The ship was spotless. Unnervingly so. Every plank scrubbed, every rope coiled, every surface polished until it practically reflected the sky. He almost felt guilty for not lifting a finger.

Almost.

He did save their lives. That had to count for something. Though he was fairly certain the cleaning had less to do with gratitude and more to do with the fact that everyone on board was terrified of him.

’Not the vibe I was going for. But I’ll take it.’

He found Jason at the wheel, steering with the energy of a man running on his last fumes. Eyes hollow. Shoulders slumped. So far gone he didn’t even register Shiro standing right behind him.

"How much farther?"

Jason nearly jumped out of his skin.

’Yep. Still terrified.’

He steadied himself, eyes flicking to the map pinned beside the wheel. A pause. Mental math.

"About seven days."

’Seven. Wonderful.’

"And Kyre?"

Jason looked at him. Concern written all over his face, like giving Shiro information felt the same as handing a loaded weapon to someone unstable. But he pushed the words out anyway.

"Three days past the sanctuary."

’So ten days.’ He didn’t mind the journey. What he wasn’t sure about was how long it would take to find Aphrodite after that. His gaze snapped back to Jason.

"Random question. Do you know how I can meet Aphrodite?"

Jason looked at him. Face blank. The kind of blank you give someone when they’ve just asked where to find the goddess of love like they were asking for directions to a bakery.

"I—no. I’m not one of her children. Why would I know that?"

He sighed. "Worth a shot," he said flatly.

Silence settled between them. Jason shifted at the wheel like he was debating whether to keep talking or pretend this conversation never happened.

"I mean—" Jason started, then stopped, then started again. "You could always ask one of the other demigods on board. There’s a decent number of us. At least one has to be a child of the love goddess."

Shiro’s eyes lit up. A massive smile carved across his face. Bright. Hopeful.

"Really?"

"Y-yeah," he said, leaning slightly away from the wheel like Shiro’s enthusiasm was somehow scarier than his threats. "Just—maybe don’t ask them the way you asked me. Maybe lead with something that isn’t terrifying."

Shiro looked at him, offended in a way that was almost childlike. "I have been nothing but reasonable. Every single thing I did was justified. Crushed it, honestly."

Jason let out a breath that might have been a laugh in another life. Then his expression shifted, something heavier settling behind his eyes.

"Maybe. But if things had gone differently, if the circumstances weren’t what they were, I think those kids would’ve turned out different too."

Shiro went quiet for a moment. "So where’s the line? The one you cross and can’t walk back from?"

Jason didn’t answer immediately. The wheel creaked under his hands. The sea filled the silence for him.

"I’m not saying you were wrong, Shiro. Honestly, I failed them before you ever showed up." His jaw tightened. "But not everyone is built like you. The ones who carry Olympian blood, we’re targets. Hunted. Harvested for what runs through our veins. Most of us don’t make it past twenty-five."

His voice dropped. Not for effect. Because it hurt.

"The gods acknowledge us when it’s convenient. But the moment we actually need them—" He stopped. Swallowed. Started again. "They disappear. Every single time. We’re their children, and they treat us like loose ends." The wind caught his hair. His knuckles were white on the wheel. "Demigods, descendants, we have nobody but each other. The gods don’t want to give them a chance." He looked at Shiro. Steady. Broken. "Then I will."

Jason’s words sat in his chest like something heavy that refused to settle. It made him question his own morals, because when he really thought about it, was he any different from the gods of this world?

He wasn’t. Not really.

Before Enkidu, he was Gilgamesh. The tyrant. The king who took what he wanted because no one could stop him. The one who treated people like things and called it ruling. His people didn’t love him. They survived him. And he never once asked himself why.

He didn’t change because he saw his reflection one day and recognized the monster staring back.

No. For him to realize it, it took losing Enkidu. His best friend. His only friend.

The only person in the entire world who looked at the King of Uruk and didn’t kneel. Who stood in front of him. Who fought beside him.

Unlike everyone else, Enkidu didn’t fear him. Didn’t worship him.

And when he died, the grief didn’t teach Gilgamesh a lesson. It dismantled him. Tore apart everything he thought he was.

Without him, he’d still be the same monster sitting on a golden throne, wondering why no one loved him.

Shiro looked at him. Behind those blue eyes, not just pain. Something deeper. A kind of ache he couldn’t read, couldn’t name, and that bothered him more than it should have. He wanted to know. Wanted to pull it apart and understand what was breaking this person from the inside out.

Jason was perfect. Tall. Perfect pale face. Blond hair that caught the light like it was auditioning for something. The kind of look Luca would have committed actual crimes for. Everything about him was put together, polished, symmetrical, the whole package.

So what was hurting him?

He wanted to ask. The question was right there, sitting on his tongue.

But it felt wrong. Like opening a door someone had locked on purpose. And it didn’t feel right forcing it open without them doing it willingly.

So he just forced out a smile. "You get some sleep. I’ll take it from here."

That was all he could say. He’d lost this one.

"Okay," Jason muttered. Like he didn’t know what else to say either.

Neither of them moved for a second. The silence stretched between them. Thick. Awkward.

’This is painfully uncomfortable.’

Jason seemed to be on the same boat—well, ship. Literally and figuratively. So he turned and walked away, ending the suffering for both of them.

’Oh, thank you.’

Shiro grabbed the wheel.