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Shiro never held any particular fondness for his prosthesis. Sure it came in useful and was a powerful weapon, but even so, he felt a certain aversion towards it considering where it came from, and what it represented. He always thought he'd be glad to get rid of it one day. Now, after only two days without his right arm, he was beginning to miss it painfully.
The lack of balance was bad enough, he still hadn't adjusted to its absence and felt completely lopsided. He'd lost count of the number of doorways he'd walked into, or the people he hit with his shoulder because everything was off centre and he no longer felt he was in his own body. Everyday tasks, tasks he’d taken for granted before, were much harder. Getting dressed alone was a challenge, forget bathing himself, feeding himself or pilot his lion.
He couldn’t even hold his own against a stupid training droid.
Shiro let out a cry as he was sent flying by a well-aimed swing of the droids staff that caught him in the chest. He skidded across the training room floor and struggled to right himself, trying to catch himself with his right arm only to remember it wasn’t there anymore. He crumpled awkwardly to the floor, landing hard on his right side with another cry.
The droid advanced on Shiro its staff raised ready to strike the deciding blow.
“End training sequence!”
Shiro glared towards the door, his throat tightening as he saw Lance there. “Don’t interrupt, Lance!” He snapped, humiliation making his words sharp. No one could see him like this. What would they think of him?
“Begin training-”
“End training sequence!” Lance yelled over Shiro, his tone louder and more commanding. The droid listened to him and did not move.
Lance marched into the room, moving towards Shiro with purpose ignoring the warning glare the other man was shooting at him.
“Shiro, you're bleeding,” he gasped, coming to a stop as he took in the sight of Shiro's bloody left hand, the knuckles all cut up.
Shiro struggled to his feet, refusing to look at Lance. He pressed his bloody hand to his chest and growled low in his throat when he couldn't wrap his right hand around it to hide it.
“My left arm is pathetic,” he grumbled under his breath. How could he fight when his body was so weak? How had it taken him so long to notice how weak he truly was? Without his right arm, without the strength it gave him, he was nothing.
“Did you try...to punch the droid?” Lance asked carefully glancing at Shiro's injured hand, and then at the frozen robot and the streak of blood on its chest plate.
“How else am I supposed to fight?” Shiro spat. He wiped his hand on his shirt to get rid of the worst of the blood. Good enough.
“Now if you don't mind, I need to train some more, and I don't need you interfering.” Shiro turned to face the droid, ready for the next round.
Lance huffed and stood between them before Shiro could give the command to start it up again.
“Shiro, with or without your arm you're still our best, and most experienced fighter. You know that right, and we're a team,” Lance said defiantly, his feet planted firmly. He wasn't going to move.
“But I'm the leader. What kind of leader can't even beat a training robot?” Shiro gestured to the frozen droid with his left arm, his voice cracking with emotion.
Lance looked at him, his blue eyes hard. Then he let out a heavy sigh, his gazed lowered and his expression softening.
“Shiro, you don't expect Pidge to be able to take out a group of soldiers by herself right?” Lance asked evenly.
“What? No, of course not.”
Lance nodded and stepped away towards the wall where a selection of weapons hung.
“Right. Pidge is great at sneaking in and dealing with tech stuff. If she can sneak on them undetected then she can probably handle maybe four or five on her own, and if she can hack into their systems then it's an easy win for her, but if there are too many, or if she's spotted then she's going to need back up.” Lance reasoned. He picked up one of the staves, weighed it in his hand and then put it back, rejecting it.
“And Hunk is basically our tank. That lion of his can take a lot of damage, and he can blast through a whole wall of enemies to clear a path for us, but if too many gang up on him and he's surrounded then he's going to need our help.” Lance picked up another staff, weighed it again and seemed satisfied with it. He kept it.
Shiro listened to him, saying nothing. He had no idea what Lance was getting at.
“And, I don't mean to brag, but I happen to be a really great shot you know,” Lance shot a grin over his shoulder that showed off a flash of white teeth. Shiro felt the corner of his lips twitch.
“I can pick off enemies from a distance before they have a chance to get to you guys, but if I'm spotted, or the enemy gets too close then I'm not much good, and I'm going to need you guys to save me.” He picked up a second staff from the wall.
“And Keith's recklessness can be pretty useful sometimes. He's fearless so he jumps into things that the rest of us might be too cautious of and try to avoid. He can handle most things on his own, but when he gets in over his head, then he's going to need us to pull him back and stop him from doing something stupid that might get him killed.”
Lance seemed happy with what he'd picked out, so he walked back towards Shiro, a staff in each hand.
“Even Allura and Coran with all their Altean magic and super strength and what not need help sometimes, so why do you think you are the only one that has to do it alone?” Lance demanded pointing one of the staves at Shiro accusingly.
Shiro baulked and took a step back. “That's not...” he floundered.
“Losing your arm for a few days doesn't stop you from fighting, but it does mean you have to make some adjustments, like all of us have to when something unexpected happens, and we can't work to our strength like we might want to.” Lance smiled and held the staff out to Shiro for him to take, no longer brandishing it quite so accusingly.
Gingerly Shiro accepted the staff. It was short then the ones the usually trained with and a little lighter, but it still had enough weight to be useful and being shorter it would be easier to wield with one hand.
Lance gripped the other staff with both hands and took up a ready stance beside Shiro, standing on his right.
“Beginning training sequence, level two,” Lance commanded.
The droid attacked them. Lance caught the blow and blocked it giving Shiro an opening to swing for the droid. Of course, even at level two, it wouldn't be that easy. The droid was quick and nibble, and it jumped out of the range of Shiro's short staff effortlessly. Shiro snarled, and Lance was grinning his teeth bared. They moved together, advancing on the droid.
The fight was tough, even with the short staff. Fighting with one arm was awkward and difficult. Shiro had to be even more aware of his surrounds, where the droid was, and where Lance was. But throughout the fight Lance stuck to his right side, focusing on blocking and deflecting the attacks Shiro couldn't pick up, and never once taking any of the blows Shiro could handle on his own.
Lance's strength wasn't in close range combat, but he could hold his own enough to block and avoid getting hit. As soon as Shiro realised the young man wasn't babying him or trying to protect him, they fell into a comfortable rhythm that allowed them to work together to take down the droid.
It took longer than it ordinarily would have, but with Lance on his right, it was almost as if he had his arm back and finally Shiro was able to deal the winning blow. The droid stopped and fell through the dark hole in the floor disappearing from view.
“Phew, we won!” Lance yelled victoriously and for the first time since his arm was damaged Shiro smiled.
They'd won. They'd defeated the droid together, and Shiro hadn't been a burden. He had to adjust his fighting style, and his blows weren't as powerful, but with Lance fighting alongside him as his right hand, he'd done it.
“We won,” he agreed with a small chuckle.
“Want to go again? We could try level three?” Lance said with a challenging grin, twirling the staff in his hands.
“You're on.” Shiro adjusted his grip on the short staff and grinned.