Chapter 5: Making New Friends

Shirou had gotten his fair share of weird looks before. Some of them curious, most of them hostile, very few of them in any way appreciative. One of the most unnerving gazes he had ever experienced was that of Rider. Even after many years together, he still had much trouble deciphering her face when she chose to keep her expressions hidden. He may be in the minority, but he would much rather know what his observer thought of him, no matter how negative. The effect was magnified when she had her blindfold on. What was she thinking? Was there something wrong? Was she offended somehow?

There was no greater interrogator than one's own imagination.

Mr. D, though, could give her a run for her money.

There was something… clinical about that gaze. It reminded of him of the Magi from the Clocktower. Cold and dispassionate. Not like a doctor diagnosing a patient, more of a scientist observing a specimen.

Shirou knew that he wasn't insane. Not in the way conventional psychiatry defined it and tested for it. He could walk into the office of any reputable professional and come out with a clean bill of health. His mind was traumatized, but intact. But he was different. There can be no denying that. Normal magi couldn't possess Reality Marbles. The mentality required to alter the word, no, to supplant the world to such a degree was literally unthinkable. But if one wished to be pedantic about it, then that was one definition of what madness was. A mentality that was different from normal human thought.

So, what did the God of Madness see when he peered into him? What could he see? In the first thirty seconds that he saw him, Mr. D. demonstrated abilities that would have been classified as True Magic in his home world with a casual hand gesture. Shirou clearly couldn't judge him using the metric of his previous world. Thinking about it just gave Shirou a headache.

"Now, we officially don't know who your godly parent is- "

"Uhh…"

"It is not considered official until the parent is the one who pronounces it. Elsewise, anyone could claim whichever god they wanted as a parent and reap the benefits associated with them."

"Gotcha."

"As I was saying, there is a precedent for when the child knows, but the parent has yet to acknowledge it. We don't believe it fair to force someone to stay in a cabin they don't want to, so we offer them a choice. You may stay in Cabin Eleven as an unclaimed, or you can stay in your father's cabin, under the condition that you hold no authority as cabin leader. Instead, I will be in charge of your activities and have authority in loco parentis."

"Umm…" Percy scratched his head. "So, what? I get my own room, but you're the boss? Doesn't sound any different from the dorm life I know."

"Exactly. Cabin leaders choose things like wake-up calls, curfews, activity schedules and so on. This rule was put in place so that people couldn't boss around younger siblings without their parents' approval. However, in your case…"

"No siblings, so no-one for me to boss around anyway, huh?" Percy mused. "Where does Grover sleep?"

"The satyrs have their own homes in the forests. They prefer to be closer to nature."

"Hippies." Percy nodded sagely. "Can't say I want to bunk with them."

"Hey!" Grover looked hurt.

"Dude, you eat tin cans and smell like goat hair. You're my friend, but a whole forest of you guys is a bit much."

Grover sighed. "Fair enough. To be honest, I don't like a lot of them, either."

"Where does Shirou stay?"

That brought up a pause and drew both Shirou's and Mr. D's attention away from their silent staring contest. Chiron locked eyes with the camp's patron god for a brief moment, a voiceless agreement being formed between them. Mr. D broke the silence. "For tonight, Shirley can stay in one of the guest rooms in the Big House. Since he's mortal, Pedro, if he's going to be staying here long enough to start annoying me," he stopped and furrowed his brows. "annoying me even more, then he bunks with you. He causes any trouble, you clean it up."

"Sounds fair." Percy muttered. "But Shirou, you're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?"

"At first light. Mrs. Strauss is expecting me by breakfast. Sorry, I can't stay longer, but you can take care of yourself here. I'll be back after a few days. And you can always call when you get in trouble."

"Don't you mean if I get in… You know what, never mind." Percy sighed. "Well, I'm not too keen on having any of my stuff stolen, so… Cabin Three, I guess?"

