Archive of Our Own

“He is half of my soul, as the poets say. He will be dead soon, and his honour is all that will remain.”

—Madeline Miller

— —

Late at night, Daichi stares at the ceiling and contemplates death. He considers its purpose, its effects, his father’s pragmatic outlook on his line of work.

He supposes that it’s only natural he thinks about dying as the son of Thanatos, the god of death himself.

Many mortals see death as an ending, the silence that follows the satisfying thwack of a thick book closing. Daichi knows better, he knows that death is more akin to the sound of a page turning, the nameless feeling of being presented with something new and unforeseen. 

He’s even seen the Underworld, though not in person. He’s dreamed of it, the burning pits of the Fields of Punishment, the sprawling meadows of Asphodel, the euphoria of Elysium, and even the ornate House of Hades. He’s talked with its inhabitants, ones he knows well, and even guided a few souls on their way there.

Daichi knows death better than any mortal. He can feel it coming, he knows what it’s like, who it brings. 

Daichi knows death, but that doesn’t stop him from resenting it at times. 

Death is a cruel separation, to him it’s gazing through a one-way mirror at those you miss the most, knowing it may be long before you can hold them close once more.

He can see the souls of everyone around him, the swirling clouds of everything that they are; their love, anger, grief, and joy. While they serve as cruel reminders that one day the people before him will no longer be here someday, they also make up the most beautifully human part of the self. 

The brain is mechanical, a firing of synapses and communication of messages that permit the body’s operation. It works with emotion, but this work is limited to the release of chemicals and the communication of memories.

Bone and muscle keep humanity upright; they are the tool of progress and one of the key enablers of civilization.

The soul is inherently incorporeal, a mist-like manifestation of the self that sits behind the sternum. It holds the dearest human-like qualities like the capacity to love, to feel, to dream and persevere. Where the body inevitably fails, the spirit persists, finding a new home deep beneath the ground until it is born anew. 

Daichi pays careful attention to the souls of those around him, acting as a guardian of sorts. He ensures their health, their happiness. Daichi notices changes in emotion on a deeper level, seeing the most foundational shifts in the state of spirits. He soothes it however he can, kind words and support in place of bandages and ambrosia. 

His father’s ichor in his veins gives him power over them. Daichi can send lost souls on their way, he can heal the broken, he can call on the forgotten and departed, using their power for his gain. He can turn weaker monsters to dust in moments of focus, fracturing their spiritual forms like glass on stone. 

Tonight, he ruminates on the existence of souls, considering his unique connection to them and their significance. He thinks in particular about the constant tugging of his own, urging him to follow its directions. He thinks of what he knows he’ll find at its destination.

His train of thought is interrupted by an urgent rapping at his door. He jerks upright, staring at the closed door of the Hades cabin. The knocking persists and he sighs, padding over to the door and yanking it open.

Starlight hair is the first thing that Daichi notices upon looking outside. Next are a tired pair of eyes, their hazel irises that glow slightly if Daichi watches them closely. Koushi leans on his doorframe, his arm still outstretched and his hand closed in a fist.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Koushi declares. “I am making a formal request that you restrict your thinking to business hours to let the rest of us-” he gestures to himself, then pauses, finding the rest of his words. “Catch a break.”

“That is definitely not how that works.”

“You could make it work if you put your mind to it,” Koushi suggests.

Daichi huffs, “You have to see the contradiction in that sentence alone.”

Koushi purses his lips, squinting and reflecting slightly. Daichi thinks that if he pays close attention, he can feel the weary gears turning. Two puzzle pieces click together and Koushi smiles breathlessly, “You get my point. I’m tired and you’re keeping me up.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t sleep.” Daichi leans forward, “You could come in if you want. I’ll make sure we’re up before breakfast, don’t worry.”

Koushi looks behind him, Daichi can see the bubble of anxiety swirl in his chest at the fear of being caught. “You think it’ll be okay?” He asks tentatively.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

The bubble dissipates. “Okay.”

Daichi grabs Koushi’s hand, gently tugging him inside the cabin and quietly closing the door behind them. When their palms touch, a twofold sensation of unadulterated love resounds throughout the centre of Daichi’s chest. The tugging sensation ceases, longing replaced with satisfaction.

He’s thankful that Kenma’s gone home for the holidays, a true rarity. The thick curtain Kenma set up to conceal his bunk lies open, the bed made, symbols of its vacancy.

Koushi crawls into Daichi’s bunk, burrowing under the heavy covers. Daichi lays down next to him, pulling Koushi close. He lets his hands wrap around Koushi to rest on the centre of his chest. He can feel the slow, relaxed heartbeat underneath his fingertips, a rhythmic contraction and relaxation. 

“Sorry I woke you,” he murmurs.

“I’m not upset, I couldn’t sleep either,” Koushi responds. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It wasn’t a bad train of thought.”

“Maybe not, but I did feel you get sad.”

Daichi leans forward, kissing Koushi’s forehead gently. “You’re here now, I’m okay. You just get some sleep.”

Koushi yawns, “You too. We both need it.”

Daichi hums his assent, smiling gently to himself when Koushi inevitably wiggles closer, his eyes drifting shut.

He doesn’t rest yet, even when he can tell Koushi’s fallen asleep. He watches the stillness of Koushi’s silver eyelashes, punctuated only by occasional movement. He watches his hand rise and fall on Koushi’s chest, counting the heartbeats. He watches the peaceful swirling of a stark white soul, truly at ease and comfortable; he tries not to pay attention to the parts where it fractures and the soul dissipates slightly, a familiar grief gaping a hole in his own chest. 

Koushi is here, Koushi is fine, he repeats in his head like a mantra. Daichi pulls Koushi in closer and tries to stifle his guilt so as not to wake his boyfriend. 

Koushi is here.

Koushi is fine.

— —

It’s a few hours before they’re due to leave when Tobio finds Daichi. Their quest departs at lunch. Takeda will drive him, Asahi, and Koushi to the nearest Greyhound station and they’ll travel northwest from there on their own. 

