Disclaimer: I don't own Saint Seiya characters!
Author's Note:I used names of parts of ancient tragedy in Greek, translated by Google. As all of us know, they could be valid ;)
Pró̱to epeisódio:
Let's Be Friends!
The afternoon sun was shining above the rocky area, accompanying the crowd of the fighting people. Waves of the heat were flooding on the half naked bodies of training boys. But the hot wind and blinding sunlight didn't have any chance of winning against these young men, which got rid of their own childhood in purpose of being here. Being here and training, training and becoming someone really important. They had dreams, and nothing was able to stop them. Especially something that unimportant like the sun.
It was already four days, since he arrived to the Sanctuary, the Holy Land of Athena. He came here because of the very simple reason, similar to the reasons of every man around – to become a Saint, The Protector of Goddess. So, the boy should be now on a training area, with others boys, trying to accomplish his dream. But he didn't show himself in the front of them, even once; it wasn't needed. The reason was obvious. That man, who should take care of his training four days ago wasn't around. The little boy didn't even see him yet. His future teacher, who was going to prepare him to gain the Cloth, was paying around the world, so it's gonna be little more time before the boy can start his training. He couldn't train with these boys, because his training will be much more difficult…
Because he couldn't train without his mentor, the little boy had too much free time for himself. And that's why he was sitting there, on that small cliff over the training area, reading his books, and sometimes just watching others boys that had their own training there. They were loud, day by day, picking the fights with each other, then reconciled. But in some way they seemed to be very close to themself.
The boy looked at a page of his book, shaking the strands of his aquamarine hair from it. He was wandering, why he was in the Sanctuary in the first place. With that crowd of the loud brats, waiting for a man, who will take care of him for the next few years, before he will gain the Cloth, or just die because of the harsh training. And then he remembered another man, the Saint who took him away from the French poorhouse, near a church, where the monks liked the little boys like him. That man brought him here, saying, that he has the hidden power to change the world, to save the world from evil. So the little boy promise to that man, who save him first, that he will do anything to return this favor. That's why he was in the Sanctuary. Trying to return the favor.
The boy heard a few, heavy steps behind him. His blue eyes looked at the two big guys. He knew them. They were one of many unlucky men that failed with gaining the Clothes. And because they just knew only how to fight, they stayed in the Sanctuary for "defend against small fry". And it was more than likely, most of these unlucky men will die in the first real fight.
"Oi, little kid!" said one of them with the brutal smile on his ugly face. "What are you doin' here?" he asked, but it was certain, that he don't want the real answer.
"Isn't it obvious? "murmured the aquamarine-haired boy, and he returned to reading his book.
Then he felt a big, strong hand on his head, and in one second the little boy was hanging in the air, caught by his long hair.
"Let me go, jerk!" the boy cried. He dropped his book that bounced off of the edge of the cliff and fell down.
The big guy pulled boy's hand to the back, causing goring pain.
"Don't act too smart in the front of us, little rat!" the angry voice of the man reached the young one. "Stay still, I'm just gonna teach you a lesson, and break your thin arm," the big guy added, pulling boy's arm harder.
"Let me go!" the little boy repeated with the painful cry.
The brute laughed meanly, pulling the fragile hand more and more. His companion was only standing and watching the whole act with satisfied look on his face.
"You know, little kid, I just hate all these rats that plays around day by day. Especially, if they are acting like smarter asses than us. And I just can't hold myself…"
"Oi, pig!" the loud, pugnacious voice reached the two brute men and the little boy. Then a small stone hit an occiput of the aggressor who was holding the aquamarine-haired victim.
Three of them looked in the voice's direction.
On the top of a big rock was standing a boy with the big, azure eyes, and the curly hair in the color of the afternoon sky, holding another stone, much bigger than the first one. And it was clear, he was aiming at the big, brute guy. The aggressor throw away the aquamarine-haired boy, and turn to the curly youngster.
"It's you!" the guy said with angry. He had to avoid another stone, that the blue-haired boy threw into him. "Wanna pick a fight again, shrimp?!"
The blue-haired boy laughed resounding.
"And I will win again, pig!" his voice was truculent. Another stone missed his target about millimeters, and made a hole in the small wall of rocks. If that stone hit the big guy, he would be at least seriously injured.
"What?!" the big jerk was really angry now.
This time a stone didn't miss his target. On a forehead of the man appeared a bruise and a trickle of blood.
"You little…!" he yelled, heading to the curly boy.
But the youngster, instead of waiting for him like little, good boy, just ran up to the man, slipped under his legs, hitting them at the same time with his small fists and causing the flashing pain. The big guy stub his foot against small rock, and felt to the ground. His companion didn't even help him; he was just looking at him, with bored expression on the young, but snooty face.
"You are getting beat up again, Anter," he said.
