Disclaimer: I don't own Saint Seiya characters!
Déf̱tero epeisódio:
Don't give up... Ever!
The sun was setting slowly, plunging all the cliffs, the buildings, and the twelve the most important Temples into the afternoon's shadows. Soon the Sanctuary will be deadly silent, when the night will cover everything and all the people will go sleep like every day. But Milo didn't even bother himself to walk faster in the deepening darkness, slowly heading to the building where he, Mu and the two other boys usually slept. His thoughts were too bothersome to think about some mundane problems.
'That boy, that Camus, looks really sad', he thought, looking at the emerging stars above him. 'Have no friends.' But now it would be different, right? After all Milo managed to become his friend. Even if they were gonna train in the places far away from each other, even if they wouldn't see each other for many, many years… It didn't matter. Be friends mean be them for eternal.
He still could remember Camus' face, when he said 'Let's be friends!' to him. The deep blue eyes got bigger with an incredible surprise. That was the first time, when Milo saw him changing his expression on the face. That cold and calm shell around his body just disappeared. 'Friends?' he asked. 'But… I don't know how to be a friend with someone…' Camus suddenly mourned. 'And tomorrow I'm leaving…' Milo didn't allow him to end that sentence. He hit gently his new friend in the aquamarine head and said 'Idiot. I told you. It doesn't matter if you leave. We will be friends even far away from each other. We will be friends forever! I promise you!' Camus eyes were looking so innocently into his blue eyes. They were so similar with color, Milo's one just a little bit brighter. 'And when we met again as the Saints of Athena, we still will be friends!'
Milo's foot hit something, interrupting his thoughts. He looked around, realizing that he is under the cliff, where these two guys tried to hurt his new friend. The sun had set already, but Milo could recognize the shape of the thing he hit.
A book. It was the extensive book, lying under the wall of the cliff, little dusty now. It wasn't hard to figure out to whom this book belonged.
Milo turned around with the book in his hand. He should give it back to Camus as soon as possible. If the aquamarine-haired boy loved to read, then he could be sad, because of that missing book. And who knows, maybe in that place Camus gonna training aren't any books? So he had to have just that one…
After a few steps Milo stopped. It was dark already, and Camus was sleeping now for sure. And that would be the stupidest thing to wake him up because of that book. Morning is better time for it. And now Milo had another reason to visit his friend before he leave the Sanctuary…
With the sorrow sigh he returned to his first direction.
"Where have you been?" asked Deathmask with an irritation in his voice at the same moment when Milo entered their bedroom. "I'm bored! These two jerks," he pointed on the empty beds that belonged to the companions of Milo and Mu, "aren't fun at all!"
"Shouldn't you be sleeping now? It's dark outside, kids should sleep right now," answered Milo. Mu was staring at him from his bed with the sleepy look. He yawned widely.
"You are one to talk, Milo, ha,ha!"
Milo didn't respond to that. He put the book on the table and jumped into his bed.
"What's that?" asked Deatmask, looking at the book on the table. "Isn't it that weak boy's book? Don't tell me, that you were searching for it the whole time?"
"Maybe…"
Deathmask laughed sorely.
"So lame! Anyway, why is he here? Someone weak like him will never become a Saint. He will die while training after a few days!"
"Don't say something like that!" Mu almost yelled, irritated at his friend. "We could die as well!"
"Sooner Milo will kiss a boy than he becomes a Saint," said Deathmask with the laugh.
Then Milo stood up from his bed, went to Mu, and kissed him into a cheek.
"I kissed a boy. So Camus will become a Saint, right?"
Mu laughed, not angry at all that Milo did such a thing.
"I think you should go sleep, Deathmask. Any word more and Mu will cut your head off. I suppose he was sleeping, when I came back, and you woke him up."
The boy snorted, and left without saying anything more. Milo jumped into his bed again with the relief. After several minutes later he felt like someone was observing him. The two big, green eyes were looking at him in the darkness.
"You went to help him, right?" asked Mu.
"Yes."