Tension bunches up every part of Tobio’s body, his eyes shift around. In the centre of his chest, a cloud of brilliant blue swirls like a whirlpool, perhaps the most intense it’s ever been since Daichi’s met him.

He watches the emotions contained in the soul.

Anger.

Fear.

Doubt.

Loneliness.

“I have to ask you for a favour,” Tobio says abruptly, forgoing even a greeting. Daichi doesn’t take it personally, he knows that Tobio gets tunnel vision when he’s emotional. He also knows the root of the other boy’s fear, even without the prophecy hanging over their heads.

“Of course,” Daichi replies. “What do you need?”

“Don’t let it be him,” Tobio glowers, fear tightly knitting his brows and setting his mouth in a thin line. “Don’t let Koushi be the one the prophecy mentioned. I can’t-” Tobio’s voice breaks, and he pauses, looking behind Daichi to the crest of Half-Blood Hill, trying desperately to blink the tears from his eyes. “I can’t lose him,” he mutters, voice weak. “He’s my family. He told me he’d stick around for me.”

Daichi puts his hand on Tobio’s arm. “I’ll take care of him, don’t worry. I’ll do everything in my power to keep Koushi safe.”

“Promise he’ll come home,” Tobio chokes out. He looks angry, furious even, at the idea of losing Koushi. Daichi knows that Tobio holds onto his older brother like a lifeline.

“I promise. I’ll make sure Koushi comes home.”

Tobio nods, stepping back. He scrubs at his eyes with the sleeves of his coat, sniffling. “Good,” he says. Tobio turns around, leaving as suddenly as he came. 

“Tobio?” Daichi calls out.

Tobio half-turns, his piercing blue eyes are bloodshot and puffy.

“Don’t give Koushi too much trouble before we go. He worries about you,” Daichi trails off. “And let him have a proper goodbye. Just so he can feel at ease.”

Tobio nods again. He takes off across the field, disappearing into the Zeus cabin. 

Promise he’ll come home.

He’s glad Tobio came to him, but that vow was already a given in his mind. The Fates are cruel, but Daichi has every expectation that when the time comes, he’ll let it be him. 

What does he have left to lose by then anyway?

— —

You shall go north to barren land, 

Retrieve great power from evil's hand. 

A hero’s sacrifice; his untimely fall. 

The son of Death will lose it all. 

An unbreakable bond to birth or fade. 

To stand with courage, yet be afraid.

— —

There is doubt clawing its way through Daichi’s chest; it threatens to climb through his esophagus. The worst part is that this doubt is not his own.

Koushi sits next to him on the wicker couch, eyes blankly staring down at the camp from where they overlook it on the hill. 

There have been good days and bad days since they got back. On good days, Koushi tries his best to be his usual vibrant self, striking up conversation, and sticking close to Daichi. On bad days, he feels like a shadow, quiet and distant. 

It’s a bad day today.

Daichi knows how this works, he knows it like the back of his hand. He understands that recovery isn’t just a straight upwards line. It doesn’t make it any easier to see Koushi like this.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. He slides a hand into Koushi’s open palm and can’t help but feel relieved when he feels cold thin fingers clasp back.

“Why did you do it?” Koushi says, his voice slightly rough from a lack of use.

Before Daichi would’ve had to ask, “Do what?” He doesn’t now. He knows like the snap of his fingers what Koushi is asking.

Why did you tie us together? Why did you give up part of yourself for my sake? 

Tears well up in Daichi’s eyes and he takes a shaky breath. “Do you… do you wish I didn’t?”

“Not exactly,” Koushi replies, voice a bit too level. “I’m grateful. I just… don’t understand it.”

The tears in his eyes make the image of Koushi slightly blurry. Daichi leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. A newly familiar nagging resides under his sternum, telling him to be with Koushi, to hold him close. 

Through the cracks in between his fingers, Daichi can see stark white to his left; it’s almost entirely patchy and fractured, no longer holding the same majesty it once did. Daichi loves it all the same. 

He understands the plight of Orpheus, he’d go to hell and back for this boy, no matter how broken he is.

A tentative hand comes to rest on Daichi’s back and even through his thick coat, the nagging in his chest subsides. “I did it because it’s you,” he admits.

Koushi’s fingers twitch slightly. “But you didn’t know it would work. What if something happened to you?”

“I would’ve been okay with that.”

“You can’t say that for sure, Daichi,” Koushi replies. Koushi feels upset and a shameful part of Daichi is thankful; anything is better than the numbness he’s been sitting alongside. Koushi continues, “There are fates far worse than death.”

There’s nothing worse than living after you’re gone, Daichi thinks. Koushi hears it too, Daichi can feel the doubt swell and manipulate his thoughts in Koushi’s mind. 

He’s lying.

He doesn’t mean it.

“I mean that,” Daichi says aloud. “I would do anything for you.”

“This is permanent, Daichi,” Koushi reminds him, like Daichi doesn’t know that already. “You could grow sick of me, I could never get better… I could drag you down with me.”

“That won’t happen,” Daichi vows. “I won’t let it.”

Koushi drops his hand. He’s shutting down again. 

Daichi leans back. He lets it happen, there’s no sense in giving Koushi the impression that he has to fake it for him. 

“I’m sorry,” Koushi croaks. “I’m trying.”

“I know. I’m not upset with you, it’s okay.”

Koushi rests his head on Daichi’s shoulder, his grey hair sprawling on Daichi’s coat. It looks a little bit longer lately. 

“It’ll get better, Kou. Things won’t always be like this.”

“You’re sure?” He asks, voice wavering slightly.

“Positive.”

Daichi is truthful. This time Koushi believes him. 

— —

The silence that stretches in the aftermath of Koushi reading out the prophecy is deafening. The other counsellors look around, desperately not wanting to be the first person to comment on the bomb Koushi’s just dropped.

Daichi can tell that Koushi is afraid, no matter how level he’s kept his voice and hidden the trembling of his hands; stark, perfect white swirls in fear. Koushi has been handed a suicide mission.

