Posts written by Akemichan

Ace was bored. Sabo and Luffy were late and he had nothing to do without them. People of the underground weren’t exactly friendly with him, so when he wasn’t around for some mission, his life became monotonous.
Mind-numbing, he lifted his thin and long tail to scratch one of his horns. Ace hated them. Adults incubus were supposed to have great horns, so heavy they twisted around the head, and climbed down behind the ears until they touched the neck.
Ace’s ones were only small triangle on his head. Another reminder he wasn’t a real incubus, more an abomination.
Ace sighed and his tail moved nervously, slamming on the ground. ì
“Hey, freak!”
Ace turned around and shot Burgess an unimpressed look.
“Boss needs you.”
With a last look at the dark pool, Ace nodded and stood up. He followed Burgess in the dark cave Teach used as his personal home. Teach sat as usual on a throne made of the cherry pie he like so much. Legends said they were the source of his power.
Ace didn’t mind Teach so much. Unlike the other Warlord of the Underground, he treated Ace almost like a real demon and not an abomination. But that was also the reason Teach was one giving Ace most of his tasks.
“Do you need me?” Ace asked.
He had stopped at the center of the cave, but Teach, his mouth full of cake, nodded at him to come closer. Ace stepped forward, until he reached the limit of a small river which divided the cave in half. The water of the river rippled and the dark water were replaced by the moving image of a man.
Ace bent down to look better. From the dark robe the man was wearing, Ace realized he was a priest. The man’s look was pretty strange, with a puff of blonde hair on the top of his head. Other than that, he didn’t look so interesting.
“So?” Ace commented, standing up.
“Name’s Priest Marco, he runs a small orphanage in Switzerland,” Teach explained. “I want you to kill him.”
Ace frowned. “I’ve killed men before, but only because they swing in that way. This one…”
“I wouldn’t have chosen you if I hadn’t think you’re the right demon for this job,” Teach replied. “Or do you have some doubts about killing a priest?”
Ace shrugged. “No.”
“Good.”
He nodded, then he marched outside the cave without turning back.
He returned back to the pool and, this time, Sabo and Luffy were there. The natural light their body emitted was pretty visible in the dark gloom of the underground. Ace smiled and hurried his steps.
“Ace!”
Luffy jumped towards him and Ace moved forward his hand, palm pointed up, so Luffy could landed on it, as he liked. Luffy’s wings were still small to allow him to fly, something Ace was grateful for. A Luffy able to fly would be too hard to be managed.
“You’re late,” mocked Sabo, with a small smirk. He sat next to the pull, his legs moved below the surface.
“I’m late?” Ace protested. “I was waiting for you all morning!”
“Still, you’re not here when we arrived,” Sabo replied.
Ace sat down next to him. “You just cannot accept to be wrong, right?”
Luffy laughed, and jumped on Sabo’s shoulder. “We were late because I got lost!”
Sabo rolled his eyes. “This idiot decided it was a good idea coming to Poseidon’s ship looking for me. You can’t image how much panic was spread before I manage to find him.”
“That’s a pixie for you,” Ace replied, with a smile. Luffy laughed and, soon enough, Sabo followed them.
“Where were you?” Sabo asked, then.
“Teach called me. I have a mission.” Ace moved his hands, as it didn’t matter. “I have to kill a priest.”
“A priest?” Sabo frowned, and Luffy looked at him concerned.
“What?” Ace exclaimed.
“Aren’t priest people who don’t have sex?” Luffy asked. “And you kill people with sex, am I right?”
“Yeah, you don’t look as the right person for this job,” Sabo added.
“Some priests aren’t so pure,” Ace replied. “And Teach believed he’s on the other side.”
“And of course we trust him,” Sabo murmured, not convinced.
“No, but you trust me.”
Sabo sighed. “Of course we do. But, Ace… You know…”
“You know what?”
“Well…” Sabo rolled his eyes. “Ace, you’re so bad at flirting you’re embarrassing.” Luffy laughed.
“That’s not true! I flirt with so many people, and I’ve killed them because of it.”
“Women had sex with you because you’re cute and they found your inability to flirt charming. And the few times you killed men it was because they picked you up.”
“Yeah, like that time you were so sure that man was a demon hunter!” Luffy pointed out.
“And instead he just wanted to ask you out,” Sabo concluded, with a meaningful look.
“Well, thank you. I’m so moved about your trust.” Ace stood up.
“I’m telling you this because I’m worried about you. Gods knows what they could do to you if you fail a task. And this one…”
“I can handle it, okay? I can.”
Sabo nodded, still looking concerned. Luffy jumped in the air and Ace extended his arm so Luffy can land on his hand.
“When will you be back?” Luffy asked.
“As soon as possible,” Ace assured him, as he moved his hand close, so Luffy could leaned his forehead against his cheek.
“We’ll be back in a couple of days, then,” Sabo decided. He wasn’t looking at Ace, but at the dark pool over him. His legs moved underneath the surface, and the natural light of his blue skin turned the water almost clear. “Same place, same time.”
“I’ll be here,” Ace assured.
He bent so Luffy could jump down from his shoulder easily, then, with a last smile, he dived in the dark water. He kept his breath and closed his eyes to focused on the place he wanted to go, while his body floating in the void. Then the image of the green mountain of Switzerland appeared around him, first blurry as a mirage, then it became clear and clear.
Ace opened his eyes wide and landed graciously on a branch. He shivered, as the air of the human world filled his lungs. Maybe it was because he was half human, but there was a part of him that really liked the human world. A small part, which Ace always hid, but the first look at the mountains around him were enough to make him smile.
Then he focused his attention to Father Marco’s orphanage, which, funny enough, looked more like a castle. It was big, surrounded by wall, with three high tower at the end and enough space in the inside for the stables. Ace imagined they survived by himself, since they lived so far from the city and, for a priest, meant not having any followers.
Ace jumped from branch to branch until he got close, then he let himself fell to the ground while he turned in his human form. No horns, no tail, no hair anymore covering almost his body entirely, but that damn freckles still remained on his face. He sighed, as he unbuttoned his shirt, as he wasn’t used to have clothes on him.
He kicked over towards the orphanage. From below, the walls looked more imposing than ever. Still, he was surely normal from a priest protecting himself and his community. Ace walked around until he found a small door with a bell hanging to the next. With a look at the sky, Ace decided it was the right moment, so he pulled the rope and the bell rang.
Twice, until he sensed someone approaching the door. Ace expected to be asked trough the closed door, so he reviewed in his mind his excuse to be there, but when the door opened and Father Marco himself appeared in front of him, Ace was taken aback.
Father Marco scrutinized him with his bored look, even if Ace didn’t miss the little stop on his bare chest. “May I help you?” he said then.
“Oh, hey… yes!” Ace smiled and regained his composure. “I’m… I had to get to Thun. It should be a village in the near and I just want to be sure this is the right direction.”
“It’s the right direction,” Marco confirmed. “But it’s far by walk. At least another half day.”
“Oh. Damn. Sorry,” Ace added, remembering he was talking to a priest. “I thought I was nearer… Well, it couldn’t be helped!” He shrugged, but he shot a small smile at Marco, who hadn’t change his expression for a moment.
“You can stay here for the night,” Marco said. “The forest can be dangerous at night and it’s easy losing the way.”
“I don’t wanna be a bother, really,” Ace said, as he internal exulted. His plan was working.
“Helping another human being it’s never a bother,” Marco replied. He moved aside from the door to show him the inside.
Ace was about to protest again, since he knew he was polite, but his stomach growled. When in his human form, he was unable to control his appetite. He blushed a little, but Marco, for the first time, smiled.
“You’re lucky, we’re serving dinner right now.”
Ace smiled, but he looked away as he entered in the orphanage. That wasn’t the plan and Ace definitely hoped to not having ruin any chance with Marco looking like a lost boy. When he lifted his head again, Marco’s eyes weren’t on him anymore.
Marco closed the door, then walked towards one of the building without any words. Ace followed him. From the near, the main building looked like a mess of other building putting together. Ace was looking at the architecture closed and only at the end he noticed Marco opened another door he hurried to followed.
Ace shivered when he noticed it was the church. Marco walked in the central nave with secure steps, and Ace reluctant followed him. When they reached a small shrine, Ace placed a hand in the pocket, searching for some money. He couldn’t recreate them with magic, but he had some left from the last raid in the human world.
Marco stopped him before he could put them to the shrine, grabbing his wrist. “No,” he said. “You don’t need to pay for help. Keep the money for someone else.”
Ace nodded and put them again in his pocket. As he followed Marco again, he slowly leaned his hand forwards to brush Marco’s back.
“Maybe I can thank you for your kindness in some other way…” he whispered.
Marco stopped and turned around to look at him. Ace make his most innocent face, but Marco smirked. “We’ll find something,” he replied, then he kept walking.
They reached for a room and, when Marco opened the door, Ace met the look of a group of children. They sat around a rectangular table, each one of them in front of a plates, and they simultaneously turned their head to look at the new entry.
“Thatch, we have a guest for tonight.” Marco spoke to the blonde man who was serving the food at the table, before reaching for another room. Ace looked at him with concern, because his main focus should remain with him as much as possible to seduce him, but he couldn’t ignore anymore the looks that were on him.
So his gaze returned on the table. The other man – Thatch – wasn’t dress like a priest. So there were other people inside the orphanage helping Marco. It could be a problem to all his ‘Marco is alone and he needs company plan’, but for the moment Ace had difficult to focus with the smell of food so near his nostrils.
“Hi,” he greeted, lifting his hand.
“Hiiii!” the children answered together.
“Welcome!” said Thatch. “Please, take a seat. I hope you like cabbage soup.”
Ace’s stomach replied for him, triggering a collective laugh from the children. Thatch smiled and hurried to serve the soup to another plate in a free seat.
“Thank you,” Ace commended embarrassed. The smell was wonderful, so Ace didn’t wait and took a big spoonful. It burned his throat, but he was incredible good. He grabbed a piece of bread and immerged him in the soup before taking another spoonful.
“Good, eh?” Thatch looked satisfied, as he served the remained children with the soup.
Ace nodded, but he was unable to answer due his full mouth. Then he shivered as he felt a touch on his shoulder, fingers brushing his neck.
“You won’t have made to Thun in time with this hunger,” Marco said, as he sat in front of him on the other side of the table. There was a smile on his face. He placed a cutting board on the table and he cut a salami.
“Yeah, probably,” Ace admitted. “I was lucky to find this place.” He slowly leaned forward his legs and used his food to brush Marco’s.
Marco stopped his work and looked at Ace, surprise for the first time. But he didn’t move his legs, neither he said something about it. He smiled. “We’re the lucky one,” he replied then, as the passed to Ace a piece of bread with salami on it. Ace grabbed it, but he couldn’t turn away his gaze form Marco, not even when he ate it.
That was Ace’s fastest conquest ever.
“Hey, I want it too,” one of the children said.
“No.” Marco returned serious. “You know the rules, only on Sunday.”
“But you gave him!”
“He’s a guest and guests are exception.”
“Not faiiiiir!”
Thatch ended serving everyone and, as he headed to bring back the pot in the kitchen, he stopped by to whisper to Ace, amused, “Eat fast, because when they stop with Marco they’ll begin to you.”
Ace didn’t need a second advice, and returned back to his soup, his bread, and the slice of salami Marco cut for him. Thatch turned out to be right about the children and their curiosity, since they submerged Ace with a lot of question. For some of them he didn’t even have to lie to them and their attitude remember Ace of Luffy, so he was more than willing to interact with them, until Marco decided it was time for them to go to sleep and, with a lot of protest, he accompanied them to the dormitory.
As Thatch cleared the table, Ace asked, “can I help? Maybe washing the dish…”
“No, no.” Thatch shook his head. “You’re a guest, so stay put.”