"Good. I saw that jerk followed him. I'm glad he is save by now."
"Tomorrow he is leaving. So I suppose any jerks like Anter will not hurt him again."
Milo almost felt like Mu was smiling.
"And you are friends right now?" Milo heard Mu's voice again.
"Yeah, we are."
And then Milo told him what happened and how he and Camus became friends.
"Milo. Milo, wake up. It's morning already!"
Mu's voice was ringing in his ears. He opened his eyes, looking at the lavender-haired boy standing next to his bed.
"Shouldn't you do something right now, instead of sleeping?" asked Mu with the smile on his friendly face.
Milo rubbed his sleepy eyes. His sight stopped on the table, and at the thing that was laying there.
"The book! I forgot! I have to give it back to Camus!"
The curly boy jumped out of the bed, got dressed quickly, and with the book in his hand he headed to his new friend. He tried to run as fast as he could, the buildings and the people was flashing past him, and even the clouds on the bright blue sky became only a straight line.
After several minutes he stopped in the front of the building where Camus slept. He took a few deep breaths, looking at an entrance.
"What are you doing here, kid?" someone asked him. It was one of the Saints coming out of the building. "Shouldn't you be sleeping right now?"
Milo shook his head.
"I have to see my friend that sleeps here."
"Isn't it too early for that?" the Saint laughed. "Are you talking about little Camus? I had no idea that he has a friend…"
"He has!"
"Yes, yes, he has," said the Saint with uneasiness. "But it was meaningless to coming here. Camus left already."
"What?!"
"As you heard. He is on the way to wherever he is heading. Bye!"
When Mu saw his friend coming back with the sorrowful eyes, he didn't have to ask, what happened. Milo threw the book on the table, and sat on his bed, angry a bit.
"He left already!" said the blue-haired boy with the frustration.
"I think he had no choice. After all it was his teacher who took him today."
"I know, I know… But I wanted to tell him once more that we will be friends even after he leaves us."
"I think he is aware of that, Milo. And after all, now you have a reason to meet him in the future. Just for returning his book."
Milo's eyes were thoughtful, thoughts far, far away from him.
"I hope he will be alright. Becoming a Saint is hard…"
"He will, Milo, I'm sure. Now let's eat something and try to become Saints ourselves."
Milo nodded with his thoughts still around his new friend.
The white storm was raging outside the window, making the impenetrable wall of the snow with its tantrum. Like always in this time of the year, when only falling snow could be seen at the midnight. Nothing to be afraid, after all. Tomorrow will be the sunny day, cold a bit, then what's the point of complaining about snowing? Camus wasn't even looking at the window. He didn't care if the evening was sunny or snowy or whatever it could be in that corner of the world. He would rather read a book near the fireplace than be interested in meaningless weather.
He knew that he should go sleep now; after all the training was wearisome today, and it's true, he felt tired, but Camus couldn't hold himself. He had to read. Just a few more pages. Besides he wanted to wait for his teacher – the Saint went to the village near their wooden house with some business. Of course, master will scold him for that, caring so much for the proper sleep of his disciple. The Saint was always like that, harsh with the training, serious with the duty, and warm with the feelings for his young trainee. Even the cold eyes couldn't make him look severely. After this whole time they spent together, Camus just knew how his teacher was.
It was already five hours, when his teacher left; the night almost reached the midnight, and Camus started to be really sleepy. He desired the usual talk with his teacher before sleep. Talk about many important and interesting things. But a few more minutes, and he will fall asleep on a carpet near the fireplace, where he was reading all the time.
Camus put his head on his arms, looking at the warm, red fire inside the fireplace. Soon he should toss some wood to make him bigger, and warmer. His teacher for sure will be chilled after being so long in this storm. Then the little trainee had to make sure, that when he back, in his house will be the big fire warming all the rooms. And with that though, Camus closed his blue eyes.
It wasn't much later, when Camus felt the hands that raised him lightly. He opened his blue, sleepy eyes, and looked into his master's one.
"Master, you are back finally," whispered Camus.
