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It was the smell – a disgusting mix of wet fur and putrid excrement – that triggered Shiro’s flashback.
Lance found a small puff of fur, reminiscent of a kitten, on the latest planet Voltron freed, and he brought it to Shiro with a simple, “Can’t we keep it?”
The memories crashed down upon Shiro once he caught a whiff of the animal’s sweat-drenched and muddied fur, and Shiro wasn’t sure if he’d answered, though he thought he managed to grunt an affirmative. Then he stumbled back to his quarters where his legs folded under his body and his face pressed against his knees.
He dreaded learning more about his past, especially once he remembered some of his fights as “Champion,” and now faced with this disturbing memory, he couldn’t fathom what could be worse.
They were on a desert planet – he and Sendak. The various large cactus planets, desert willows, and red rock formations reminded Shiro of the New Mexican desert where the garrison base and the cabin he shared with Keith were located, but he couldn’t dwell upon that now, not when he half-carried, half-dragged a large mauve-cat across the darkened sands in the middle of this planet’s night.
Sendak still retained both of his natural arms, though blood dribbled heavily from one of them, a deep wound in his side darkening his uniform. Shiro gnashed his teeth. Lugging Sendak’s terrible weight was a struggle – but not a burden – as they fled from shadow to shadow, the search party sounding loudly behind them.
When he spoke, Shiro’s voice was strained but full of conviction. “We’re almost to the rendezvous point. If you’re as strong as you keep professing, you should have no trouble getting there.”
From somewhere, Sendak produced a blaster. “Go. Meet up with Haxus and come back for me. I’ll hold them off.”
Shiro never stopped walking, even as he scoffed, “You are a commander, not an army.”
“I was not asking your permission, prisoner.”
“Good, because I wasn’t giving it.” Shiro’s tone lightened and sounded fond. “I’m not leaving you.”
The noise of the party grew louder, closer behind them, and the red glow of flames burned away the darkness.
“You have no choice,” Sendak conceded, and he, too, spoke in soft, gentle tones that betrayed their roles of captor and captive. “Will your brother forgive you if you do not return to your home world?”
Shiro’s heart ached at the inconceivable thought and quickly banished it from his mind. “No – but he’ll want me to look him in the eyes, and I won’t be able to if I leave you here to die.”
Sendak gripped Shiro’s body tightened; his claws dug into Shiro’s shoulder, eliciting a grunt from the human. The searing pained slowed but did not stop Shiro. He refused to let it.
“Stop it,” Shiro snapped. “No matter what you do, I’m getting you out of here.”
“You are weak.”
Shiro managed to gasp, “Strong enough to carry you.”
Sendak laughed – a truly amused sound. “You will be the death of me, Champion.”
“Funny. I was thinking the exact same thing about you.”
The flashback ended there, but the damage had been done. In his room in the Castle of Lions, Shiro shook uncontrollably, the real affection he’d felt for Sendak during the memory searing his chest, but that wasn’t what frightened him the most.
In the flashback, Shiro’s hair had lightened but hadn’t gone completely white in the front yet.
And he wore the dark armor of a Galra warrior.
The End