“Okay, thank you.” Ace nodded.
Marco returned when Thatch had already left for the kitchen, and the table was clear. In his arms, there was bed sheets, towels and a pillow.
“For me?” Ace asked with a big smile.
“Of course,” Marco nodded. “I guess you may be tired after all the walking. And the interrogation,” he added, laughing. He had a nice laugh.
“They’re cute,” Ace commented, as he stood up. “And I may have some energy for something else…”
“Really?” Marco lifted an eyebrow, but didn’t add anything. “Follow me, then.”
Ace obeyed. They climbed a couple of stair, until they reached the second floor of the building. No windows in the hallway, which was lighten only by some small candle on the walls, only a row of small doors on each part.
Marco stopped towards the end. “This one on the right is your room, and if you need, the last door is a toilet,” he said, passing him the sheets. “But if you’re not sleeping yet, on the left there’s mine. I’ll be back soon.”
Ace blinked. He remained still in the hallway even when Marco’d left. It had happened other time, some other men had picked him up explicitly, but Ace didn’t expect it to be the same with a priest, with someone who should preserve chastity.
The reason for Teach to wanting him dead haunted Ace for a second, but he brushed it away. His work wasn’t thinking about it and, if he killed Marco, he could return back to the underground in time for meeting Sabo and Luffy again.
Ace opened the door of his room and without looking at it he throwing all the sheets and the pillow on the bed, then he reached for Marco’s room. He was small, and bare. A bed, a desk, and a library. A window let the light of the stairs lightened barely the area. Ace moved towards the bed, as he reclaimed his demon form. No reason to stay a human anymore, now that Marco showed interest in him. As a demon, he could spread around his magic better and, when a person was already into him, it was enough for hypnotized him not to turn away.
He was about to sit down on the bed, when he felt something tickling his feet. He looked down at the stone pavement, in time to noticed a chain emerging from it. He dodged, but the small space didn’t permit it a run. He slammed against the desk and he was too slow to turn around. The chain grabbed him from the arm and pulled him down. Ace’s head hit the ground and a groan emerge from his throat.
He shook his tail and pulled with his foot, to regain his balance, but when he managed to get up, the chain had already wrapped all around his torso, securing his arm to his body. The chain grows longer, gliding down his legs. Ace concentrated his energy in his arm, but the bound became tighter as he tried to break it.
He looked at the window, but as he moved his till free legs to reach it, he was raised in the air. He waged his legs, his feet no more placed on the ground, until the chain ended his work securing itself around Ace’s ankles and it stopped moving.
What kind of magic trick is this? What the hell is happening?
He was completely helpless, not at inch of his body could move but the head. Marco entered in the room and, in the same time, the candle on the table flared up, lightened the room.
Seeing Ace, Marco appeared surprise, as he didn’t expect to find him there. Then he smirked and there was something off, something different from the image of the nice priest who take care of orphan children.
“I didn’t expect you to be into this,” he commented. He licked his lips as his gaze passed towards Ace’s body and stopped by his groin.
Ace blushed. He was used to be looked with lust, but only when he was in charge of the situation. He didn’t feel good being a prey. He struggled again and that made Marco lift his head and looking at his face again.
“I admit my methods were a little aggressive, but I wasn’t entirely sure you’re an incubus,” Marco said. “I mean, you’re so bad at flirting.”
Sabo’s word echoed in Ace’s mind and Ace rage out to hide his embarrass. “And who the hell are you then?”
“Just a priest that can do anything for protecting his family and his home.”
Marco took two step forwards. Now he and Ace were just two inch away and, even if Ace was lifted from the ground, Marco could still look at him from below.
“Let me go,” Ace ordered.
“Or what?” Marco replied.
But Ace hadn’t an answer for him, not in the situation he was in, so he just repeated, “Let. Me. Go.”
“You should be a little nicer with me.” Marco’s index finger pushed up the chain, showing up one of Ace’s nipple. His nail brushed it around. “I’m pretty sure we can find an agreement.”
Ace’s breath fastened, so his mind. He wondered if they had sex he could still kill Marco, even tied up like that. And if Marco died, his magic should disappear. Or maybe not, but it was worth a try. Better than just struggling again some chains that became tighter and tighter every time he tried to move against them.
“Well, we… can… You could…” Ace sighed. He wasn’t comfortable at all with the situation. “I mean, I’m naked, and… you can be naked too and… If you’d like…”
Marco busted out laughing. He wasn’t an evil one, he was amused, still Ace’s pride lowered at his minimum. Marco shook his head to calm himself.
“You know, I caught other incubus with this spell in the past,” he told Ace. “Every one of them tried to seduce me. They never thought, not even a second, they were at disvantage. You don’t. You’re angry, you’re embarrassed, and even when I suggested you what to do, you were so incredible bad at flirting.”
There wasn’t mocking in Marco’s voice. Out of everything, he looked positive surprise about the turn of events, but Ace didn’t felt grateful for it.
“Yeah, I’m bad. I don’t like having to kill people with sex, but that’s what I am, it can’t be helped. Now you can go on, kill me and strut about how you defeat a freak incubus who wasn’t even able to do his job.”
He looked down, at the ground where his shadow was projected. He didn’t want Marco to see his weakness.
After his outburst, Marco didn’t say anything. He just looked at him, his head a little bent on the side. Ace breathed hard, but he didn’t move, not until he noticed Marco’s hand was awfully near his horns. He jerked away.
“Don’t touch them!”
“Why not?” Marco replied, quiet. “They’re so small, and round, and cute.”
“They’re not cute. They’re horrible. They shouldn’t be in that way,” Ace replied.
“If you said so.” Marco lifted his hand, in a comfort gesture. “I could touch them now, but I don’t mind a challenge.”
Ace blinked. “What do you mean?”
“The orphanage is big and we can use two hands more.” Before Ace had time to ask for more, Marco placed two finger on his neck and pronounced a spell in a language Ace didn’t recognize. He felt a grip around his neck, but that feeling was soon forgotten as the chain disappeared and Ace was free to move again.
As soon as he foot touched the ground again, Ace moved behind, and that simple movement made him realized something was wrong. He couldn’t feel his tail moving around and, as he touched himself, he found out he was human again. This time, though, he wasn’t his choice and Ace was unable to turn in the demon one. He touched his neck: there was a collar there.
His eyes widened.
“Yes, that’s what you think,” Marco murmured. “It’s a seal for your demon power. You will be human from the time being.”
And being without his power didn’t mean only being a human, but not being able to turn back in the underground. Ace was trapped now even more than before.
“I’m going to kill you. I’m so going to kill you.”
Marco smirked. “Well, to do so you’ll have to seduce me, and I’d really like to see you try. Again.” He moved and grabbed Ace for the shoulder, moving him forwards without him being able to distance. “Now go to sleep, we use to wake up at five here.”
He gentle pushed Ace outside the room, back in the hallway. But before leaving Ace alone in the dark at reflecting about his entire situation, closing the door behind him, Marco leaned forward and whispering at his ear, “even if I wonder if I’ll be the one seducing you.”
Sleeping was easier to say than be done. Ace lie down in the bed, eyes wide opened, still incredulous about all that had happened. His mind needed to cool down before acting again. And definitely he couldn’t sleep thinking that he was human, trapped in the human world with no change at all to contact someone or asking for help.
At the end, the weakness of his human body got him, and Ace felt asleep just when the first light of the dawn came from the window. He woke up later, at the sound of the bell. He blinked, as he counted them. Definitely more than five. He shot a glare at the window, realizing it should be late morning.
He stood up, needing to pee. A new and strange sensation, since Ace hadn’t remained a human for so long to try everything human usually felt. Marco had showed him the toilet the night before, so Ace trailed to it. It was nothing more than a small room with a bad smell, with a bucket inserted in the ground and part covered with a wooden board with a hole in it, but Ace was still grateful when the feeling disappeared as he pissed in it.
There was also a broken mirror and another buckled with clean water, which Ace used to wash his face a regain a little his composure.
Then, still without a solution about his situation, he climbed down and returned back to the dining room. He froze on the door, as he saw Marco sat down eating. He shot behind, wondering if he should come back, but Marco had already spotted him.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said with a smirk, as he slid a plate towards him.
There was bread on it, with a knife, and near a jam glass can nearby. Ace’s stomach growled before he could even think how to act so, unwilling, he sat down at the table. He opened the can and spread the jam on the bread.
“You said five o’clock,” Ace commented, after taking a big bite.
“This morning I decided to be nice,” Marco replied, quiet. “I imagined you didn’t sleep too much, too aroused after out little discussion yesterday.”
“What? It should be the other way around,” Ace protested. “I was the one naked in front of you, and you were the one who refused me.”
“Never said I wasn’t aroused,” Marco replied as matter of fact, and Ace was taken aback, guilty to having fall in such a small trap. His tone changed.
“Did you do this with the others, too?” he asked. “You trapped them and then watching their useless effort until you get tired?”
“The others?” Marco repeated, perplex.
“The other incubus you killed.”
“Oh.” Marco nodded, and waited few seconds. “No, of course not. And for the records, I never said I killed them.”
This time, the perplex one was Ace. “So you didn’t?”
“No, I let them go. I’m not a demon hunter and Incubus are pretty inoffensive, once they get they can’t seduce a prey. They didn’t waste their time, so I didn’t need to kill them.”
“Okay, then why are you keeping me here?” Ace snorted. “Let me go.”
“Not a chance. You’re too funny, and we need some laughs here.”
Well, that was it. Ace wouldn’t think about the consequence of an incubus killing a man with something other than sex. He tightened his grasp on the knife and, in a swing, he aimed at Marco’s head.
Marco didn’t move, except for his right left arm, that used to block Ace’s blow. His hand locked around Ace’s wrist, stopping Ace’s arm midair, the knife still pointing at Marco’s face. Ace aimed at him with his other hand, but the punch was stopped at the same way. Marco didn’t even sweat, while Ace was pushing himself.
“Seriously?” Marco chuckled. Then he moved forward his head and liked the blade, which was still stained with the jam. Ace was unable to turn his gaze away, while his mind realized it was the closer think to a metaphor of a blowjob he could image.
When the door of the kitchen opened, Marco stopped and, in a second, he forced Ace to place back his hand on the table.
“Hey, Ace, good morning!”
“Morning, Thatch,” Ace answered, not with the same enthusiasm.
Thatch didn’t mind, or didn’t even noticed. “I’m so happy you decided to stay with us a little more. When you’re done, joined me in the kitchen, we have a lot of potatoes for today.”
Ace shot a glare to Marco. What the hell had he told Thatch, and what the hell it was about potatoes?
But Marco only smiled, as he stood up. “Looks you have work to do,” he said, placing a hand on Ace’s shoulder. “See you later.” And then he left the room.
Ace fumed, as he chomped the last piece of bread. He didn’t believe a word he had said. Ace was pretty sure he had killed those incubi and the only reason he told Ace no was to keep him there. So Ace should leave, should escape and ruined his fun. But of course for Ace running was never an option, and now more than ever wanted to kill Marco and made him pay.
So he went to the kitchen, with the intention of speaking with Thatch. Marco had a weak point. He had to, so Ace was going to find it and defeated him. And if he had to defeated a mountain of potatoes before, so be it.
“They only look so much,” Thatch assured it, even if Ace wasn’t so sure. Still, he sat down on the stool and peeled them. Thatch joined him soon enough, as he finished cleaning the dishes.
Ace looked at him wondering what Marco told him, since Thatch didn’t ask anything about his whereabouts and why he had decided to stay at the orphanage. Was he an accomplice of Marco and he’s using the potatoes to mock a demon? Still, Thatch was his best option to find out more about Marco and his secrets.
“So… Since when have you lived here?”
