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In a place as immaculate as the Virgo Temple, there were no visitors, only passersby. Where they went depended on their manners. They could proceed past the Virgo Saint, or be sent to the next life. Either way, no one stayed... but some tried.
Every once in a while, during his meditation hours, the boy would come and politely ask to join him. Virgo Shaka had a hard time declining. Though he was loath to admit it, he enjoyed the company. The boy tried his best, knowing that that the Virgo Saint would be pleased should he succeed, but his mind would wander; he never lasted more than two hours. Shaka tried to explain that he should find his own pace, but the boy was determined to keep up with him, and somehow, even though such a thing should have been a distraction, the man closest to the gods found it easier to concentrate with the boy at his side.
With its guardian meditating and therefore unavailable for most of the day, one would think none would manage to cross the Virgo Temple. Not so. In time, a ritual had been devised. Rather than merely asking for passage, anyone who wished to cross needed to approach the altar, bow before the Buddha, and raise their Cosmo slightly; the Virgo Saint would then respond in kind, an act that required neither thought nor intent. Only an evil heart would flinch.
(Or so he told his fellows. In truth, any enemy would instinctively raise their Cosmo in reaction to his.)
The boy, of course, always followed the ritual, even though he wished not to pass but to stay. This time, however, the Virgo Saint had felt something slightly different about his Cosmo, a fire that was not there before, a fire that vanished as soon as the boy smiled at him.
Now, after nearly four hours of perfect meditation, Virgo Shaka felt that fire spike, and turned his head slightly to the side.
As per tradition, the Virgo Saint had foregone his sight in order to heighten his senses, but he was not blind. Where others saw shapes and features, he saw colors and feelings, and right now, he was seeing a searing red.
There was only one other person in the world with such an intense presence, yet despite the similarities, the Virgo Saint found that the two of them were as though black and white. Where she hid a core of steel beneath layers and layers of compassion, he hid anguish amidst his deceptive anger and quiet resolve.
Virgo Shaka opened his eyes. The searing red was a crying little boy.
Kiki tried to steady his breath, but the tears kept streaming out of his eyes like a cracked dam. Shaka, who had never known comforting words, only harsh truths, was at a loss.
"Did he hurt you?" he asked in what he hoped was a steady tone. When did a god take you as host? More importantly, which god?
In response, the boy gritted his teeth and wiped his tears, over and over and over, until his eyes were dry and his face was red. Eventually, he shook his head. "No," he said firmly, not even the slightest crack in his voice, though only for that word alone; everything he'd say from then on would come between loud sobs.
There were a great many questions the Virgo Saint wanted to ask, but very few he should. I can talk to Mu later, he reminded himself.
"What were you trying to do?" he tried.
"I thought that... that there ought to be a way for me to understand him better..."
Understand him better? What was he saying?
Kiki sniffed hard. "And y-you told me this one time that you talked with Buddha every time you m-meditated, so I decided to give it a go."
Where there is sadness, there is joy, and the contrary is also true. Beautiful flowers bloom, but eventually they wither.
Shaka blinked.
"I asked m-my master, but this host thing is really complicated," the boy continued, ignorant to how unsettled the Virgo Saint suddenly was. "I know he's in here," he pointed to his head, "but we can't t-talk to each other. We can take turns with the body and pass notes, um, that's pretty fun, but there's only so much he can tell me that way, and besides, it r-really tires us out."
The urge to ask those questions was rising.
"I see," said Shaka. "Did you succeed?"
"I guess?" Kiki was starting to breathe normally now. The sobs were gone, and he was biting his lower lip, forming what he probably envisioned as a thoughtful expression. "I didn't get to talk to him, but he shared his feelings with me. I shared mine with him too!"
Why would a god be so friendly with his host? Why would a god pick a mortal child as his host, even one apprentice to a gold saint? Was this a ploy to get close to Athena?
Shaka closed his eyes. The searing red was gone, but not the fire. What the boy had seemingly tried to hide when he came to meditate was now plain for all to see. What the Virgo Saint had seen was their barest emotions, and he had to remind himself that there was not a smidgen of evil intent in them.
There was only one thing left to confirm.
"Raise your Cosmo," he requested, and though surprised, the boy complied.
Rather than the raging inferno the Virgo Saint had expected or the blinding fury he had seen once before, the Cosmo that rose behind and around the boy was quiet and contained, orange on scorched black, embers rising from the cracks.
"Hephaestus," said the Virgo Saint, a faint smile gracing his face.
The boy nearly jumped to his feet, his impressive Cosmo gone in a flash. "Huh? How'd you know?"
Shaka did not deign to answer. Instead, he tried something new. The man closest to the gods reached out and pulled the boy closer.
"Kiki, you have done well."
Kiki was obviously not sure what he'd done to earn praise, but he beamed all the same; and somewhere deep inside him, perhaps the blacksmith god allowed himself a grin.
"Now, you must speak to Athena."