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Patience yields focus.
These are the words Shiro has used as his mantra. Spoken to him by his grandfather, it became the most important, impactful phrase in his life. It got him through his trials and tribulations: the death of his parents, his diagnosis, the subsequent hospital visits, even the struggles he faced, both within himself and with the outside world as he continued to pursue his dream, despite it all. The words brought a sense of comfort, for if everything truly happened for a reason, no matter how unbearable the pain, he simply had to be patient until whatever hidden silver lining revealed itself.
It got him closer to his dream of space exploration, spurring him on to prove his nay-sayers wrong and become the Garrison’s youngest pilot, their best yet.
It got him to the stars.
And oh, how they glowed. How they sparkled and shined brightly, just for him. He was a moth, drawn to their light.
He realized horribly fast that he was Icarus, and his wings were starting to burn.
The smell of smoke permeates through the cockpit. Shiro coughs, a wet rasp. He groans, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to dispel the haziness from the landing. Not his best work, admittedly, but then again he’s never had to land while being shot at, so considering the circumstances, he’d give himself a gold star. At least he’s not dead. Yet.
Shiro leans back slowly, slumping into the pilot’s chair as he centers himself. A low tone resonates in his head. His ears are ringing, he realizes. He groans, careful not to make any sudden moment until his body resettles. He’s in no mood to move.
‘ Ping!’
The noise startles Shiro, prompting a hiss of pain. He quickly surveys the cockpit, eyes landing on the console. A pink dot glows, fading in and out menacingly. Shiro swallows, breath caught in his throat. “No,” he begs aloud, “please-”
The ship pings again.
Fuck. They’ve found him. Looks like he doesn’t have a choice.
The adrenaline helps him get back on his feet, scrambling to get away from the ship. He runs as soon as his feet hit the ground, careful to stay hidden as best as he can. He keeps moving, even when a sharp pain starts to spike in his chest. He needs to stay alive long enough to figure out how to get back home.
When he comes across a cave, he thinks maybe his luck with the universe is finally starting to change for the better. He’s already in the middle of nowhere on this foreign planet that, bless his lucky star, has breathable oxygen for humans. He slumps against the cave walls once he enters, ensuring his form and any possible shadow is hidden from surveillant eyes. He heaves, gasping for air now that his body recognizes it’s at rest, every cellular atom screaming at him for exceeding his limits.
It doesn’t matter, he thinks, soundlessly laughing in relieved mania. He made it out. He has the upperhand now. He nearly cries from the sheer realization.
Then the cave begins to glow.
Dread builds in his stomach, resettling back into its home. It figures he forgot to consider potentially dying anyways by other means.
He powers up his weaponized hand by habit, face set in steely determination. He’s had to fight for his life for the past… who-knows-how-long. What’s another day?
Cautiously, Shiro surveys the cave where he stands in search of the light source. It fades ominously, before intensifying. This time, it’s accompanied by a low growl. A warning.
So, there’s a creature somewhere in the cave. He needs to tread carefully until he figures out if it’s native to the planet or another alien species. For all he knows, he could be a home invader. And if he’s seen as a threat, he might not make it through the night. He needs to be smart.
Slowly, he lowers his hand and his body into a crouch, inching forward to find his new cave mate. They must have markings, he realizes, as the light projection casts threatening shadows throughout the cave. They look sharp and jagged, his primal brain perceiving the shapes as a haunting face. He swallows, and continues onward. The further back he goes, the brighter the light and the louder the growl becomes, the latter bordering on sharp hisses. Maybe it’s a giant space cat?
He pauses when the sound of scraping metal reverberates through the cave. The ‘ shing’ echoes, and his heart rate increases. If those aren’t claws, then… he’s in trouble either way. Fuck.
The growling stops, leaving the cave devoid of noise.
Light fades. Darkness encroaches, the glow from his hand his only light source now.
The silence is the worst part.
His head turns at the sound of pebbles jostling as a figure pounces. He barely reacts in time, metal hand clashing with metal--a sword, he realizes. The surprise attack knocks him off kilter. He slides back slightly, trying to put some distance between his assailant. They stay put where they are, having the same desire as Shiro.
The low growl returns, softer now, but no less harsher than before. The light returns too, and this time, Shiro watches as the markings on his companion's skin begin to glow, pulsing slightly. Their eyes glow too, yellow and vibrant, teeth glinting as they snarl. The marks adorn the alien’s face, resembling something like tribal marks to Shiro. He can’t help but think they’re beautiful. Deadly, he figures, but god. What a way to go.
