349. Spider, Butterfly, and Mantis

Original text by 萌箜, translation by yours truly.

Once upon a time there was a vast garden. In this garden, there was a butterfly with beautiful wings who lived in a blooming rose.

One day, the butterfly went out as usual. As his habits were, he flew to drink the first dew condensed upon the greatest rose hidden deep within the heart of the garden. His wings fluttered in the cool air, their golden hues shining in the morning mist.

When he passed one particular rose bush, he decided to take a rest upon a fresh bud. This was a decision that would alter his life.

"Butterfly, Butterfly, please wait," came a dull voice below thickets of leaves.

"Who is there?" The butterfly asked, his antennae trembling with unease.

"It's me. It's us." A scratching noise came from under the leaves.

Butterfly turned over a leaf and glided down. He gently landed on barren dirt. From the bottom of a deep hollow, a spider and a mantis looked back at him.

"How are you guys there?" Butterfly looked at them with apprehension, for he knew either the spider or the mantis could very well decide to eat him at a moment's notice.

"As you can see, we fell in this hole. It's been two days." Spider moved its legs feebly.

"And possibly because of how menacing we look, no passerby insect would help us out." His legs made light tapping sounds against the moist earth.

"We don't want to coerce you, but if you won't help us either, you might find our corpse in about four days' time." Mantis's arm blade slunk in the earth. "Likely, there will only be one corpse. Either I butcher him, or he eats me," said the mantis. "If one of us consumes the other, then the one remaining can at least make it for an extra day or two." His tone was calm and rational, as if death was of no concern to him.

"I can save you," said Butterfly.

Mantis raised his head and looked up in surprise. Spider could not turn his head, so he flipped his body against the wall of the hollow to look up at Butterfly. "Are you sure? But ne, Butterfly, you know we could eat you after you help us out." Spider's tone made this sound like a threat.

"That is fine," said Butterfly as he drifted into the hollow. "I wish someone could eat me, but everyone tends to die after coming in contact with me." He quivered his wings, and golden powdery scales shimmered as they fell. "Keep away from my wings. They are poisonous."

Mantis took note of Butterfly's melancholic tone. Spider scratched at the earth, his thoughts indecipherable.

Butterfly took flight and returned with a stalk of dog-tail. "Hold on to this. I'll bring you out."

Mantis and Spider looked at each other, but finally they climbed on.

Butterfly clutched the other end of the stalk, beat his wings, and took off.

Out of the hollow, he rested on a blade of grass, gazing at the other two.

Mantis watched Butterfly's wings. He said, "Thank you."

"Not at all." Butterfly twitched his antennae.

"O, Butterfly. How can we repay you?" Asked Spider.

"You don't have to," he spoke as he made to leave.

"Butterfly, come with me and I will show you the most beautiful flower of all," Mantis said.

"Mantis, don't!" Spider argued, "that could bring him to harm." Ominous tones.

"More beautiful than the great rose of the garden's core?" Butterfly was enticed.

"More beautiful than that," Mantis nodded. His compound eyes mirrored those golden wings like a kaleidoscopic dream.

Butterfly beamed. "Take me there. I like beautiful things."

Mantis raised his arm blades and dashed. Butterfly flew, following him.

Spider kicked some dirt loose with his many legs, made a tiny sound of annoyance, but followed, too.

That blue-haired boy had the most breathtaking eyes. He sat on a bench, breathing in a rose.

"I wasn't lying, was I?" Asked Mantis.

Butterfly paused on a white blossom, opening and closing his wings. "Yes. He is a most beautiful flower."

As if feeling their eyes, the boy looked up.

"What a beautiful butterfly!" He breathed as he saw.

"Did you hear that? He called me beautiful!" Butterfly happily hopped off, doing a twirl in the air.

"You are beautiful," Spider gave a rare compliment, in a small voice.

"But don't get too close to him. Humans can do strange things, such as trapping you with a net and pinning you to a board," he cautioned.

"I know," Butterfly smiled, twirling again mid-air. "I cannot get too close to him, just as I cannot get too close to you." His smile was forlorn.

And thus, Butterfly, Spider, and Mantis came to share a secret.

Each morning, Butterfly would rise to the eastern-most part of the garden, bringing along Spider and Mantis, to visit that beautiful boy.

"Flying feels so wonderful. It's as if I'm sheathed in wind," said Mantis, as he looked up to Butterfly's fluttering wings.

"Yes, flying is wonderful." Butterfly happily hummed, an ode to the roses - a tune the boy often sang. He was a miserable child whose world consisted only of this garden. His happiness was limited to the minutes spent at the park bench each morning. The boy had been sick, very sick, for a very long time. Many times, Butterfly and his friends had watched from his window sill how he suffered and toiled on his sickbed.