Thatch smiled, not diverting his gaze from the potato he was peeling. “Since I was a child,” he answered. “Me and Marco were the first orphan Pops took in. Damn, we can say we’re the reason he decided to create an orphanage in the first place.”
“Pops?” And Ace bit his tongue. He should have asked more about Marco, not being interesting in the story.
“Yeah, we called him that,” Thatch nodded, and smiled fondly. “He was the owner of this castle and he treated us as his children. At the beginning, he only wanted a family. Then, more orphans came by, and some of them stayed, like me and Marco, until Pops decided to make a real orphanage.” He laughed. “If it were for him, we would be more than a thousand.”
“And why not?”
“Because we live here, alone, and we survive with what we had. Well, most of the orphan who left the orphanage in the past come back from time to time and helped us, but still… To guarantee a good life, we can’t help more than twelve orphans at once.”
“So you had to reject someone.”
“We took the rejected ones.” And Thatch didn’t explain further, even if Ace looked at him curiously, so Ace returned back to the main argument.
“Marco became the head of the orphanage after Pops died?”
Thatch laughed. “No! Pops is not dead yet! And let’s hope he never dies, because I can’t image Marco as a boss.”
“He looked like one,” Ace pointed out.
“Yes, he’s pretty bossy,” and, in some way, Thatch sounded like he was referring to something dirty. “And we let him because he’s good, but still, Pops’ the boss and I’m very grateful for it, even if he didn’t come along anymore.”
“How so?”
“He lives in his room, which is on the main tower of the castle, and he rarely get out this day.” Thatch bent down, to whisper, “but we still ask him help if Marco becomes too annoying.”
“Oh, I see.” And Ace smiled. First point taken. “Marco’s the only priest around here, right? I guessed wrong he was the head of the orphanage.”
“You guessed wrong he’s a priest too,” Thatch said casually and then he shut his mouth, his eyes wide.
“What?”
“I mean, we’re not exactly religious here, you know?” Thatch chuckled nervously. “Marco thought taking vows could be useful to maintain the reputation of the orphanage, but at the end he never officiates, because we don’t care. He probably stopped praying too at a certain point. So it’s not the kind of priest you’re used to.”
“Yeah, especially because priests don’t make sexual innuendos every time they had the occasion,” Ace grumbled under his breath, and this time was Thatch’s turn to exclaimed “what?”
“Oh, well, I’m not very religious myself, so I don’t care,” Ace shut down the argument. “Tell me more about you and the others.”
Thatch smiled widened and, in the meantime the finished all the potatoes, he explained Ace all about the fifteen people who took care of the orphanage and how it worked, at the point that, when Fossa, Blamenco and Rakuyu entered in the kitchen, Ace knew who they were before they introduce themselves.
Even if his attention was caught more by the prey they brought with them, and he even helped them to skinned them and prepare them for the boil. He was too happy to have meat instead of only potatoes.
“Don’t get used to it,” Fossa warned him, as Blamenco laughed at Ace’s droll as he looked at the meat. “We can’t go hunt too often.”
“Then let me enjoy the moment,” Ace replied, as he didn’t divert the gaze from the flame and the sizzled meat.
The bell of midday rang outside, and the three man looked at Thatch wit impatience. “It’s ready, it’s ready,” he assured them.
Ace blinked.
“We eat at midday, it’s an agreement so we don’t have to warn everyone from all the castle,” Thatch explained, as he grabbed the pot. “The children eat one hour later, because we don’t have enough space for everyone.”
“I see,” Ace commented and, with not surprise, he found the others already sat down at the table. His lips bend in a smile as he saw all the people there talking, bickering and laughing all together. He could felt the warm of being in a family, because it was the same feeling he had with Luffy and Sabo.
The thoughts made his stomach clenched, since he was now unable to see them, and he hurried to sat down and looked around, searching for the source of his problem. “Where’s Marco?”
“With the children,” Izou answered, not before having shooting him a telling look. “We turned to stay with them at lunch and dinner.”
“Why thinking about Marco when you can think about it?” Thatch said, putting in front of Ace the plate with the meat. Ace showed his agreement basically throwing himself at it.
The rest of the lunch went smoothly. All the people there, even if they were Marco’s accomplice, didn’t mock him, not showing any sign of wanting do it. Ace didn’t trust them, not yet, because it could still be a trap, but at least their company was pleasant.
“Ace,” Vista called him. “There is something you’re good at?”
“Why are you asking?” Ace replied, suspicious.
“Here all of us participate at the life of the orphanage, but there also something we are specialize on,” Thatch explained. “I’m the cook, as you saw. Fossa is a carpenter and Izou a tailor. So if there something you’d like to do more…”
Ace stared at him for a couple of second, unsure. “I can adapt,” he said at last.
“That’s it, then,” Namur said. “Let’s do a tour of the orphanage, so we can show you what we do and you can see if there something you like. Before Marco decides for you, I mean.”
Haruta nodded. “Yeah, he can be so bossy sometimes.”
“I’m not bossy.” Marco’s voice came from the door. “But someone needs to be in charge, since you can’t act like adults.” His face was serious, but there was an amused note in his tone.
“At least we’re funnier,” Haruta replied. “I’m pretty sure Ace likes us more.”
“Yes,” Ace nodded immediately.
Marco raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, then looked at Namur. “A tour for Ace sounds like a good idea, you can do it.”
“But today is my turn to…” Namur’s voice trailed off.
“So?” Marco smirked. “It’s perfect, you can do your job and showing Ace around at the same time. Come on, finish your lunch, the kids are waiting,” he added, before leaving the room.
“What are you supposed to do?” Ace asked.
“Cleaning the toilet,” Namur sighed. “It’s the worst job here, but it’s needed to be done.”
“I’ll show Ace around,” Curiel offered.
“No.” Ace shook his head. “I don’t care.”
If Marco thought he could be annoyed with this petty actions, he was wrong.
So he spent the afternoon with Namur, empting the bucket full with excrements in the river outside the walls and washing the ground and the mirror. There wasn’t so many toilets in the castle, mostly because it was useful not having so much place to clean every day. Still, Ace managed to have a good look at the entire place.
“Okay, we’re done,” Namur announced. “Now let’s having a bath.”
“What about those stairs?” Ace asked. He found out one of the tower served as bell tower and the other one as laboratory for Curiel, who was the doctor, but he didn’t visit the last one.
“They bring to Pops’ room,” Namur explained, with a sad tone. “He lives alone now, never get out from his room and very rarely he allows us to visit him. We miss him, but we respect his choice.”
Second point taken. Ace was a lot curious about this “Pops” they talked about, and he wondered if the fact he hid himself in a room meant something more. Still, he followed Namur downstairs and helped him preparing the bath.
They filled a small tank with the water of the river, then they lighted a small fire in the next room. The heat filled the room and passed towards the ground in the room were the tank was, heating the water. Of course he wasn’t as hot as the volcano water Ace found once, but usually poor humans bathed with cold water, so he couldn’t complain.
“Could you please go and take some of the kids?” Namur asked him. “Since taking care of them is hard, we usually bath only four of five of them at once.”
Ace nodded, but when he left the bath he didn’t move towards the court, where he heard the kids’ voice, but he returned back to the stairs of the third tower. Nobody was around, so he climbed. More steps he took, more he felt strange. The air hardened and breathing became harder. Once he reached the closed door at the top of the tower, he was almost suffocating.
The hand was already on the handle, when he heard a step behind him. He froze, then Marco’s chuckle arrived at his ears. He groaned.
“How do you know I was here?”
“An inch,” Marco replied, and Ace doubted him. “Pops is old and tired, let him alone. He can’t help you.”
Ace crossed his arms. “And I should believe you because…?”
“You don’t have to,” Marco replied, with a shrug. “But do not enter in Pops’ room.”
Stubborn, Ace grabbed the handle and pulled it down. The door moved at inch, enough for a flowing air to escape and hit him. Ace fell behind and he lost his balance. He felt no more ground under his feet until Marco grabbed him.
“Told you,” he said with a smirk. He murmured something under his breath and the door closed by itself. “Pops is protecting himself, not even we can go in without his authorization.”
Now that the flowing air stopped, Ace regained his balance and broke free from Marco’s grip. “Or this is another one of your trick and you’re hiding something important in it.”
Marco smiled. “Well, you’ll never find out.”
“I will.”
“I will be there to stop you every time.” Marco bent to him and whispered, “you can’t run from me.”
“I don’t run! Never!” Ace exclaimed, but Marco was already down to the stairs, and his only reply was, “go bath, you smell bad and that doesn’t do your sex appeal any good.”
Ace cursed. His instinct would have opened the door again, but the air in the stairs became even more suffocating than before. Whatever spell Marco had used, it was definitely strong. And, Ace admitted, after cleaning the toiler he needed a bath. In the underground, his fur was easier to clean, but his human form had other needing.
So he returned back to the bathroom. Namur was already washing himself along with the kids, so Ace guessed Marco had called them.
“Here you are,” Namur greeted him. “Come fast, before the water cooler down.”
Ace nodded. He took off his clothes and he put a basket near the door, where he saw the others were. He took the soap Namur passed him and rub himself. Then he sat down in the low tank and used a bucket to wash his hair.
When the water cooled down, only Namur was remained.
“It’s not good to stay so much time,” he told Ace. “But I felt you need to rest.”
Ace nodded, getting out from the tank. “A lot of things happened recently.” And it wasn’t even a lie.
Namur passed him a couple of towels. He opened a top at the bottom of the tank; the water flow in the ground and inside a hole that brought outside, in the yard.
“I’ll bring you some clean clothes,” Namur said, before leaving the room.
His eyes widened when Marco was in front of him, clothes in his arms.
“Where’s Namur?”
“Around,” Marco replied. “I took his place.”
“Look how happy I am.”
“You should,” Marco smiled. “I chose my favourites color, you will look good.”
“I’m not looking good now?” Ace passed his hand from his head to his legs, showing his naked body. Marco followed his hand, tongue passed on his lips.
“You are, but unfortunately for me you can’t go around naked.”
“True. But I can do something else…”
Marco smiled. He put the clothes on the ground and, for a second, Ace thought Marco was about to give up. Instead, Marco unbuttoned his vest. Behind it, he didn’t even wear a shirt, so his bare chest was revealed. But Marco didn’t stop, wore off also his pants, showing off all his naked body.
Ace looked at him with wide eyes. Marco’s torso was muscular, so were arms and legs. A tattoo covered his chest. The priest’s vest didn’t do him justice, that’s for sure. With that body, he looked handsome, even if that strange face of him.
That was not a priest’s body.
“You like what you see, then,” Marco smiled, since Ace was staring at him shameless.
“Only studying the enemy,” Ace replied, with a slight blush. He was used to people uglier than him.
“Please, study me as you’d like.” Marco chuckled, and he was his time to show all his body with his hand. “Do you want to touch me?”
“No.”
Ace was surprised by his own answered. Touching him could have been a great occasion. Marco had to feel something and Ace had saw people turned on by his touch. Marco could lose balance in his game if Ace played well. Instead, Ace found out he didn’t want to play at Marco’s rules. And Marco’s surprise showed him he was the right move.
Ace took the clothes and wore them. A withe shirt and blue pants. “I prefer orange,” he commented, as he headed to the door.
Marco dressed again. “You have some money in the pocket of your old pants,” he said. “I left them on your room.” He chuckled. “Never see a demon with money.”
But it was a weak mock. Marco would make Ace stay, but this time, Ace wouldn’t follow.
“You better did, I hear the money honestly. But I don’t expect you to understand,” he finished. He left the door and Marco behind.

Ace sighed, as he lay down the green. Around him, the goats grazed; the young ones, especially, were running around. In the past days, Ace found out baby goats lived as happy as they could, which made them extremely dangerous to have around. In some ways, Ace envied them and their ability, since he had difficulties to find a moment he was truly happy. Except when he was with his brothers, of course.