"You were waiting for me whole time, didn't you?" asked the Saint with the smile on his face, heading to his disciple's bedroom with the boy in his arms. The boy nodded. "I think, I told you to take a good sleep every night."
"Sorry, master."
"Especially tonight. Tomorrow morning I'm going to teach you something new and more dangerous, since you are so skillful. So you should be fresh."
No one answered him. The Saint looked at his young disciple. And then he smiled much more widely. Camus was sleeping.
That sunny, but incredible cool day was slowly aiming to its end. Even an one petal of the snow didn't fall from the beginning of the morning; only the huge snowdrifts were some proof of night's storm. And that big wall of the snow just in the front of the door, that Camus had to take care of after breakfast.
But now Camus was standing in the middle of the expanse of the snow, far away from the house, with his teacher sitting on an ice cliff. He tried to take deep breath, but he couldn't. Even a small breath caused him pain in his whole body. The red drops was falling from many wounds, staining the white snow.
"Camus, I think it is enough for today," said the Saint, gasping at the very mad polar bear that was standing in the front of his disciple. 'It was too soon to try teaching him that move, after all,' he thought with the sigh of worry.
"Just one more time, master! I know, I will do it this time!" the little boy was really stubborn. If his teacher decided to show him something like that, then Camus couldn't disappoint him with his weakness. He had to freeze that bear legs. Now.
The aquamarine-haired boy didn't wait for the master's answer. He propelled himself, and jumped quickly, trying to catch the bear's legs. A beast roared menacingly in madness, after it saw that little boy almost reached his two limbs.
'I did it!' Camus thought, feeling the rough fur under his fingers. He almost clenched his hands, ready to freeze the polar animal.
Then he felt pain, overwhelming pain in his left side when a big paw hit him the with incredible strength, leaving three deep wounds on the fragile body. Camus flew in the air several yards and plunged into the ice wall. Even small scream didn't escape from his mouth. The sound of the cracking ice, and bear's mad roar were the last things he heard.
"Camus!" the Saint jumped from the ice cliff, at the same time freezing the mad beast that hurt his disciple. "Shit, it was too soon!"
In a few seconds he was next to the little boy, covered in the blood and the ice. He sighed in relief; Camus was breathing, almost invisibly, but still breathing.
Camus wasn't totally unconscious; he could feel the pain sometimes, and sometimes he could hear his master. But thing he couldn't do was open his eyes, and stand up. And talk. And even moving one of his many muscles was impossible. Of course, most of the time, he was surrounded by the darkness, where even pain couldn't reach him. Where nothing could reach him. Only his own thoughts; the sad and cold thoughts.
Was he dying? In that cold place, far, far away from the warm sun? In Siberia? Killed by the mad beast? He was weak, of course, that is why he received the badly wounds while the training. Everyone was telling him that he was weak. Become a Saint? Ridiculous! A boy like him, without the spirit to do that, could never become the Knight of Athena. A child without parents, without the family, without any friends. A child who long ago gave up on cheerful life. In that poorhouse… he just simply existed. Without any meaning of life, without purpose of living. He just 'was', reading the books, and trying to avoid all the priests from the church. The world was grey for him, only grey. And cold.
So what he was doing here? Why he was brought to the Sanctuary by that Saint?
'It wasn't just a Saint. His name was Aiolos.'
What for?
'You have potential' said Aiolos that time. 'I can feel the universe within you, my little stranger…'
Potential? So stupid. With that potential he was dying now, weak, so weak… Too weak to handle something as simple as freezing.
'Don't give up…'
The voice. The familiar voice.
'Don't give up, Camus.'
He knew that voice. It was sunny evening, when he heard that voice last time…
'We promised each other, Camus. We will meet again as the Saints.'
And then… The face. The friendly, smiling face. The shining, blue eyes. And the curls. That curls, the soft and blue curls.
'Remember? We are friends. So I'm here for you… Then… Don't give up, ever.'
Without friends? Right… He was so stupid…
'I will never give up… Milo.'