"Very good. Now it is well past bedtime, but considering the circumstances, I will arrange a late breakfast for you and Grover. Grover, lead him to Cabin Three, and then you may retire for the night. Run along, you two. Shirou, you best be off to bed as well if you wish to leave early tomorrow. Take any of the rooms upstairs."

"Thank you, Chiron." Shirou stood and turned to Percy, noting his eyes flickering from him to Mr. D. For a second, Shirou thought that he would ask the question that was obviously on the tip of his tongue, but thankfully he decided to leave it alone. "Take care of yourself."

"I will. Night, Shirou."

"See you, Shirou."

With that, Shirou was left with the two age-old camp directors.

"You didn't answer my question." Mr. D growled, taking a chug of his Diet Coke, and looking like he wished it was stronger.

"I am a magus, Mr. D." Shirou answered frankly, deciding not to to delay this inquisition anymore.

"Not a magician or a sorcerer, but a magus. An old word that traces back to the Zoroastrian priests of Persia. A word that, I confess, I have not heard anyone use to describe themselves in a long time, most magic users often adopting more modern titles. Magician, witch, and so on."

"I remember those people. Beggars and charlatans, the lot of them." Dionysus grumbled. "Why anyone would take the name of that bunch of misfits will forever be beyond me." The god eyed him again.

"How old are you?" "12 years old."

"Where do you live?" "New York. For all my life, sir."

"Ever been abused?" "Never."

"You in a gang?" "No, sir."

"Ever killed anyone?" "Yes, sir."

"Liked it?" "No, sir."

"You're mortal?" "Yes, sir."

"Who are your parents?"

"I don't know. I've lived in foster care for as long as I remember."

"Then how do you know you're 100% mortal?" He snapped.

"Some self-examination. I can't detect any godly blood in me. The Mist still affects me unless I don't let it."

"Demigods can be still be affected by the Mist if it's strong enough, Shirou." Chiron interjected the rapid fire interview.

"Irrelevant, I was just grasping at straws." The god of wine drained the last of his drink and crushed the can before dismissing it to nothing. "Forget it. Screw this. It's too late for a migraine, and you'll be gone by morning. Take a room and stay there until I'm unconscious. Go."

Chiron gave Shirou a slightly pleading look, and Shirou didn't really have a reason to stay here. Rather the opposite, actually.

He gave the two one last bow, before retreating up the stairs.

The two immortals watched the strange boy as he walked to his room. They waited until the footsteps faded, and then waited another minute after that, before Mr. D spoke again. "What a creep."

"Mr. D, please."

"Don't 'oh, please' me, like you don't agree. Or did you not see him? Uncle's balls, Chiron, what did you bring into my camp?"

"Yes, his magecraft, as he calls it is… unsettling."

The god of wine paused and studied the old centaur. "Alright, I think that we're talking about two different things here. I think he's an inhuman facsimile that should not exist in nature. Why do you find him creepy?"

"I'm sorry, did I miss something?"

"You didn't see it? At all? Good grief, Chiron, considering how many boneheaded heroes you've sent off to die, I'm surprised you didn't catch on the moment you met him."

"Mr. D.?"

"Ahh, forget it. I'll explain it later when I get a better look at him."

"You two were staring at each other for close to half an hour."

"Not enough. It was like staring into a glass maze. Theoretically, you can see right through it, but if it's all transparent you end up questioning whether or not you're seeing anything important. Whatever the case, I'll figure him out. Now, Chiron, what has you so unsettled?"

Chiron considered his answer for a few seconds, taking a long draught of his coffee. "It's his magic. It is unlike anything I have ever felt. You are familiar with the process that all magic follows, yes? Weaving and shaping magical energy within oneself and in the atmosphere into a spell that will enact the caster's will. Unless done by a skilled practitioner, with high levels control, it is easy to sense when magic is being used to affect anything in the vicinity. But Shirou's spells are different. He claims to be able to create weapons from memory out of his magic. That is, all of his weapons are pure magical constructs. However, … No matter how hard I try, I can't perceive them as magical."