"Taleo, damn you!"
Before Anter was able to stand, four of them heard another light steps, and after a few seconds later they saw another two boys. The first one had the mischievous look on his face and dark, spiky hair. He was bored, even a man with the blood on his head, lying before him couldn't change his expression. The second one, instead of his friend, seemed to be much nicer. He was smiling gently, his big green, eyes rested first on Anter, and Taleo, next on the curly haired boy, and finally on the little boy with the aquamarine, long hair. Then his sight returned to the curly boy.
"You are fighting again, Milo," he said. Not ask, just said calmly.
The boy named Milo just shrugged.
"He asked for that," Milo murmured under his nose, hitting a small rock with a trace of embarrassment in his voice.
Anter stood up, looked at the two new boys, and snorted.
"You are lucky, kid," he said to the aquamarine-haired boy. "Next time you will not be saved by your friends."
He turned around and left, along with his companion.
Milo took a swing and threw the last rock in his hand at two outgoing men, but his purpose wasn't to hit them. Meanwhile the boy with the big green eyes and long lavender hair walked over to the aquamarine-haired boy that was holding tight his almost broken arm.
"Are you hurt?" asked the green-eyed boy, looking at the remains of the tears on victim's face.
The aquamarine-haired boy shook his head, not saying anything.
Milo stood beside his friend and looked at the boy.
"Isn't he that new trainee I heard about, Mu?" he ask the lavender-haired boy that agreed silently. "What was his name? Uhm….!" he tried to remember. After a few seconds he gave up. "I forgot…"
"It was Camus, Milo. Right?" Mu looked at the boy.
But before the little boy answered, the third boy interjected their talk.
"But man, he looks so weak!" he laughed. "He looks weaker even than Aphrodite! No wonder, these two wanted to beat his ass!"
"It was cruel, Deathmask," said Mu.
"So what? It is his fault," Dathmask pointed at the aquamarine-haired boy "for beeing weak!"
"That wasn't nice too… " Mu sighed.
"Aphrodite? Who was that?" asked Milo, trying to imagine him.
"Never mind, Milo, just leave that."
"But…!"
Mu shook his head. Meanwhile the little boy stood up, brushed the dust from his clothed, and without saying anything, without changing his calm face's expressions, walked away.
"See?! You hurt him!" said Milo accusingly to Deathmask.
The mischievous boy shrugged, like he wanted to say: 'Not my fault'.
It was true, his name was Camus, like that Mu boy said. Or he should say, the people in the poorhouse called him like that, when he still lived there. He didn't remember his parents, and never asked if it was the name that mother gave him. He never was asking. What's the point of asking, when you knew already, or just don't care about that?
However, now Camus was curious, really curious, why that two guys wanted to break his arm, just because he was reading? Of course, when he came here, a few Saints warned him to stay away from that kind of people, and he did that, never getting in their way for four days, so why? Never even seeing them, never talking to them…
"So… You are that little Camus?" someone's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Camus looked around with the trace of the fear, like he was thinking that these two brute guys followed him in his way to "home", place where he was waiting for the teacher. But behind him was standing some unknown, tall man, with too cold eyes for young person like him, looking at Camus, and smiling gently.
"So, that's you?" he asked again.
Camus agreed with the nod of his head, looking at that strange man, with the cold aura around him, but at the same time with strangely friendly eyes
The young man walked over to Camus, and patted him on the head with the wider smile.
"Then you have to be my new student," he said. "Sorry for keep you waiting for me, I hope you weren't too bored."
Camus, not able to say something, just shook his head.
"I'm glad of that. It's getting late, you should go sleep. Tomorrow we are leaving Greece, and going to the Siberia. And there you will begin your training."
Another nod of the aquamarine head. The dark blue eyes of the boy was staring at the man with silence; he thinking about tomorrow. Siberia? Cold Siberia, the long nights, and the snow?
Then the Camus' master looked at him with the sad eyes.
"You are too young for that," he said with the sigh. "You should be playing around for another few years" another sad sigh. "But tomorrow your childhood will end, you know? And you will never have any peaceful night, first as a student, and then as a Saint. So, have a really good night today."
And then he walked away, waving his hand and leaving little Camus with the surprised look on his face.
It wasn't much time after Camus met his teacher, when he felt a big, strong hand that caught his shoulder. The next second he was hanging in the air, looking into the Anter's face.
"Hey, kid!" he greeted Camus with the evil look in his eyes. "I came here to settle things between us. And since there isn't any of your little friend around, I think we will finish soon, he, he."
Camus was afraid from the beginning that this man still wanted to hurt him after escape from that Milo boy and his friends. And he knew that Anter will hurt him much more now that before, just to take the revenge for the humiliation.
