Chapter 85: Making Friends
They all stared at him. Not at the hunt. At him. Like he was a rare beast behind a cage.
’I guess no one’s hungry.’
They moved past him, but their gaze lingered on him before turning to the massive fish. They gathered around the thing, poking it, prodding it, like they weren’t sure if any of this was real.
"You killed this by yourself?" one asked.
Shiro looked at him. Flat. "Nope. It jumped onto the ship, skinned itself, gutted itself, and served itself for all of us. Real generous."
They all stared at him again. Blank expressions. Not a single giggle or a small tug at the lip.
’Tough crowd.’
He let out an awkward sigh, scratching the back of his wet hair. "Yeah. I caught it. Went a little overboard yesterday, so I figured the least I could do is get food for everyone."
"How did you kill it?"
Before he could answer, a boy stepped forward. But he wasn’t looking at the fish. He walked straight up to Shiro and poked at the massive scar on his stomach.
Shiro looked down at him, confused. "What are you doing?"
"Is this real?" the kid asked. He was the youngest of the bunch.
"Yeah?"
"How did you get it?" A pause. Then his eyes lit up. "Can I have one like that too?"
Shiro smiled. Before he could answer, another boy stepped forward, grabbed the kid by the collar, and pulled him away toward the fish.
Their gaze shifted back at him. Fear still sitting in their eyes.
"Don’t overthink it." Jason’s voice came from behind. "At this point, nothing he does should be surprising."
He walked up and stood next to Shiro. Then slapped him on the back.
’Ow.’
Shiro turned to him. ’That hurts.’
Jason’s eyes moved to the scar. He didn’t ask. He wore the same look they all did.
’How the hell are you still alive?’
"If you had told me, I could have helped," Jason said, laughing lightly, trying to lift everyone’s mood.
Shiro shrugged. "It wasn’t a big deal. I’ve hunted in the sea before. Just couldn’t find any of the others down there. Only this ugly thing."
He looked around. They all still looked uncomfortable. So he did the next best thing.
"Alright. You guys prepare all this while I go get changed."
He turned and walked toward the twins.
The twins were up. And at war.
Selene had Ari’s head. Aurora had her tail. Both pulling like they were playing the world’s most intense tug of war.
Ari, who did not agree to this game, coiled and thrashed between them, fighting for her life with the dignity of a snake who had seen better days.
Shiro crouched down and lightly tickled them both. Just enough to make them giggle. Just enough for their tiny fingers to release.
But the giggling came at a great cost. Both diapers. Simultaneously.
’Oh no.’
Ari launched herself onto his shoulder and pressed against his neck, whimpering something that sounded dangerously close to "never leave me with those monsters again."
"I’m sorry, girl," he said, scratching under her chin. "I owe you."
He turned his attention to the smelly culprits. Their hands reached for him, giggling, completely unbothered by the destruction they’d caused below the waist.
"You two did this on purpose."
They giggled harder.
He changed them, cleaned them off, and fashioned another set of homemade diapers. Luckily the ship had plenty of clothing lying around.
He grabbed the twins and climbed up the stairs. The deck had transformed. They’d built their own grill out of scraps, and a few of the kids were releasing fire from their hands to keep it going. It didn’t look like something an artifact gave you. It looked natural. Similar to the way he used lightning. Blessings from their godly parents, probably.
They were all gathered around, grilling the meat, talking quietly. Almost normal.
When Jason saw him, he walked over and held out two small cubes of cooked meat for Selene and Aurora. The twins looked at Jason. Then turned and pressed their faces into Shiro’s chest.
"They’ve been through a lot," Shiro said softly.
Jason nodded. Didn’t push it.
He sat down away from the group, distancing himself. Not because he wanted to be alone. Because he didn’t want to scare them or make them uncomfortable again.
Both twins settled on his lap, and he handed them the cubes of meat. Selene nibbled carefully. Aurora shoved the whole thing in, but realized she had no teeth, so she followed her sister’s technique.
