Work Text:
Camus never explained to Hyoga how long it takes wounds to disappear from the body.
His master, as well as many others, told him and Isaak the best ways to execute their attacks, the ways in which they should defend themselves from enemy blows. He engraved in their heads their mission to protect the goddess Athena and the earth, repeating over and over again that they are the guardians of the universe, that on them rest the hopes of all mankind.
Hyoga was lucky and in addition to this, Camus also told them all about his constellation, he explained the myths about it, as well as the best times to observe it. He took the time to teach them about other constellations and cloths, retelling in detail the relationship between the two. He also gave them some lessons on literature and history, forcing them to read about Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, shared a little about Greek and French, hoping it would be useful in missions, and made them memorize certain passages from the Iliad and the Odyssey.
And while Camus told them what to do once they were hit by an enemy attack -or ally in the worst case-, he never explained them the actual process of healing wounds once the fight was over. The masters do not relate how strenuous it is to rehabilitate a leg that has been broken, nor how you can still feel an opponent's technique even after months. Much less is said about the process of adaptation that some have to go through after losing a limb or sense. No one talks about the amount of wounds that such a young body can sustain, the cuts, the burns (both from hot and cold), the bruises that cover arms and legs completely. It would not make any sense to speak of recovery when what is expected of young saints is that they die heroically in combat. It would serve nothing to explain something that many would not experience simply because they would not live afterward. The life of a saint is fleeting; it is extinguished before it reaches its peak. And just as flowers whose petals have fallen seem to lose their charm and purpose, a soldier who has been wounded in combat and loses some part of his body, loses his reason for being, ceases to be a help and becomes a burden, this is well known by most. Hence why they prefer to die in combat than to live on in an undignified manner. No one can tell what to do with the wounds after a while, because very few had been able to reach that point. Those who had done so seemed to want to hide it, either because they did not want to talk about those pains again or because they were ashamed of not having died as they had been taught.
Hyoga was never explained what to do with the wounds, nor how to learn to live with them, that’s the reason why he loses his mind every time he looks in the mirror and counts the wounds on his torso .result of Milo's scarlet needles-, the burns on his hands -a consequence of his own freezing techniques-, the scars on his legs. That is why he is filled with strangeness, anger and even pity when he remembers the absence of vision in one eye -feelings that are even more accentuated if he remembers the reason for this failure-. That is why he does not know how to react every time a shiver runs through his body, making him resent how delicate his skin has become, the areas where it has been most affected and has left him exposed to the cruelties of the outside world.
Hyoga doesn't know what to do about Shiryu's blindness, nor the scars of cuts on his arms from Excalibur. He has no idea how to talk about the scar on Ikki's forehead, nor the burns covering his entire body, ranging from his fingertips to his ankles. He can't think of how to deal with the fact that Seiya has a clear sword mark on his heart and back, nor the bruises that make a mosaic of the brunet's body. He doesn't think it’s wise to talk to Shun about each and every one of the marks on his body, of the injuries on his palms from the constant rubbing of the chains, of the distinctive mark of a hand on his neck -his own hand- proof of Shun's will to save the world even at the cost of his life - of what is most precious to Hyoga -
Hyoga never learned how to deal with a team full of damaged people, how to deal with the clear signs the world was giving them of their inefficiency, of their lack of honor. There were mornings when he woke up and wondered if it wouldn't have been better to die at the hands of Camus during the battle of the twelve houses, of Isaak in the temple of Poseidon or of Hades in the Elysian fields -Hyoga wondered if it wasn't better to have perished with his mother that day-. He considered if living in a body that was a constant reminder of his failures and losses had been the punishment the gods deemed most fitting for him and his friends.
Hyoga was never taught what happened after surviving so many wars, nor how to deal with a wounded body, and yet there are mornings when he wakes up and feels happy, as he witness how Shiryu finds new ways to relate to and re-signify the world around him, the ways in which he draws on his cosmos to perceive, understand and apprehend his surroundings. There are evenings when he is grateful for Seiya's presence, for his energy and resilience, for his constant effort to reawaken his cosmos and regain his physical strength. There are nights when he feels fortunate of perceiving the warmth emanating from Ikki's body, when his touch -whether in the form of a brotherly embrace or a friendly stroke) gives him the firmness he so sorely lacked. There are dawns where he is grateful for Shun's company, to be able to see his face first thing in the morning, to feel his skin so soft in some places and full of little bumps and scabs in others. He is sure there's no better thing on earth than being able to hide his face in the younger's neck, even if there is discoloration on it.
Hyoga, nor any saint, was told that there is still life after wars, no one explained them that they could still enjoy the company of others, even if themselves and their loved ones are full of more marks than they can count, even if one or more senses are missing. But, if flowers can survive the most merciless winters and droughts, why shouldn't a saint learn to live despite a few wounds?