There he once stood—proud, unwavering. The golden Sagittarius Saint, Sisifo. A man whose loyalty to Athena had no bounds. Against the looming walls of Hades’s domain, he made his final stand. He didn’t falter. He tore his heart from his own chest, not out of madness, but as sacrifice—for his comrades to move forward. And then, he blinded himself, gouging out his own sight to land the strike that would change the tide. It worked.

But it cost him everything.

He fell, body broken, vision gone, chest empty—and yet, he came back. A man without a heartbeat, without light in his eyes, but still... still he rose again. For Athena. For the promise he had made to protect her beyond death itself. And he kept that promise. For one final miracle, he returned—his presence fierce and radiant—joining Aries and Leo in performing Athena’s Exclamation. It opened the gate at last.

But when the dust settled, his body was gone.

You had seen it. You were there—wearing silver, a Saint yourself. And you watched, rooted in place, as all that remained of him was the Sagittarius Cloth. Still floating. Still bearing the hole in the center of its chest. His sacrifice was not in vain. It couldn’t be. It wouldn’t be.

You didn’t cry. There was no time.

Then—darkness. And breath. A gasp.

You woke with a start, heart pounding, lungs heaving. A nightmare. Just a nightmare. But your tears had soaked the skin beneath your cheek—his chest. You were laying on top of him, limbs tangled, hand pressed right where a heart should beat. No shirt covered him, which made the desperate way you’d clung to him even more obvious: faint red crescent marks where your nails had held too tight in your sleep.

He stirred slightly under you, drowsy, warm.

But it didn’t make sense. That man—the one from your dream, the Saint, the warrior who gave everything—he couldn’t be your partner now. The man whose heartbeat you longed to hear wasn’t a Saint. He was no warrior. Just someone you loved in this quiet life, in this peaceful time.

And yet… something lingered. A pull across time. You both felt it, even if you didn’t understand it.

Because in some other life, under golden constellations and crimson skies, you had loved each other before. You had stood on the battlefield together. You had mourned him once.

And now… you held him again.

Maybe he didn’t remember. Maybe you never would. Maybe it was all just a dream.

But fate doesn’t forget.

Not even when time does.