Even Takeda looks disturbed. He was the one to get the message from Zeus himself, saying that he has a quest for his eldest son. Takeda has known Koushi for seven years, he took Koushi in when he was only ten. It’s Daichi’s guess that Takeda is much closer to being Koushi’s father than Zeus could ever be, but he wouldn’t dare verbalize that.

“Alright,” Ukai says. “That’s a start.” He’s purposefully neglecting to comment on the two lines that concern everyone the most. 

Hajime looks between Daichi and Koushi, a look of empathetic sadness in his eyes. 

“We should figure out who the other two members of the quest should be. Once that’s sorted you can get ready to go,” Takeda says, trying hard not to act like he’ll be sending off one of his campers to their death. 

It’s not a guarantee. Prophecies are tricky. Sometimes they create certain expectations, only to subvert them at the last possible minute. This one is fairly specific though.

Two particular lines ring through Daichi’s head, narrated by Koushi’s clear voice:

A hero’s sacrifice; his untimely fall. 

The son of Death will lose it all. 

Chances are, if Daichi goes it will be him. The two lines in succession denote that much. He knows that Koushi shares the same understanding, his boyfriend looks like he’s about to be sick. 

Daichi raises a hand, “The prophecy mentions me, that means-”

“Sorry, could I speak with Daichi alone?” Koushi’s eyes are frantic, they say, Don’t do this.

Ukai glances uncomfortably between the two of them, “Of course. We’ll, uh, wait for you before continuing.”

Koushi nods and storms out of the room. Daichi stands, awkwardly avoiding the glances of the other counsellors. Koushi is waiting in the hallway; Daichi can see that he’s a mess of fear and anger. He drags Daichi down the stairs into the basement, closing the door behind him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” He shouts. Daichi has known Koushi for two years and this is the first time Koushi has yelled at him.

“I’m going with you,” Daichi says firmly. 

“Are you insane?! Can you think about this seriously?” 

“I am serious.”

“Daichi,” Koushi pleads. Beneath his sternum lies a void of fear, guilt, and pain. Daichi wishes he could reach out and touch it, calm it down. But he won’t back down. Koushi continues, “Didn’t you hear?! Everything, Daichi. I can’t let that happen to you.”

“It’ll happen either way. The Oracle’s prophesied it, we can’t change that.”

Denial.

“You don’t know that for sure. You can’t just be resigned to this!”

Daichi smiles bitterly, “We don’t have much choice in the matter.”

Anger.

“Would you quit it!” Koushi shouts again. Daichi hopes that the other counsellors can’t hear him. The air smells of ozone and he can sense the raw power that accompanies Koushi’s frustration. “I won’t let you go, Daichi. I’m leading this quest and there is no fucking way you’re stepping over the camp lines with me. I’d sooner go alone.”

Daichi’s hands shake. “You know you can’t control me. That isn’t us, Kou. It makes sense that I go with you.”

Bargaining.

Frustrated tears well up in Koushi’s eyes; he blinks them away furiously, trying to keep his composure. “Daichi, please. I’ll do anything, just stay. Don’t play the hero for once in your life.”

“Koushi,” he pleads in turn. “We both know I’ve made up my mind. I’m not letting you do this without me.”

Sadness.

Koushi folds in on himself, trying to hide the hot tears now flowing down his face in rivulets. Daichi wraps his arms around him, cradling his head so it rests on his shoulders. Koushi’s body shakes with the force of his emotions.

“I’m here, Kou,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Koushi’s hands claw at his back desperately clinging onto the cotton material of his t-shirt. Daichi doesn’t think he’s ever seen him cry this hard before. 

“Why now?” Koushi whimpers. “He’s barely acknowledged my existence for seventeen years, why now?”

Daichi doesn’t have an answer, he wishes he did. He holds Koushi tighter, trying to ignore his own tears.

They stay like that for a while, sobbing in each other’s arms surrounded by jugs of nectar. Daichi awkwardly considers the meeting above them, waiting for their return so they can resume. He can’t stop himself from crying though, not if he tries. Just because he’s come to terms with what may play out doesn’t mean that he’s accepted it. Daichi is seventeen. He’s lived a lot in those seventeen years, he knows full well that life is cruel. Camp Half-Blood allows him to delude himself, Koushi allows him to delude himself. That’s all crumbling away now, he’s remembering what the real world is like.

Resignation.

Koushi pulls back first, wiping the tears from Daichi’s cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he says, clasping Daichi’s face in his cold hands. 

“It’s okay,” he replies. “I understand.” Daichi always understands Koushi.

Sooner or later they go back upstairs. Everyone is generous enough to ignore how long they’ve been gone for and the obvious fact that they’ve both been crying. 

Koushi asks Asahi to join them and he says yes in a heartbeat, even though Daichi can tell that he’s just as scared as they are. 

They’ll leave tomorrow. They’ll leave and only two of them will return. 

Daichi is just thankful that chances are it will be him. 

— —

On a scorching August afternoon, Shoyo abruptly hands Daichi a book entitled, Physical Applications of the Mythological: A Theoretical Guide by Dr. Damien Wright. One chapter is dog-eared. 

“What are you doing?” Daichi asks dumbfounded. He’s never seen Shoyo with a book before today. He wants to ask Shoyo where he got it from, but he’s also fairly certain he won’t want the answer.

“Read the chapter I bookmarked,” Shoyo says seriously. 

“Okay… are you going to tell me why?”

Shoyo frowns slightly, “I can’t explain why. All I know is that if you don’t, something bad is gonna happen.”

Shoyo is mildly prophetic; if he tells Daichi to read some old book, he’ll do it. 

Daichi stashes the book under his pillow, feigning ignorance when Tooru wanders the dining hall asking about the whereabouts of the Athena cabin’s missing book. 

Late that night, when Kenma is busy playing whatever game Tetsurou has smuggled into camp for him this week, Daichi opens the old book. 

Dr. Damien Wright was a son of Athena who lived during the early 20th century. It seems like his research was centred around using magic and demigod abilities to enhance humanity.

The chapter Shoyo’s haphazardly dog-eared for him is titled, On Spirits, Their Bonds, and Leveraging the Power of Connected Souls.

