Chapter Text
Gon is fourteen years old when Aunt Mito tells him he’s the son of sea and man.
He’s surprised, but then he’s not. It shouldn’t make sense, but it does. Because how else could he can talk to fish and stay underwater for hours on end, finding pearls and tiny seashells for Aunt Mito to string into jewelry and wind-chimes and scatter around their little house by the sea?
“You said Ging died,” is all he says and Aunt Mito shakes her head.
“He’s not dead,” she says quietly, a hidden heartbreak in her words. “But he’s not here, either. And that’s all that matters.”
“Where is he, then?” Gon asks next.
“Far from here. I don’t know where, exactly. But I remember him speaking about a camp in America…you’ll find others like you there, like your father. They can help prepare you for what’s out there.”
Gon stays silent at that. Ging is as much a demigod as Gon, but everything Gon knows about him ends there.
Aunt Mito stands, leaves their dining room to enter the kitchen. Gon hears the draws opening and closing, smells the fresh salt air rolling in from the open window down the hall. His adoptive mother returns with a wooden box and a sad, sad look in her honey-brown eyes.
“Here,” she says and holds the box out to him. “You should see this before you go.”
Camp Half-Blood is miles and days and dreams away from Whale Island and Gon ages a month and four days before he finally sets his eyes on the first wooden cabins off in the distance. He crosses the Camp’s border less than twenty-four hours after turning fifteen years old.
“My name is Gon,” he tells the first teens who find him- they’re a few years older than he is, with multicolored beads around their necks and calloused, sunburned hands.
He searches their faces for any touch of resemblance, a shared nose or a scattering of freckles, but finds none.
“My name is Gon Freecss,” he tells the dark-haired centaur with wiry glasses after the teens leave him. “Ging Freecss is my dad.”
The centaur- who’s introduced to him as Mister Wing- raises an eyebrow. “I have not heard that name in many years.”
Gon sits up a little bit straighter. “Do you know where he is?”
The centaur shakes his head and disappointment crashes over Gon like a wave.
“And your other parent?” Mister Wing asks in return. “Of which god or goddess are you descended from?”
Gon’s never been good with names. He forgot the title of his godly parent only heartbeats after Aunt Mito made him repeat it back to her.
“The sea,” he says instead because that resonates more with him than anything else.
The centaur’s eyebrows jump up even higher.
Poseidon’s Cabin is as large as it is empty.
Gon hates the way his footsteps echo as he walks down the wooden floor, but he loves the big windows facing the sea.
He’s never been to Long Island before, where Camp-Half Blood sits upon a tall hill overlooking the water. But it’s still an island, surrounded by the ocean on all four sides, just Gon’s home. Like Whale Island.
And Gon is happy with that, if nothing else.
There’s whispers wherever Gon goes- in the dining area, in the armory, in the stable. They follow Gon like his shadow and it’s weird for him to be in a place where no one knows his name.
He meets two older teens his first full day in the camp and they become his guide and close friends in the span of hours.
Kurapika has windswept blond hair and grey eyes that burn scarlet and bright, ruby red. Leorio wears glasses he doesn’t need and can’t shoot an arrow straight to save his life, but he wants to be a doctor so it’s not his life he’s worried about.
“What do you want to do here, Gon?” Kurapika asks kindly and Gon doesn’t even think before blurting out:
“I want to find my dad! But…I need to train first. Aunt Mito said that monsters would hurt me if I don’t grow strong.”
“Aunt Mito?” Leorio repeats, questioning.
“She’s my mom!”
Leorio and Kurapika share confused looks over the tips of Gon’s spikes but don’t press further.
“Your mother is right about one thing-” Kurapika says and aims with his bow. When he lets go, the arrow flies through the air and buries itself deep into the target’s center.
Gon gasps in awe and Leorio glowers, grumbling under his breath about how ‘it’s the last time he’ll ever practice weaponry with the son of Athena-’
Kurapika gives Gon a small smile and hands over the bow.
“-you’ll need to practice if you’re ever going to become strong enough to find your father.”
There’s lots of strange things in Camp Half-Blood, things Gon’s never seen before, things that make him think he’s still back on Whale Island, fast asleep and dreaming.
A drink that can heal any injury, but can kill you if you have too much.
A real-life dragon that guards the Camp borders.
Nymphs and satyrs and creatures that come right out of the legends Aunt Mito used to read to Gon as a child.
And then there’s the shadow with hair made of stars and electric-blue eyes.
“Hey, Leorio-” Gon nudges the gangly teen who’s currently spitting fire at a scowling Kurapika, “-who’s that, over there?”
“Huh?! Who’re you-” Leorio follows Gon’s finger to the pale boy sitting alone three tables away and falls quiet. The boy’s not doing much, just pushing his food around his plate and keeping his distance from everyone and everything around him. But Leorio’s sudden silence implies there’s something more to this than what Gon can immediately see.
“Leorio?” Gon asks. “What’s wrong? You don’t know him?”
“Gon,” Kurapika says in a hushed tone. “It’s better if you don’t ask about him.”
“But, why? He’s not doing anything wro-”
“Gon.”
Kurapika’s voice is hard, unyielding. His gaze warns Gon not to pry so Gon swallows his words before they have the chance to crawl out of his mouth.
Leorio and Kurapika are back at it a few seconds later, spatting out insults and jibes like it’s a contest and they’ll be cursed for all of eternity if they lose. Gon picks at his lamb and spends the rest of the meal sneaking glances at the isolated moonbeam of a boy just a few meters away.