Chapter Text
“To be loved means to be consumed. To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light. To be loved is to pass away, to love is to endure.”
— Rainer Maria Rilke, Journal of My Other Self
Soft fingers combing through his hair. He can’t see anything. But he’s not scared. Strangely, he feels calm, calmer than he ever remembers being.
There’s wind. Sunlight on his face. Warmth. Even though he knows outside it must be cold, here, someone holds him close to their chest, shielding him from the frost.
A finger touches his cheek. A coldness spreads, from the point of contact across his face and he opens his eyes. But the images are blurry.
A face appears in front of his vision. He can’t make out any details, but from the general outline, it must be a woman. He feels an unexplainable feeling for this woman; attachment, bonds, he cannot explain it, but seeing her makes his heart full.
And then he’s being set down. Away from the warmth, away from love and caring touches.
He can hear a voice through all the haze.
‘I'm sorry.
I love you. But I can't stay. It's too painful.
I’m sorry.’
The woman walks away, her figure becoming more blurry. It’s hard to focus. Cold, everything is so cold now…
Suddenly: a flash of light.
The light kept getting brighter and brighter. White hot flames enveloped the body.
The body: the mind, the soul, the heart; it all inhabits inside of it. The flame devours it. The body turns to ash, the soul returns home, to the stars. And the heart… Where does the heart stay?
The heart stays behind.
I’m sorry.
The words keep ringing in his ears.
I’m sorry. I love you.
Mu.
Mu.
Wake up.
Wake up! Mu!
MU!
His eyes flew open to see Shaka's face looming over him, the sun behind created a sort of halo around his head.
Oh, so he had been dreaming.
Shaka's lips were pursed into a thin line, the space between his brows slightly creased. “Mu…” He stopped himself. "Come on, we should get going." Shaka stood up without saying anything more, brushing his knees to get rid of the few blades of grass stuck to his clothes. "Oh, and make sure to wipe your face before showing up to where others could see you.”
Mu reached up to touch his face, finding his cheeks to be slightly wet. Had he been crying in his sleep? "Shaka." Mu made no move to follow, only staring dumbly at his fingers as if they were covered in blood instead of tears. "I think I was dreaming about my mother."
Shaka pursed his lips again, the frown returning to his face. ”I thought you had said you didn't remember your parents."
"I know, but...." But why did it feel so real?
It’s strange, Mu thought many years later, how he could still perfectly remember that dream, even after all this time. So many memories had become faded, worn at the edges— some he couldn’t even recall anymore— but the dream remained vivid in his mind.
Truth was, he hadn’t thought about it in years, but perhaps he had been feeling sentimental, and so the memory had popped into his brain. And here, alone, at the top of the highest mountain in Sanctuary, the wind howling and the cold air biting into his skin, he was reminded of how he had felt in that dream.
Star Hill: the sacred place where only the Pope was allowed to enter. But there was no longer anyone to stop him. There was no longer a Pope.
So many things had changed, it was hard to imagine months had already passed. Time kept moving on and on, but the feelings lingered, refusing to go away.
And so Mu had come to Star Hill, wanting to find some semblance of an answer, or maybe just to clear his head.
When Mu had been younger he'd had such vivid dreams that, upon waking he had been unable to be sure what was real and what wasn't. There was almost always someone calling him, and he would dream of places far away, places he had never seen before. But in his dreams they were as familiar as the palm of his hand. It was almost as if the reality inside the dream was more “real” than the one outside of them. During these times, he would acquire a distant look in his eyes, as if he were looking for something— someone? — in the horizon.
And deep inside himself, he knew it, with a fervent certainty, that there was something off . Something that was not right.
As if being able to sense it, the other children would keep away from him. Weird. Scary. That's what they would mutter under their breaths.
His only comfort had been observing the stars. The clear sky around Sanctuary was perfect for doing so, and there were many nights Mu would spend them outside, just staring at the nighttime sky.
And so, one day, Shion had found him like this. When he had voiced his worries to his master, for the first and only time Mu could remember, Shion had patted his head gently. Taking a seat next to Mu, he had sighed. ‘ Yes, I suppose it is like that for most of us.’
‘Master, what do you mean?’
‘Have you ever heard about The Trauma of Birth ? No, I suppose you are too young. Birth, being born, that is the first trauma humans experience. It is similar, worse perhaps, for muvians , to be born in a world where we no longer belong. Though you are not completely human, nor completely muvian either...’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Don’t worry. You will later on.’