Daichi’s fingers trace the heading, intrigue fizzling in his chest. The chapter reads:

Myth, or in our case, written and oral history, dictates that humanity was initially created as two beings fused as one. These beings had two heads, four legs and four arms, and most importantly two spirits. These separate consciousnesses collaborated as one, forming the gestalt of one whole being. 

These early humans were powerful creatures, traversing the land with great speed and mental fortitude. The gods quickly became fearful of their own creation, and Zeus made the decision to sever each being in half, splitting their bodies and souls into two beings. 

Humanity was bereft at this separation. Lacking the unity of two spirits, humankind was clumsy and divided, this state persevering today. Our bodies were mutilated and suffered a great loss of physical power. 

There is the philosophical belief that humankind’s goal is to be reunited with the one whom they were severed from eons ago, that we are searching for completeness. I myself do not necessarily believe this to be true. I am a single man and I have no such desires for a romantic partner, though I am heavily intrigued by the implication of two souls tied together and the potential benefits.

I have spent many years researching the quality of souls, their role in the human physiology, and most importantly, their unique opportunity for power.

For the sake of this chapter, I wish to explore one key question: Is it possible to bond two (or more) souls together, and what abilities this would enable?

Daichi is only a page in and he finds himself with more questions than what he started with. 

He continues:

This thought experiment would be easiest if I could leverage the power of a demigod with the ability to control souls. I am in contact with a daughter of Hades, and while her information on the souls of the deceased was quite beneficial, she has no such control over the living. 

Regardless, I do believe that should one have the power, they very well could fuse a connection between two souls, creating a convergence of spirit similar to what humanity used to innately hold. I wouldn’t recommend attempting to fuse two bodies, as humanity has seemingly evolved past the need for this doubled physical form and replicating our early ancestors would cause more harm than good, especially when considering the individual lives of each soul as well as social standing.

Let’s say, for the sake of discussion, one was able to mould their soul and a loved one’s soul together. I have outlined the possible benefits through conversation with demigods, magical creatures, old minor gods, and Lady Hestia herself, who thought my work was intriguing. 

First, these souls would share a deepened emotional connection. They would feel things in sync and easily identify the feelings of their “other half.” Strong thoughts and wishes may even be shared through this connection, enabling a spiritual level of communication.

Secondly, the life forces of these two separate beings would converge. This means that upon one “half’s” death, the other “half” would immediately perish. I also theorize that these two souls would experience shared pain.

This next benefit is the most compelling. Zeus severed the connection between two souls eons ago because he feared the power that two humans existing in unity held. Should this bond be established, even on a solely spiritual level, the power these two beings (demigod or otherwise) hold should gradually increase. At its peak, it will only resemble a shadow of the power humanity used to have, but it will be significantly greater.

My friend, the aforementioned daughter of Hades, believes a bond as strong as this one would persevere through death and rebirth, closely resembling the idea of “soulmates.”

Wright explains his theory in depth, theorizing how someone could bond two souls together. It’s elaborate and almost alchemic, but Daichi skims over his instructions. He could do it if he wants to— he could fuse two souls. He wouldn’t even need Wright’s Frankenstein-esque manual. 

He has no reason to, but if Shoyo’s foresight is correct, then he may not have a choice in the matter someday. 

Daichi tucks the book under his mattress, mentally repeating Wright’s theory like a prayer. He’ll need this knowledge someday. He won’t fail when the time comes.

— —

Daichi washes his hands in the bathroom of an empty Alaskan bus terminal. There is blood on his hands and he can’t get it off. The water is too cold and the soap is too diluted.

He blinks the tears from his eyes, scrubbing until the skin is pink and clean. His chest is filled with a stabbing pain, leaving him tired and uncomfortable. He eventually dries his hands under the loud and aggressive blow dryers, then returns to the mirror. His face is discoloured in the fluorescent lights with dark bags under his eyes.

He figures it’s fine. Asahi isn’t one to judge, especially considering the circumstances. At least he might get to rest a bit more now. Their bus doesn't come until morning and last time Daichi checked, it’s only 3am. 

He buries his hands in his coat pockets, ready to find his way back to the benches at their platform until he sees a familiar whip of midnight black wings and he stops short.

Across the hall, stands his father. Thanatos is an important-looking man, his skin dark with a grand pair of navy and black wings on his back. He has forgone his traditional garb for a suit tonight. His long dark hair is pulled back from his face in a bun. His golden eyes stare into the depths of Daichi’s soul, judging his every mortal act.

Daichi’s heart stills, exhaustion giving way to fear. He has to get back to his friends. He needs to know if he’s too late.

Thanatos furrows his brow slightly, “You can relax. I’m not here on business.”

“Then why are you here?” There’s a quiver in Daichi’s voice, he can’t help it.

“To see my only son. You smell of death, Daichi.”

Daichi says nothing, staring at his snow boots and trying to blink away tears.

Thanatos sighs, “I’m curious about something and I was hoping you could explain it to me.”

“Yes, father,” Daichi responds.

Thanatos’ golden eyes rove over Daichi, his dark wings glimmering in the fluorescent lights. “There was a name on my list of souls that I was due to collect today. Koushi Sugawara, if I recall correctly. When I looked again earlier, it was gone. I would’ve felt it if you brought him back, but I didn’t. What did you do?

Daichi squares his shoulders, “I connected his soul to my own.”

Thanatos tilts his head, intrigue glowing in his eyes, “How interesting. That was enough to keep him grounded in life?”

“It was… challenging. But I think I succeeded.”

“Time will tell,” the God of Death responds. His wings spread infinitesimally wider, their feathers fluffing up. His father is proud. “You are quite powerful.”

“Thank you, father.” 

Daichi hesitates, “… You promise you won’t take him?”

Thanatos cocks an eyebrow, “Your boy? He was supposed to die today. You understand the importance of death; it is order. I enforce its laws without discrimination.” Daichi’s eyes widen, protests on the tip of his tongue. “But, if a name is not on my list, I won’t collect their spirit. I deal with the dead. He will die, like all mortals, but that time seems like it hasn’t come.”

