[Fic: 100 prompts ] 049
Themes: 049 - Club
Words: 548
Character: Aiolos, Saga, DeathMask
Disclaimers: Saint Seiya © Masami Kurumada, Toei and Shueisha.
049 - Club
It was well known among the Masters and the older trainees that the new batch of candidates had brought along a few children difficult to handle. Both Aiolos and Saga had been ordered to watch over them as they trained but, despite what they had been told, they never saw anything worth worrying about. Any child that had just arrived to the Sanctuary would show himself as a strong and rebellious individual, as a self-defense mechanism. It was obvious, even to newcomers, that in the place they had been brought to, only the strong survived.
Saga was the first to notice something was amiss. After training, some of the kids would pretend to go on their separate directions, to their respective dormitories, but once their bodies were hidden behind the hill, they ran to the side, to a place hidden by ruins. Once they confirmed that most of the children were going to the same place, they went ahead to check.
It had been difficult to explain what they saw. Though it looked like any sparring session, they could see that one of the children, a boy of silver hair and a gaze that even Aiolos considered to be unsettling, was collecting money from those that watched the fight.
They only needed to appear before the group to cause them to disperse, retreating to the ruins behind them. They were aware that there was no need to run, as they would be easily caught, but on their faces, their desire to do so was obvious. Only the child with the collected money in his hands remained still.
When standing in front of the masters, it hadn’t taken too long for the children to confess that they had begun to meet there to get some money. Despite the fact that they already knew they had no need for it in the Sanctuary, the old habits of their life as orphans were difficult to leave.
What had worried the adults the most, Aiolos noticed, wasn’t that they had formed a so called club, but that it wasn’t something they began together. It was clear, from their confessions, that someone had started it. When asked, he, along with Saga, had the same suspect. To everyone’s surprise though, the suspect himself, without being asked, admitted it.
“I began it.” The child of silver hair beamed. “So don’t waste more of my time and let me go back to training.”
The smack of Aiolos’ master on the boy’s face was loud enough to quiet down the murmurs that had arisen in the room.
“Aiolos, Saga, keep an eye on this kid. If he does something like this again, abandon him in the city.”
Aiolos bowed his head and waited for the Gold Saints to leave the room before he turned towards the child. His face was turned to the side, his cheek still red. He knew that, unlike the wounds that resulted from a fight, such a slap was infinitely more painful. Unable to respond in any sort of way, one could only bow one’s head while waiting for the pain to subside.
He had wanted to say something to the child, but he knew the boy would refuse to understand. Unaccustomed to discipline, for him the slap would only mean humiliation.
Words: 548
Character: Aiolos, Saga, DeathMask
Disclaimers: Saint Seiya © Masami Kurumada, Toei and Shueisha.
049 - Club
It was well known among the Masters and the older trainees that the new batch of candidates had brought along a few children difficult to handle. Both Aiolos and Saga had been ordered to watch over them as they trained but, despite what they had been told, they never saw anything worth worrying about. Any child that had just arrived to the Sanctuary would show himself as a strong and rebellious individual, as a self-defense mechanism. It was obvious, even to newcomers, that in the place they had been brought to, only the strong survived.
Saga was the first to notice something was amiss. After training, some of the kids would pretend to go on their separate directions, to their respective dormitories, but once their bodies were hidden behind the hill, they ran to the side, to a place hidden by ruins. Once they confirmed that most of the children were going to the same place, they went ahead to check.
It had been difficult to explain what they saw. Though it looked like any sparring session, they could see that one of the children, a boy of silver hair and a gaze that even Aiolos considered to be unsettling, was collecting money from those that watched the fight.
They only needed to appear before the group to cause them to disperse, retreating to the ruins behind them. They were aware that there was no need to run, as they would be easily caught, but on their faces, their desire to do so was obvious. Only the child with the collected money in his hands remained still.
When standing in front of the masters, it hadn’t taken too long for the children to confess that they had begun to meet there to get some money. Despite the fact that they already knew they had no need for it in the Sanctuary, the old habits of their life as orphans were difficult to leave.
What had worried the adults the most, Aiolos noticed, wasn’t that they had formed a so called club, but that it wasn’t something they began together. It was clear, from their confessions, that someone had started it. When asked, he, along with Saga, had the same suspect. To everyone’s surprise though, the suspect himself, without being asked, admitted it.
“I began it.” The child of silver hair beamed. “So don’t waste more of my time and let me go back to training.”
The smack of Aiolos’ master on the boy’s face was loud enough to quiet down the murmurs that had arisen in the room.
“Aiolos, Saga, keep an eye on this kid. If he does something like this again, abandon him in the city.”
Aiolos bowed his head and waited for the Gold Saints to leave the room before he turned towards the child. His face was turned to the side, his cheek still red. He knew that, unlike the wounds that resulted from a fight, such a slap was infinitely more painful. Unable to respond in any sort of way, one could only bow one’s head while waiting for the pain to subside.
He had wanted to say something to the child, but he knew the boy would refuse to understand. Unaccustomed to discipline, for him the slap would only mean humiliation.