"So what? Then he's a conjurer, creating real, solid objects. Rare, and powerful, but not unheard of. Are you creeped out because he lied about his magic? All magicians do that to some extent."

"Perhaps I worded that badly. It wasn't just that I couldn't perceive the magic of his weapons. I couldn't perceive the magic at all. Not when he initially created them, and not when he dismissed them into particles of light. It was as if they were just there one second and then… gone the next."

The ramifications of what Chiron said didn't hit Mr. D for a few seconds. When it did, he put down his Diet Coke and knitted his fingers together. "Rewriting nature."

"I believe so."

The two stayed quiet for another minute. Dionysus looked across the table, his purple eyes no longer bloodshot and sleepy, but brimming with power and authority. "Keep an eye on that boy, Chiron. And keep this quiet."

"Yes, my lord."

From his position sitting against the bedroom door, Shirou let the Reinforcement over his ears dissipate. He held back a groan. Things would be so much simpler if his magecraft worked like the magic of this world. Which apparently it did not.

Magecraft, at its core, is converting a magus' internal energy to transform the world. It was essentially imposing an unnatural phenomenon onto the natural world. That's why, in his original world, there was no Magecraft that could last forever, especially if they were powerful. The World recognized the anomaly that was their existence and actively attempted to destroy them. His Traced weapons, which were pulled out of the separate internal world of his Reality Marble, could bypass this to a certain extent, but they were still degraded and eventually erased.

This new world was very different. And he had a theory why.

Magecraft as he knew it, simply didn't exist in this world. And that was because it never needed to. Everything here used what he would call The World. The conversation he overheard simply confirmed it.

Mr. D had said 'rewriting nature' as if it was something he had rarely observed. That implies that whatever magic they employed, was recognized by the world as 'natural'. Nobody here had to worry about doing anything to contradict the rules of the World, because they were part of those rules. It was natural for a son of Poseidon to have control over water, for Grover to be able to enchant acorns using pan-pipes, for Chiron to be able to fit his centaur body into a wheelchair, and it was completely natural for Mr. D to be able to conjure something out of nothing.

Shirou's magecraft was a little different. When he Traced a weapon, he pulled out an object that didn't exist in this World. Black Keys, his bow, even his Noble Phantasms were no exception. But rather than attacking them like an immune system disposing of an invader, the World merely adapts in order to accept them and registers them as if they had always been there, and then it simply erases them from memory when they are dismissed. It meant that the world was extremely flexible for change.

That's why Chiron couldn't sense anything during and after Tracing. According to his description of magic, Shirou didn't do anything. In the eyes of the World, nothing happened. In the eyes of the World, there was no godly influence that demanded a change, no magic to facilitate someone's will. Something was there, and then that something became stronger, or was fortified, or moved or exploded and then it wasn't there anymore. That's it. A totally spontaneous event with no reactant and no product.

If that's the case… Shirou looked down at his body, feeling the twenty-seven Magic Circuits ready to be activated. A foreign body unique in this World. What does that make me?

And that's not even considering Mr. D.'s eerie evaluation. There was a ruler behind that drunken façade, an intelligence which has seen millennia. A glass maze, huh? Was that an evaluation of his mind? Or was it a broader commentary about his whole being?

Glass is my heart.

A small flash of blue light in his hands gave birth to his familiar black and white Chinese falchions. His eyes glowed as he performed Structural Analysis. He scrutinized every last millimeter of the pair of blades. There was no degradation or erosion. No weakening in strength or quality. Their innate properties were just as potent.

Fake or real?

Perhaps here… it didn't have to matter.

Contrary to Chiron's expectations, Shirou woke up at six a.m. just like he always did. He only needed a few hours of sleep each night, anyway. The sun had just begun to rise when he left the Big House, intent on exploring Camp Half-Blood on his own without anyone looking over his shoulder. The obvious place to start would be the cabins. He had just reached the area where the twelve cabins were arranged, when he spotted an anomaly.

"Good morning." He greeted the figure with a bow.