He didn't mind the life at the orphanage, actually, especially now that Marco'd stopped with his teasing about his bad flirting techniques. It was a simple life, with a lot of works, but it was definitely better than the Underground. People there treated him with respect, even sympathy, and working gave Ace a purpose, instead of waiting for the next kill. He tried not to forget he was actually a prisoner of Marco's spell, but he had some gratitude. An excuse not to come back in a place he never felt like home. But sooner or later he should come back, with the inevitable - killing Marco and betraying all the people of the orphanage. The less he got attached to them, the better.
A yell made him startled, and he jumped still. A baby goat was running towards the end of the green, almost reaching the forest.
"Stefan, get her!" Ace ordered, but the giant white dog just looked at him, before rolling on a side waiting for cuddles. Ace snorted. How they had managed to find the least useful dog for a flock it was a mystery. "No caress, you don't earn them," Ace commented, then he walked towards the forest.
The baby goat was already disappeared in the thick forest, but Ace heard its yells in the distance. When he reached it, it was near the small river which passed near the orphanage and its head was bend down the water, watching closing the surface. Suddenly, a column of water lifted from the river. Ace jerked forwards, he grabbed the baby goat and covered it with his body, fearing a ferocious animal was about to attack them.
But when he watched again, the water column had disappeared and the light blue body of Sabo was there, with a frown on his face.
"Ace, what the hell?"
A lot of emotions mixed inside Ace's stomach, so the only thing he could answers was, "I though swear was forbidden on Poseidon's ship."
"Screw him," Sabo replied, with a snort. "And do not try to change the subject. Where the hell are you doing? You were supposed to meet us two weeks ago! Luffy was pretty scared and it took me an eternity to find you."
"Well, it took you two weeks actually..." But Ace realized it wasn't time to joking anymore. His hand run at his neck. "I had... an inconvenience..."
Sabo blinked. "What's that?"
"You can see it?"
"Of course. But..." Sabo leaned forward, his fish legs kneel on the ground, but when he touched the collar at Ace's neck, he flinched. "It irks. What is it?"
"A spell," Ace explained. "The priest I was supposed to kill, well... It turned out he wasn't an ordinary priest... So now I'm stuck here, my magic is blocked and..." Sabo heard the story with attention, and his eyes became more and more worried as Ace continued, until he was about to speak out, but Ace anticipated him, "I know, I know, you told me!"
Sabo appeared regretful, but he remained silence. "My magic controls water, I am unable to create a spell to free you," he said, at last. "Do you think someone from the Underground will come for you?"
"Dunno." Ace shrugged. He didn't have much hope about it and he knew mostly of the demon there would be more than happy to get him ride off.
"What are you gonna do?"
Ace looked at themselves. The contrast with Sabo's appearance was overwhelming. Ace smelled like a goat, his clothes were simple and dirty, as he could bath only one day in a week. His hands are black and callouses for the hard work.
"Marco... I mean, the priest... If I seduce him, he'll set me free."
Sabo was still worried, but he didn't dare to speak. He had no solution for Ace.
"I'm good," Ace assured him. "It's not as bad as it appears. Sure, it'll be better when I can back..."
"It will?" Sabo asked, and Ace blinked.
"What?"
But Sabo didn't explain further. "I'll tell Luffy you're okay and that you'll come back as soon as you finish here."
"Tell him I miss him too."
"Sure." And, with a last sad face, Sabo submerge himself in the river. The surface brightened for an instant, then the air returned to normal.
Ace realized he stopped breath and sighed. "Let's go back," he said at the baby goat, which followed the order quietly.
Back in the clearing, the other baby goats were still there, enjoying themselves as usual. He sat down next to Stefan, which immediately took the opportunity to show its belly. Ace submerged his hands in its white furry, as he watched the goats.
When he returned to the orphanage, the time of dinner for the adults was already passed, so only the kids were still in the court, running around. Marco was there too, still on the stable’s door, and greeted Ace with a warm smile.
“Dinner is ready, leave the goats with me,” he said.
Ace nodded and he watched as Marco guided the flock inside the stable. Stephen, useless as the usual, barked and the rushed towards the kids’, who didn’t miss the chance to caress and play with him. Ace shot a look at the dining hall’s close door, where the voices of the others came from, but he didn’t move. The kids couldn’t be left alone and Marco was in the stable, taking care of the goats.
Ace was late. Goats should return at the orphanage before the dinner time, but Ace wasn’t good enough to check time with the sun’s movements, so at least he could check on the kid. He didn’t know why he cared, but he did.
It was the first time he was watching them, and Ace wondered if Marco preferred for them to stay away from a demon. Still, Ace never killed a child. He knew some demons could do it, but not Incubus, something Ace was grateful to.
Luffy wasn’t a kid anymore, and sure he wasn’t a human kid, but he was Ace’s little brother nevertheless and Ace felt pretty protective of youngest people. Maybe because it would have been nice having some adults showing affection.
There were in total twelve kids, from a five years old to sixteen years all. In the weeks Ace was in the orphanage, nobody had come for adoption, and Thatch explained it happened very rarely. They took care of the kids until they were eighteen, then they gave them some money and a reference letter, so they could return in the world. In the orphanage they learned a job and it was easy for them to find one in the nearby towns, especially because the children before them are more than happy to hire other people coming from the Whitebeard Orphanage.
Leaving the place you grew up in should be sad, Ace thought. Still, he was a place to remember with love, something Ace didn’t have.
Once Stephen decided he was tired of all the cuddles he leaves, with a protest groan from the youngest children. In that moment, the kids turned their attention to Ace and they surrounded him. Ace blinked.
“What?” he asked, moving a leg backwards.
The youngest kids started to talk altogether. They were most question, but Ace couldn’t really understand them, which was better for him because he couldn’t answer. The oldest were more calm, but at the same their eyes were curios. They wouldn’t have missed any of Ace’s word.
“Okay, okay.” Ace lifted his arm. “I’m tired and my life isn’t interesting enough. What about we play together until dinner is ready?”
The kids released a yell of happiness. “Let’s play ‘hide and seek’,” one of them proposed.
Squardo, who was the older one, rolled his eyes. “It’s a game for children.”
“We are children,” Doma, who was ten years old, replied.
“We don’t need you to play,” White Bay, the only girl, added.
“No, no, I play,” Squardo said, with a sigh. “But only if Ace here does the seeker.”
Ace lifted an eyebrow. “What does the seeker do?”
“You don’t know how to play ‘hide and seek’? Buuuh,” one of the twin brothers murmured, pouting.
“Sorry about that,” Ace replied, with the same pouting on his face.
“You close your eyes and counted until one hundred,” Squardo explained. “In the meantime we hide and when you’re finish you have to find us.”
“Seem easy,” Ace said, looking around. In the courtyard of the castle there weren’t many place to hide behind.
“The door of the stable with be our ‘base home’,” Squardo continued. “If we touch it before you, we win.” There was a sarcastic tone in Squardo’s voice, as he was challenged Ace. Ace decided he didn’t want to lose.
“Okay. Be ready.” He closed his eyes and covered them with his hands. “One, two, three…”
“And don’t look!” Doma admonished him, before Ace heard the sound of their steps who rushed away. In few seconds, the only sound in the courtyard was Ace’s voice as he counted.
“I’m done,” he announced as he reached one hundred. “I’m coming.”
“You should have said ‘ready or not, here I come!’,” Doma’s voice came behind from one hidden corner of the courtyard.
Ace moved and placed his hand on the stable’s door. “I found Doma.”
“That’s not fair! It’s your fault you didn’t know the rules,” Doma complained, and he didn’t come out.
Ace chuckled, because that kind of attitude remembered him of Luffy. In the meantime, the door of the stable opened and Squardo placed a hand on the wall.
“Free!”
Ace blinked. “For one that didn’t want to play, you sure are a pro in this game.”
“That’s not true!” Squardo blushed.
“Yeah, that’s not true.” Ace smiled and put his hand on the door. “I won, you forgot the ‘base home’ is the door and not the wall?”
“What? No! I meant the stable, all the stable!”
“You said door, and door will be.”
“You cheater!”
Some small laughs came from various places in the courtyard and, with a last satisfied smile, Ace turned to check on them, seeing if he can recognize all of them. But when he was still counting, the dining hall’s door opened and Thatch appeared.
“Dinner’s ready,” he announced.
One second, and all the kids were out from their hideout, screaming and running happily towards Thatch, who moved from the door with an athletic jump for not being run over.
“Hey! What about the game?” Ace protested, but he was ignored. Even Squardo rushed to the dining hall without even close the stable’s door.
Thatch laughed. “You better than anyone should understand the food’s appeal.”
Ace sighed. “Maybe they’re just scared I will steal all their food.”
“Possible,” Thatch smiled. “But I prepared enough. You come?”
“Sure.”
As Thatch returned inside, Ace moved his hand to close the door behind him and realized in that moment Marco hadn’t come out from the stable. With a look at the other building, he entered in the stable to check on him.
The stable was less lightened that the other place of the castle, mostly because it was a place with the highest risk of fire, so Ace waited for his eyes to accustom of the dim air before looking form Marco. The goats were already in their fences and they barely lifted their head as Ace passed thought. Finally, he saw Marco in one of the corner. He sat down in a stool, back turned at Ace, a goat in front of him and he was milking it.
Ace stopped and waited, unsure of to introduce himself.
“What is it?” Marco asked, after a while.
“Oh, eh, nothing,” Ace answered, got caught off balance. He hadn’t expected to be notice. “Dinner’s ready.”
“I’ll come as soon as I finish here. Go first.”
Ace nodded, but he didn’t move. Instead, he watched as Marco stood up, took the bucker full of milk and poured the white liquid in another container. He placed the bucked on the ground and, with an affectionate gesture, he lent the goat on the fence. Then, with the same gesture, he brought another goat in front of the stool and placed back the bucket below its belly.
Before sitting down, he turned to Ace and asked, with a small smile, “do you like a try?”
Ace blinked. He wasn’t interesting in goats, but it was his duty to take care of them that day, so learning how to milk them could be useful. He nodded. Marco pointed out at the stool with his hand and Ace sat down.
Marco placed himself behind Ace and he took Ace’s hand in his. He lent them to the goat’s breast. Marco’s hands were warm and his body was totally leaned on Ace’s, as he spoke slowly in his ear.
“Here, tightened your hands around them,” he murmured and, at the same time, he pressed gently Ace’s finger. “Massage a little, to feel if the goat is quiet and the breast don’t hurt. They’re okay?”
Ace nodded, but it was pretty hard to concentrate on the goat, with Marco so near to him.
“Okay, now use the last three finger to press it. Not together, one after another, but not lift the first finger until you press with the other one, in this way.”
It was easy to do it, when Marco’s own finger were doing the movements for him. Ace felt the pressure and then the breast that moved after his press and the rumor of the milk which squirted in the buckler.
“Very good. Now try alone.”
But despite his words Marco didn’t move his hands from Ace’s, he only avoid to press the fingers as Ace moved them. Marco was too near, his breath tickled Ace’s ear and cheek, while his warm spread all towards him. Ace tried to focused on the milk coming out from the breast. Failing miserabiling.
Marco wasn’t doing something inappropriate per se. He’d stopped being insufferable with his sexual innuendos after a couple of days. He was his presence alone than unsettled Ace: the thought Ace would kill him one day, he had to, and despite knowing it Marco acted as he didn’t mind, as Ace’s presence was fine and appreciated.
Nothing was fine in Ace’s life.
With a sudden gesture, Ace freed himself by his grip. Marco blinked; still, he moved away and waited for Ace to explain.