“Wow,” Shiro breathes, lowering his hand as he gazes in awe. He’s in a cave with a Galra, he knows now. Kinda obvious with the purple skin and defined, cat-like features. The alien race he’s actively trying to avoid, someone who could very likely be part of the Empire, who could kill him or send him back to another year in hell. Yet he can’t help but be entranced .
The Galra in question shifts, sword aimed forward, ready to strike if provoked. “Who sent you?” They demand, voice a low rasp. Shiro stays silent, watching the way light dances from the Galra’s skin. His eyes trace low, mystified to see that, yes, their glowing stripes trail down, from their slim, muscled arms, to across their chest-- his chest, he realizes, and further down past his torso. It still amazes Shiro how similarly structured the Galra are to humans.
“Answer me!” The Galra snarls.
“You’re beautiful,” Shiro says. The Galra blinks, clearly not expecting that. His markings shine brighter for a moment, before fading to a dim glow.
“You’re delusional.” He grumbles, breaking eye contact.
Shiro flushes. He almost wants to argue in spite of himself, but, “I’m sorry?” he tries. The Galra shrugs him off, shuffling back to his original spot with a huff. He vaguely hears his new friendly companion (or at least neutral, thank god) mutter something about empty flattery or injury induced insanity as he goes back to… whatever it was he was doing. It’s then Shiro sees the discarded armor plates and a handful of what he guesses are medical supplies.
The Galra sits, letting out a sharp hiss as he applies an ointment to his wounds. Sure enough, there are various bruises and scratch marks--some deep enough to be a cut or puncture wounds-- scattered along his body. Shiro winces out of sympathy, knowing that pain first hand. Literally.
The ache in his arm and back flare up again, having been temporarily forgotten in the chaos of it all. He clasps his bicep tightly, hissing a curse as his legs buckle. He leans back against the cave walls a little too quickly, a portion of the rocky cave jabbing harshly just under his shoulder blade.
“ Fuck .” He coughs, sliding to the floor. He feels the others' eyes on him, pausing his own ministrations. “I’m fine,” Shiro says before the Galra asks, “Nothing I can’t handle.” Silence falls between them. Shiro tilts his head up, closing his eyes to avoid the usual looks of pity, concern, or annoyance his words spur. He’s tired of the world--no, the universe at this point--seeing him as fragile, as if he’s a house of cards one blow from caving in.
A shuffling noise brings him back to attention, eyes blinking upon seeing the Galra at arms length now, container of space ointment in hand. He dips his clawed hand in, scooping out a glob of salve before taking Shiro’s arm in the other.
“Oh. No, I’m fine, really-”
“You’re not. Fact of the matter is, you’ve been injured. Whether you want to admit it or not doesn’t change the obvious state you’re in.” He says point blank. It’s… non-judgmental, oddly enough. Shiro stares at him dumbly. Yellow eyes stare back into his steadily, assessing. He sighs, “I’m stubborn too. I get it. But sometimes we all need a hand,” he softly shakes the hand that still holds Shiro’s arm. The action is unexpectedly gentle as it is comical. “Now strip.”
Shiro chokes, torn between embarrassment and laughter. “ What ?” he asks, incredulous. The Galra half-shrugs.
“I could always tear your clothes off of you instead, but I’m sure you’d like to be somewhat warm tonight.” he smirks. Shiro scoffs in disbelief, laced with a bit of amusement. He shakes his head, “And you got flustered when I called you beautiful.”
A faint ‘ mrrrp’ sounds from the alien kneeling in front of him, his face unamused. His markings glow again, however faintly. “What’s your name?” Shiro asks.
An ear twitches. “Why?”
“Because I’d like to put a name to the pretty face who’s so kindly choosing to heal me instead of gut me where I stand.”
“It’s still an option,” he grumbles, markings still lighting the space between them. Shiro simply smiles sweetly, waiting ever so patiently. He may or may not be throwing in a bit of his puppy dog eyes into the mix. He’s not above using his assets.
The Galra’s expression furrows, lip jutting out in a cute pout. It’s fascinating to see such a look on a Galra. Shiro was beginning to suspect they were incapable of any emotion that wasn’t based on anger or bloodlust.
“...It’s Keith.” He says after a moment. Shiro blinks, taken aback. It’s a human name . Why does he have a human name?
“Keith. Your name is Keith ?” he asks. Keith nods slowly, an air of wariness as he pulls his head back in confusion. There’s a silent challenge in the look he gives Shiro.
Shiro raises his prosthetic hand in defense, “Keith’s a good name. Just… wasn’t what I was expecting.” Keith shoots him a look, eyebrow raised. “I’m not trying to--I didn’t mean--,” Shiro sighs, hand running down his face. “Let me start over: Nice to meet you, Keith. I’m Shiro.”
