Chapter Text
THE PALADINS OF VOLTRON, as well as Allura and Coran, stand around the strange grey cube, with many curved slits around it, where it's being scanned by advanced Altean machinery.
They had found the strange cube after returning from a mission on a sea world planet, and one of their lions picked up a signal from it, which they decided to retrieve and bring back to the castle to examine.
The cube is unresponsive to most of the tests it's been subjected to so far, though it did briefly react by trembling ever so faintly, the curved slits flapping open halfway like eyelids, before returning to normal.
"Any idea what it is yet, guys?" Shiro, Paladin of the Black Lion and leader of the team, asks. He looks at Pidge and Hunk, who are the paladins of the Green and Yellow lions, respectively.
Pidge adjusts her glasses. "From the scans, it looks like there’s something inside it. Something really powerful, maybe—like an energy source. Our guess is the cube is acting as a container holding it in."
"It’s got a really tough outer layer," Hunk adds. "Unlike any material we’ve encountered so far. But it’s not exactly alien technology either. It’s giving off Earth-like signatures."
Allura nods in confirmation. "You're right, it is very strange. But I think both of your theories could be wrong. This cube looks more like it is imprisoning something."
"No way," Pidge says immediately. "What could it even imprison? A space gremlin? But if we can crack it open—and we will—we can find out for sure. And if it is a power source, it might help us defeat the Galra."
Lance snorts. "What, like build some ultra super weapon to blast their fleets?"
Hunk shrugs, encouraged. "Maybe."
Keith, standing furthest from the cube, watches it with a barely concealed grimace. Something about it unsettles him, though he hides it behind his usual brooding posture and crossed arms.
Shiro is about to ask him what's wrong when, due to the meddling of Pidge while trying to open the cube, the cube suddenly shakes violently, shaking even the table.
Pidge and Hunk leap away from the table, when all at once multiple eyes fling open around the cube—so those curved slits were eyes—all with blue irises dart wildly, almost frantically, before the cracks start appearing, spreading across the surface.
As it splits open, light bursts out, blinding, overpowering.
Everyone hurries to shield their eyes and take cover, and though no one can see it, out pours an immense, suffocating energy. It's overwhelming, vengeful, maybe even bloodthirsty.
And when the light eventually fades, there standing over the cube, on the examination table, is not a power source, or a space gremlin—but striking white hair —the first, most immediate thing everyone else in the room notices, which belongs to a very tall man looking ready for battle with his arms raised and braced.
He's wearing a tight black compression shirt over his toned chest and muscular arms, and tight black pants. In his left hand, he holds a purplish-black jacket.
The second are the man's—definitely human man— eyes, the bluest eyes known to man like sapphires—a blue so vibrant, so bright, so inhuman. They're captivating, they're terrifying, and it's hard to breathe when being looked at by them.
He stares at them, each of them one by one, with his blue eyes that seem to be glowing. His face is unreadable, that aura of bloodlust still present but also laced with another emotion, confusion. When his eyes scan the two Alteans in the room, it shifts to curiosity and some apprehension. His gaze changes again when he looks from Shiro to Keith, with a weird look, like familiarity.
Shiro notices the slope of the man's eyes and his general features—definitely East Asian. But he looks so foreign all at once. Inhuman even.
Then, when it couldn't be weirder than that, all that had happened in the span of just a minute, the man speaks, in Japanese, in an urgent but measured tone.
The words are smooth, fluent, and Shiro, who is the grandson of Japanese-American born parents, is not that well-tuned with his Mother Tongue. But he can roughly translate it to: "Where am I? How did I get here?"
"You’re on a spaceship," Shiro replies in clumsy Japanese, unused for years since his great-grandmother passed. "We are in space. Away from Earth."
The man blinks at him, studying him, and then another blink as the man hops down from the examination table. His shoes hit the floor with barely a thud, almost like he can walk on air, before he stands at full height. He's taller than they all expected, towering even the tallest among them.
He stalks towards Shiro as if with a purpose, his jacket abandoned on the examination table, and that spurs the other paladins and Shiro to fall into action.
All at once, the paladins summon their bayards, which transform into their respective weapons. Lance and Hunk aim their blasters, Pidge targets his head, and Keith steps forward beside Shiro, sword drawn. Even Allura and Coran shift into defensive stances.
"Don't come any closer!" Keith snaps, sword at the ready.