The figure took the form a nine-year-old girl in a hooded brown dress, her eyes a warm orange. She was tenderly poking at the fire positioned in the center of the formation of cabins, but she seemed quite surprised at his greeting. "Oh! You're up rather early, aren't you…?" She tilted her head slightly, before understanding came across her face. "Ahh… you must be that interesting addition that Chiron was anticipating."

"I suppose I must be." Shirou nodded. "May I join you… Lady Hestia?"

She smiled. With a wave of her hand, a chair like hers was summoned to her side, a small table with a tea set in between them. "Please, sit. It has been a while since I have prepared Japanese tea, I hope it is to your liking." With exceptional poise and grace, she poured a cup for him, and then herself.

For a few minutes, the two of them sat there in comfortable silence, enjoying the tea as the sun crept higher.

Finally, Hestia broke the silence. "While I always enjoy company, I must ask why you have come to me."

"I… wanted to get a measure of this camp. And I thought that to do that, I should meet its guardians."

"Guardian, am I? I'm afraid that's a rather lofty title for someone like me. I am not one for fighting. I simply do what I can to provide what so many of the children here lack. A home." She looked him in the eye. "But you… a home is not what you need, and shelter and refuge is not what you seek. So why?"

Shirou didn't try to deny it. "I want to protect my friends, but Percy can take care of himself for now. There's really nothing I can do for him here." He would be far more in New York, close to Sally Jackson. Close to Olympus. Close to home. He has given Percy enough preparation. Enough safeguards. Now it was time to prepare himself.

"Yes. Loyalty seems to be one of your strengths. But I can't help but wonder… ", she tilted her head as she peered at him. "Is that your choice, or your nature?"

Shirou didn't answer.

"It saddens me to say this, but when children arrive here, it is all too clear that many of them have been deprived of childhood. A child is a blank slate, a malleable mind and soul. A child is a person who has yet to know what kind of person they are. But those who make it here have all chosen their roles because they had to. They chose to be strong, charismatic leaders to guide the way for their juniors. They chose to close off their hearts to protect themselves from harm. They chose to be exuberant, light-hearted jokers to hide their own tragedies.

"But when was the last time you chose to do something?"

These gods were beginning to frighten him.

"This is who I am, Lady Hestia. This is the only path for me."

"I am the goddess of Hope." She spoke quietly, taking up a poker to tend to the dancing flames. "I know what people live for. I know what keeps them fighting, what gives them the extra push forward. But I can also see when they are devoid of it. When they are lacking a home to return to."

"I found a home. And a new family."

"But your heart doesn't belong to them." She argued. "You are forever guarded. You have secrets you will never tell them. Like a soldier who will never tell his children of what he's seen."

"My heart has known peace, if that's what worries you. I have felt love and happiness."

"That doesn't mean you have to give up on finding it again." She sighed again. "Our conversation has deviated from my expectations. But that is to be expected of someone that even Dionysus couldn't get a read of at first glance. What were we discussing?"

"My plans to leave for the city."

"Yes, and how Percy can take care of himself." she agreed. "Insight and pragmatism beyond your years as well. Couple that with the instinct of a trained killer honed and tempered by decades of real combat experience. It is not something that belongs on an eleven-year-old boy." Hestia sighed, with an air belonging to an exasperated elder, rather than a young girl.

She locked eyes with him. "Perhaps my analogy of a soldier was more accurate than I first thought, except you act as if you have come to terms with your traumatic experiences, a process that could take years if not decades. Which is obviously impossible. That seems to be a theme with you. Something that infuriates my nephew."

"I'm sure there are plenty of things about me that infuriate Mr. D." Shirou smiled. "But my insight is nothing compared to yours Lady Hestia." He doubted he would be able to read so much of someone within minutes of a first meeting.

"I've been doing this for too long, and it's not as if gods ever really retire." She muttered, picking up a long stick and stoking the flames. "Though we are subject to change, just as much, if not more, than humanity."