Daichi lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding, “Thank you.”

“Be careful, Daichi. You stayed within the rules today, but toeing the line has never ended well for mortals.” Thanatos tentatively lays a cold hand on Daichi’s shoulder, “I understand your choices… your mother’s soul was the only time I second-guessed my role in my eons of life. The gods don’t truly understand mortality, it evades my own understanding at times.”

Thanatos sighs, his feathers rustling, “What I mean to say is that I won’t crucify you, my only son, for being human. I am not cruel like the king of the gods, unflinchingly sending his eldest son to his death.” Thanatos chuckles as though he’s sharing a private joke, “Although I am also not an Olympian, so I suppose I don’t know much.”

Daichi is stuck on Thanatos’ earlier words. “He knew? Zeu- He chose Koushi knowing that he would die?”

“He did,” Thanatos says. “Whether or not he was privy to the knowledge that you would attempt your experiment, I can’t say for sure. He certainly hasn’t hesitated to send his sons to their death in the past. If mortals are pawns for the gods, then demigods are rooks and knights, expendable tools with limited usefulness at the hands of the player.”

“That’s not right.”

“Maybe so, but it’s the lot you’ve been given. How you make use of that is up to you and your allies. You’ve done well. Be proud knowing that you’ve ensured you and your loved ones will live another day.”

“Thank you for your charity, father.”

Thanatos nods, stepping back. He’s about to leave when Daichi blurts, “Wait!”

“Yes?” Thanatos asks.

“Tell mom… tell her I love her and I miss her.”

“She knows that,” Thanatos replies. “But I’ll tell her nonetheless.”

And just like that, a flash of darkness fills Daichi’s vision. When the darkness leaves, Thanatos is gone with it. 

Daichi takes a shaky breath, resuming his walk to the terminal. 

There’s one whole bench at their stop, Asahi sits on the floor in front of it, his serious face reminding Daichi of a sentry. He perks up upon seeing Daichi, climbing to his feet.

“Are you alright? You were gone for a while.” 

Daichi considers telling Asahi about his visit with his father but ultimately decides against it. He’s put Asahi through enough stress today.

“Yeah, just cleaned myself up.” Daichi’s eyes shift to the bench where Koushi lies, dwarfed by Asahi’s coat. “Any change?” He asks.

Asahi frowns, “Nothing.”

“He’ll recover,” Daichi says, though he isn’t sure if he’s reassuring himself or Asahi; probably both of them.

He kneels on the dirty floor near Koushi’s head, brushing his hair out of his face; it’s matted with blood near the roots and Daichi wishes he had a washcloth to clean him up. Koushi is pale, his lips are faded and cracked. If Daichi were to lift up Asahi’s coat, he’d find Koushi’s own jacket nearly shredded to ribbons. He wouldn’t dare look anyways. If he did, he would see Koushi’s spirit, torn apart and weakened.

Without thinking, his hand slips to cup Koushi’s cheek. Something about the touch feels satisfying, like two puzzle pieces slipping into place. 

Daichi has always been touchy with Koushi; it feels good to show his affection in more implicit ways. He used to spend entire afternoons trailing his fingers up and down the centre of Koushi’s chest, exploring the branching paths of his spirit and relishing in its beauty.

Touching Koushi now feels different. It feels right, like Daichi’s fingers were designed to traverse the planes of his body. It’s like the feeling of a key sliding into a well-oiled lock, a fresh summer breeze, morning dew brushing against bare feet. 

The sensation of his hand against Koushi’s skin offers cold comfort. It anchors him, it tells him that his gamble worked, that Koushi is here; yet Koushi is too still and too cold to let Daichi truly relax.

Koushi will stir soon enough. It will be hours from now, not long after the three of them board the first bus back home. He will be scared and confused and in pain; he will have a look in his eyes that Daichi doesn’t recognize— a look of brokenness. 

He has put Koushi back together again, but it’s come at a cost. 

Daichi doesn’t know this yet. For now, he is content to hold Koushi in his hands like fine china and forget the nightmare he lived the day before. 

— —

Daichi only remembers bits and pieces of Koushi’s death, which he figures is for the best. The human spirit is tactfully avoidant like that, sheltering one’s consciousness from points in time and ideas that will hurt it the most.

The earliest thing that Daichi remembers is feeling death around him. It is a feeling that stifles the air, making it harder to breathe in. Usually, it saddens Daichi in an almost Pavlovian fashion; this time he feels relief. He’s convinced himself that he will be the one to die today. He won’t let it be Asahi or Koushi. He’s meant to lose everything on this quest. It’s for the best this way.

Next, he remembers being filled with horror, the shocking realization that he’s played right into the hands of Fate.

What he doesn't remember is the tail end of their fight. Asahi will later fill in the blanks, telling him about the fury and ferocity that Daichi cut down his foes with, but all Daichi can recall is himself mentally repeating the phrase, Not him, please not him. 

Daichi remembers his wails; how he sobs like a small child, letting loose a chorus of no’s and pleases’s.

He remembers the completely frozen look in Asahi’s eyes, the tears that fall from them like stars in the sky. Asahi’s throat clenches and his adam’s apple bobs, it seems like he’s trying to say something but he can’t speak.

Daichi remembers that he’s failed Tobio. That Koushi’s younger brother will have to go through the pain of losing his family once again. He promised Tobio he would bring Koushi home safe. He promised him. Daichi lied to him. 

Most of all, Daichi remembers a broken form, silver hair soaked and stained with blood. He remembers that he’s too late. He remembers his spirit fractured beyond belief, trying to figure out where to go after being so unceremoniously wrenched from its body. 

Daichi isn’t sure why he recalls the doctor’s book, the one Shoyo abruptly forced into his hands last summer. Logic evades him in this moment, the ground has been ripped out from under his feet and he’s falling through an endless space. The air has been ripped from Daichi’s lungs, the blood from his veins. 

Daichi has lost everything.

A desperate man is ingenious, clawing at anything he can find, trying to drag his way back to a semblance of comfort. This could kill Daichi. He doesn't care. 