"English?" The man clicks his tongue, but stops just a few steps away. He notices the hostility, but doesn’t seem particularly concerned. His eyes continue to scan Shiro, calculating, terrifying.
Shiro clenches his fist, ready. “Will you tell us who you are? Are you a threat to the Paladins of Voltron?" he questions in his limited Japanese.
The man pauses. And finally, he speaks in perfect though accented English.
"Man," he says bluntly, voice flat, "Your Japanese is shit." His posture relaxes slightly, the glow in his eyes dimming, but no less soul-piercing or inhuman.
He tilts his head. "How about you answer a few more of my questions first? If I’m satisfied, then I won't blast..." His gaze flicks briefly to Pidge, and he hesitates on what is certainly going to be a threat and switches to saying, "...then I might entertain yours."
Shiro thinks, hopefully, that the sight of Pidge—the youngest of their team—means this guy has some soft spot for kids, and likely won't overtly threaten them with her around. It doesn't, though, eliminate him being a threat entirely.
"Like hell we will!" Lance snaps. "You’re the one who popped out of that thing!"
"Lance, let's not start a fight if there's no need for one," Shiro warns, and urges everyone to stand down too. The others lower their weapons too, though reluctantly. He inclines his head at the man in acknowledgement. "Very well."
The man smiles, though there’s no warmth in it. "Alright. You’ve told me we’re not on Earth anymore. Where exactly are we, then?"
"We’re in the Apus Galaxy," Pidge says. "Several million light-years from Earth. Two hundred and three, to be exact."
Whatever possible shock the man might feel at this news, he doesn't show it other than a slight tick in his jaw. "How did you find me?" He glances briefly at the cube, which is still cracked open like an egg, fizzing slightly like a broken machine.
"I was on Earth when I was trapped inside that stupid thing, and now I'm not. And somehow ended up drifting through space long enough—or maybe transported—that I ended up in another galaxy entirely. So then how did you find me?"
Shiro answers this time. "It was a coincidence. We were coming back from our latest mission, and one of the Lions picked up on the cube's signature."
"Last question. What year is it?" The room falls silent. If he asked such a question, then by logic, it usually meant it could imply time travel, right? Or time dilation?
The man exhales, impatient at the lack of an answer. "Come on out with it. How long has it been since I was sealed in the Prison Realm?" Ah, so that's what that weird cube is called. "My last moments were in Shibuya Station, on 31 October 2018, around 9.15 pm. So, how long has it been since then?"
Silence once more. Lance breaks it first.
"You’ve been in there since 2018?!" Lance gawks, grip on his blaster slipping from the shock. "But that'd make you older than my abuelita!
Hunk adds nervously, "Is that why your hair’s white?"
"And how are you still alive?" Pidge says, daring to take a step toward the strange man. She even tries to poke at him, but her finger never makes contact with him. "That makes it sixty-eight years in there. Shouldn’t you be, like, ninety?"
Keith narrows his eyes. "With how long you've been imprisoned, it doesn't sound like it's an accident that you were stuck in there for so long."
This time, the man does look very taken aback and affected by the information, but at most, he just takes a step back, which could be a stumble if they squint closely. There's a long moment when the man falls deathly silent, almost solemn.
He leans his hip back against the examination table, just thinking and not making eye contact with anyone.
"Explain everything you know about what happened in Shibuya on October 31st sixty-eight years ago," he says finally, voice still firm. "From the beginning."
—
Eventually, after everything is explained—at least what became public knowledge from the Shibuya Incident to the Shinjuku Incident, the inciting incident that introduced the world to Curses and Jujutsu Sorcerers and the name of the Strongest sorcerer alive: Itadori Yuuji—the strange man introduces himself.
"Aliens, huh?" Gojo Satoru says. "Shit, I always knew they were real."
Gojo Satoru. The name, paired with his overwhelming presence, stirs something in Shiro’s memory. A long-ago memory of a summer spent at his great paternal grandmother's house in Kyoto, when he had been just a boy, still young, still naive, but already so ambitious and working hard in his efforts to one day go beyond the stars, and she told him about Jujutsu Sorcerers.
And though Shiro is no sorcerer like his great-grandmother was, much less able to see monsters called 'Curses', he did know some famous names. Namely, Itadori Yuuji and Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerers of the modern (of their time) world.