"I would say that works in your favor. In my opinion, it's a generally a good thing when the powerful adapt to changing times rather than abusing their power in a futile effort to preserve the status quo."

Hestia smiled and nodded. "It is how we have survived for so long where other pantheons haven't. I don't know whose idea was it to move to America, to New York. Certainly not mine. The entire country was far too… much for my liking. But we have made it our home, and I like to think my family has become better for it."

"…Your brothers are about to ignite a war that could wipe out human existence as we know it."

Shirou thought she might be offended, but instead, the small girl laughs heartily. "My brothers have started wars, obliterated cities, murdered thousands over perceived insults. I'm sure you know the stories. Those were written from a mere mortal's perspective. Trust me, young man, they were much, much worse. Now, one of the most powerful weapons in the universe has been stolen, and 21st century civilization has not regressed to the Bronze Age yet."

"if you're trying to reassure a 'mere mortal' of the gods' increased mercy, you're not doing it very well."

"I didn't mean to condescend to you." She said, slightly contrite. "nor was I demanding gratitude for their… benevolence. In the old days, the gods would do what they wish, using whatever they had at their disposal to settle the pettiest disputes, and those below would simply be dragged along, forced to weather the storm. Now, we cannot afford to be so frivolous. Do you know why?"

"Because the world has turned you into fairy tales, and those who haven't would have no trouble going against you if they felt that they, or innocent people, were being used and abused like pawns. Gods cannot die- "

"But they can fade." Hestia finished gravely. "Blunt and ruthless. But correct. We need our heroes. Now more than ever. The likes of Ares and Dionysus would never admit it, and those like Apollo are too carefree and dismissive to even acknowledge it. But the more pragmatic ones… Hephaestus, Athena, perhaps even Artemis and Demeter… They know we are not infallible. We cannot direct the world as we once had. Humanity has outgrown us. It is only due to my family… inserting themselves into the world that anyone knows of their existence at all."

Shirou felt that there was a euphemism in there somewhere but didn't see a need to point it out. "Lady Hestia, in the past five minutes you have told me more information about the gods than I have collected in years chasing every rumor I could get my hands on. Why are you trying so hard to make me think favorably of you?

"Have I made a convincing case?"

"For you? Maybe. But forgive my rudeness, you don't represent the Olympian Council. You are not even a member of the Olympians. My opinion of you and my opinion of them are mutually exclusive."

"I suppose that's a fair viewpoint to hold. It would be a mistake to paint us all with the same brush. However, I do hope that when you finalize your judgement of us, and I know you will judge us, I have convinced you to examine us more leniently."

"Why do you care what one mortal thinks of you?" Shirou couldn't help but ask. "Why bother appealing to me?"

Hestia didn't answer for a minute, and Shirou wondered whether she didn't want to answer, or she didn't have one. Finally, she spoke. "Shirou Emiya, do you believe in Fate?"

"...I do. But I also believe that we are capable of changing it."

Hestia nodded, having expected the answer. "You see, for us gods, Fate is an absolute. It may be clouded or hidden, but it is always present. The Fates dictate everything about our existence, from our birth to death and everything in between. Everything is bound to their cruel whims. Defying them is an impossibility, always and forever.

"The Three Fates… do they really hold that much power?"

"They do. Everything that has happened, is happening and will happen is woven by them. Except... Fate is being disturbed." She met his eyes once again, her warm orange eyes now alight with an uncomfortable intensity. "I can feel it in my very bones. Fate is being distorted by the second. And in the center of that distortion... is you."

Shirou's mind froze, before it quickly reasserted itself. "I don't know anything about that."

"I believe you. Because nobody knows much about it either. Very few have even noticed, partly because they are not paying attention. My nephew is suspicious, but it is unlikely that he will find the cause unless you meet with him directly."

"Is this what you're scared of? Is there some grand plan in motion that I'm endangering simply by existing?"

