The Soft Marks of Claws — Minos × Albafica
✦ About This Story ✦
Fandom: Saint Seiya – The Lost Canvas
Pairing: Minos (Griffon) × Albafica (Pisces)
Tone: poetic, atmospheric, gently tragic
Length: short story
Author’s Note:
Originally written in Japanese and translated into English under close author supervision (with the assistance of ChatGPT).
Every line has been reviewed for tone, nuance, and imagery to preserve the intent of the original work.
This piece explores the fragile distance between Minos and Albafica —
the obsidian stillness of the Underworld,
the deadly fragrance of roses,
and the faint mark at the back of a pale neck:
a memory of the day a griffin’s claws once brushed human skin.
You may now proceed directly to the story.
✦✦✦
Japanese version : やわらかな爪のあと
The Soft Marks of Claws
✦✦
A pale light spread gently across the air.
The cold wind of a few days past had changed its face—returning now as a tender breeze from the south.
Signs of spring were everywhere: in the young leaves unfurling from the trees, in the buds that carried their secret colors within.
Even the Demon Roses of the Palace of Pisces, ever in bloom, deepened their beauty—as though stirred by the breath of spring.
Beneath that light stepped Minos—his body sheathed in a Surplice of the Underworld, shining with an unearthly luster like obsidian.
A creature wrought in the likeness of a griffin, he entered the garden, where green life trembled in the shadow of his presence.
The trees stirred, their leaves whispering at the arrival of something not of their world.
At the sound of the wind, Albafica’s long hair turned—
its rich strands, glimmering as though dusted with light,
lifted and scattered across the air.
The deep neckline of his Ionian robe caught the sun,
and at the nape of his pale neck,
where blue hair met white skin,
lay a scar—drawn sideways,
like the soft but merciless trace of a raptor’s claws.
Old though it was, the mark seemed almost cruel in its beauty,
heightening the smoothness of skin and hair it divided.
A hand moved through the wind—slender, deliberate—
brushing back the shining hair to reveal
two eyes the color of emerald stone.
They recognized the intruder who had stepped
into the garden of the Palace of Pisces—
and yet, unmoved, the eyes turned forward once again.
Albafica went on tending the roses.
He knew Minos would come no closer—
for the thorns and fragrance of these blooms, steeped in their own poison,
were beyond even a Surplice’s defense.
As if to say so long as you do not touch me, it is fine,
his hands did not falter.
He plucked the spent blossoms,
parted the branches,
made room for the next breath of flowers to open.
Even under another’s gaze, he did not waver.
Beneath the sunlight, though, he felt it—
a drop of sweat sliding from his temple.
He exhaled, unbound the cord at his wrist,
and tied back his long, glimmering hair.
His hair flowed like scattered light,
and once more, the scar at the back of his neck was laid bare.
A gentle wind passed through again—
carrying red petals that rose into the air.
Some gathered, drifting as a flock toward the Palace of Pisces.
At the edge of the garden, by a white pillar,
Minos stood in silence.
When the scar appeared, he smiled faintly—
for it was his mark,
left in that distant battle,
the very moment they first met.
Once, Minos’s unseen threads
had bound Albafica completely—
stolen his freedom,
his breath.
Now that moment drifts
like a dream long faded;
the distance between them
stretches, silent and unmeasured.
The poison of the roses,
the venom in his veins—
both keep him apart from all others.
And yet the scar upon his neck endures,
a mark left by Minos’s hand—
the proof that he had once been taken.
After the Holy War,
both returned to life by their gods’ command,
but still, the wound at Albafica’s neck
refused to fade.
At times, a bird will sing.
The sound of its wings rises,
trembling through the air—
yet none ever cross the rose garden.
The scent here forbids life.
Even insects cannot breathe within it.
Only the murmur of petals and leaves,
brushing and parting,
weaves a hush that encloses Albafica.
FFor him, all things remain apart.
Even the wound upon his neck—
so cruel, so silent—
means nothing,
so long as it brings no pain, nor hinders his motion.
The gaze of others slides past him;
their startled eyes, shifting from scar to face,
find no answer there.
The sun kept pouring down,
warming the air little by little.
Albafica wiped his brow again,
his eyes half-closed against the wind.
It carried a tender coolness,
and the scent of roses—
a fragrance only he could bear,
sweet to him alone,
poison to all others.
✦
When his work among the roses was done,
Albafica turned toward the Palace of Pisces.
A sound—
the wind seized by a raptor’s wings—
brushed past him.
He lifted his gaze,
but Minos was gone.
The white pillars stood still again,
cold, returned to the landscape.
—What draws him here,
to look, again and again?
Loosening the tie from his hair,
Albafica stepped toward the stone,
the wind catching the pale strands once more.
On the green field,
a single rose—dark,
dense with red—caught his eye.
Albafica frowned.
A Demon Rose.
Too potent, too deadly.
Had Minos dared to touch it?
He knelt.
The stem was broken,
folded upon itself,
the flower’s neck bent in pain.
The wind stirred, whispering through the field,
and once more,
the petals took flight.
The sun sank behind heavy clouds,
and shadows bloomed across the ground.
The rose lay broken—
its neck bent,
its stem split and raw.
Unthinking,
Albafica’s fingers found the scar
at the nape of his neck,
long forgotten.
And the raptor’s eyes—
those pale violets—
still held him.
The vision unfurled—flowering in his mind, quietly.
✦ ✦ ✦
—The End
✦ End note ✦
This story is part of a growing collection of Minos × Albafica works.
Thank you for reading — your support helps this bilingual project continue.
The original Japanese version can be found on my blog.
A French translation is also available. French.
More works and updates:
→ lit.link
→ Blog