Mu hadn’t said anything else. But regardless, Shion’s words had comforted him. Now he knew there was someone like him out there.
Perhaps, Mu thought now, the attachment towards his master didn’t come so much from a life debt owed, but rather because Shion had been the first one to understand him. And understanding, that was something that could not be underestimated.
And now, with Shion gone, he felt that strangeness from when he was younger returning. Only by coming to this place could he feel that sentiment receding slowly. Was it the closeness to the stars that made it seem as if his master were still close by?
The presence of another person interrupts his reminiscing. And this person, oh yes, Mu knew this person very well.
“You weren’t at the Aries Temple,” the newcomer spoke. His voice is the same as Mu remembers. “I was wondering why.”
“It’s been a while, Virgo Shaka.” He turned to face the other. “Don’t you think you could at least start with a greeting?”
“Drop the formalities, Mu. We both know that has never been your thing– nor mine’s, for that matter.”
“Ah, charming as always. I see, that must be why all the ladies love you.”
Shaka huffed, annoyed. “Stop fooling around.”
“See? Charming.”
“I’ll leave.”
Mu sighed, shaking his head. “You’re the same as always, Shaka. I can see you don’t change. Well, at least your personality doesn’t. You were a fussy child, as I remember.”
“And you? What can you tell me about yourself?”
“Since when does Virgo Shaka go around asking about others’ well-being?” Mu teased. (He must guiltily admit, he enjoys teasing the other man more than he should.)
“Like I said, I can always leave,” he threatened again.
“No, no. Stay. I could do with some company.”
Shaka hmph’ d, but did as asked. It was only after a few minutes of standing side by side in silence that Shaka finally spoke again. “You… Mu… have you–” his words came out haltingly, almost hesitant. “Why are you here?”
“Can a man not want some peace and quiet for himself?”
“Be serious.”
“I just wanted to get away for a while. From,” he waved his hand around, even if Shaka couldn’t really see it, “all of this. It can be such a hassle, no? It’s hard to find a reason to care when you know the same fate is awaiting everyone in the end.”
“Are you saying you don’t care then?”
“Hm. Not really. I guess my point is more… Doesn’t it get tiring?”
“Depends on what you mean by it .”
“Everything. Going through all the motions of being alive. You wake up; kill, get killed, and it’s the same every day. It’s almost as if…” He paused. Tapped his chin with his index finger a few times, looking for what to say. “Circles!” he finally remembered the word. “Are we just going around in circles?”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought,” Shaka said dryly.
“A bit, yes,” Mu lied.
“Are you looking for an answer from me? I fear I won’t be able to enlighten you. I’m not everything they make me out to be.”
“Ha. Oh, the great Virgo Shaka, how very humble ,” he said mockingly. “But, no. It was rhetorical. There’s not really a point to all of this anyways.”
“Very well, if you say so. Though I never marked you down as being a nihilist. How unlike you, Aries Mu .”
“Hm. Well, people change.”
“True. But there’s also those who worry about you.”
“And would you be one of those people?”
Shaka didn’t answer. “I don’t think it suits you,” he finally said.
“What?”
“Acting like this. Isolating yourself. It’s about time you saw that too.”
Mu felt a flash of anger at his words. A retort was already on the tip of his tongue ( what right did he have to come and criticise him? ), but he bit it back at the last minute.
“Know that there is nothing wrong with grieving,” Shaka continued, even as he was already turned away and leaving, “but you shouldn’t let it interfere with your duties.”
You’re wrong , Mu wanted to say. He wasn’t grieving . That and this were different. He wanted to shout, tell Shaka to come back; tell him he was wrong. But the heavy weight lodged inside his chest wouldn’t let him say anything.
A few days later, Mu made his way up to the Virgo Temple. His steps echoed in the empty halls, letting his presence be known, but he was sure the owner had sensed him long before he had even approached the entrance.
It wasn’t hard to find Shaka. Just as Mu thought, Shaka wasn’t surprised in the least when Mu came to stand a few metres away from where he sat, eyes closed, meditating.
“You were right.”
Shaka changed his stance to a more relaxed position and arched a perfectly immaculate eyebrow. “I’m right about a lot of things. Be more specific.”
A muscle on his face twitched. “You’re so difficult…” Mu sighed, exasperated. “Make this harder for me, will you?”
