When he stepped onto the harbor, he expected—well, the expected. Captains lined up. Lieutenants standing at attention. Soldiers forming neat little rows to welcome home the brave heroes with their weapons pointing at them.
Instead?
Nobody cared. And he felt offended.
He expected at least one person to shout "hey, the traitors are here!" but not a single person looked up. The dock was packed—merchants hauling crates, sailors cursing at each other, fishermen arguing over the day's catch—and every last one of them walked past Shiro and the crew like they didn't exist.
'Damn it, and here I was ready to try out my new strength.'
Disappointed, they pushed through the crowded dock, past the lower districts, where the atmosphere shifted. People here weren't ignoring them. These people were watching. Staring with those hopeful, desperate eyes—the ones that said please tell me you brought something back for us.
And Shiro kept his head low. He couldn't look them in their hopeful eyes.
