Chapter Text
Shiro had Beckers Muscular Dystrophy and was doing a damn good job at hiding it, until he wasn’t. He had been a paladin of Voltron for a couple of months when his injector bracelet stopped working. Fuck. A whole year as a slave to the Galra and he’d had no problems. They had tried to strip it from his person but he had insisted that if he didn’t have it, he would be of no use to them. The Galra had examined it and determined that it wasn’t a threat. That bracelet survived gladiator battles and even a crash landing to Earth, but just a simple matter of battery life rendered it useless.
“Come on… come on..” Shiro mumbled as he pressed every button on the injector. Hey, it had worked with rebooting his TV back on Earth. The bracelet flickered and went dark. Shiro sighed, lowered his head, and ripped the medical equipment off of his wrist. A trickle of blood escaped where the injector needle had been in his vein. Shiro put his mouth to the wound and licked the remaining blood off his wrist. He would just have to figure something else out. He didn’t even know if Alteans HAD medication for Muscular Dystrophy, and even if they did, he couldn’t really ask. He was the leader of Voltron. The head. The only person who knew about his condition was Keith and even he had been led to believe that it wasn’t a big deal. Shiro slumped onto his bed. Maybe he should keep the shell of the bracelet on just to avoid any concern. He knew it probably wasn’t in his best interest, but he couldn’t be a reliable leader if he was constantly under question. If the Garrison was ready to deny him a place on the Kerberos mission, the other paladins definitely wouldn’t let him lead.
“Right, fuck it.” He said as he got up to leave the room. He had some research to do.
Shiro sauntered into the research lab, hands in his pockets looking around to see if anyone was there. He was alone. Good. He sat down and swiveled around to face the computer.
“Ok..” started Shiro, “there’s gotta be something I can do.” For hours, Shiro searched. He even brought out an Altean translator manual to help. No luck. The alien race DID have an illness similar to Shiro’s but the medicine would’ve been like poison in his body.
“So either death or death..” Shiro pushed himself in the swivel chair and flung his head back with a sigh. He’d just have to keep trying. He’d find something somehow.
“Hey Shiro!” Pidge had walked in. Shiro stumbled to close every window on the computer and stood up, almost tripping over his own foot.
“Hey kiddo,” Shiro stiffened. “What’s up?” He could feel his face heating up and his heart pounding out of his chest. Pidge raised her eyebrow and chuckled.
“What’s your deal?” She gestured to the altean manual. “Good on you for trying to learn. I gave up a while ago.” She turned to the particle analyzer and put her short hair up with a headband.
“It’s bout to get real loud in here. I’d scram if I were you.” Without meeting Shiro’s eyes she pointed to the exit door.
“Ah yes,” Shiro stammered. “Got it. Good luck with… whatever that is.” Pidge gave him a thumbs up and flipped a switch, turning the whole room into an echo chamber. Shiro covered his ears and scurried out the door into the hallway. With nothing to help him with his problem, he was feeling pretty discouraged. His bracelet would beep every few hours when it worked. He had changed it to vibrate instead so as not to draw attention when he left on the Kerberos mission. How many hours had it been since it died? Three? Maybe four? He hadn’t been off his meds since we was diagnosed at sixteen.
. . .
He was at the Galaxy garrison when it happened. He was running laps with his class. The group of teens had been training all day to get ready for a flight test. This run was their cool down before initiating their practice simulators. He was with Adam, who at the time was one of the weakest on the team, so it shocked everyone when Shiro collapsed right next to him. His legs had given out and his heart was skipping beats, causing Shiro to hyperventilate.
“Call medical!!” Adam had yelled while he crouched next to his friend. Shiro had been placed on a gurney and was rushed to the medical center, where a couple doctors ran some tests on him. They took a muscle biopsy and kept him overnight. His heart would not stop racing. It was like it was working overtime to keep him alive.
“You have Beckers Muscular Dystrophy,” stated the doctor. “It’s very treatable but..”
“What??” Shiro folded forward on the hospital chair.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid I am Mr. Shirogane.” Sighed the school doctor. Shiro couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Like I was saying Takashi, this is highly treatable… but it comes with some complications. You’ll have to be on medication for the rest of your life, and I would strongly recommend a career change.” Shiro choked on his breath. A career change??
“Ma’am.. please.. you’re joking right? I’m a pilot. It’s in my blood, my heart. You can’t take that away from me.” Tears started to trickle down his face. His legs trembled uncontrollably. The doctor noticed and put her hand on his shin.
“You can do simulators and test flights, but I’ve never known of anyone with this illness that has been able to maintain proper muscle mass..”
“I can do it,” interrupted Shiro “I’ll train harder than anyone in the entire Garrison. I don’t care what it takes.” The doctor stared him up and down. He was a fit boy and didn’t seem to have any visible physical symptoms yet. She nodded, accepting his words, and pulled something out of her pocket.
“This is medical equipment.” She handed it to Shiro who was still shaking.
“It’s an injector. You’ll have to wear it 24/7 for the medicine to work.” As she said that she presented to Shiro a vial of liquid medication.