“Why are you here, Mu?” Shaka’s full attention was on him now.
“I don’t know.” And it’s the truth. Why did he come? He can’t say.
He had wanted to think everything was fine now, but then it would suddenly come back, waves crashing over him, the anguish, grief and regret mixing into one. Yet he would ignore it, pushing it aside as he buried himself deeper and deeper into his hole, never letting these feelings see the light of day.
And then Shaka… He had been able to tell. Could see his feelings, the ones he had so painstakingly hidden deep within himself, as if they were a material, physical thing in front of them. That he was able to see so easily through him angered him. But it wasn’t the fact that Shaka was able to read him that pissed him off, rather, the anger was directed at himself.
Was it pride? No. Stubbornness? Maybe. Or maybe it was shame.
Why hadn’t he been able to accept it? Why had he so desperately wanted to be rid of these feelings?
In their minds, everyone, when faced with another’s misfortune will think ‘that would never happen to me.’ But that is rarely ever the truth. Until one is faced with misfortune themselves, how can they say how they will react? And yet, to think they might be lumped in with the “unfortunate ones” makes them shiver with dread. But is it really so horrible? Isn’t grief, anger, despair all very human?
Yes, he had been ashamed of his foolishness. Ashamed that someone else had pointed it out, and angry at himself for not having realised it sooner.
But Mu doesn’t say any of this, instead, “I suppose you have a way of getting stuck in people’s minds.”
“Do I, now? So you’ve been thinking about me all this time… How very touching.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“No, no. I would never.”
“You don’t really change, Shaka.”
He arched an eyebrow again. “Can I take that as a complement?”
“Take it for what it is.” If Shaka wouldn’t give any ground, he wouldn’t either. Stuck in a childish game of tug of war, neither was willing to speak what was on their minds, one step forward two steps back, an unbreachable void lay between them and no one was willing to take the leap of faith.
Stubbornness.
Both of them were too stubborn, and perhaps that was it. The immovable object and the unstoppable force, colliding and rebounding again and again. But what had happened before they came to this point? How did it come to be like this? Where did this distance come from?
Suddenly, Mu felt himself a foreigner in his own skin. The silence in the Virgo Temple was too loud.
As children, many years ago, he would have been able to tell Shaka anything. Secrets were not something that existed between them. There existed no invisible barrier. So what had changed? Was it the world that changed, or was it them? Was it both? Neither? Like celestial bodies naturally drifting apart, nature taking its course; was that what happened?
He refused to believe that.
“Master Shion,” Mu’s voice sounds strange even to his own ears, “once mentioned The Trauma of Birth to me. At the time, of course, I didn’t fully understand what it meant. But he mentioned something interesting.” He continued, not bothering to see if Shaka was even paying attention to him. “In this world, there is no place for those like us anymore.”
Shion’s words came back to him, echoing in his ears: ‘Birth, being born, that is the first trauma humans experience. It is similar, worse perhaps, for muvians , to be born in a world where we no longer belong.’
“Don’t you think that is a horrible thing to tell a child? But somehow, I didn’t find it to be so bad. It at least explained why I felt that way. It meant I wasn’t alone in this world. And that’s all that I needed, no? To not be alone. Master Shion…” Mu paused for a moment, his thoughts trailing off. “He was the only one that could understand that side of me. So with him gone, it felt like I was back to the beginning.” Alone once again. He should have been used to it, the life of a Saint of Athena was a lonely existence, so why couldn’t he put aside this crushing feeling? He had trained for it his whole life, prepared for it, so where was this feeling coming from? That was why he wanted to suppress it, get rid of it. But it was impossible.
Not fully human, not fully muvian . His feelings were still those of a normal person.
The grief would always be there.
Mu had stopped talking. Even with his eyes closed, it felt as if Shaka’s gaze were burning a hole into his soul and Mu suddenly felt self-conscious. Ah, he must have spoken too much.
Then, even if Shaka’s voice was low, his words echoed through the lonely halls of the Virgo Temple, “You asked me if there was a meaning to this life. I told you I did not know it.” He took a deep breath, mulling over his words carefully. “I cannot say for sure if there is one. But,” Shaka inclined his head, “to be remembered with fondness by the living even after you are gone must mean something. A life well lived, at the very least.”
Mu’s eyes widened.