"Not you. To answer both of your questions, why I am appealing to you. It is because for the first time for eons, I am unsure of what to do. I don't know whether or not your impact to the future is positive or negative, but I would like to believe that it is the former. You clearly have compassion, and you are not the type to seek violence and destruction. You seem to be a boy who just wants to do good.

"You may have an unfavorable opinion of our rule, or the absoluteness of fate. But they have maintained the stability of our world for literal millennia. Tread carefully Shirou Emiya, for not even we know what lies ahead.

"And that is something I am scared of."

It was past noon when Percy and Grover woke up and joined the rest of the camp population for lunch. As is the case for all new kids, Percy received a lot of curious stares at his place at the head table beside Chiron. He received even more stares when he failed to follow them to the braziers. He ignored them, proceeding to tuck into his breakfast-turned-lunch. "So, what's the plan, Chiron?"

"Well, ordinarily I would prescribe some of our more academic activities, but unfortunately," he continued, ignoring Percy's snort. "those are all held in the morning. So, instead I have given you some leeway for your first day. I thought you would enjoy a session in our sword-fighting arena, and from there you could join in on our equestrian activities."

"Eque- That's horse-riding, right? Could be fun. When did Shirou leave?"

"A few hours ago, though I admit, I didn't see him off. I offered to have Argus give him a ride, but…"

Percy chuckled. "Yeah… he pulls that Batman crap all the time. Don't think he knows he's doing it. I don't think you'll have to worry about him. I've seen him run faster than a car anyway."

Chiron raised an eyebrow but said nothing else. "Very well. One more thing. It may slide today, but you are expected to give an offering at mealtimes."

Now Percy was genuinely confused. "Why? My dad hasn't claimed me, and it's not as if I have to give thanks for anything. Oh, wait. Is this something everyone does, even if they don't like their parents?"

"Even if they don't like them." Chiron confirmed. "I realize your image of the gods is somewhat skewed, and being impertinent is second nature to you, but I implore you to just take the easy path for now. Make both of our lives easier. Keep in mind that one of those gods is the camp supervisor, and they can be… unpredictable, to say the least."

"Alright, I'll play along." Percy grumbled. "Though I'm pretty sure that if you make Shirou throw perfectly good food into a fire, he would lose all respect for you."

"Noted."

After that, lunch passed by without incident. Which is to be expected. No one was going to bother the new kid when he was sitting right next to the man (horse?) in charge. And unsurprisingly, that peace only lasted until Percy took a step into the sword fighting arena.

Before he could even take a look around, a flash of movement caught his eye, and a practiced hand snapped up to catch the object thrown at him. It was a wooden practice sword, chipped and worn from frequent use.

"Hey, loser!"

Just keep walking, Percy. He expected the hazing, and he did promise Shirou that he would try not to make enemies. These people couldn't possibly be worse than Nancy Bobofit, right? He'd like to think he had more self-control than that. Nothing like Zen master Shirou, but enough to ignore some stupid name-calling.

"Hey, bonehead, are you deaf? I'm talking to you!" A large hand clapped onto his shoulder and forcibly brought him face to face with a tall, broad-shouldered girl armed with a wooden spear and a scowling face.

Well, I tried.

"Sorry, I thought you were just talking to yourself." Percy said, doing his best to adopt a hapless, apologetic expression. He did not succeed.

Eye twitch. "Ever use one of those, newbie?"

"Nope." Technically true, since Shirou had a preference for Japanese bokken and live steel. He wouldn't know training wheels if the came and ran him over.

The scowl transformed into a menacing grin. "Well then, I suppose it's my responsibility to show you the ropes!"

"Clarisse, quit it." A blond girl about his age came up and grabbed the big girl- Clarisse's arm. "You can't expect him to-"

"No, it's fine." Percy waved his hands to placate the newcomer, giving her an easy smile. "Really, I'm going to have to learn eventually right? Why not get started?"

"See? I'm being a good teacher. Now, hands off." She had a short glaring contest with the smaller girl, after which the blond reluctantly released her. She walked off to the side, joining the throng of spectators that looked like they were enjoying the unfolding spectacle far too much. Percy knew what they wanted to see. They wanted to get a measure of the new kid. They didn't really care whether he won or lost.