“I’m hungry,” Ace announced, and it wasn’t even a real lie. Without another word, he stood up and left the stable for the dining room. The children had almost finished their meal and none of them paid attention to Ace. Just Thatch sent it a perplex look, before serving him. Ace was glad he didn’t ask anything and more glad Marco didn’t join them. He needed time to cool down.
Because, he decided, he would face Marco tonight. And if he had to kill or to be killed, then so it be.
After dinner, he didn’t remain with Thatch helping with the dishes. He reached the hallway where the bedroom were: as he expected, Marco was in his, as Ace could see the dim light passing below the closed door. He entered without knocking, fully aware Marco’d noticed his presence. Indeed, Marco didn’t flinch and didn’t move his eyes from the book he was reading, sitting at his desk.
Only when he understood Ace was waiting his move, he lift his head to look at him. “May I help you?” he asked, with a gentle smile.
Ace didn’t answere, at first. He moved his hand to unbuttoned his shirt. He took it off, letting it fell on the ground, and the proceeded with his pants, until he remained naked in front of Marco.
“Have sex with me.”
“No.”
“I’m human now, I can’t hurt you.”
“Which made having sex with me pointless for you,” Marco replied as a matter of fact.
Ace gritted his teeth. “But not for you.”
“As much as I’d like to, answer is still no.”
At that point, Ace throwing himself at Marco, arms curved around his torso, while his naked body rubbed against Marco’s hips. Ace hadn’t an erection and he wasn’t sure he would able too, but he hoped his body would be enough to do the trick. He couldn’t count either on his demoniac magic, which did miracle on other’s people libido.
“Please…” he whispered in Marco’s ear.
He didn’t miss Marco’s breath as it fastened, still Marco moved him away, gentle. “Do you want to have sex with me?” he asked.
Ace blinked. Was he an idiot? He gestured at his own naked body, as the fact he asked directly hadn’t been enough.
“I mean, do you like having sex with me just for the sake of it and not because you want something back from it.”
“Of course I want something back!” Ace snarled. “My freedom.” His hand rushed to the collar, as he tried to take off with his two fingers. “If you don’t like have sex with me, fine. But let me go. Haven’t you humiliating me enough?”
Marco looked at him carefully. His gaze was fixed on Ace’s face, as he bit his bottom lip, lost in his thoughts. Ace waited.
“Do you like it here? I mean, the orphanage,” Marco asked suddenly. Ace was glad he kept talking, because the chance of argument left him speechless for a second. “It’s a simple life and we do a lot of work, that’s true. It’s peaceful. We are a family. Do that humiliate you?”
“No. That’s not what I mean…”
“Then you like here or not?”
“It doesn’t mean if I do. I’m a demon, remembered?”
“Answer me. Please.”
The last word sounded like a prayer, so Ace rolled his eyes. “Yes. I like here. The others are nice and fun. I enjoyed it, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a prisoner here. Your prisoner,” Ace pointed out, “even if you stopped mocking me. This is humiliating. So let me go or kill me, I don’t care, but I can’t stay here anymore.”
“I see.” Marco nodded. He released a long breath. “I apologize.”
He lifted his hand and placed it on Ace’s check. Ace’s swallowed at the contact, but he remained still. Marco’s words meant he would kill him. Well, at least that would avoid Ace another humiliating, since he wouldn’t have to go back to the Underground and admit his defeat.
He wouldn’t die like a coward, though, so he kept his eyes on Marco as he murmured his spell, until his eyelids become heavy and he lost consciousness.

Ace didn’t expect to wake up. He did, and he wasn’t sure because the light that hit his face despite the tree’s fronds covering the sky, or because the hard ground he lied still or, more precisely, the shackled he received.
Slowly, he stretched and lifted his back. He realized he was on a chariot, surrounded by goods as goat’s fabric or box full of cheese. Two horses moved the chariot and Ace recognized them as the ones he’d taken care of at the orphanage. His gaze moved to the black dressed figures that governed them.
Ace’d hoped Marco would have listened. He pulled back a sob in his throat.
“Good morning,” Marco said, before Ace had a chance to act. His back was still faced Ace. “I reflected a lot about what you told me yesterday.”
“I can see it,” Ace snarled. “Your solution was to enchanted me and…” He wasn’t even sure what Marco had chosen this time to make fun of it.
“No,” Marco replied. “I will free you,” he hesitated, “at the end of this day.”
“And I should believe you because…?”
Marco turned to him and placed a hand on his chest, where the heart is. “I swear to God.”
Ace glared at him, unsure. Marco hadn’t show much devotion before. “Why not now?”
“Because I need a little bit of time.”
He didn’t give any more explanation, returning to control the horses. Ace would like to ask more, but he felt Marco wouldn’t have answered. He shrugged. He didn’t have any other change than that relied on Marco’s swore. He moved from the back of the chariot to sit down next to him.
“Promise?”
“Promise,” Marco confirmed.
“Where are we going?”
“To Thun. Every two-three weeks we go to the market to sell out goods and buy back what we can’t produce by ourselves. This time will be flour.”
“I see.”
The remained silent from the rest of the travel. Ace almost felt asleep again, but as soon as they reached the town, the sound of human voices woke him up. He smiled: even if he did like the quiet of the orphanage, surrounding by forest, he enjoyed the towns too, the chaos of the people and the color of their house and their clothes.
He watched around at the long road, full of chariot covered by tends. The merchant called the people, showing their goods, and the yells every time a child run away with a stole fruit. Group of women stopped at the center of the road, chatting, with her bags already full.
Enchanted by it, he didn’t even noticed Marco had prepared the chariot at the end of the road, fixing the tend to protect the good from the sun. He didn’t ask for help, so Ace shrugged. He was there only to wait from his freedom.
“I’ll bring the horses to the stable,” Marco announced. “I’ll be back.”
Ace nodded absent-minded. Marco’d brought two stools, so Ace sat down in one of them, keeping his eyes on the marked. Marco returned and took place next to him. He took off a small book and started reading.
An hour later, no clients had arrived yet. Ace grew nervously. “Booring,” he exclaimed.
“We’re in a bad position,” Marco explained, eyes still on his book. “Unlike other towns, Thun’s marked is a long street, so people start looking at the first chariot and they rarely reach the last ones if they find what they need before. We should have arrived before.”
“So we won’t sell anything today?”
“The chariot at the first spot will end their goods at some point. Then, people will start looking for the others.”
“And it will be enough?”
“I can’t say.” Marco shrugged. “The less we sell, the less we can buy back.”
Ace frowned. He didn’t understand how Marco could be so calm. But, he noticed, even the chariots next to their had no clients, no matter how the man yelled to lure them. Ace imagined Marco already knew his efforts were useless.
“Well, I’m bored, so I’ll going around.”
He felt Marco’s eyes on his back as he walked away, but he didn’t turn, neither Marco did something to stop it. So Ace crossed Thun’s marked road, enjoying the smell coming from the chariot. Most of them have cheese, meat, fruit and vegetable. There was a couple of pastry that almost made him drowning. His mind came back at the few moneys he still had in his pocket, wondering if they could be enough for buying a piece of cake.
He reached the beginning of the marked. As Marco’d said, most people surrounded the chariots there and then moved away with goods in their bags. Ace wriggled out the crowd to reach one of the chariot that, with his disappointment, sold clothes. A woman next to him was examined a sweater with a very sloppy stitching. Ace had seen Izou working and he had learned how to recognized a better tailor’s work.
“How much?” the woman asked to the seller.
“Three copper coins. It comes from Germany,” he added, to justify the price.
Ace snored. “I’ve seen better.”
The seller glared at him, but the woman looked interested. “Oh. Really? Where?”
“At the chariot at the end of the street. Made with Angora Goat wool and by a more capable tailor.”
Ace lifted the edge of his shirt, showing the stitching. The woman passed the look from it to the sweater, before put it back on the chariot.
“You won’t find a better offer, madam,” the seller commented, and the woman smiled apologetically.
“I’d like to look around a little bit.”
Ace’s gaze followed her. She met another two women, they chatted a little, then they moved together towards the end on the road. Ace smiled: so there was a way to convince people to reach the end of the market.
“Go away.” The seller gestured at Ace, before turning to another client.
Ace was happy to oblige, since his mind was now focused on his task. The entrance of the market road was on the main square of the town: Ace could recognize the church with the bell tower, the town hall and some shops, including a bakery. Most of the house surrounded the square, so the people gathered there before reaching the marked.
Ace rushed back to the chariot. Marco was serving the three women from before, so Ace waited their leaving before getting near. From the look Marco reserved him, Ace had the hunch Marco realized the three customers weren’t a causality. He shrugged. He cut a cheese in half and he did the same with a salami, then he left bringing along the food, the stool and the knife.
He used his money to bought as much bread as he could, then settled down in the square, nearer the entrance of the marked road. He used the stool as a table: he cut the bread in small slices and he placed a piece of salami on them. The cheese was left alone, in small cubes.
At first, people looked at him suspicious and surprised. Ace smiled at the first girl he individuated.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she replied, with a slight smile.
“Wanna some?” He lent a cheese cube and she, after a moment of hesitation, grabbed it.
“It’s good,” she admitted.
“It was made with goat milk,” Ace explained. “Goats are so undisciplined. You turn the gaze a second and they make a run for it.” Then he proceeded to explain they had a dog named Stephan which was even worse than the goats. “Once, I was running after a goat and Stephan saw me. But instead of following the goat, he jumped on me!”
The girl laughed. Ace turned to offer the bread to another woman who was enough near. “Wanna some? I can assure it’s not Stephan’s meat, not by my choice.”
The girls laughed. “Do you sell it?”
“Sure. My chariot is the last one. We also sell clothes,” he added, showing his shirt.
Ace kept offering a taste of the orphanage’s products to the crown, speaking with them and telling them stories about the children and the goats. Once he finished everything, he kept talking with people. He recognized the ones he’d offered the food and asked them if they had bought something. More people asked him about the orphanage, and if they could make a donation for the children, to whom Ace suggested to buy products from them.
At the end of the afternoon, Ace went back to the chariot. It was empty and Marco was folding the tent.
“A good day,” he commented.
“Thank to you,” Marco replied. “All the customers were blabbering about the cute boy that advised them.”
“You can’t know it was me.”
“Cute boy,” Marco replied.
“I’m not cute. I’m handsome.”
Marco laughed. “Can’t argue about it. Come, help me with this.”
They moved the chariot to his rented spot at the stables, checked on the horsed and then they reached the lodging house. “Since it was a pretty good day, we deserve it,” Marco commented, as he ordered meat pies for both of them.
“None of you ever think about inviting people at the chariot?” Ace asked, mouth full.
“Usually, only one of us come to the market,” Marco explained. “There’s a lot to do at the orphanage, as you know.”
“I know,” Ace confirmed.
“Extra hands are greatly appreciated,” Marco added, then ate his food in silence.
He paid for the dinner and rent a room at the inn. “It isn’t a waste of money?” Ace commented.
“Those are my funding,” Marco replied. “It’s too late to return back to the orphanage and I still haven’t buy the flour. Usually I slept on the chariot, but tonight I need a little more privacy.”
When Marco throw a look at him, Ace understood. He followed him upstairs and in the room, noticing there was only a single bed. So Marco was expecting to be alone for the night. Marco left the small bags he had with him on the floor and left for the toiler, that was at the end of the hallway. When he came back, Ace sat down on the bed, waiting.
Even if he didn’t ask, Marco understood. He nodded and sat down next to him. He placed the index and the middle finger on the collar and murmured a spell under his breath. After that, he proceeded to open it. Once the buckle was off, the collar disappeared.
Ace felt the power returned to him and he transformed back into his incubus form. He breathed hard as his tail pounded to the cover to show his presence. He realized he missed his demoniac blood. He didn’t miss the Underground or the people that lived there, but he was an incubus for flesh and blood. It was his human blood he despised after all.