“In that aspect, I believe your Master must have been blessed, for you to still care about him so much even now.”
Mu inhaled sharply. There was a wetness on his cheeks. He touched his face. Oh, he thought, a bit dazed, I’m crying. It was the first time he had cried in years. Not even when Shion had died. He had thought he simply wasn’t capable of it anymore.
But for some reason, Shaka’s words had penetrated into some deep, inner part of his heart that even he himself had thought dead. And now, with the spell having been broken, his tears flowed with no restraint.
Shaka said nothing. He even turned his face away from Mu, as if to give him a semblance of privacy, even if with his closed eyes it made no difference. Still, it was an olive branch; Mu recognised it for what it was.
Perhaps this distance between them could still be breached.
It has been weeks, perhaps a full month, since their last interaction. Shaka had not spoken with him since that occasion.
Once again, Mu finds himself on Star Hill.
It must be getting warmer, because the wind doesn’t bite so deep into his skin anymore, and he can even feel the first whispers of the summer breeze in the atmosphere.
He breathes in, closing his eyes, content. There is not a single cloud in the sky: a perfect night for watching the stars.
This time, when he feels that familiar cosmos approaching, he’s almost expecting it.
He supposed it would only have been a matter of time before they would have had to run into each other.
Even if there hasn’t been any more exchanges between them, the tense and awkwards atmosphere that was there before has dissipated.
No. This time, Shaka simply comes to stand next to Mu, as if this were a very old routine between them.
“Star gazing again?” Shaka asks.
Mu hums in assent.
“Do you do it often?”
“No. It is a chore getting up here.” Shaka makes a sound of agreement. Mu waits for Shaka to ask another question, but it never comes. He can tell there is something on the virgo’s mind. But for some reason,it seems like he’s stalling. Strange, Mu thinks.
“Muvians, inhabitants of the continent of Mu and creators of the Cloths of Athena’s Saints,” it was as if Shaka were reciting something. “But the continent of Mu was mysteriously destroyed centuries ago, and the muvians disappeared from this world. Is anything I have said wrong?”
“No.”
“Yet you are a muvian .”
“A descendant of.”
“And your master was muvian as well. So this version is not the whole truth. There are still some of you left in this world…” There was something in Shaka’s tone that Mu had never heard before. “Tell me about them. Tell me about yourself.”
The request surprises him. Of everything that he could have expected coming from Shaka, this was the least likely outcome he could have imagined. For a moment, he has no answer to give Shaka.
“Pardon?” He smiles (more like grimaces), thinking he must have misheard and feeling out of sorts. The soft breeze from just moments ago is gone, and the air has turned frigid, as if the entire world had come to a screeching halt.
There is so little warning, it feels like getting punched in the face. Virgo Shaka asking another person about something in earnest?
“Is it so strange that I would seek to satiate my curiosity?” says Shaka, having read his thoughts. He waits, serenely, for an answer. “I’ve already told you, I am not all-knowing, not even close to it.”
Yes, that’s right. He is human. Enlightened above most, but still human.
Mu clears his throat. “You… What do you want to know?” He fidgets with a loose piece of thread on his clothes. “I am afraid I may not know that much. I only know what Master Shion told me before…” He trails off. The meaning behind the unspoken words is clear. “Besides, where should I even start?”
“At the beginning, of course.”
“Very helpful,” Mu huffs.
“Tell me everything you know. I will listen.” Shaka has turned to face him, expectant.
Curiosity; who could have known that was what it took to move the great Virgo Shaka? The man who would otherwise appear unshakable in his own convictions, when faced with the unknown would be at his most human. But the earnest sincerity behind his request… Not even when they were children does Mu remember him acting like this. Perhaps because of this, Mu has not turned him away. Information about their people is not something outsiders should be privy to , Shion had told him long ago. (But his master had always been better at giving advice rather than following it. Mu is sure Shion must have made at least one exception to this.)
“Your parents, they were muvian too, no?” Shaka asks.
Mu opens his mouth, meaning to answer the question ( — he doesn’t remember, can’t say for sure —), but he doesn’t make any sound. Suddenly, memories that should have been lost flood his brain.
He is no longer Aries Mu, no longer at Star Hill in Greece, but rather he is now a young child on the streets of a small village in the mountains of Tibet, in the vicinity of Jamir.
Is that him?
Yes, that’s the child.
He looks normal to me.