Daichi lets the body lie. He remembers taking hold of the floundering spirit, cupping it in his hands; it’s cold and it chills every one of Daichi’s nerves. It’s oddly poetic that even in death, Koushi shocks Daichi to his core.

Daichi doesn’t remember how two become one. Things are fuzzy here. He knows with certainty that he takes his own heavy spirit, warm and golden, and he lends the cold spirit his strength. He then forms a connection between the two of them, moulding a bond like one would sculpt clay, which is a strange sensation to apply to something largely intangible. Daichi is meticulous, he ensures there are no cracks in the bridge between the two spirits.

The broken spirit warms infinitesimally, it no longer feels lost, it is found in between Daichi’s hands. It goes back where it should be, settling back in the broken form. There is silence followed by a weak inhale, then exhale. 

Pain explodes in Daichi’s body. He doubles over, clutching at his chest. 

The world goes dark and behind his eyes, Daichi sees a kaleidoscope of silver and gold.

— —

Daichi sits on a couch in the Big House of Camp Half-Blood for the first time at age fifteen. He is a whole other person back then, or at least he feels like he is. His cheeks are chubbier, he’s a lot shorter and clumsier. At fifteen, Daichi has not yet picked up his hobby of playing the lyre, he hasn’t learned how to drive, and he hasn’t been in love.

He’s currently waiting for a man named Takeda who vanished with the promise of explaining things to Daichi about five minutes ago. Daichi already knows that he’s a demigod, he knows his father is Thanatos, and he can tell that there are other demigods at this camp. He tried to explain this to Takeda, but the man seemed very flustered so Daichi decided to stay quiet instead. 

Daichi is debating getting up to take a look around when a boy about his age breezes into the room. This boy is unlike anyone Daichi has ever seen before. His hair is a brilliant silvery-grey, his eyes a deep hazel. As he looks carefully at Daichi then glances over at the closed office door, Daichi notices a mole below his left eye. His soul is a bright, glowing white; it is powerful, beautiful, and wholeheartedly good. It swirls with an absentminded curiosity and indecision, there is a deeper emotion within it, but Daichi will have to look further to determine what it is.

The boy stands in the doorway for a moment longer, his eyes travelling between Daichi and the door before he lets out a resigned sigh, saunters over to the couch, and plops down right next to Daichi.

“Are you new?” The boy asks him. His voice sounds melodic, like the wind whistling through trees.

“Yes,” Daichi manages. He’s staring and undoubtedly making a fool of himself.

The boy smiles and sticks his feet up on the worn coffee table in front of them. “Takeda always gets so anxious about new campers. I always tell him he’s fine, but he gets in his head anyways. Those things can’t be helped, I guess. What’s your name?”

“Daichi.”

“Hi Daichi,” the boy says. “My friends call me Suga.”

Daichi learns that Suga has lived at Camp Half-Blood for five years. Apparently, he needs Takeda because one of his friends in the Apollo cabin has cursed a new son of Hermes to speak exclusively in couplets. Normally, Suga explains, this is amusing, but the Hermes boy has only taken it in stride and other campers can only take so many arguments spoken in rhymes. 

Daichi is wonderfully perplexed at how accustomed Suga is to the everyday magic of Camp Half-Blood. He doesn’t know Suga’s lineage, but he doesn’t really care to either. Suga doesn’t need a godly parent to seem powerful and important, somehow he already is in Daichi’s eyes.

Eventually, Takeda comes out of his office and is pleasantly surprised to find Suga deep in conversation with Daichi. He learns that Suga is the son of Zeus. It makes sense to Daichi, Suga has such a mystical sense of majesty about him. 

Daichi also quickly recognizes the hidden quality of Suga’s soul. He realizes it as Takeda mentions Suga’s father. 

Suga is lonely. 

Daichi thinks it’s a crime to let someone so good feel so alone. He decides from his first day at Camp Half-Blood that he’s going to stay close to Suga. And if being with the other boy makes something in his chest feel warm and weightless then so what? It’s just another added perk.

— —

Returning from a successful quest is no easy feat. The world is dangerous for young demigods; to face it and return victorious is arguably deserving of glory. 

Daichi decides that he does not want glory; neither does Asahi. He’s not too sure about Koushi, but he seems to be indifferent on most things lately. 

He sits with Asahi at the empty Aphrodite table long after dinner is over. The sun has dipped below the treeline of the distant forest and there is the sound of laughter and chatter as the other campers go about their evening routines. Koushi went to bed immediately after dinner; he’s been sleeping a lot lately.

Asahi rests his head on the sturdy table, deep in thought. “It’s weird,” he starts. “Trying to just move on like nothing ever happened.”

Daichi nods; it is.

“I mean, I know logically that we weren’t gone for too long, but it feels like it was forever. And to come back home and nothing’s changed. It just feels off.”

“Is it selfish if I wish that the three of us never left?” Daichi asks.

“I don’t think so,” Asahi replies. “We succeeded but… it doesn’t feel like we did. Suga…” Asahi trails off. 

“He doesn’t deserve this.”

Asahi sees right through him, “None of this is your fault. You did what you could.”

“I know,” Daichi says.

“Then stop blaming yourself. He doesn’t blame you either.”

Koushi wouldn’t blame him. He’s too forgiving, too caring. 

“I will,” Daichi lies.

Later that night, Daichi asks Kenma if he’s ever seen Elysium, the Underworld is his father’s domain after all.

Kenma frowns, “Why would I? I’m not dead.”

“Just curious,” Daichi replies.

He’s heard things about Elysium from the spirits he talks to, from his mother. They seem to like it a lot down there. 

Daichi wonders what it would be like to be surrounded by goodness and be freed from pain. Spirits there get to do whatever they please, there are no expectations and limitations. If they choose to, they can be rebirthed. If not, they can live in paradise for all of eternity.

Koushi would have gone to Elysium. He’s a hero, the son of the king of the gods. Koushi is good to his core, the kind of person that thinks of everyone else before himself.