“Shiro,” Keith repeats, “Nice to meet you, too.” He huffs in amusement. Shiro feels the heat of embarrassment dust his face. He likes the way Keith says his name. Keith leans in. “Shiro,” he says, serious, “stop stalling and undress before I do it for you.”
Shiro chuckles, nearly giggling. Maybe he is a little delirious if he’s struggling this much to keep himself in check. He complies nonetheless, shedding the purple scrap of fabric the Galra deemed fit as a “shirt” and pulls down his leotard enough to free his remaining flesh arm. Keith hums and pointedly tugs on the other sleeve. Blushing, Shiro takes off the other sleeve, pushing the fabric down until it rests at his hip, chest equally bare. The cool air brushes his skin, making him shiver slightly.
Keith takes hold of his arm again, lifting it slightly with critical eyes as he determines where to tend to Shiro first. Being observed like this makes Shiro’s breath hitch. He knows the blush on his face has probably deepened, or at the very least spread since he feels warm despite the night’s cold bite.
The salve feels gritty, but he doesn’t mind the odd texture as Keith’s hands skirt across his skin. Shiro feels soothed within seconds. He sighs softly in relief, body going lax as the pain begins to dissipate.
“Keith is a human name.” Shiro points out after a minute or so. Keith pauses, hands stilled at his midriff where he placed some sort of space bandaid. “Is that the human equivalent to your Galra name or something?” He asks.
“Or something.” Keith says, not elaborating any further. Shiro doesn’t push it. He’s not sure why his name would be shrouded in mystery, but he can understand wanting to keep a secret. Maybe it’s necessary. There are things Shiro would rather not share less than a day of meeting someone, either.
He lets Keith continue his work in companionable silence, content to enjoy the moment while it lasts. He hasn’t felt a kind touch in ages. The truth of it nearly has him cry on the spot. He didn’t think he’d find another genuine kind soul out here in the cruel clutches of space, much less among the Galra.
“Shiro?” Shiro blinks, gaze meeting Keith’s concerned eyes, a swirling violet. They’re so gentle, Shiro thinks.
“It’s nothing, I’m just grateful you’re the one I ran into.” It’s an admission that feels a little too raw, but he finds he couldn’t care less. Freedom from captivity made him a bolder man, it seems.
The glowing light between them pulses. Keith ducks his head off to the side. “Are you always like this?” he mumbles.
“No,” Shiro chuckles, “I’m just really happy right now. Truly, thank you, Keith.”
“...You’re welcome.”
They’re winding down to rest for the night when it happens.
Keith goes stiff all of a sudden, hackles raised. Shiro rouses from sleep upon hearing Keith’s warning growl, having been half asleep anyways.
“Keith? What’s-” he doesn’t get to finish before Keith tackles him to the ground in a flash of bright pink, clawed hand around his throat as his markings glow threateningly. Panic and dismay overtake Shiro as he thinks Keith might kill him after all, only to be startled as bullets ricochet through the cave.
“You bastard,” Keith snarls, his other hand outstretched and ready to strike should he make any sudden movements, “Did you lead them here?!”
“Who?!”
“The Empire!”
“No! I’m running from them!”
“We know you’re in there, Champion!” A gruff voice calls out as Zarkon’s soldiers audibly make their way further into the cave. Shiro pales, heart plummeting. At least he made the right choice leaving instead of staying in the stolen cruiser.
Keith startles, gaze shifting nervously from the entrance to Shiro. “ You’re the Champion?” He whispers, tone a stark contrast from the earlier aggression.
“Not by choice,” Shiro admits, equally quiet. Keith surprises him by laughing shakily.
“Well, good thing we ran into each other, then.” He grins, and-- oh, he’s striking with that killer smile. Shiro’s about to ask a question when Keith tells him to lie low, springing up with his sword in hand. Shiro pushes up quickly, ready to defend himself should anyone try to attack. He knows instinctually Keith is a creature not to be trifled with. Seeing him fight is equally breathtaking.
It’s a dance, almost. The way he zips past the Galra Empire soldiers with the fluidity of water, sword cutting through the squadron like a ribbon. Shiro swears he intends on helping, but he’s awestruck. Keith fights with such ease, despite the way he falters slightly from pain. He’s all the more impressed by the tenacity in which this Galra he only just met fights. For him. Someone he doesn’t even know. It takes his breath away.
Keith huffs, arms shaking slightly as the last soldier falls, felled by his sword.
“You saved me,” Shiro whispered, only heard via the way the cave echoes. Keith stops, chest heaving slightly as he pants. He turns, giving Shiro a quizzical look. It comes across as disbelief and confusion.