Well of course he does. His mother did too. But surely you must know the story, no?
No, I really don’t.
Oh, but it was such a scandal back then!
Tell, tell!
Well his mother… She was always a bit strange, no? But no one knew she was one of those . Really, we should have figured it out sooner.
You don’t say!
Yes, it’s true. We didn’t figure it out until later, though. And the father…
What about the father? Was he also the same?
No, no, he was human. As human as men like those can be, anyways.
[...]
Shh, don’t laugh so loudly. You see, he was a foreigner. Only passing by with a group. You know how they are, they are all so horrible. She was very pretty, you see, so she obviously caught his eye. Sigh… But what happened… No woman should have that done to them. A brute, I tell you, that is what he was!
Shion passed by the women who were speaking in hushed voices. Even though their tone was low, he was able to overhear their conversation. The woman who had been listening to the story was shaking her head pityingly while the other kept animatedly telling the story.
In a small town like this, every little thing that happened was big news.
But Shion paid them no mind. He wasn’t here for gossip.
News travelled fast, and he had heard rumours of the child the women were discussing, and so he had come looking for him. He’d heard of how they had found the baby in the mountains, the rumours of how he had miraculously survived, and about the strange phenomena surrounding him. Children of the stars is how some people in these areas referred to them, considered blessed by some, and cursed by others.
It looked like in this case, it was the latter.
The child was small, scrawny and dirty. With no one to look after them it was no wonder.
When he saw Shion approaching, his body tensed. He was like a wild animal, wary of anyone that tried to approach and ready to sprint and hide at the smallest hint of danger.
Shion approached slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. “What is your name?” he spoke softly, so as not to startle him.
“...Mu.” If it weren’t for his enhanced senses, Shion would not have heard the response.
Mu , he thinks. Strange. It must be what the townspeople call him, not a real name. But he is already used to it, and he had never been good with names anyways, so he won’t change it.
The child turned his face up to look at him, and finally Shion had a clear view of his face behind the matted and unkempt curtain of hair. For a moment, he was taken aback.
The child blinked at him.
“Excuse me,” he tried to hide the surprise that must have been showing in his eyes. “Your face… It reminded me of someone else.”
“Someone you knew?”
He sighed. “Yes, a long time ago. But they are no longer around. It doesn’t matter.”
The child hummed in acknowledgement.
“Mu,” Shion extended a hand to him, “would you like to come with me?”
The child’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Yes, I know what you must be thinking. I am a stranger. But I promise you, you can trust me. I can’t promise you an easy life, but I can promise you a place to shield you from the sun and rain, food, clothes. If you were inclined to see it as such, it could also become your home.”
For a moment, Shion thought the boy would turn him down, but after appearing to consider it, tentatively, he grasps Shion’s hand in his smaller one.
“That is as much as I can remember.”
Shaka has been quiet throughout the whole story, and he remains quiet even now. Perhaps he is processing it.
They had left Star Hill and moved to the Aries Temple. The mountain was not a comfortable place to be, and even if his room in the Aries Temple is humble (to an extreme), there are chairs they can use.
Finally, Shaka speaks, “Did you ever wonder who your father was?”
“Not really.” Mu shrugged.
“...Really?”
“He is, or was , human. What else is there to know? And if he’s alive, it’s not like I really care, or that it matters to me.”
“You really never felt even the slightest curiosity?” The idea is completely foreign to him. Unimaginable. Not because he would want to connect with him, but simply because… He would want to know, Shaka thinks. It seemed Mu did not share his opinion.
Mu blinked at him slowly.
Mu couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. “Did Aioria put you up to this?” … “No? Was it Aldebaran, then? No, no. No need to answer me. Ah, this is too hilarious.” Mu shakes his head. “For a moment there, you really had me. I thought you were really asking me–”
“Mu.” Shaka can feel annoyance creeping up on him. “Be quiet. You are being a bother.”
“Who was it that pestered me first?”
“I did not ‘pester’ you, as you so crudely say. Besides, you also agreed to it.”
“Ah, fine. We both lost this round.”
“Speak for yourself. I wouldn’t lose to someone like you.” There is no actual bite to his words though, and Mu knows it, because he laughs. This playful back-and-forth was comfortable, easy to slip back into the routine even after years.
When they had been younger, the candidates for saints hadn’t been many. It was impossible to not know of the others. But even back then, Mu had stood out. There was something distinctively different about him. The way his cosmos felt, it was not like the others, Shaka could tell. Perhaps, seeing a kindred soul in each other they had become close.