He looked at Marco, wondering if he should tell him something. Thanking him seemed out of the place, since it was Marco himself that placed Ace in the situation for the first time. He should leave, returning in the underground in a second.
Then Marco’s face bent down and his lips were on Ace’s. Oh, Ace thought. Maybe, after being sealed for so much time, his powers became stronger and Marco was taken aback by them. As soon Marco made a move, Ace released a wave of hormone. His powers only worked if people were already into him, but they managed to arouse people at the point they needed to have sex.
Marco pushed Ace gently, making him lay down. Ace let him, but he grabbed his shoulder to drag him. Marco was now upon him and his erection pressed against Ace’s abdomen.
“You’re hard.”
Marco sighed. “That was your doing.”
“Oh. Good,” Ace purred.
“No,” Marco replied. “If I have to die, I want at least this to last.”
Ace laughed, but inside him he cursed. Sure. He could kill Marco now. As every other men and women before, Marco could have his body and the price of that would be life. Damn. Why the hell he hadn’t left before Marco was aroused by him? Why the hell Marco hadn’t used one of his spell to protect himself?
At that point, Marco was kissing him. He kissed his mouth, he sucked his bottom lips, he passed his tongue, connecting his freckles. His hand caressed his hair: when the finger rubbed one of Ace’s horn, he bit his lips.
To distract himself from the feeling, he lifted his arm and grabbed Marco’s vest. In a second, he tore it apart, piecing of clothes flew around the room and landed on the floor. Soon Marco’s pant ended up in pieces too. Ace’s tail wrapped around Marco’s penis, driving it near his ass as he opened his legs.
Marco stopped. His hands were at both sides of Ace’s face and he was looking at him, seriously. Did I lost my grip on him? Ace wondered. He released another wave of hormone and he noticed Marco trembling.
“That’s what you do?” Marco asked.
Ace shrugged. “That’s what incubus do.”
“I mean, laying down while others take you.”
Ace shrugged again. “They want sex, I’ll let them.” He sighed. Maybe real incubuses were better at sex, they naturally knew how to move and how to act. Maybe they even enjoyed himself. For Ace was a work and a way to feed himself.
“So you don’t participate.”
“They want sex,” Ace repeated.
“And you don’t.”
“Of course I do. It’s my nature.”
Marco frowned. His hand moved down He rubbed his tails until the grip on his penis loose. I lost him, Ace thought. Even though he failed, a part of him was relieved. It was because other incubus had failed before. It wasn’t my human blood’s fault.
Marco’s hands rolled around one of his nipples. The fingers rubbed Ace’s black fur. He looked at Ace with a sweet look. “I want to have sex with you.” At that point, Ace knew he wasn’t anymore on his power effect, but he felt releasing another wave of hormones would make Marco run instead of stay.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
“You.”
Ace looked as Marco knelled down between his open legs. A second later, Marco’s tongue was on his penis. Ace groaned and his hands clawed the cover.
“I like this sound,” Marco commented. “Have you been sucking off before?”
Ace nodded. “Some women… They like making me hard in this way.”
“And you like it?”
“Yes.” Ace nodded again.
“Good.”
“But I don’t want it from you.”
Marco stopped. “Why?”
“Because I like your mouth… in other places.”
There was a slightly blush on Ace’s cheek, so he turned his gaze at Marco’s smirk. “Okay, then.” Marco were again upon him: his hand caressed Ace’s hair and he sucked one of his horns. The tongue followed the line of the face, before Marco started again to kiss him on the cheeks, on the eyes, on the lips.
This time Ace answered at the kiss: he let their tongue touching, as his hands pressed against Marco’s back, feeling the tensed muscles. His tail wrapped again Marco’s penis, together with his own penis, rubbing them at the same time.
When Ace came, Marco was kissing the lower part of Ace’s chest, with his hands submerged on the black fur, and the sperm hit his chin. Despite the situation, Ace chuckled.
Marco smiled. “Well, that was disappointing,” he commented. “You’re supposed to come thanks to my touch, not because you used your tail to masturbate.”
“Sorry.”
Marco’s index finger picked up some sperm from Ace’s abdomen and then he licked it. “Too late. What are you going to do to apologize?”
“Fuck me, Marco. Please.”
“That was already decided, so it isn’t enough.”
“What do you want, then?”
There were some people who liked talking during sex, but for all of them Ace’s power was too overwhelming. They talking hadn’t last for long. Marco was free of taking his time and Ace enjoyed it.
“You’re beautiful. Sorry, handsome,” Marco corrected himself. Ace’s cheeks were red and he breathed with his mouth half opened. Ace took off the hair that the sweater attached to his face. Marco bend down. “Kiss me,” he whispered.
Ace laughed. This time his hands grabbed Marco’s head, keeping him near as they kept kissing. Ace’s lips trailed down and he kept kissing his neck. Marco sighed. “You’re forgiven.”
“I’m not sure,” Ace replied, kissing Marco’s shoulder.
Slowly, Marco lift his back, remained knelling on the bed. Ace followed him, his mouth still on Marco’s skin. Marco’s index finger penetrated him: Ace moaned and leaned the head over Marco’s chest. The finger into his ass rubbed for a little, before Marco settled himself better. He kissed Ace as he penetrated him, and he didn’t stop. His moaning lost themselves into Ace’s mouth.
Ace was grateful of it. Having Marco’s lips on his own skin help him to forget the feeling of Marco fucking him. Because he was fully aware that, once Marco would come, Ace would steal his life. His mind came back to the orphanage, imagining the reaction of Thatch and the others when they would realize Marco wouldn’t come back. Their worries, their researches for him.
He imagined Marco’s lifeless body on the bed, and then on the coffin in the small church of the orphanage. And imagined the grieve they would feel, and the hatred towards Ace. He was used to be hated, after all. Still, he bit Marco’s shoulder.
I don’t want him to die, he thought. They didn’t deserve that. Ace’s nails pierced Marco’s back, but it wasn’t enough to stop Marco. There was a smile on his face as he kissed Ace again. At that point, Ace opened his mouth, but it was Marco that yelled.
He came inside of Ace.
“No… No…”
Marco’s hand caressed his face. “That was worthy.”
“No. No, it wasn’t.” Ace pushed him away. “You left your brother, the children, Pops… All for a fuck. You’re horrible.”
He opened the window and he jumped out, flying in the night. He didn’t go far, actually, he returned into his human form and reached the stables. The horsed recognized him and let him rubbing them.
Ace sighed. What he had said to Marco was true – Marco knew he would die, he could have stopped and he didn’t.
He looked at the chariot and remembered they were there to buy flour. Marco had still the money in the room and Ace had the feeling they would be stolen once the body would be discovered. He could be the one buying flour. He could bring back Marco’s body too. They would have the confirmation Ace was the culprit, but they would have food and they could grieve their brother without having to deal with the town’s people.
He regained his incubus form just before dawn and he flight back to the motel’s room. The bed was just next to the windows, and the first ray illuminated Marco’s naked body. Ace reserved him only a quick look before landing on the center of the room.
“You’re back.”
Ace turned. Marco sat down on the bed and smiled. Ace blinked. Twice.
“I thought you left to return to the Underground.” There was relief in Marco’s voice.
“You… You’re alive.”
“Definitely.” Marco stood up. He shot a look at what remained of his clothes and shook his head. He reached for his bags and grabbed another pair of pants.
“This is just not possible,” Ace murmured, as he watched him with wide eyes. Then he understood. “You did something to me, didn’t you? You didn’t free me at all! You… You stole…”
“No, Ace, I didn’t,” Marco said, serious. “I didn’t die because you didn’t kill me.”
“No way.”
Marco looked at him. “Do you want me dead?”
Ace swallowed. “No,” he admitted.
It was more for the orphanage than for Marco himself, still it was the truth.
“I’m glad.”
Marco didn’t add anything, he took his bags and leave the room. Ace returned to his human form and followed him. He needed answered. Marco reached for the staples, he tied the horses to the chariot and moved to the windmill, where he bought flour. Ace helped him to load the sack on the chariot, then he sat next to him as they left for returning to the orphanage.
“For real,” Ace began, “no more spells on me?”
“No,” Marco confirmed. “But I suppose what had happened was a consequence of my doing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Once you asked me why I enchanted you,” Marco explained. “Truth is, I wanted you to stay at the orphanage a little bit. Enjoying the time there.”
Ace frowned. “Why?”
“Because I felt you belong with us.”
“Yeah, sure.” Ace released a cracked laugh. “I am a demon, remember?”
“Half demon.”
“What?”
Marco was driving the chariot and not looking at him. “You’re a half demon, right?”
“And what does it change?” Ace growled. He already knew he didn’t belong anywhere, because he was an abomination. Not a demon, neither a human.
“When we’ll be back at the orphanage, I’ll show you something.”
Ace realized he wouldn’t get any more answers, so he didn’t ask more. They spent the rest of the travel in silence.
***
When they returned back to the orphanage, Marco didn’t pay attention to Thatch and to the children who run greeting them. Marco gave a brief indication to Thatch about unloading the wagon by himself, before gestured at Ace to follow him.
Ace recognized immediately the path they were followed, realizing Marco was leading him to the mysterious Pops, the head of the orphanage. The force that had made impossible for Ace to reach the door of the tower the first time was almost disappearing. With his demon power back, Ace was able to feel the immense power that emanated from the room.
Marco opened the door without knocking. The room was dark, until two four torches at the four corners. Only then Ace saw the enormous figure sitting down in a chair against one of the wall, facing the big window on the other side. And immediately realized how that horrified smell was generate.
A giant.
But, a better look, Ace revaluated his first guess. He hadn’t met a giant in person before, but in the Underground there was a place dedicated to them and everything was even more gigantic that the man Ace had in front of him. Still, it was impossible that he was a human, because his size was definitely excessive, even for a big human.
“You… You’re a half giant?”
The man laughed. He wasn’t a mocking gesture, the laugh was a happy one. It was even delicate for a man of that size.
“You must be Ace. I felt your aura before, but it’s a pleasure to meet you in person at last. It wasn’t unfair Marco here kept you all for himself.”
Ace snorted, but it was Marco’s reaction that baffled him – he rolled his eyes, looking utterly annoyed.
“I’m Edward Newgate,” the man continued. He leaned forward and stretched the hand. Even if it was enormous, Ace took it. Edward’s grip was delicate for a man of his size. Almost reassuring.
“I’m Ace,” he confirmed.
He had a lot of questions inside his head, but Edward continued by himself, “I apologize for Marco’s behavior. He likes having this cool aura around him but he’s a dork. He doesn’t know how to flirt, really.”
“Pops!”
Ace refrained himself from laughing. Marco was pouting!
“Marco, dear,” Edward murmured, with an amused smile. “You basically kidnapped him.”
“Should I remember you that you did the same thing to me years ago?”
“That was because you were a brat.”
Marco snorted and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t add anything. Ace would have found the entire situation funny, but his mind was too occupied with hundreds and hundreds of questions. Remaining silent wouldn’t resolve the situation, so he spoke.
“How come that a half giant become the head of an orphanage?”
Edward smiled. “Half demon doesn’t have a place to belong. I’m pretty sure you may understand that.” Ace didn’t answer, but his face was clear enough. “So I created one.”
Ace blinked. Twice.
Marco gave voice to his realization. “All people here are half demon, children included.”
“What?” Ace was still surprised.
“My spell protected the area around the orphanage, so we all look like normal human. We don’t want anyone sneaking on and starting hunt us down.”
“What we do is helping the children to understand being half human half demon isn’t something they should ashamed on, it’s just what they are,” Edward added. “Some people doesn’t accept that.”
“That’s why I was send to kill you,” Ace commented, and immediately turned his gaze away from Edward, ashamed.
“Probably,” Marco agreed.
“You are welcome here, Ace,” Edward said.
“Okay.”