“You’re the Champion.” Is all he says, as if that explains anything. Shiro’s heart sinks a bit. He doesn’t know how to respond to that.
“How did you escape?” Keith asks.
“I… It’s a bit of a blur, actually,” Shiro admits, “But. I had some help, I think.”
“You think?”
“Well one minute I’m strapped to a table about to undergo whatever experiment Zarkon’s witch wants to conduct on me, the next, I’m piloting a cruiser, trying to maneuver it away from the Galra fleet attacking me--which didn’t go so well, by the way--and now I’m here.”
Keith stares at him for a long time.
Shiro shifts uncomfortably. “What is it?” he asks finally.
“You’re my contact. You hold the key.”
“...The key to what?”
“To saving the universe. To Voltron.”
Voltron . The words strike him with strange familiarity. It was a word tossed out frequently among the Galra, but he never figured out what it meant.
Go to Earth. Find the lions. Find Voltron. It is our only hope.
The memory flashes sharply, much like the cold, clinical light of the lab room he was always trapped in.
“Shiro.” Keith shakes him out of his trance.
“Sorry, I’m fine.” he says, peeling Keith’s hands off of him. “There was a Galra, one of the physicians… he’s the one who helped me escape.” he grabs his prosthetic. “He… told me to go back to earth, to find Voltron. There was something about a lion? But… I’m not quite sure what he meant. I just know I have to do it.”
“Then we better not waste any more time.” Keith stands, quickly gathering his things.
“Wh--But--How do you plan on getting off this planet?” Shiro sputters.
“You said you have a stolen cruiser?”
“More like had, but yes-”
“Perfect. Hopefully it’s not too damaged.” Keith walks to the mouth of the cave, then stills, turning to look at him. “You coming? It’d be faster if you led me to it.”
Shiro opens his mouth, closes it.
He silently follows Keith out of the cave.
“Hmm… wing’s busted, nasty gash on the side, and even with minimum effort repairs the energy source is damaged.” Keith sighs, a near growl as he runs his hand through his hair. Shiro’s shoulders hitch slightly.
“Sorry,” he says. Keith hums, tapping his finger on his leg in thought. Keith pulls out a small device as he climbs into the cruiser anyways.
“It’s fine. I’m not gonna blame you for trying your best to land here safely in one piece.” Keith assures with a wave of his hand. Shiro’s mouth lifts slightly in a half-smile, even though Keith’s too focused on the ship's console to notice.
“So, how’d you end up stranded here?” Shiro asks after a while.
“I was on my way to rendezvous with one of the operatives stationed in the Empire, but I got caught in a skirmish and my aircraft was destroyed. I ejected just in time to avoid dying, but ended up stuck here.” Keith gestures lazily to the landscape with a half shrug. “Pissed off some of the wildlife when I landed. Wandered around for shelter and eventually found that cave. Then you showed up.” He smiles, fang glinting in the light.
“Hah, lucky you. Stranded on a planet with lil’ ol’ me, with no way to leave.” Shiro jests. Keith lets out a soft puff of laughter, still mainly focused on whatever he’s trying to find or activate on the console.
“Wait, those Galra who ambushed us back at the cave, they had to have come here on their own ship, right?”
“Yeah? It stands to reason they would.” Shiro nods.
“So theirs must not be far from here!” Keith concludes with excitement. He fiddles with the control panel a little while longer and sure enough, he finds it. “Let’s go.” he grins, taking Shiro’s hand and leading them to track down the other ship.
“Wait,” Shiro stops in his tracks, successfully stilling Keith. “Really? You’d… you’d take me with you? Just like that?”
Keith looks at him strangely. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
“How can you trust me so easily? So soon after we met?” Shiro asks in disbelief, “You don’t even know me.”
Keith levels him with a look. “Neither do you. And yet you trust me. At least enough to get you out of here.”
“I-”
“Look,” Keith sighs, letting go of his hand, “I know we’re practically strangers. And I know maybe you have doubts considering I tried attacking you first, but you never once tried to strike back. You only tried to block me. You may be known as The Champion, but I fail to see the bloodthirsty monster they claim you are. And if Ulaz entrusted you with finding Voltron, then that’s more than enough for me.”
“So let’s find Voltron together,” he extends his hand for Shiro to take again, “Let’s go home, Shiro.”
For the first time in a long while, Shiro lets his heart race with newfound hope. Slowly, hand shaking, he takes Keith’s hand, squeezing tightly. “Okay. Let’s go save the universe, then.”
Keith smiles, positively glowing. Shiro knows he’s never seen anything brighter. He is a radiant sun, and Shiro is more than willing to risk his wings.