Twice.

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/25689532.

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen
Fandom: Saint Seiya
Character: Aries Mū, Aries Shion, Gemini Saga
Additional Tags: no beta we die like gold saints
Language: English
Collections: SAINT SEIYA WEEK 2020
Stats: Published: 2020-08-03 Words: 1740

Twice.
by mugongeki

Summary

Betrayal tasted of salty tears and a heartache, then.

Memories flashed to him rapidly when he had noticed slightly curly tips of light-yellowish
hair, almost reaching Shion’s hands. Mu unconsciously focused on these hands, wondering
if they had the same, tiny scars he had remember from being a child, from many times
Shion placed them upon his, much smaller, to properly guide them.

Notes

Work written for SAINT SEIYA WEEK 2020

Day 2: reverse au, resentment, betrayal

Another quickie.

“My Master… Aries Shion.”

these words were nothing but a whisper, barely audible against the air that seemed to be telling
them many stories, wind whispering everything he, they, missed while being away from the
Sanctuary. He could recognize some of them, murmurs of familiar cosmos, wails of the ones that
passed away before he could see them again. Some faces were blurred in his memories, and some
names forgotten, but it didn’t make their presence less painful. If anything, it only meant they
didn’t have enough time to spend with them. To enjoy with them.

Taken away too fast, just like his master was.

Mu didn’t have it any easier only because he was Shion’s disciple. He would even say, he had it
much tougher. Shion was kind, loving, but also horribly demanding. Perhaps because he saw
potential in Mu. Perhaps because he wanted Aries Saint to be even stronger, better, more fearless…

But Mu wouldn’t really describe himself like this. He was always a soft child, gentle smile graced
his features even after someone scolded or hurt him. At the age of twenty, he was just as soft.

When Mu thought about his childhood, a mixture of happiness and sorrow spilled within himself,
pulsating along with the blood he had used so many times to repair cloths. Shion always reminded
him to be careful about using it (even though he himself had been reckless), minding his own
limits. Maybe it was because Shion experienced this or that. Maybe because he, just like Mu, has
been Aries. But his own recklessness upsetted Shion; even though the elder would never admit
that, young warrior learned how to read his facial expressions, or small twitches of his hand.

Shion always repeated him how talented he was, even though Mu couldn’t comprehend it with his
small mind, back then.

”Master, that’s how I was born!”

He answered, every time, watching how the right corner of Shion’s lips lifted up in a smile.

So Shion was demanding, focused on teaching him (just like he knew his time was limited…), but
never ceased to stop showing how much he actually cared and adored him. Mu felt loved and
loved back. Many times when he tightly wrap arms around Shion’s neck, the man joked he did it
so strongly he was going to get bruises. But Mu’s arms arms were tiny and thin, lacking even a
little bit of muscles. That muscles are not everything he was about to learn much, much later.

Not only Mu himself, but also every other saint was familiar with the concept of death nearly since
the day they were born. Therefore, it wasn’t exactly like Mu believed in eternal life and salvation.
He had heard about Hades and his punishment towards those disobeying him, but grew up assured
the risk was worth taking it; his own death was nothing comparing to the peace of the whole Earth.

Mu knew, by the age of 5, that his master wouldn’t stay with him eternally, especially considering
his age.

Shion prepared him for his death since the very beginning, teaching him how to be independent
and where to seek help shall he needed it. He didn’t make a tragedy out of it, if anything, shown
dying as a natural thing, something that had to be done for a mere fact of flowing time.

Mu didn’t cry thinking Shion may be gone, neither he was terrified of this possibility. Obviously, it
made him slightly unsettled, not because of fear of not being able to keep on going, only because
he really loved Shion. He wanted to share as much of laughter as possible, he wanted Shion to
teach him even more. He wanted to make him proud, to surpass him - such a normal thing for a
child admiring his father.

His master was gone as suddenly as the wind, and even though no one told him about it, Mu wasn’t
stupid. He was 7 back then.

He always imagined it a bit differently. Shion seemed like a pillar to the whole sanctuary. His
wisdom, in Mu’s eyes, was never ending, just as his kindness. His hands became wrinkly due to
the passage of time and years spent on repairing cloths, but their grip was tight, caring, safe. Mu
didn’t know anyone who didn’t admire Shion, who never, at least once, came to hear his advice or
a word of support.

He thought his farewell will be honorable, filled with sweet memories, his favorite scent and tea.
But there was no farewell. Shion had just been gone, and no one noticed.

Mu had been betrayed for the first time when he learned who killed his master.

Betrayal was such an unknown concept. He knew it by definition and understood what did it mean,
however, he never need to face it.