He didn’t have much to say, actually. He liked the orphanage, but in his mind he was clear it wasn’t his place. Then it turned out it could be. It actually could be the only place in the world where he wouldn’t be judge or ashamed for being a half breed and, well, he didn’t know how to react.
“I’m tired.” Edward closed his eyed and leaned against his chair’s back. “But feel free to come back whenever you want, Ace.”
“Thank you.”
They left without adding anything, Marco walking before him. Once they reached the end of the stairs, Ace stopped.
“Have you been persecuted too?”
Marco didn’t turn to face him. “Once the village where I lived found out about my magic power, their first reaction was to use me for their own gain. Then they understand I wasn’t a mage, but a warlock. Dark magic. Apparently all I’ve done didn’t matter anymore. I run for my life until Pops saved me.”
“I see.”
Marco sighed. “Listen, Ace… What I did to you wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry for it.” His head turned a little, watching Ace with only an eye. “But when I saw what you are… I only wanted for you to give us a chance. I have the feeling you may belong here.”
“Why did you have sex with me?” Ace asked, his voice harsh. “Were you testing me?”
“No. My feelings for you are sincere. But please, do not let them being a burden for choosing what it’s best for you.”
He left, and Ace didn’t follow him. He waited until the steps disappeared in the dark hallway, then moved in another direction, towards the kitchen. He maintained his human form, letting only his small horns and his long tail to be visible.
The children were there, at the table. He gave them a quick glance and for the first time he noticed the small details of every one of them: purple skin tone, pointed hear, tail, horn. A different bunch of half demons all together. Marco had removed his spell.
The children looked at him with wide eyes. Then, like an only organism, they rushed to him, dragged him to the floor, touching his horns and tails and screaming happily. Ace couldn’t tell if they were happy because they finally realized Ace was one of them, or because they finally had an inch of what kind of demon he was.
For once, Ace wasn’t ashamed of himself, nor he felt disgusted by their touch. He wagged his tail when Doma pulled it, and that earned only a wave of more laughter.
“Come on, kids, give him space.” Thatch towered over him, but his smile was warm. “Look at you.”
“What are you?” Ace asked. It could be rude, but Thatch didn’t mind. He left his right hand and showed the webbed fingers.
“I’m a half Kappa,” he précised. “Here you can find any kind of supernatural creatures that makes you normal in comparison.”
A situation Ace didn’t mind at all.
***
Ace was on duty again, near the river outside the orphanage’s walls, surrounded by goat. He lied down, using Stefan’s big belly as a pillow. He was different, now that he didn’t feel like a prisoner anymore. He touched his neck where Marco’s spell was.
But the feeling about the life of the orphanage didn’t change. He felt like home. He felt relaxed. Other demon may consider that life useless, not exciting at all, but Ace didn’t care. The people he spent time with were the ones that made his life worth.
He wasn’t going to turn back in the Underground.
The goats made a pitch sound. Ace groaned – he had become as sloppy as Stefan apparently – a moved slowly to stood up. The goats were all in front of the river, noticing the brightness of the water. They run away as soon Sabo emerged from the surface and sat down on the bank.
“Ace!”
Luffy sat down on Sabo’s shoulders, protected inside a bubble, but as soon as he saw Ace he rushed in his direction and sank in Ace’s chest. Ace’s heart melted as he noticed how much Luffy’s wings had grown, allowed him to fly. He moved his attention to a frowned Sabo, but before one of them could speak, Sabo found himself catch into a magic net that trapped him entirely.
Ace noticed Marco’s arrival only when he felt someone pulled him backwards, but Marco’s attention was all on Sabo. He put his own body on front of Ace, protective. “Who are you?” he demanded.
Before Ace could restrain him, Luffy flied out of his grasp. “Let Sabo go!” Marco hadn’t noticed him at first, but he wasn’t caught off guard and he clasped his hands together, trapping Luffy inside.
Ace snorted. “They’re my brothers.”
“Your brothers?”
“Yes. Would you mind…?” And he gestured towards Sabo, who was still waving inside the net.
“Oh. Sorry.” Marco waved his hand, releasing Luffy that returned flying to Ace’s shoulder. The net disappearing and Sabo was able to sat again, an unhappy frown on his face.
“I apologize,” Marco said. “It happens sometimes that demons try to attack the orphanage, so I threw some spells around, but they can’t discern malicious intent precisely.”
“Guys, this is Marco, the head of the orphanage,” Ace introduced him. “Sabo and Luffy.”
Sabo’s frown deepened. “You’re the one that casted a spell on Ace.”
“Oh, so you’re evil,” Luffy commented.
“I am,” Marco confirmed. He looked at Ace, as he was asking him the permission to say more.
“Don’t worry, Sabo, we’re okay now.” Ace lowered the collar of his shirt, showing the neck with no sign of the collar anymore. Sabo didn’t look convinced and he still looked at Marco with suspicious.
“Since the situation is under control, I better go,” Marco said. “I’m pretty sure you all want some time alone. But if you’d like to have dinner with us, you’re welcomed.”
Sabo waited for Marco to return inside the wall before shooting a glare at Ace. “Explain.”
Ace sighed. He sat down on the bank next to Sabo. Luffy took place in his lap as Ace told them everything: what the orphanage really was, what had been Marco’s aim, Pops’ history. At the end, he stayed quiet. He had made his decision already, but he still feared his brothers’ reaction.
“So they’re your friends. That’s cool,” Luffy commented.
Sabo moved: he hugged Ace, his arms firm on Ace’s back. “I’m so happy for you. You’re free.”
Ace smiled and relaxed. “Yes. I am.”
“But,” Sabo added. “What about the Underground? What about the person that gave you the order to kill Marco?”
Ace had thought about it. Probably they didn’t even notice his disappearance, or believed Marco had killed him. Or they were even happy to get rid of him. He shrugged.
“It’s not like they care about a freak like me.”
***
The attack took place two weeks after Sabo and Luffy’s visit.
“How can I help?” he asked.
“Go inside with the children, help them be safe,” Marco ordered. “There is a secret passage under the church, if something happen. But it won’t,” he added, looking at Ace’s wide eyes.
Then he launched himself in the battle, his spells bright in both his hands. Next to him, Izou was fighting with his ice power, and Jaws with his fist. Namur submerged himself in the river and attacked the enemies with splashes of water.
Ace hated feeling so powerless, but against those kinds of demon, his list powers were useless. With a last look at the battle, he moved and reached Thatch in the church. He was helping the children to hide behind the crypt.
“I can’t see Squardo,” he told Ace. “He’s the bigger here, maybe he’s trying to help, but his spider powers aren’t developed entirely. He will get in danger.”
“I’ll find it.”
Thatch nodded and closed the door of the crypt, as Ace left from the front door. His powers were based on hormones, which meant he could feel people basing the hormone they were emitting the most. Right now, the scent of adrenaline from the battle was almost nauseating, but it was far, behind the walls. Another strong smell came from the tower where Pops stayed.
He was able to felt another smell, but he was Squardo to find him first. “Hurry, Ace!” he screamed. “Someone is trying to enter from the back door!”
Ace remembered that door, he was the one he’d knocked the first time he’d reached the orphanage. It was a small door, almost hidden, and the one with most spell, visible from the outside only if Marco desired so. How an enemy was able to see trough it was worrisome at best. It meant the enemies were more prepared than ever.
When they reached it, though, the door was closed, as nothing had happened. He turned to Squardo, to ask if he’d mistaken something, and his blood froze. Behind him there was the massive figure of Sakazuki, one of the three knight of the king of the Underground. Definitely not a enemy that could be taken lightly. And he was already inside the orphanage.
“Leave him alone,” Ace commanded.
Sakazuki didn’t pay him attention. “Go,” he said to Squardo. “You did good, but I don’t need you anymore.”
“What does that mean?” Ace asked.
Squardo dedicate him a severe look. “I’m saving my home,” he commented before leaving.
“You let Sakazuki in?” He was a scream, a plea that went unheard, because Squardo was too far, or maybe he just didn’t care to answer him anymore. Ace turned his attention to Sakazuki, as his mind valuated his possibilities. “What do you want from me?”
“Come quiet with me and I won’t harm you.”
“Not a chance.”
Sakazuki smirked. “Your choice.”
Ace looked around, now fully transformed in his incubus form. He knew his only way out was to distract Sakazuki enough to fly away. Sakazuki was an earth creature, his powers didn’t go so high in the air. Ace released a wave of hormones, who startled Sakazuki for a second, but as he jumped, he realized it was too late.
Magma erupted all around him, a spell casted before his arrival, and it closed around him, preventing him to escape in the sky. The magma moved, forcing him back on the ground, and then it sprayed venomous grey gas. Ace, lied down, placed a hand on his mouth and nose, while with the other he tried to open a path in the part of the magma that was already solidified.
His claws dig in the heart and he felt the blood wet his finger. No sound came from outside, only his beating heart. He lost consciousness soon after.
***
When Ace woke up, he realized immediately he was in the underground. For what it seemed, he was trapped inside a small column made of glass. He knocked the glass to test it, realizing it was enchanted, so he couldn’t be broken.
The column was tall; Ace lift his head but he couldn’t see its end. There was also no guarantee that the column was opened at the end. On the left, Ace noticed there was another column, empty. It was the column on the right that took his breath away. The column was filled with some purple material, and there was a figure inside, motionless. The figure, whoever they were, had die suffocating in the purple material, stuck in a terrified expression as they beating their fists on the glass, looking for salvation.
So that was it. Ace had been condemned to that terrible death.
He was still so into the death body next to him that startled as he realized there was a person standing in front of his column.
“Hi, Ace.”
“Teach.”
“I’m sorry it has to end like that,” Teach said. He sounded almost sincere.
“I’m sorry I disappointed you.”
Teach smirked. “Oh, no, Ace. You didn’t disappoint me. You did exactly what I expected you to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll survive just enough to see it.”
He didn’t give Ace any more explanation. Fear descended upon him as his mind understood what Teach’d meant. From the bottom of the column, the slimy purple substance started to increase.
Ace sat down, letting the substance lick his legs. His only hope was to die before Marco and the others could do something incredible stupid as coming in the Underground to save him. And a laugh erupted from his throat: as if they really were coming for him.
***
But they did.
The substance had reached around Ace’s abdomen when he heard the explosion. There was smoke and light – especially the light was out of place in the underground. Ace jumped still, splashing the substance in the glass around him.
There were all of them, but the children. Ace gasped as he noticed Pops himself in the middle of the group, Marco next to him.
“No…” Ace murmured.
Pops couldn’t bear a fight, especially in the Underground, where the demon’s powers were strong. And, in that moment, Ace realized that was Teach’s plan all along. He hadn’t never expected Ace to kill Marco. He had expected Marco and the others to become attached to him and then dragged them in the Underground using Ace as a bait.
“No… No!”
His fists clashed against the glass, his only aim to warn them and let the escape. Pops’ attention were already on him and he nodded. He raised his leg and then smashed it on the ground. The entire cave trembled and all the glass column exploded. Ace covered his eyes to protect himself from the splinters.
“Ace, come!”
Curiel had flew to him in his crow form and he was gestured to Ace to follow him.
“You shouldn’t have come. What the hell are you thinking?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Curiel replied and shrugged.
He grabbed Ace and dragged him at the bottom of the cave. Ace’s heard Teach’s laugh and saw Pops rushed forward to block his darkness. Marco was behind him, his spell kept away from Pops the demons that tried to attack him. The others were fighting Teach’s underdogs.
“Finally, this is your end, Whitebeard,” Teach yelled.
Pops didn’t pay him attention. “Marco,” he called.
“Yes?”
“Go back with everyone without me.”
“What? No!”
“This is my last order. Now go!”
“No!”