But just like the saying goes: time changes all. By the time they were grown up, they had drifted apart. The once easy companionship was gone. Forced to grow up too fast. The days of their careless youth had been cut short by duty, responsibilities, hardships, war.
Had there been times, when even he, Virgo Shaka, had doubted himself?
Even The Buddha had been human once. It was only natural for there to be moments where he would question this path. But before all, there came the faith in his convictions. To stand, unshakable, in the face of calamity and move forward, even if he must stand alone, that is what he would always do. Begone with doubts and regret! Those were things reserved for more feeble souls.
He would never admit it, not even to himself, that deep down, he missed that period of time in his childhood when he had experienced companionship. And so, when the opportunity presented itself, awkwardly, hesitantly, he had reached out his hand towards Mu, his shaky fingers trying to reach him and touch him again.
“Shaka,” Mu’s voice has taken on a serious tone, “what ever did happen?”
So they had been thinking the same thing. “Life. That is what happened.”
“So there was no way to have prevented it?”
“Asking what-ifs and maybes is no use. What happened already happened. You can’t change the past.”
“Yes. You’re right.” Mu sighed. Then, he smiled. “But that is no reason to not try and change the future.”
Between their duties, they try to see each other. Sometimes it is at the Aries Temple, others it is at Virgo. Very rarely, though, Shaka will find Mu at Star Hill. It becomes less and less as time goes by, but it never stops completely.
Most times, they simply share a silent companionship. To have a place where they can relax and be at peace is enough. Still, Shaka’s curiosity will still rear its head from time to time. Those are the times when they talk the most.
( “So stardust is really star dust?”
“Yes. In a way. I’ll be honest, not even I understand it completely.”
“Hm.”
“Only muvians can touch it.”
“I wasn’t going to ask to touch it,” Shaka huffed. “I’m not a child.”
“I didn’t say you would. I was simply informing you.”
“Whatever.”)
(“So the continent was destroyed after the muvians had left. And you say they leave for… the sky?”
“They shed their physical body and return to the Stars. Think of it like ascending to the Heavens.”
“I see…” Shaka frowned slightly. “So that would mean—”
“They return to their natural form. The human form is only temporary.”
“Do you have this ‘natural form’ too, then?”
Mu coughed. “No more questions.”)
(“Mu.”
“What is it?”
“Did you ever wish you could have been a regular human being?”
“Did you ever wish that?”
“Yes. You’re right.”)
Today they are at the Virgo Temple. The summer heat has forced them to seek the outdoors, where the night breeze might help cool them down. The garden behind Virgo is best appreciated during the daytime, when one can see the colours and plants clearly, but at night the shelter it provides from the heat is welcome too. The moon shines bright above them, its silver, pale rays of light illuminating the garden. There is not a single cloud in the sky.
Today has been one of the times when Shaka will hound Mu with questions. Lying on the soft grass, their voices are also hushed, as if raising their voices could disturb the peaceful tranquillity that has settled over them like a blanket.
Shaka blows a puff of smoke into the air. “Divination, huh?”
“Yes.” For some reason, Mu feels sheepish. “That is how it would be most commonly known. Master Shion referred to it more like ‘listening to the stars’.”
“I know the Pope must be able to do it, but what about you?” He twirls the pipe lazily in his hand, the strong scent of cannabis invading Mu’s nostrils.
“A bit,” Mu confesses.
Shaka raises an eyebrow.
“No, not like Master Shion. I’m not that good. But sometimes, if I listen hard enough I can hear them very faintly. Never was able to ‘predict’ anything, though. It was always more like fragments of sentences that would drift over.”
“What about right now? Can you do it?”
Mu cracks a small smile. “Oh, you want a private show all for yourself?”
Shaka waves his free hand in a ‘go ahead’ motion. “Please. Since you want to be a show-off.”
“So bossy.” Mu clicks his tongue. Still, he complies. He closes his eyes, concentrating on the soft tinkling noise in the distance.
It is like wading through water, the noises are faint, distorted, he can’t make out what they are saying. Just a bit more… If only he could get a bit closer… Another step forward, and another, and another… Just one more…
Suddenly the tinkling sound that had been more like an echo reaches his ears in astounding clarity. A cacophony of sounds invades his head.
