job and money. He would have to find one tomorrow, to get a first paycheck by the end of the week or so. Then he would be able to pay for a cheap room and support himself. He had only to get through this first week somehow. Any other minor worry, like treatment for his hand was out of question anyway, since it was far beyond his ability to afford. The injury was nothing lethal and it would mend on its own in time.

Calling Kavolsky and asking his help had come to his mind already, but the Russian had paid his dept and owed him nothing anymore. It was no use hoping on help. Hyoga could rely only on himself, he knew.

The young Russian sighed and looked ahead into the gray downpour, blinking the water from his eyes, unable to tell if all of the moisture troubling his sight had come from the sky. Feeling drawn out even more than the loss of his Cosmo had made him feel, he felt the first tell tale signs of hopelessness creep up on him and the sting in his heart and eyes had returned with a vengeance.

Hyoga tried to pull himself together, knowing that he had to get out of the rain, but he felt too worn to even get up. At this point he didn't even really care if he would catch a cold, or get pneumonia.

In the end he still managed to get to his feet, when the cold and wetness bothered him too much. He walked towards the port where he hoped to find some temporary shelter in one of the abandoned warehouses.

When Hyoga finally reached the deserted docks, the sun had already set, rendering the man made surroundings into a gloomy twilight which made him feel the cold even more. The air near the ocean was always fresher than in the City. But he supposed that most of the cold he felt was not from the weather but from within himself.

It was hard to believe that it had been only this morning, when he had still been sitting in the heated cabin of the first class flight from Russia. Hyoga had the impression that he hadn't felt warm and dry for an eternity.

He met nobody as he looked out for a warehouse, which would serve his purposes just fine. Nobody in their right mind was out in this weather if there was a way to avoid it. Hyoga was grateful for that. The workers and proprietors of the warehouses and ships didn't take it well when the occasional homeless and criminal came here to spend the night. Which was also the reason why all the warehouses were locked, empty or not.

But he knew of one, abandoned since very long ago, which had some of its windows broken and thus leaving him a way to enter.

That was of course, if the warehouse still stood. As he approached the old, decayed part of the port, Hyoga stopped at one of the ship landing places.

It was in bad shape. Worse even than he remembered. The dock was dirty, full of carelessly thrown out litter, the metal of the docking rings slowly being eaten away by rust. It was obvious that this dock hadn't been used in many years. Hyoga's thoughts wandered back to the last time he had been here.

It had been shortly after he had been brought to the Kido-mansion. Six weeks after his mother had died.

After his mother's death and his and the sailor's rescue from the small side boat, they had been brought directly to Tokyo, the origin of the sunken ship and the homeport of the sailors. Hyoga had been brought to an orphanage and had stayed there for about a week. His mother had told him that she planned to visit his father, whom he had never before seen in his life. Since it had been him who had paid for the ship-fare, the company, which had owned the ship knew who to contact about the Russian boy.

The people in the orphanage had at first tried to talk to him, but he had been too lost and afraid, so he hadn't answered. They had finally given up, assuming that he didn't understand the language and was not worth the trouble to try to talk to. To him it had all been too overwhelming and strange, the shock still deep in his young soul and he had not yet gotten used to the thought that his gentle mama would not come back to take him away from those people with impatient gestures and nervous voices.

That week at the orphanage had been one of the worst of his life. The people looking after the orphans ignored or yelled at him and the other kids made fun at his expense, mocking him. Especially one of them took a great pleasure insulting him, whenever he could. It was an irony that it was this boy who would turn out to be one of his brothers.

When Kido's men had shown up to get the two boys, Hyoga felt a flicker of hope that he hadn't lost everything yet. But instead of a loving father, he met an old man, who looked him over with cold interest but no emotions. His last hope of a halfway happy life had been shattered the moment his gaze met his father's dark eyes. He hadn't talked then either. The other boy, Jabu had talked enough for them both, trying hard to impress the old man. Hyoga knew that that was not possible. Never would the old man care about them as a father, the way his mama had cared. He had instinctively felt that he would not find any love with his father.

But after a few days at the mansion, he would have been happy if all he would have gotten was indifference.