His great-grandmother had told him—despite the disapproval of Shiro's grandfather—that she herself had been one too. Had been young enough and lived long enough to have lived through both those phases, for when the Jujutsu World went from, "What sorcerer didn't know Gojo Satoru?" For when the birth of both a Six Eyes and Limitless User rocked the universe and threw it into imbalance, to "What sorcerer didn't know Itadori Yuuji?" After feats achieved by a nobody child turned what was essentially a god overnight after the battle in Shinjuku.
And that same Gojo Satoru is standing before them.
"You're really Gojo Satoru?" Shiro questions the man. Gojo, now with a strip of fabric tied over his eyes after complaining about a damn migraine, tilts his head. His hair is being held up by the fabric, spiked like. goofy paintbrush. His jacket is still on the table.
Gojo quirks a half-smile that is not in any way friendly, "You've heard of me? I'm surprised you do. Even if non-sorcerers know about us now." He turns slightly toward Keith, somehow spot on despite the blindfold. How does he see through that thing? "If anyone has heard of me, I thought it'd be emo kid over there."
Keith bristles. "What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not some freak like you."
Gojo's smile morphs into a more tense one, still present on his face, but like he's holding back a barbed insult, "By 'freak', you mean a sorcerer like me?"
"Keith’s a sorcerer?" Hunk blurts. "He's got magic like you, Mr Gojo?"
"No, I don't!" Says Keith, getting more and more defensive like caught prey. "Stop entertaining this weird man!"
"Not magic," Gojo corrects. "Curse energy. And no—Mister My Chemical Romance here isn't like me. There's no one else like me—" He lifts his blindfold slightly, revealing one glowing eye. "But he’s got enough to see them, doesn’t he? Those gross, weird monsters that you can see but no one else can."
Keith stiffens. Monsters that no one else can see? Gojo means Curses, right?
Shiro recalls a much younger Keith who asked him, a little nervously, a little defensively, if Shiro could see the 'weird monsters' too. And to an eight-year-old Keith's dismay, Shiro couldn't.
Even if Shiro himself can't see Curses, his great-grandmother had told him about them; how could he miss a sign like that?
Not waiting for an answer, Gojo drops the blindfold back in place and claps once.
"Anyway, great meeting all of you," he says brightly with very obvious sarcasm hidden beneath heaps of false cheer, "But I need to get back to Earth. Immediately."
"It’s been sixty-eight years,” Pidge says bluntly. "Would anything you’re going back to even still be there?"
Gojo pauses, and with his blindfold, it's even harder to read him.
Shiro winces at the youngest's bluntness. But Gojo seems unaffected, mostly, but does become more serious. "Even if it's been sixty-eight years, even if my students are likely all dead by now," Students? This guy is a teacher?
"I still need to get back. I still have things I need to do. Someone I need to kill."
Everyone freezes at that admission, that Gojo intended to kill someone. Allura is the most furious at the implication.
"Kill?" The princess questions with horror. "Aren’t you supposed to be a hero? What kind of hero kills people?"
That fake smile slips back on. "Then it's a good thing us Jujutsu Sorcerers aren't heroes then, your highness!" Gojo says with some mockingness in his tone.
"Hey!" Lance protests on her behalf, stepping forward to block her from the sorcerer. "Don't speak to Princess Allura that way!"
Gojo only waves them off, not bothering to apologise. "So? Are you sending me back or not?" He crosses a long leg over the other, hip leaning against the table. "You guys found the Prison Realm, and you got me out of it. So, as the saying goes, I'm your problem now."
Coran twirls his moustache. "Earthlings have such interesting sayings."
"I'm sorry, Gojo-san," Shiro says, shaking his head. "We can’t. Our mission as the Paladins of Voltron—"
"—Dumb name—" Gojo comments.
"—is to fight the Galra and free the planets occupied by them."
Gojo sighs, tapping his fingers against his thigh. "What's a guy gotta do so you guys would send a poor guy like me back to earth, huh?" He snaps his fingers. "I know, I'll kill your big bad for you—who was it you said? Sharkon? Zarkon?—then you send me home to Earth. K?"
They all contemplate the offer. Allura is the one to answer. "If we agree, can we be assured that you will defeat Lord Zarkon for good?"
Gojo grins, and this time it's sincere. He gives Allura a two-finger salute. "Of course. I am the Strongest, after all."
It's a deal.
—
The castle prepares for launch once the Paladins have all suited up. After the castle brings them towards the main Galra stronghold, the Lions are deployed. And as soon as the Lions fly in, enemy drones swarm them immediately while the castle hangs back with shields drawn up.