Well, half of them didn't. One half was looking between him and Clarisse, with analytical gazes making him feel like a frog about to be dissected, which were eerily similar to the blond girl's eyes. The others were practically drooling at seeing a fight. Or seeing the new guy get pounded.

"Think fast, newbie!" That was all the warning Percy got before Clarisse lunged.

Maybe he should have been more anxious. Just by looking at her, it was clear that Clarisse was bigger, stronger, faster and had more experience. He would be worried, except... She's not taking me seriously. Her expression was vicious, but her movements were slow, slower than he was. He knew what someone fighting with a spear looked like. Shirou had thrown weapons at him he didn't even know existed. She wasn't holding her wooden spear in a ready position, her grip was slack, and it didn't look like she was even aiming for any particular spot. She thrust straight towards his chest, almost lazily, expecting no resistance.

He didn't bother using the sword. He neatly sidestepped the thrust, and before Clarisse could even recognize the hit hadn't landed, he stomped down on her foot and punched her square in the chest. Neither strike was particularly painful, but put together in quick succession, it was enough to make Clarisse stumble. She was far too experienced and well built to fall down from just that, but it did push her back a few feet.

The shock on her face was fantastic.

Percy could only offer a sheepish smile that probably looked more like a vindictive smirk. "Beginner's luck?"

The shock gave way to outrage. Clarisse sprang up, her spear in a proper hold this time, set to try and disembowel him even with the blunted end. "You're dead, a-"

"Clarisse." Chiron's deep voice cut through her rage. The girl turned away, visibly shaking in rage. She stormed off, screaming at a few younger kids and beginning to hack at a training dummy like a demented lumberjack.

Chiron nodded. "All of you, carry on." With a slight nod towards Percy, he trotted off.

"It's a bad idea," a voice knocked him out of his musings, and he turned to see the girl that tried to defuse the tensions earlier. "to get on Clarisse's bad side. Or her siblings for that matter. No one can hold a grudge like they can."

"A little late for that, don't you think?" He cocked his head to the side, where those who he assumed were Clarisse's siblings were looking like they were plotting his murder. "Besides, I don't think I would have gotten along with her no matter what I did."

She snorted. "You're right about that, at least. Annabeth Chase. Cabin Six." She held out her hand as if she expected that to mean something to him.

"Percy Jackson. Unclaimed." Sorta. "Are you showing me the ropes now?"

"Seems like you can handle yourself. Who taught you to fight? And don't say you're self-taught."

"A friend of mine is a beast when it comes to sword fighting. He's mortal, but he knows about… well, you know." He waved his hand in a vague motion. "He taught me how to use a sword."

"Your friend is a clear-sighted mortal?" Annabeth looked quite shocked at that, before looking contemplative. "Well, that doesn't matter. He must be very talented, but he's just a mortal in the end."

Percy took a moment to imagine Annabeth's face should she meet Shirou. He imagined it would be something to look forward to.

"Either way, you seem to have a knack for fighting, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. You'll do fine here." Annabeth went back to examining him, seeming to consider something carefully before speaking. "Have you ever played Capture the Flag?"

Percy smiled. Yeah, I think I'll like it here.

I heard somewhere that one of the hardest things in writing is writing a character that is smarter than you. And holy shit was this a challenge. Almost every character that had major time in this chapter is literally millennia old and trying to figure out their thoughts and actions gave me a migraine. I hope it turned out okay, but some tips would be appreciated.

Also, I'm trying to make the gods a little more, well godly than they're usually portrayed. Most of the time they're shown to be rather laid back and whimsical, and I want to keep that, but I like to think there are sides of them that a child like Percy wouldn't see. The books are from his point of view after all.

Also, if anyone was wondering why this took a while, in addition to Fate Grand Order, I am now addicted to Magia Record and Bang Dream. I have irresponsible friends.