Chapter Text
There was a momentary resistance against the steel of his blade. The leather carapace of his opponent, lining thickly against the creatures throat, was what he supposed was the main thing fighting against him.
And so he dug a little deeper, just a little harder.
The knife finally sank, arms shaking as it met soft flesh. A resounding howl, and jeers coming from the crowd. He was the villain here, the upstart human that managed to best the contender. The underdog no one was betting on winning.
It was no matter, because the booing he had become accustomed to in the arena would be soon replaced by the fearful whispers of his fellow cellmates.
Champion.
Hero.
He took another stab, hacking away at the muscle, his hands stained green with blood as he found the seam in between the hard shell and flesh. He ran the length of his weapon along it, not dissimilar to deshelling a shellfish, and fought the urge to vomit.
“Shiro?”
At the call of his name, a familiar voice but tremulous, he spun around.
Keith, wide-eyed and terrified.
No.
“This-” Shiro stood, unable to understand how Keith had managed to get into the gladiator ring, dropping his knife. “Keith, I had to, you have to understand.”
But suddenly he was far away, further from the crowd, floating at the edge of space and time, as if his very being was fading in and out of existence.
In his place, another of himself moved closer to Keith, darting towards him to bring him down before he had the chance to bring forth his red bayard.
He grappled, trying to will himself back into the arena, something he thought he could never go back to, hands flailing pitifully even as he receded into the darkness.
Shiro could do nothing.
He was forced to watch himself as he drove the blade into Keith’s chest.
But now he was awake. If he could call it that.
Slowly he rose, once again surveying his surroundings. Endless fields of stars, constellations he could never recognize, filled his vision with ultraviolet and darkened purples. The scene, while it never ceased to stun him in its sublime beauty, was always one that he wished he would one day wake up and no longer see. He longed for the dull silver of his bunk in the castle, more than he could ever admit.
He felt the Black Lion rumble, as if asking if he was alright.
“Morning to you too, Black.” He murmured with a shake of his head.
Being dead and in the Black Lion certainly had its perks. He could see everywhere, and into anything. Shiro could finally travel the stars like he had always dreamed.
A portal opened, and he peered into it, watching as Keith had already risen for the day, well before his Marmoran peers, training.
It was embarrassing really, how well the Black Lion knew by now. A bad nightmare always called for a soothing activity for him, and watching Keith go through his workout routine almost felt… normal. Some days, he could almost pretend he was simply mentoring him once again. Other times, he would even follow the routine alongside him.
Today though, he watched as Keith stumbled, falling onto the training mat for the fifth time, face pinched tight with frustration. He was trying to learn a specific tumble, one he had observed his teammate to do, that neatly avoided larger foes in close-combat. Shiro knew that if Keith could lead with his left hand just a bit more, the rest of the move would fall into place.
He could see, but he could never interact, of course.
There was, though, someone else that could, in his place. Shiro clenched his fists.
“Black, I’d like to see how… the copy is doing.”
With a roar, the scene changed. The paladins had gathered onto the deck of the castleship, talking animatedly with the severity of their situation written on their faces.
“One of our convoys has been ambushed by a squadron of Galra cruisers.” Coran announced, and the rest of them began to discuss a plan of attack.
Times like these, as he watched the clone speak to the paladins, was almost like watching himself through a funhouse mirror. Words spoken, were for just a split second before they were said, formed in his own mind. A puppet show or a mockery of a stage play, he thought to himself, as he mouthed along with the lines given.
“I’ll send Keith to help as soon as I find him.”
Once again the scenery changed, a fight against the black backdrop of starlight. The lions and their paladins, hopelessly outgunned in the battle. Shiro watched, tensed as he saw his friends take hit after hit.
There was no time, Keith would never make it in time, he knew that he was multiple star systems away.
A warning growl sounded from the Black Lion, and Shiro trained his eyes into the cockpit, an image of himself sitting at the helm, hands placed on the controls.
No.
“Black. What is he doing in here.” As the fear in him rose, so did his voice. “Get him out of there, you know he can’t pilot you-”
“Please.” Shiro heard him say. “People’s lives are at stake.”
The comms lit up in the frantic chatter, the desperation in their voices like a punch in his gut.
“You trusted me once.” The shadow, the clone, pleaded. “Trust me again.”
It was then that it dawned on him. The truth of the matter, the disconnect that he had all along been feeling. There before him, was not simply a copy, a remake, a faulty afterimage of himself.
“He’s… Shiro, isn’t he.”
The Black Lion rumbled, mournfully, affirmatively.
“That’s why you saved him. Because… he’s not a fake."
"He’s… me.”
The lion didn’t answer, but he knew then, from the tips of his fingers and into his very bones, what they had to do.
“Alright then. Black, let’s do it.”
The Black Lion bursted to life, lights activating and engines grumbling awake.
Shiro watched himself rush into the thick of the battle, the sole thought on his mind only to protect the paladins, his friends.
With a sad quirk of the mouth, he tilted his head.
“Guess there’s no real heroes or villains afterall.”