“This will be administered to you via injection every 5 hours.” She opened a hatch on the top of the bracelet and snapped the vial inside.
“You’ll hear a soft beep and maybe feel a bit of pressure, but it should be practically painless.” Shiro took the injector and examined it. It was bulky and heavier than he liked. Everyone would notice. He could feel his throat fall into his stomach. The doctor cradled the boy’s trembling hand and rubbed circles on his palm to calm him down. He peered at her, tears continuing to pool down his cheeks. She sighed and reached for the bracelet, opening it up and securing it around Shiro’s left wrist. Shiro winced as he felt the small needle slide into his vein. The doctor pressed a button on the side and a small beep sounded.
“There,” she said. “First one done.”
After that day Shiro was a frequent visitor of the medical wing. He needed refills of his medication every couple of months. He also had physical therapy every week. According to the doctors, he was a picture of health. His muscle tone was weakening, but not nearly at the pace anyone had predicted.
“I heard you beat another record!” Shiro’s physical therapist, Martha, was one of his biggest fans. A grin creeped across her face as she held his feet down. Shiro was doing squats. In the past few months, he had experienced more trouble maintaining balance while standing for long periods of time.
“Yeah,” Shiro smiled. “Fastest flight around the moon and back.” He heaved his body up and down, only a slight tremble in his right upper thigh.
“I’m hoping to be accepted onto a top secret mission.” Martha raised her eyebrows in shock.
“Oooh top secret eh? Fancy! Well, keep this strength up and I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She tapped the floor, signaling an end to the exercise, and stood up to face the 23 year old. Shiro had barely broken a sweat. Martha sat Shiro into a chair and grabbed his shoulders. This was his favorite part. Martha massaged the muscles near his neck and spine, feeling for any abnormalities.
They were in a windowless room, away from any prying eyes. Strangely enough, Shiro had been able to hide his illness from almost everyone in the Garrison, minus Adam (his fiancé). And of course his captain knew, but it hadn’t been too much of an issue. Yeah he’d had to miss some training sessions to attend therapy, but it wasn’t enough to raise too much suspicion. Martha clapped her hands down on Shiro’s shoulders and ruffled his hair.
“Yer all done Takashi! Nice going.” She reached out her hand and helped the man up to his feet. He always felt a bit shaky after every treatment, but that meant his muscles were doing their job.
“Thanks Martha,” he smiled. “Next week same time?” Martha nodded and handed him her notes for the day.
“Look these over. I wrote some specific trainings you could do to strengthen those hips. Should help you out with getting accepted on your “secret mission”.” She chuckled and waved him out the door. Shiro stuffed the paper into his pocket and went onto his next appointment, dinner with Adam.
. . .
Shiro sat with the paladins of Voltron in a circle. It was the weekend and the team had decided to do some mental training. Spiritual connection with their lions was a difficult but physically simple task, so there was no need to get all sweaty and sore. It had been two weeks since Shiro’s wristband died. He felt ok, maybe more fatigued than usual, but to be fair, he was getting shit sleep as well. He was stressed. A simple mental exercise was exactly what he needed to get out of his head.
“Alright everyone, concentrate. Link to your Lion’s memory. What does she know that you don’t.” Shiro directed. The five pilots, eyes closed, envisioned stories amongst the spiritual realm of cosmic mystery. It was always beautiful to experience, but difficult to keep stable. Hunk was the first to back out.
“Geez guys,” he huffed, “I don’t know about you but I’ve had enough mind palace for one day.”
“Shut up Hunk,” hissed Keith who was barely hanging onto his concentration as it was. “Let me just finish this ok??” Hunk sighed and fell backwards, sprawling out to face the ceiling. Soon after, Keith dropped his head and, too, fell backward.
“Fucking damn it.” He mumbled.
“Keith. Language.” Shiro scolded. He could feel Keith’s eyes roll and Shiro smirked. Not much time passed before Lance and Pidge were done. Both of them had completed their exercise. Then Shiro dropped his focus. “Great job team,” he praised. “I think we’ve all earned some of Hunk’s wonderful cooking yeah?” Shiro, leaning back on his hands, gazed over at the yellow paladin, and saw Hunk’s eyes gleam with excitement.
“You got it!” The boy sang and jumped to his feet. The others followed suit and started to make their way out of the lounge. Shiro began to get up before his leg twisted and crumpled underneath him. He plummeted to the ground, his head smacking onto the cold floor.
“Shiro!” Keith ran to help his friend up off the ground. “Are you ok? What happened?” Shiro could feel his thighs tremble as he let Keith hold the majority of his weight.
“I.. got light headed,” Shiro lied. “I guess I really am hungry.” He rubbed his head where a small bruise was forming. Ow.
“Do you, I don’t know, need anything?” Keith asked. He was in a ready stance, seemingly waiting for Shiro to fall again. Shiro frowned. Of course he didn’t need anything. He was fine.
“No I’m good.” He stated bluntly. “I just need some food and water is all.” Keith nodded and walked with Shiro to the kitchens, not noticing the slight limp that accompanied Shiro’s steps.