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He’s fifteen years old when the symbol burns above his head.
It’s a fiery red, shaped like a hammer. Flames lick the edges, bright and blinding. And yet, he’s engulfed in some unexplainable warmth, some rendition of a comforting hug.
He didn’t expect it. Nobody does, really.
Claims can be fickley. Memorable. Unexpected. Overwhelming. Downright annoying.
Daichi isn’t quite sure what emotion to feel. He settles somewhere between shocked and elated.
People keep clapping him on the back, endless rounds of congratulations coming from campers as the symbol fades away and he’s left cold and lost. His new siblings come and shake his hands, give him hugs, say they knew all along that he was one of them. The occupants of Cabin Nine are kind to him, offering to go get his meager belongings from the Hermes cabin to transfer to his new summer home.
He doesn’t know how to tell them that he can do it himself. Doesn’t know if he even has the voice to say that he’s not looking forward to uprooting some of his life yet again.
“Daichi!” A familiar face bounds through the small crowd, shoving people aside to make way for his rightful place in the front. There’s a soft gold laurel wreath nestled in his silver hair, tilted just so to make it look royally laidback. Daichi’s heart does a little flip and plummet, unable to adapt to the presence of his best friend.
“Alright, alright, break it up. Let the man breathe and get his own things.”When he gets close enough, Suga—ever the lifesaver—punches Daichi in the stomach. He thinks this will be the closest thing he'll ever get to a hug. “Congratulations. You’re gonna be famous for the day.”
“Thanks.” He wheezes. Suga grins, dazzling as ever. Everything feels a little hot under his gaze, and he resists the urge to squirm. Someone snickers behind him, and Daichi refuses to give Kuroo and Bokuto the satisfaction of seeing him flustered. He’d rather be eaten by Hades’ three-headed guard dog than admit some of the safe-kept secrets that those two, unfortunately, know about. He regrets his moments of weakness in the face of their teasing and banter.
Suga either genuinely doesn’t notice them or purposely chooses to ignore them, playfully bumping shoulders with Daichi, both swaying a little with the movement. “C’mon, let’s go pack up your stuff. It’s moving day.”
Daichi manages to throw a glare over his shoulder as they leave the dispersing crowd. Bokuto and Kuroo wave them off with wild gestures, the little fiends suppressing cackles as they run away to gods know where.
Daichi hopes they go canoeing and end up in the lake.
Suga takes them the long way to the Hermes cabin. Kids wave hello as they walk across the campgrounds, many calling out their congratulations to Daichi. It feels weird to be the center of attention.
They end up on the beach, shoes in hand, toes in the sand. The sun’s setting and dinner will be ready soon. He still hasn’t gone to gather his things. He doesn’t mind. He’d rather take a thousand different routes and detours if it meant spending more time with Suga.
Suga challenges him to a skipping stone contest. They sort through different pebbles and rocks, setting aside smoother ones, pointing out shells and sea glass. Daichi discreetly pockets a few for later. He has plans for the shinier ones.
They take turns skipping rocks through the water. The sounds of the beach calm him.
“We’ve come a long way since I saved your ass from that giant scorpion, huh?” He glances over at Suga, who’s already smiling at him. The wreath in his hair gleams in the dying sun, and he looks so breathtaking in this moment that Daichi has no doubt about Suga’s immortal lineage. He selfishly thinks that Suga could rival the gods themselves in beauty alone.
He responds teasingly, does his best to suppress the unhealthy amount of adoration in his lungs. “If I recall correctly, you were knocked out two seconds after me.”
Suga lets out a wounded noise, defensively placing a hand over his chest. “That’s not how I remember it!”
“You just refuse to believe that Asahi was the one who dragged us both over the border by sheer power and anxiety.”
“Tch.” Suga clicks his tongue, looking a little deflated as he throws another rock into the water. It almost hits a naiad, who flicks her billowing hair and sends them both an annoyed glare. Daichi raises his hand in apology but she’s already gone, disappearing through a flurry of bubbles.
They eventually expend their little supply of rocks.
Suga plops down on the sand, drawing his knees to his chest as he stares out at Long Island Sound. There’s a bright gleam reflected in his eyes, like amber gems crafted by the earth’s underground riches.
Daichi squats down next to him, tracing small doodles in the sand to distract himself. The grains dig under his nails but he doesn’t mind the texture that much. In a way, it’s familiar. He lets his fingers drag back and forth, instinct taking over, glancing away to squint up at the setting sun. The reflection bounces off the water, illuminating whatever may be hidden in the shadows around them.
The beach was always a safe space for them. Camp Half-Blood may be a safe place for demigods, but for Dachi and Suga, this beach was their hideaway from the hideaway. This beach has seen it all. The fears. The tears. The confusion and the anger. The many, many games of skipping stones. The laughter and shenanigans. Daichi doesn’t quite know what he’d do if this beach didn’t exist. If Suga didn’t exist. If he didn’t get claimed. If they both were never claimed.
He speaks up first, voices some of his thoughts, some of his insecurities. “I dunno. It just... Feels weird. Being claimed. I’ve spent three summers here with no idea of who my dad could be. It’s been radio silence. Why now? What’s so special about today?”
Suga doesn’t reply, too busy watching Daichi’s fingers as he maps out patterns, figures, unknown blueprints into the sand. “Don’t you think that that’s kind of proof of who your dad is?” He points out, tracing over the indented drawings in the sand. Daichi remains silent.
“You know you belong here, right? We belong here. We survived and met at this camp for a reason. It’s kind of like the Fates were rooting for us, y’know?” Suga grins, silver hair gleaming in the sunlight.
He must have made a face—most likely full of doubt—because Suga chucks a small pebble at the side of his head. It stings. He finds comfort in the pain. Helps to clear his mind a little more. Suga is glaring at him, mouth twisted in a defiant pout. Daichi wants to laugh but decides to hold it in. He doesn’t need another rock lobbed at him.
“We can face anything.” It’s said with so much reassurance, so much confidence, that he almost believes it. Hands reach out. Fingers intertwine. “As long as we’re together.”
There’s a moment of silence. They stare at each other. Suga’s eyes sparkle. Daichi’s mouth feels like cotton.
The sun’s set. Someone calls their names. Dinner’s waiting.
Suga pulls him to his feet, warm hands on his own. Daichi feels a bit like he’s on top of the world. They brush off sand and grab their shoes, shake those off too. He realizes he doesn’t want to leave this bubble they’ve created. He doesn’t want whatever this moment is between them to end.
“We never did get your things, huh?” He snorts, lets Suga tug him along up the beach, onto grass, back towards camp. Back towards home. Back towards life, and friends, and new family, and something more with this brilliant boy by his side.
He’s fifteen years old when he realizes that being a half-blood isn’t all about being claimed.