In weak moments like this, Daichi questions if he truly made the right choice. He thinks of Koushi, his unending exhaustion, the numbness and fog that has consumed him, the phantom aches and pains. He wants Koushi by his side, he can’t picture a life without him. But sometimes, Daichi questions if it would’ve been better to let him go, to let him live on in Elysium. Maybe he’d run into Koushi again someday, if he hadn’t chosen rebirth by the time Daichi dies himself. Maybe he never would’ve seen Koushi again. 

Either way, Daichi wishes he could take away Koushi’s pain. He wishes and wishes until his head hurts, but nothing changes. He is helpless. He is selfish and immature.

Koushi asks Daichi to go on a walk with him before breakfast the next morning. Even before everything, Koushi usually wouldn’t be up this early, but Daichi doesn't mind the opportunity to spend time with him.

They walk along the beach together, the ice-cold water occasionally lapping close to their shoes. Koushi gazes out at the lake appreciatively, watching the rising sun on the horizon. 

“Daichi?” Koushi says suddenly. His eyes never leave the lake.

“Yeah, Kou?”

“I’m happy that I’m alive.”

Daichi stares at him, utterly transfixed. Koushi is a bit different these days, more withdrawn and awkward. He’s still the same deep down though. He’s still who Daichi fell in love with.

“I’m happy you’re alive too,” Daichi replies, his voice weak. 

Koushi attempts a smile, he looks beautiful. “I would hope so… you’re stuck with me, so…” he trails off. He stumbles awkwardly through the joke, but it’s endearing nonetheless.

Daichi chuckles, “You’re a dork.”

Koushi smiles wider, there’s a faint twinkle in his eyes. He turns and keeps walking; Daichi follows him.

— —

For the record, Daichi does try to sleep after Koushi knocks on his cabin door in the middle of the night. He tries and tries, but sleep won’t come. 

He’s content enough to lie there, listening to Koushi’s soft snores punctuating the otherwise silent cabin. 

His brain is overactive, running through memories and thought processes like a VCR rewinding its way to the beginning of the tape.

Daichi thinks of his first interactions with Death. He is six years old and playing in the park after school. Under the slide lies a dead crow. Daichi crouches and watches it lying still, its unblinking eyes reflecting the light. He doesn’t have the words to understand what death is yet, he simply thinks that the bird is asleep and won’t wake up, that the smell is from something else.

He reaches out and touches the crow, stroking its smooth black feathers. Daichi unknowingly breathes life into the bird, its wings rustle and Daichi startles backwards, falling over. The crow hops backwards away from Daichi, it’s clearly confused. Eventually, the crow gives him an intelligent look and flies away. Daichi never sees it again.

There is a stray dog that lives on Daichi’s block. Or rather there was. The dog sleeps now.

One afternoon, Daichi wakes her up. This dog (who Daichi decides he’ll ask his mom to keep later) is not skittish like the crow. She is nuzzling up to Daichi, grateful even if she doesn’t understand why.

A dark-skinned man kneels next to Daichi and the dog; it’s strange, Daichi could’ve sworn he was the only person on the street. Even stranger is the set of wings on the man’s back. Now, Daichi’s mom has taught him not to talk to strangers, but something about this man seems oddly familiar.

“Is this your pet?” The man asks, his voice is deep and silky.

“Not yet,” Daichi replies. “I’m gonna take her home. She shouldn’t sleep outside.”

The man makes a noise of assent, his wings twitching slightly. “Is that what you think she was doing?”

Daichi nods earnestly. 

The man grimaces. “Sometimes,” he starts. “Living things… go to sleep and they don’t wake up. You shouldn’t disturb them, they need their rest.”

Daichi frowns, who is this man to tell him what to do? “But they look so much happier when I wake up.” To prove his point, the dog noses at Daichi’s cheek, slobbering all over him. 

“Maybe so, but you also don’t know what awaits them… what they dream of, rather.”

Daichi pouts, “Who are you?”

The man sighs, “I am your father, Daichi.”

Daichi thinks this over; he doesn’t recall telling the man his name. His mother always told him that his father is busy working and doesn’t visit Daichi because of that. 

“Prove it,” Daichi challenges his alleged father.

The man raises an eyebrow, like he’s surprised that someone has questioned him. Daichi’s new dog noses at the man’s hand and he absentmindedly strokes her snout.

“Your name is Daichi Sawamura, you’re six and you were born on December 31st. Your mother works at the hospital and when she’s busy your aunt, her sister, takes care of you. Your mother says I work a lot, and I do. I’m busy taking care of those who have fallen asleep.”

“Why are you here?” Daichi asks now.

“You have a lot of questions, don’t you?” His alleged father muses. “I’m here to tell you that you have to follow the rules. You’re young now so I’m not upset, but you have to let sleeping people stay asleep, okay Daichi?”

Daichi huffs, “What about puppies?”

His father looks at the grinning dog with a hint of affection, “I can make an exception just this once.”

Angel still lives with Daichi’s aunt in the city. Strangely enough, she’s never been sick and hasn’t aged a day since Daichi found her. Daichi thinks that he should visit his aunt sometime; maybe Koushi could meet Angel, that kind of thing might be good for him.

Daichi lets things sleep from that day forward. He keeps his head down and stays out of trouble. Yet, death still follows him.

Daichi is thirteen years old, sitting in a hospital waiting room with his aunt the next time he sees his father. 

Thanatos slips by hospital staff and visitors, seemingly unnoticed by the crowd. Daichi catches his eye and his father nods, ducking into a room at the end of the hall that Daichi recognizes as his mother’s.

Daichi is seized with panic, jumping up and following his father, muttering some half-hearted excuse about using the bathroom to his aunt. 

Visiting hours are over, but Daichi is a thirteen-year-old boy and can go unnoticed easily enough. When he enters the room, his father is sitting at the foot of the bed, watching his mother as she sleeps. Daichi had noticed the flickering quality of her soul earlier in the day, he knew what to prepare for, but it still hurts anyways.

“What are you doing?” He asks, panicked.

“My job,” Thanatos replies, his tone level. His eyes never leave Daichi’s mother.

