A/N: Hi everyone...me again. These are drabbles and one-shot stories about the Goldies, all are related to one theme: photograph. I will update it every one or two weeks. Please review :). For Akiko, thank you sooooo much for your suggestion. I'll include the haircut thing in this shot stories as well. When? ^^ Please wait :) And for Pitaloka, thanks for supporting the "chubby cheeks" thing. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Saint Seiya characters

Summary: A drabble about Shaka

Setting: After Hades and after my own fics "Powerless"

Trash

All people in the common room in Kido's mansion widened their eyes. Some of them widened their mouths as well. They stared at a slight skinny man who got down the stairs. Yes, a man whose long blond hair had already touched his thighs. It wasn't strange if he simply got down the stairs, but what made his fellows went frozen was: he brought a very large metal table only with one of his hands, as if the table was only a bag of potato chips. It was a very amazing thing from a man whose power had been sealed by Athena.

Shaka seemed unaware of his fellows's stares. He only wanted to get rid of the things he thought were unimportant and only overcrowding his room. He got out of the mansion with the table, and gave it to the couriers who had waited for him.

"Take this," said Shaka as he gave the table to the couriers. It needed three men (correction: three NORMAL men) to bring the table.

"Please wait for some minutes, I will sell the bed, the chairs, and some other trashes as well," said Shaka, and he got in again and got up the stairs to enter his room.

The Goldies and the Bronzies' eyes almost jumped out of their places seeing Shaka brought a spring-bed, once again, only with one hand.

And all of them almost got fainted seeing such skinny Buddha brought a large sofa and a large chest drawer only with his hands.

Shaka took a relief breath as his work completed. He got in the mansion lightly (his fellows still looked at him without even blinking, but Shaka seemed not too care) and got up the stairs to enter his room again. He approached a large box which laid on the corner of his already-emptied room (the room now was only filled with carpet).

"Let us see...which one should I put into the rubbish-bin?" murmured Shaka as he knelt and examined the contents of the box.

"Hmmm...Tripitaka," said Shaka, and he put the book on his right side. "This is not a trash. Next...the magazine Deathmask had ever gave me. Trash," he put the magazine on his left-side. "Old catalogs...trash....Novel about Sidharta...not a trash. Old brochures...trash."

He kept selecting the things he had to throw and the things he didn't have to throw. He went quiet for moments when he picked an old photograph from the box. It was the picture of twelve Goldies when they were still children. They looked happy for they had been successful obtaining their Gold clothes.

"Hmmm," said Shaka. "Trash," and he put the photograph on his left side.

xxx

The next day...

Shaka was thinking about something when he was meditating. He wasn't sure it was an important thing to think, but he had to admit that he was thinking about the thing.

He slowly opened his eyes and stopped meditating. A sigh came out his mouth when he decided to get out of his room and got down the stairs. He walked in dignity as usual, but actually he pushed himself not to run to the large rubbish-bin in the garage.

After arriving in the garage, he searched through the bin. He couldn't prevent himself to breath in relief after finding the thing he looked for.

He put the thing in his pocket and walked into the mansion to head back to his room.

"Hey, Shaka!" someone called.

"What, Saga?" asked Shaka calmly as he stepped up the stairs.

"What were you doing with the bin?" asked Saga in a complete puzzlement. "I saw you searched for something in it, and I have to admit that, coming from you, it's a very odd thing."

Shaka smiled slightly, then said, "I have decided that it will be alright if I keep only one trash."

When he arrived in his room, he took the 'trash' from the pocket.

He smiled, gazing at the picture of twelve Gold Saints which was taken 13 years ago.

"What a trash," he said.

But he put it along with his most valuable novels.

XXX

Next: Milo