The saints he was growing up with, although having different personalities, were all fair, focused
on their goals. Surely they argued, just like children always did, but nothing could actually predict
this tragedy, this awful unfairness.

Mu didn’t know betrayal, because everyone was always gentle and kind to him. Especially Saga.

Saga was much older than him, and bigger. He was almost as tall as Shion, and even though his
hands were equally gentle, they didn’t bear familiar to Mu callouses. His skin was rough only from
a training, but when Saga smiled… He quite reminded him of Shion.

Since Mu could remember, he preferred Saga’s presence over Aiolos’. He didn’t particularly
dislike Aiolos, but… He always felt overwhelming. Not as comforting as Saga that always carried
him on his shoulders, letting him watch the world from the above.

Saga was like an older brother to Mu, caring, sweet… And spoiling him rotten. He usually
kidnapped Mu from his trainings with Shion only to play with him, or take him out to town. He
bought him sweets, claiming he wouldn’t like those chubby cheeks to disappear too quickly. When
Mu was little, he often clung to his leg or reached out to him making puppy eyes for so long until
Saga didn’t pick him up, or pat his head.

He noticed changes in his behavior. At least they were subtle, Saga preferring to spend more time
alone than with him anymore. Sometimes he got angry quickly, which was quite unusual,
considering his soft personality.

But Mu was just a baby. He thought maybe Saga was tired of his trainings, or maybe just had a bad
day like everyone.. From time to time he still blamed himself for that. Wondered if things would
happen differently if he tried harder, reached out. Or maybe, just as his master said, some things
were simply written in the stars, unchangeable.

Mu was much older when he learned who killed his master, but instead of resentment, he cried for
two days straight, until his eyes barely saw.

Betrayal tasted of salty tears and a heartache, then.

Memories flashed to him rapidly when he had noticed slightly curly tips of light-yellowish hair,
almost reaching Shion’s hands. Mu unconsciously focused on these hands, wondering if they had
the same, tiny scars he had remember from being a child, from many times Shion placed them
upon his, much smaller, to properly guide them.

They looked more like Mu’s hands now, rather than of someone who lived over 200 years.

When he dared to raise his gaze at Shion’s face, he choked on his own breath. Mu was amazed.
Surely, thanks to the genetics, they aged gracefully (comparing to Dohko for example), but the
weight of living for so long was still visible on Shion’s face. He had small wrinkles, here or there,
and the closer to his death day, his eyes were less shiny. Now they sparkled like diamonds, clear
and bright. Mu had an impression of Shion being even younger than he was, now. But Aries cloth
was only one, and Shion wore something terrifyingly similar to a surplice. The purple color
sparkled in the moonlight. Why wasn’t it gold? Why did his master seemed more like a shadow
rather than warrior of the sun? Why--

“I resurrected to take Athena’s head.”

Mu’s heart stopped, his long fingers forming fists so tight his knuckles went all white. He couldn’t
believe it.

That must have been a joke. Only now he remembered all the pranks Shion liked to pull on him,
for the mere laughter. Also because he claimed Mu’s pouty cheeks were really adorable.

Timing of this particular joke was unusual, and definitely quite unfortunate. But his master was
back! Slowly, overwhelming happiness began spreading within his body. Maybe everything was
going to be alright--

“Out of my way.”

His blood froze, just as the smile he almost sent Shion and that already began forming on his face.
His expression turned from shocked, disgusted, to simply disappointed.

Mu would have lied if he said that he didn’t consider getting up and running to Shion’s side, to
hide behind him like he did many times ago. He wanted to ask him so many questions! To know if
he was in pain, if he was scared, if---

He wanted to know why they ended up on the opposite sides. Shion taught him loyalty before
everything else. Why was he suddenly serving Hades, then?

His morals ended up scattered and stood on. What did Mu believe in? What did he want? Peace of
the world, or maybe his own comfort? His past felt distant and detached.

Betrayal then, for a very long couple of seconds had no taste at all. It seemed like a nothingness
against his tongue, or like an air one tried to catch suffocating, when every single breath is more
expensive than the most beautiful jewels.

Mu thought that if he had experienced it once, second time wasn’t going to hurt this much. But
second time wrapped its paw with claws around his heart, until he didn’t feel metallic taste coming
up his throat. It made him nauseated, and even if Mu wanted to sit down and cry, his muscles
disobeyed, making him raise to his full pride.

He has never changed, still remaining the very same, sensitive child… But years spent alone also
taught Mu how to be stern. How to be forgiving, but also fight. He planned to fight until his very
last breath.

Until the betrayal he had tasted will turn into nothing but scattered by wind dust.

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