Jabu had easily found friends among the other boys there, and they found it a rather interesting pass-time to make Hyoga's life hard. They were after the gajin, whenever they could, calling him names and pushing him around. He never complained or fought back. They too did think he didn't understand them, but he did perfectly understand Japanese. His mama had taught it to him from a very early age on. But he simply didn't want anything to do with the others. They didn't interest him the least.

But his indifference made them even angrier and they found every opportunity mocking him. The only time he got some respite, was when they went after Shun who was even more fun to mock, since they managed to make him cry every time. But they only approached Shun as long as his older brother was not around. All the kids had a healthy respect of the oldest boy, who had already beaten more than one of the others, coming too close to his brother. Hyoga had soon realized that most of the boys ignored the fact that they were Kido's sons and all half-brothers. And he didn't care either. They might be his siblings by default of birth, but they were not his family. The only family he had ever known had drown in a ship in the sea of Siberia. Because of some Japanese sailors who had doomed her to die.

He felt the anger at them dwell up in him again. He had felt so wrong, being at the mansion and in Japan. He wanted to go back to his mama. Back to Russia where people laughed a lot and were not as strict as here. In Russia he had been happy. In Russia lay his mama.

The only human being who had ever been gentle to him.

The only one who had ever shown him love.

So, one day he had run away.

Hyoga had asked his way to the docks where the ships embarked for Russia. He had found the old warehouse and stayed there for the night. And he had overheard people talking about a ship, which would leave for Siberia the following day.

The next morning, he went back to the dock, determined to sneak on board unnoticed, but while he had laid all his attention on the ship, he had run into somebody's legs. A tall somebody. Looking up, his heart had missed a beat out of surprise and fear. He was looking into Tatsumi's black, cold eyes. He had never found out how they had been able to catch him so fast. Tatsumi had gripped him by the back of his neck and dragged him to the waiting Limousine which brought him back to the Kido-mansion and his punishment.

It had been the first time in his life he had been beaten.

Tatsumi had pushed him in the middle of the other children in the garden and beat him up with a wooden stick until his back was a bloody mess and he lay in tears on the ground.

He hadn't cried out of the pain in his body, but the pain in his soul.

He had never run away again.

Hyoga's thoughts came back to the present.

He tore his gaze from the port and walked in the direction of the old warehouse. He permitted himself a sigh of relief when he saw it appear in front of him, sided by some other buildings.

It was still standing, but in even worse shape than he remembered. Almost all windows were shattered now and part of the ceiling appeared to have collapsed.

Hyoga walked to the front door and saw a white sign on it. He read it without real interest:

WARNING:

DANGER OF FALLING OBJECTS.

ANY TRESPASSING IS PROHIBITED

Hyoga didn't waste a thought about the sign and went around the corner of the building to one of the windows, which had lost all its glass. The lower rim of the window frame was at eye level, so he stepped closer, grabbed the rim with his good hand, bent his knees a little and jumped up, pulling his weight with his arm all the way up, until he was leaning with his upper body inside the building. He swung his legs up and over the rim, letting his body fall down on the other side, landing on his feet. He winced from the pain in his hand as it was jolted on impact but dismissed the pain fast, looking around, taking in the surrounding.

The warehouse was dirty and it was not much warmer than outside, thanks to the broken windows, letting the wind whistle through the interior. The roof and walls made a groaning sound under the onslaught of the storm and rain. But at least it was dry here and most of the biting wind was kept out.

And anyway, Hyoga didn't care much about the whole warehouse being at risk to collapse any minute over him. It would only solve his problems once and for all.

He searched for a more or less clean spot to spend the night and found an old, mold infested, rotting carbon in one of the corners, pretty much away from the worst of the draft. Obviously, someone had used the warehouse for a shelter before him. He lay down on the carbon on his side, using his healthy arm as a pillow and resting his broken limp in front of him, making himself as comfortable as possible.

His arm had become pure agony again and he still felt chilled to the bones, but it didn't take more than a couple of minutes for his exhaustion to catch up with him and make him fall asleep.

T.B.C.