And then—
Ah, there it is. He can hear it. The stars, they are speaking to him. For the first time in his life, their voices don’t sound far off or distorted.
Instead, Shaka’s voice seems to reach him from millions of light years aways: “What do the stars whisper? Can you hear it?”
“Yes, yes. They’re saying...”
“What do they say?”
“ ‘We love you. We love you, we love you.’ ”
“Do they call to you?”
“Yes… Yes I can hear it. ‘We love you. All of you. Everything in the universe loves you.’ It’s so beautiful…” His eyelashes fluttered, as if he were about to open his eyes. “Shaka.”
“Yes?”
“Does the universe love everyone in it?”
“I don't know.” I don’t think so.
“How sad…” Mu stills, even his breathing seems to have stopped. “All that love, yet it has nowhere to go.”
“It is too vast. The universe, how could we hope to comprehend it? Even if we tried, we are just specks of dust floating in it.”
“Yes, you’re right. Still, I can’t help it. I wish I could love it back too.”
That night, in the darkness of the inner chamber of the Virgo Temple.
“Shaka.” Mu shifts again. Even sleeping with just a thin sheet, he could feel himself sweating, the fabric sticking to his skin uncomfortably.
“What is it now?” Shaka muttered.
“Can you really not open a window? It’s so stuffy in here…”
“You damned ice cube of a person! How cold do you need it to be so you can be happy?!”
“Please… I think I’m melting…”
“Anybody else would not dare to be so pushy. Especially in my own house.”
“But it is not ‘anybody else’ that you are with.” Mu grinned. “It’s me.”
“Oh, how horrible,” he cried, “that from more than 4 billion people on Earth, I’m stuck here with you!”
Mu laughed, a clear, bright sound. He laughed like someone who, having known sorrow appreciates happiness more; his eyes closing with mirth, and his whole body shaking with the sound of it. Even in the dark, his laughter seemed to light up the surroundings, like the sun radiating warmth.
And without meaning to, Shaka found himself breaking out into a small smile too.
The act was so foreign to him, that when he realised what he was doing, his face froze in an awkward grimace. He felt himself tremble to his very core. Such an open display of emotion… When had he let himself lower his guard so much?
Subconsciously, he had let down the walls surrounding his heart little by little until there was none of that unbreachable fortress left.
Just as the ice in the river melts with the sun and the water washes away all traces of the cold and harsh winter, so had his loneliness thawed the more time he spent with Mu. And now, like flowers in spring blooming, he had let someone else into his heart. For the first time in his life.
A warm feeling spread from his chest, to his arms, his stomach, travelling down to his legs; even the tips of his fingers tingled with it.
It scared him.
He didn’t want this, yet he didn’t wish to get rid of it either. He was grateful, at least, that in the dark, Mu could not see the expression that must surely be on his face.
“Go to sleep, Mu. Or I’m kicking you out.”
He can hear Mu sigh in resignation.
If this feeling were to go away, what would be left in its place?
The wind blowing through the trees made an eerie sound, howling, wooshing.
Even the sound of the branch cracking beneath his feat is drowned out.
Out here, there is no one else.
The mission had taken longer than expected (there were more Spectres than what was originally anticipated, the location farther than he had thought), and now it was already nighttime and he was still here.
If he wanted to, he could make the long trip back to Sanctuary. But he is tired, and the mere thought of the long path he would have to take makes his legs feel heavier.
He will find a place where he can spend the night and head back tomorrow.
Without realising how, he finds himself in a clearing in the forest. The wind has kept the clouds at bay, and the sudden brightness in this place makes him squint his eyes while they accommodate.
The wind gets stronger. The kind that bites into the skin, making his lips crack and eyes water. And…
A soft tinkling sound.
At first, he thinks he must have imagined it. But then the sound also gets louder at the same time as the wind reaches a frenzy, swirling and tugging in all directions.
Mu.
He inhales sharply. He hasn’t heard that voice in years.
Mu… Mu…
They are calling him. Their voices ring in his ears. He can’t hear anything, their voices drowning out everything else.
Mu!
Like an arrow piercing his skull. His heart is being shattered into a million pieces. It hurt. It is too much.
There is a blazing sun dying out in his veins, his blood boiling with the force of its supernova. Millions of light years away, there is a place that calls to him.
Come home, come back…
His soul wants to be free of this body.
MU!
His time is up.