The drones fire at them as they close in, and the Lions fly over them easily and crush them with metal paws. Gojo, who is riding in the Black Lion with Shiro, is wearing his own space suit, which was lent to him. It's ugly, but it will have to do.
While the other Lions handle the drones and incoming fire, the Black Lion pushes forward. Shiro pilots them through tight volleys and near-misses, closing the distance. When Gojo decides they’re close enough, he leaves the cockpit and then steps outside.
In the vacuum of space, he manoeuvres himself onto the head of the Black Lion, magnetic boots locking him firmly in place. He doesn’t spare a glance for the growing swarm of enemy ships and smaller drones closing in.
Instead, he raises his hands into a familiar position.
"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue... Cursed Technique Reversal: Red..."
He brings his hands together until just one finger glows at the very tip. He aims it at the massive fleets, at the main base.
"Hollow Technique: Purple."
There's a lapse, where nothing happens, before a silent blast erupts. Pure, concentrated energy tears forward, swallowing everything in its path. Ships, artillery, and the main stronghold itself are gone in an instant.
The beam rips straight through the Galra base where Zarkon resides, detonating it from the inside out in a chain of violent, colour-drenched explosions that bloom soundlessly across space like a painting.
It doesn't end there. "Maximum output: Blue."
Gravity distorts. Nearby ships warp and collapse inward, dragged violently off-course. He follows with Red, repelling others into collision paths. Enemy vessels slam into each other and erupt into debris fields, scattering fire and wreckage in all directions.
From the castle and from the other Lions, the Paladins can only stare in stunned speechlessness. But for the Alteans and Keith, they look on also with horror, having seen the power at Gojo's fingertips.
When it's all over, what remains of the Galra fleet is crippled and scattered, and the stronghold is annihilated. Zarkon is, without question, dead—he must be after what Hollow Purple did.
When the Lions return to the castle with Gojo in tow, there’s a heavy silence waiting for him. It's something Gojo expected would happen. The stares, the look of horror, that primal fear in their eyes.
No one says it out loud, but it’s written clearly across their faces. You’re insane.
But Gojo had done his job, and that's all that matters to him. "Alright," he says, popping off his helmet and shaking out his hair just to look cool. "I did my part. Now you must honour your end of the deal."
—
Gojo is led to the hangar, where a smaller space pod is prepared for him. Pidge walks him through the controls, explaining how the system has already been set to follow coordinates back to Earth.
"It won’t land at a precise location," she says, gesturing to the interface. "You’ll have to steer once you breach the atmosphere."
And before she can begin to explain how the console works, Gojo interrupts. "Got a manual?"
Pidge hesitates, bristling slightly at being interrupted, but hands one over. It's more of a futuristic-looking iPad than a book. "It’s all in Altean. Hunk and I can translate it for you, but it’ll take some—"
"It’s fine,” Gojo cuts in again. His fingers swipe over the semi-translucent blue device, and Altean words appear. Again, how does he see through that damn blindfold? "I’ll figure it out."
Then he tosses it carelessly into the pod, followed by the closed Prison Realm. He doesn’t like having it with him—hates it, actually, since the cursed thing is what got him into this predicament in the first place—but leaving it behind feels worse—and he'll just destroy it like what he did with the Inverted Spear of Heaven when he's back on Earth.
And it's better not to leave it in the hands of some kids. (Yes, he's including the alien princess and the Shiro guy as kids.)
He’s told the journey will take about a week, most of which he’ll spend in cryo-sleep to conserve energy. It’s not ideal, but it’s enough. He bids them all farewell—could he call them his friends? No, Gojo Satoru can't afford to have friends or form attachments. Allies then—and doesn't exactly thank them.
Just a brief 'bye', and then he climbs into the pod. The hatch lowers and seals shut with little more than a soft click. The pod detaches, gliding out of the hangar and into open space.
Soon, the pod detaches, gliding out of the hangar and into open space. Gas hisses softly as the cryo system activates. And only then, finally, does the weight of it all begin to settle in.
Does he grieve? Not exactly. First, he has to get back to Earth and examine the damage, baby steps. Everyone he knows is undoubtedly dead—His colleagues, old friends. His students may still be alive, but definitely old and with hair as white as his.
At least, according to everyone, they won. His students won and eradicated Sukuna's presence, and the world survived, even without him. His students grew up, became strong, and carried things forward without him.
He couldn't be more proud.
Satoru just wished he'd been there to see it. But for now, he'll sleep, and when he eventually reaches Earth, he'll welcome the new world.