He took a bite himself.
It was good. Really good. The flesh was fatty, tender, not dry at all. It broke apart in his mouth like it had been slow-cooked for hours instead of thrown on a makeshift grill by a bunch of teenagers.
’Ugly fish. Beautiful meat. The world makes no sense.’
Once he was done, a shadow fell over him. He looked up.
A girl stood there, holding a plate with more meat on it. She was beautiful. Not in the way that made his chest tighten—that spot was permanently reserved and not accepting applications—but in a way that was impossible to ignore.
She had long, flowing orange hair that caught the sunlight. A small, delicate face with features so symmetrical they looked sculpted rather than born. Her eyes were a warm honey-brown, soft and disarming, the kind that made you want to tell her things you’d never told anyone.
Everything about her radiated perfection—the effortless beauty, the pull you felt just standing near her, the way the air around her smelled faintly like flowers that didn’t grow on ships.
She looked down at him and smiled.
Shiro grabbed the plate and smiled back. "Thank you."
And one by one, they all sat near him. He just watched as they took their seats, each one bringing a plate of cooked meat like some kind of unspoken peace offering. Jason appeared with a few bottles the previous captain had left behind, and slowly the deck transformed into something that almost felt normal.
Before eating, they all clapped their hands together and tossed a portion of their food into the fire. The smoke rose as each one murmured something under their breath.
Shiro watched them do it. So he did too. He didn’t want to look rude. Honoring gods he didn’t believe in was a small price to pay if it meant they’d help him again one day.
’Consider it an investment.’
After that, their gaze shifted back to Shiro.
"Which god are you related to?" one asked, mouth already half full.
"Probably Poseidon. He was swimming in the ocean like it was a bathtub," someone answered before Shiro could open his mouth.
He didn’t mind.
"How are you so strong?"
"Where are you from?"
"How old are you?"
"Who are those children?"
Question after question. Piling up faster than he could chew.
Shiro burst out laughing. Genuine. The kind that caught even him off guard.
They all went quiet.
"I just found out I’m related to Zeus." He leaned back. "Because my grandfather was Heracles."
The name hit like a spark in dry wood. Their eyes lit up. Every single one.
"Where is he?" They said it together. Almost in unison. Like they’d rehearsed it in their dreams.
"He’s the greatest demigod who ever walked the earth," another added. "Meeting him is every half-blood’s dream." His eyes lit up. "And you’re related to him? That’s so awesome! So where is he?"
Shiro went quiet.
"I killed him."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Fear crept back into their faces. Mixed with disbelief.
"I don’t know this so-called hero you all know." His voice was steady. Not angry. Not bitter. "The version I grew up with killed my father and mother. His own son, daughter. Then threw me into a well full of snakes and left me there to die." He let that sit. "And because I didn’t die there, he drove his fist through my gut. So no—I don’t know the man in your stories. But it’s not the same person I knew."
He paused. Something shifted in his expression. Softer now.
"But the version you’re talking about—the hero—I saw him. Once. Just for a moment. Right at the end, when he saved my life."
The silence held. Heavy. Nobody knew what to say.
"Also technically, I didn’t kill him." He chuckled, trying to drain the weight from the air. "But I fought him and came out alive. So I win."
A few of them almost smiled. While some wore the sorry look.
He looked down at the twins on his lap. Both chewing. Oblivious to the world above their heads.
"They’re not my children. They’re my twin brother’s." He pinched their cheeks. Both of them scrunched their faces. "So technically—they’re my daughters now."
"Who wants a drink?" Jason shouted, lifting a bottle like a lifeline thrown into an awkward silence.
"Me!" someone called from the corner. And just like that, the weight cracked. The tension loosened. The conversations started up again—louder now, warmer, fueled by food and whatever the previous captain had been hiding in those bottles.
They talked about their godly parents. Shiro just listened. Ate.