“You can’t,” Daichi pleads. “Don’t you love her?”

A flicker of anger passes over Thanatos’ face, his wings ruffle, “Of course I do.” He sighs, deflating slightly, “I have a job to do, even when I don’t want to do it. Could you imagine the chaos? If I stopped collecting the souls I thought didn’t deserve it and the people who I care for?”

“I don’t want her to go,” he confesses weakly.

“I’ll take care of her,” Thanatos promises. “And I’ll be there for you in turn.”

Daichi nods, fighting back tears.

Thanatos hesitates, “Would you like to say goodbye?”

“Yes please.”

Thanatos rises, “I’ll leave then.”

“You don’t need to. She… she won’t wake up, right?”

Thanatos shakes his head grimly, “But she can hear us.”

Daichi says goodbye, he holds his still mother close and tells her that he’ll be strong and that he loves her so so much. It’s hard, maybe one of the hardest things Daichi will ever do, but he does it with strength.

Thanatos asks Daichi to leave after that. He says that he doesn’t want Daichi to have to witness this and promises that he’ll keep in touch. Daichi sits in the waiting room again, ignoring his aunt’s prying glances. 

After ten minutes, there is a commotion down the hall. If Daichi closes his eyes, he can pretend that he’s at the kitchen table doing his homework while his aunt watches one of her medical soaps. But this is reality, his mother won’t ruffle his hair and pretend she isn’t feeding Angel her table scraps, she is with Daichi’s father now. 

Thanatos visits Daichi frequently like he promised he would. He talks to Daichi about his abilities and life as a demigod. He stoically kisses Angel on the forehead with the excuse that it’s from his mother. He kisses Daichi on the cheek and messes with his hair before he leaves with the same excuse. It’s always strange, the god of death isn’t very affectionate, but Daichi is thankful for it all the same. 

When he’s fifteen, Daichi gets in a fight with his aunt. It’s messy and he runs away in the aftermath. Thanatos tells him that there is a safe place for demigods like him and that he can go there instead of roaming the streets. Daichi listens to him, setting a series of events in motion that would alter his whole life and the lives of others.

He goes to Camp Half-Blood, he meets a boy with hair like the moon and a heart as warm as the sun, he and the boy fall in love; Daichi lets the boy feel like he’s enough and in turn, the boy lets Daichi pretend they are immortal, that their love is so strong that even the cold grip of Death can’t hold them back. Then, Daichi learns that he is very very wrong. 

Daichi understands Death, he knows him better than any other living mortal, he’s taught him the rules of volleyball. But at the same time, Daichi fears Death more than anything. He is afraid because he can’t bear to think about life without the people he’s come to rely on, because he knows that Death is right to take and take and take and take, giving only a semblance of order in return. At least now he’s comforted by the knowledge that if Koushi dies, he dies with him. 

Koushi mumbles something in his sleep and blindly reaches out for Daichi, turning onto his side and wrapping his arms around his chest. Daichi chuckles softly, reciprocating. It’s warmer with his arms around Koushi and the blooming sensation in his chest leaves Daichi comfortably tired.

He falls asleep with his face buried in the top of Koushi’s head; a sea of silver stretching before his eyes, glowing in the pale moonlight. His fear is momentarily pacified, but it will persist for the remainder of Daichi's life. It becomes tolerable with Koushi by his side, with the knowledge that he would never truly be alone.

— —

On a sunny January afternoon, Daichi and Koushi once again crowd themselves onto Daichi’s twin-sized mattress. Koushi lies attentively in Daichi’s lap while he strums away on his lyre, he’s rusty after not being able to play while they were gone. Koushi makes for a good audience; he doesn’t care if Daichi messes up or if he has to pause to remember the second half of a song. He just listens, occasionally humming along if he recognizes the song. 

Daichi doesn’t call attention to the fact that Koushi seems to have forgotten some of the songs he should know, nor the hazy look that sometimes takes over Koushi’s normally bright eyes. 

Koushi’s come a long way in the few weeks they’ve been home. He talks more and feels a lot like himself most of the time, teasing Asahi and Daichi relentlessly when given the opportunity. Sometimes he’ll be in the middle of saying something and abruptly trail off, like he can’t find the words he wants to say or like his heart simply isn’t in it anymore.

He’s not healed, not yet. Daichi’s done all he can with his abilities, now it’s all up to time. 

“Y’know, you think a lot,” Koushi muses.

Daichi stops playing, “Do I?”

“It’s not bad,” Koushi explains. “I just notice it a lot more with…” he vaguely gestures between the two of them.

Daichi chuckles, “Definitely.”

Koushi hums and closes his eyes contentedly. Daichi watches his chest rise and fall deeply.

“How do you feel today?”

Koushi opens one eye, “Normal, mostly. I dunno it’s… sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad.”

“What about right now?” Daichi asks. Koushi mulls it over before giving Daichi a soft smile and a thumbs up.

“Can you keep playing?” Koushi asks, eyes alight with affection.

Daichi nods, resuming the song he started before Koushi spoke up. Koushi closes his eyes again, the ghost of a smile on his face.

Daichi is contemplative, it’s simply who he is. His mother used to tease him and say he got it from his father. He’s never minded it and he knows that Koushi doesn't mind it either.

He thinks it’s nice, to share so much with someone so important to him. Koushi is reminiscent of a well-worn book; he is inherently familiar and dear to Daichi, yet Daichi seems to discover something new about Koushi every day. Koushi likes his pancakes with Nutella more than maple syrup; Koushi only learned how to swim after moving to Camp Half-Blood and Koutarou helped him.

Every human being is a gestalt; they are each comprised of a myriad of parts that converge to create a wholly unique self. 

Koushi’s gestalt is akin to a galaxy, sprawling, vast, and characteristically beautiful. Daichi imagines himself to be an explorer, map and compass in hand. 

Daichi is satisfied; so is Koushi— he can feel it.

— —

we have not touched the stars,

nor are we forgiven, which brings us back

to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes,

not from the absence of violence, but despite

the abundance of it.

—Richard Siken