Anter took a deep swing of his arm, and hit the little boy into a stomach, squeezing all the air out of his small lungs. Camus stopped at the nearby column, not able to breath. A stream of blood flowed from his mouth; the red drops was making the small craters on the dusty ground.
"Does it hurt, boy?" the aggressor asked with the evil look on his ugly face. "It will be much more painful, he, he."
Big shadow fell on Camus, and then he felt as someone was pulling his aquamarine, long hair. Once again the boy hung in the air. But before the man could inflict another wound on the small body, the fist-sized stone hit Anter's head. The man howled in the pain, and dropped Camus on the ground.
"My head!" Anter yelled, holding his wounded place, and trying to look around.
Both of them heard the quick steps, and the second later on the shoulders of the man was sitting the curly boy Camus met not long ago. In his hand was another big-sized stone, next to the Anter's temple.
"I will smash your head, if you lay on him just one finger. Ever," said Milo angrily. "Understood?"
Anter nodded.
"So, let me hear that!" Milo dismissed a stone from guy's head, as if he wanted to hit him.
"I will never hurt him again!" Anter cried in a panic. "I promise!"
"Good! And now get your ass away from here, and never show me your face again!"
The guy didn't say any word, and just ran away from there.
Milo threw a stone after him, but without purpose of hitting. Then he walked over to lying Camus, and helped him to sit.
"Does it hurt much?" Milo asked. "Maybe you should go to the infirmary building?"
Camus shook his head.
"No need," he whispered.
The curly boy sat down next to Camus, looking at him intently.
"I knew he would do something like that," Milo said, pointing at the way, where Anter disappeared. "He always does that. But I think, he will never hurt you again, he is such a coward… But man," he sighed "you are so unlucky… That guy isn't only one of that kind, and as long as you look like you can't do anything by your own, you will be chased day by day..." Camus was starring at that talkative boy in silence. Milo saw it and smiled." By the way, I'm Milo. Nice to meet you. So… you are that Camus, or not?"
"I think, I'm." Camus answered, finally wiping the blood from his face.
"So, what are you doing here? Mu said that you are here already four days, but you never show yourself on the training area. You just was sitting on that cliff and reading a lot of books. Aren't you here to become a Saint?" Milo surely loves to talk a lot.
"I'm, but the Saint that brought me here said I have to wait for my master."
"Really? So you are like Deathmask, but he is waiting for his teacher already two moths…" said Milo with concentrate on his face. "So you are gonna read the books until your master come her for you? So lame! No wonder that this guy tried to beat you. You should start to train with boys here… I would die, if I have to wait for my master that long. Luckily, I was brought straight to my teacher."
The irritation appeared on his face.
"Man, I'm waiting for him two days already; we came here from the Milos Island, because he had some business in the Sanctuary… I hope, he will return soon, I wanna back to my proper training!"
"Are you here often?" asked Camus, wondering if he and his master will visit the Sanctuary while training. He hoped not.
"No, happily. I'm here second time… But Mu is here so often… He is disciple of the Pope so sometimes he has to be here for many months, and sometimes he is training in Jamir. You know, till he will be little older to stay alone and able to handle the training by his own," the words were still coming from Milo's mouth." I know! Train with us tomorrow! If you have to wait for your teacher, you must to make the friends!"
"Friends? What for?"
Milo looked at him with the surprise.
"What for? Isn't it obvious? Don't tell me you don't know what friends are for?"
Camus started to think about it. Friends? He never had any friends. The children from the poorhouse didn't want to be friends with the cold kid like him, who talk rarely, and always read the books in the corner of the park around the building. So what friends are for, anyway?
"Don't you feel alone without friends?"
Is he? Is he feeling alone? He never thought about it.
"Friends are important! You can laugh with them, talk with them, and do stupid things with them! They could help you with a lot of jerks that want to hurt you, cheer you up and with many other things! You know, it is hard to be alone."
"What is point of having friends, if I wouldn't be able to see them for many years?"asked Camus.
"It is nice to know, that they are somewhere in the world, waiting to see you! Are you stupid, or something? Our trainings are hard, we have to face many dangerous things, we will be sad sometimes, and if you have friends, you can think about them, and feel like your strength is coming back to you. And then you are able to stand up again, and train much more, and live the easiest life."
There was so much passion on his face, when he was talking about having the friends. It was beautiful speech, but for Camus it was without any meaning. After all, tomorrow he will be in the way to Siberia, so there was no time for making friends.
"I… " the aquamarine-haired boy started with the sadness in his dark, blue eyes. " I think, that I'm not able to make friends. Tomorrow morning I'm leaving the Sanctuary with my teacher."
Milo was staring at Camus with disbelief on his face.
"You are really stupid," he sighed. "I'm here right now. So let's be friends!"
Milo shook his hand to Camus with a smile on his face.