Each day, every day, they always went to the boy. In good weather, in bad weather; when the boy was sick, when the boy was well enough to be out...

And to hear him say, "Today, too, the roses are beautiful."

Spider thought that in this entire garden, there wasn't anything nearly as charming as mornings like that. Mantis waved his arm blades as if in agreement. Butterfly danced, weaving beautiful twirls in the air.

And so, spring passed. Summer passed. Autumn...

Ah, autumn.

Spider lethargically clung to his web, where many carcass leftovers hung. Despite Butterfly's nagging, he had always insisted that "This is my collection" and refused to clean out.

Mantis slouched on a blade of grass, thoughts indiscernible.

Butterfly's rose dwelling withered. Gently, he landed next to Mantis.

"Butterfly, are you well?" Spider asked, his voice feeble.

"I'm all right," came a faint reply.

"Mantis, are you well?" Spider asked again.

"I suppose I am." Mantis's words were level as always.

"I won't be for much longer," Spider said, his breathing turning harsh.

"Autumn has never belonged to us," said Mantis, looking up at the blue sky.

"Last time," Spider said, his voice becoming hoarse. "One last time. Let's see him. " He fell from his web, his eight legs shivering.

Butterfly rose. "Come, we go together." Spirit had left his wings long ago.

For the last time, Butterfly, Spider, and Mantis landed on the boy's window sill. 

The boy was lying in his bed, his eyes open.

"..."

Butterfly tumbled in. He saw a light like stardust in the boy's eyes.

"What...a beautiful...butterfly..." The boy smiled with effort, and struggled to lift his hand.

For the first and last time, Butterfly landed on his finger. A moment later, the boy's hand dropped.

Butterfly thought, if he could cry, his tears would have sodden his wings.

Spider lay stomach-up on the window sill, legs curled. His body was already stiff.

Mantis leaned against the window frame, gazing at the dead boy.

"Thank you, Butterfly," he said, but his voice was already barely audible. He shuddered as he summoned his last strength. Like a warrior, he used his last breath to dive from the window sill.

Butterfly's antennae trembled.

He rested on the boy's lip.

His wings rustled, and golden dust came showering down.

Butterfly thought of summer nights. Spider hung dismembered bits of prey like trophies on his net, bragging to him and Mantis. Butterfly thought of summer mornings. Mantis soundlessly dissected a flower, so both him and Spider could palate rose saccharine.

Butterfly also thought of how, under summer stars, there once was a trio of rose-scented critters who lay upon fallen petals to gaze at constellations over above in awe.

All beautiful things would thus perish, ne?

He kissed the boy's lip as he took off, for the last time.

He fell.

"Aphrodite." Saga whispered, marking over the page with a red pen. "Why write a story this depressing?"

"I don't know," he smiled, gazing into Saga's eyes. Deathmask's amusement floated through the window. "Probably..." Probably, the roses of Pisces Temple were lonely.

"Ne, Aphro. Why did everyone have to die?" Deathmask squinted as Shura wrapped bandage over his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your stupid paper, of course." It even got the highest mark.

"You know, there actually was an alternate ending," Aphrodite mumbled.

"Oh?"

"Butterfly was torn limb from limb by the boy. His left wing and half his body was ground to dust. His right wing and some other parts were lost amongst rocks. To reconstruct Butterfly's left half, Spider killed countless insects, taking a piece from each's anatomy. To recover Butterfly's right half, Mantis sawed through rocks using his own hand, day after day."

...
Deathmask and Shura exchanged a look.

"Silly, isn't it? They knew they were all going to die anyway come autumn." Aphrodite rested his chin over his wrist, his feet dangling.

"Silly." Shura tightened the bandage over his hand, his voice quiet.

And that was all there was.

So, all in all, suddenly I'm a lot fonder of these three. Possibly because I recently drew them, but definitely especially because I came across the above. In its very unique way, that was more profound than I would have ever imagined a fanfic could be. Using a simple childish fairy-tale format to narrate Team Mid-years' history with Saga, with such fearsomely accurate and meaningful symbolism? Keeping in mind the exact nature of Saga's "illness", the meaning behind his "beauty", and the certainty of "autumn"? This author is a force to be reckoned with. My hat (and my jaw) is off on the fucking floor.

For some reason, what especially touched me was how subtle yet extremely powerful was that one soft hint of exactly what DM felt for Aphro (dat "You are beautiful..."), despite a complete lack of any slash. This is the kind of shipping I immensely enjoy.