This time it was Ace. He freed himself from Curiel’s grip and jump forward, his hand leaned forward, reaching for Pops. But before he managed to touch him, Marco grabbed him for the chest. Ace felt Marco’s breath on his neck as he murmured a spell.
A flash of light and Ace found himself back in the courtyard of the orphanage, his arm still leaned in front of him, but there wasn’t any more Pops’ back to catch, but only the stone walls. Marco was still keeping him and he didn’t let him go, no matter how Ace shrugged.
“No! NO!”
Tears erupted from his eyes. Marco moved to hug him better and Ace sobbed against his chest.
***
Marco found Ace hidden in the stable, surrounded by the goats that had accepted him as a part of the family already. Ace wasn’t happy, because he’d chose that place to stay alone, but of course he couldn’t hide his presence to Marco and his warlock’s powers.
“I know you need some time,” Marco said. “But please, there is someone you need to see.”
Ace stood up with a sigh. He followed Marco outside the stable and then in the church. There, in the third bench, sat Squadro.
As soon as he noticed Ace, Squardo jumped still, but he didn’t move, his gaze moved from Ace to Marco, before lowering to the ground. Marco got near and gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Squardo nodded. With his gaze still lowered, he walked until he was in front of Ace. At that point, he was sobbing.
He hugged him, still crying. The words that came out his mouth were frantic, foggy. “I’m so sorry, Ace, so sorry, I… It’s all my fault. I didn’t… I just want to save this place and… I believed them…”
“It’s okay,” Ace murmured, stopping his rambling. “I know you meant good.”
“It didn’t matter,” Squardo sniffed. “Pops died because of me. And you, almost.”
“I forgive you.”
“I can’t never forgive myself.”
Marco decided it was enough. He placed a hand on Squardo’s shoulder. Squardo finished his tears. He nodded and, with a last grip on Ace, he moved aside.
He left without a word, keeping sniffing at himself. Ace heard him murmured a thank you, and wasn’t sure it was directed at Ace or Marco, who followed him until hel eft the church, before turning to face Ace.
“What was that?” Ace asked.
“He told me what happen,” Marco said. “He wanted forgiveness.”
“I forgave him.” Ace shrugged.
“Then why can’t you forgive yourself?”
Ace moved his gaze from him to the ground. “You know why.”
“No, I don’t. Frankly, I don’t even think there’s something you should forgive.”
“I killed Pops!”
Ace panted hard. Marco looked at him with a soft smile and a sweetness Ace didn’t deserve.
“No,” Marco said. “You didn’t kill Pops. He sacrificed himself to save you.”
Ace snored. “Whatever. He didn’t change the results.”
“It did for you. For us.” Marco came closer. “Pops’s life was ending, he knew that. He couldn’t die peacefully in his tower, but that wasn’t his style. He preferred die doing what he has done his entire life: saving people like us.”
Marco’s face was too close; Ace found himself unable to move or look away.
“You can decide to leave, if you’d like,” Marco continued. “But no one here want that. You’re Pops’ child too. You belong here.”
“I lived in the underground. I worked there.” Ace sighed. “Even if I didn’t kill Pops, fault is on me. Teach used me…”
“We’re glad he did, so you can leave that place behind.”
“Why are you all so kind?”
“That’s what Pops taught us. His legacy. We’re keeping giving people a home where to stay, and you’re no exception. But I have another reason for you.” Marco hugged him, his hands grabbed the back of Ace’s shirt. He kept him close, his grip almost suffocating. “I love you, Ace. I don’t want you to leave.”
There was a vulnerability in Marco’s words and Marco’s voice Ace’s wasn’t used to. His lips were trembled, as long as his arms as he kept Ace in his hug. And that, that was enough to break Ace. He placed his head on Marco’s shoulder and cry.
“I want to stay here. With you, with everyone… I love here… and I love….”
He wasn’t ready to tell yet, but he was sure Marco would understand. Marco’s grip strengthened again, before becoming sweeter. Ace couldn’t see it, but he was sure there was a relaxed smile on his face now.
“You can, Ace. That’s what we want too,” he said. “Welcome home.”

Posted: 30/3/2019, 17:42

The Voltron case - Storie per il COWT

It’s a boring day.
Well, it has been a boring week. Being a ghostbuster can be considered exciting from outside; and it is, but it’s not the kind of work that gets a big market. With the technology era, most people don’t believe in ghost anymore. People who do mostly of the time doesn’t have a job to offer. Their last work has been freeing a house from a poltergeist, and the owner didn’t even pay them.
With a sigh, Shiro closes his laptop. He takes the folder and climbs the stairs to reach the mansard, which is the ghostbuster’s lair. Except Keith, who was out for a commission, the other are there. Lance is sprawling on the sofa; next to him, Hunk was leafing through a book, while Pidge, on the floor, is playing with her Playstation Portable. They all shots a look at Shiro.
“What’s that?” Lance asks, pointing at the folder Shiro has in his hand. He looks worried. Well, he should be.
“It’s the list of the expenses cut we need to do if we want to survive until we find a customer that actually pays us,” Shiro answers. Before anyone can protest, he takes the first paper. “First of all, no more purchases from the Central Market. It’s too expensive.”
“Oh, come on,” Hunk murmurs. “Fighting ghosts needs a healthy and balanced diet.”
“Well, it’s either eating precooked food or not eating at all from now on.” He turns to Pidge. “No more videogames from the time being.”
“But they help me keeping my brain active! I need them!” she protests.
“You have at least one hundred in your wardrobe, and five consoles. Do you prefer selling them?”
“No.” She pouts.
“Then play them again. Lance, I forbid you to have more than one shower every two days.”
Lance looks outrageous. “Are you going to ruin my reputation? God, I’m gonna smell so bad no one would dare to get near.”
The other three lifts their eyebrows. “Lance, you have to admit five showers in a day are a little… unnecessary,” Hunk comments.
“Unnecessary for you,” Lance replies. “I’m pretty sure we can cut some other expenses.”
“The last thing is the paychecks of the agency’s secretary,” Shiro says. “Who, if you don’t remember, is me.”
“Oh.” Lance hums for a second, under the disapproving look of Hunk and Pidge. “Why did we hire you in the first place?”
“Because I’m hot and reassuring and apparently this works with customers,” Shiro replies. “Or so Keith says.”
“Well, he’s not wrong, for once,” Lance admits. “Hey, by the way, what do you cut off from Keith’s expenses?”
Nothing. The answer is nothing because Keith doesn’t have expensive hobbies. Of course, he can’t tell this to Lance, or he will be accused to play favorite again (which isn’t true, especially because Keith’s supposed to be the boss of the agency, but still…). Before he can find a way to answer, Pidge coughs.
“Uhm, guys… We might have a new client.”
She’s looking troughs the open window. Shiro moves next to her. A limousine parks next to the pedestrian, in front of the agency. It’s a white car, not a stain on it.
“Nah,” Hunk says. “It’s impossible.”
A man in suit that is fashion at least twenty years ago opens the back door of the car, so the passenger can get off. It’s a young woman, with long white hair that glitters in the sunlight and perfect dark skin. A blue short dress enlightens her perfect body and the heels make her long legs standing even more. Even Shiro’s gay ass admits she’s gorgeous.
“My God,” Lance exhales. “She’s Allura Altea.”
“Who?” Pidge asks.
“She’s, like, my favorite actress. She’s great, you know. And gorgeous. And… Like, I have a couple of her posters in my room.”
Oh, that is why Shiro thinks she looks familiar. He keeps his eyes on her as she looks around the street. Then, with three firm steps, she moves to open the door of the agency and disappears inside, the man follows her.
“She mistakes our place,” Hunk says. “There is no other explanation.”
“Well, do you think I can take the chance and ask her out?” After Pidge’s look, he corrects himself, “at least an autograph?”
“No. Let Shiro handle this. He’s our poster’s boy, remember.”
Sometimes Shiro wonders how he ends up in that role, after being a top star class fighter pilot. Well, the answer is his prosthetic hand and the scar he has on the face and the spirit of his twin brother Ryou that haunted his dream until Keith arrived in his life.
He stretches his shoulders and climbs down the stairs to return in the building main hall. Allura is there, looking around, unsure how to act. The man is still two steps behind her. One her eyes fells on Shiro, she presses her lips together.
“Good Morning,” he greets them, with his best smile (or what he thinks it is). “May I help you?”
“I think so,” she says. Her voice is firm. “Is this the Ghostbuster Agency?”
“It is,” Shiro confirms. “I’m Takashi Shirogane, I’m the secretary here. Do you have a problem with ghosts?”
“Maybe.”
Shiro gestures at the old pink sofa on the left part of the room. “Please. May I offer something to you? Coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
She sits down, while the man remains behind her, standing still. Shiro still places the tray with the handmade cookies (Hunk’s work) on the short table before taking place in the other sofa on the opposite side.
She takes a long breath. “I’m Allura Altea and this is Coran, my agent,” she introduces herself.
“Nice to meet you. I was told you’re an actress.”
“I am,” she confirms. “I took a break from my work because my father’s death.”
“My condolences.”
“Thanks.”
She’s not the first customer that comes to the agency after a beloved’s death. The point is that they’re not sensitives. It’s a common misunderstanding. But here it goes their possibilities to gain some money.
“I’m afraid we can’t help you with it,” Shiro said. “Our job is a little bit different by talking with the dead.”
“That’s not it.” Allura sounds almost offended, even if Shiro doesn’t miss the glint of sadness in her eyes. “My father died two weeks ago. After the funeral, I decided to take his place as a member of the Management Board of his company. He was the major actionist of the Castle of Lions Company, you know, the pharmaceutic company.”
“I know it.” His own prosthetic arm was created by Castle of Lions.
Allura nods. “I’m not a scientist as my father, but I can manage with economy, and I inherited his quotes. And his office.”
Shiro understands. “And you feel there is a spirit in the office?”
“I’m not exactly sure…” For the first time since the conversation started, she hesitates. “A lot of strange things happen. The temperature can be even ten degree less than the one in the hallway, from time to time I hear some creaking, and the lights turns on and off alone…”
“It’s definitely the act of a ghost,” Coran speaks for the first time.
“Usually, people explain those kind of events in a more rational way,” Shiro begins. He isn’t able to continue because Allura stands up suddenly.
“Because there is a rational explanation. Coming here was a mistake. Let’s go, Coran.”
They both turn towards the door and startle: Keith is there, arm cross.
“How… How do you get in there?” Coran blabbers.
“From the front door…?”
“Ah. Sure.”
“Keith!” Lance’s voice comes from upstairs, and a second later, he appears at the end of the stair, Pidge and Hunk behind him. “I told you a hundred time to teach your dog not to cross trough me! Oh-hi!” he adds as he spots Allura, a wide smile opens on his lips. Pidge elbows him.
Keith rolls his eyes. Kosmo’s flies from the ceiling, turns around Allura a couple of time before rolling his long and transparent body around Keith’s shoulder. He caresses its head with the point of his right fingers.
“This is not a dog,” Coran states.
“Duh. No. It’s a Tsukumogami.” Keith gives him the palm of his hand: Kosmo passed thought it and disappeared on the ceiling.
“A what?”
“Pidge,” Keith calls.
She clears her throat. “Objects that are more than hundred years old can develop a soul. It doesn’t happen often and it depends a lot from the importance of the object in the life of his owner, since the object’s soul it’s actually a stolen piece from the owner’s own soul. Tsukumogami becomes visible only if the owner of the object has some spiritual powers, like in Kosmo’s case.”
“People tend to call every kind of supernatural spirit ghost, but it isn’t correct,” Hunk adds. “The supernatural world is a lot more multifaceted than that, and let’s not forget actually ghost doesn’t even exist.”
“I… I see,” Allura murmurs, and she sits down again.
“Can I introduce to you the boss of the agency, Keith Kogane?” Shiro smiles and gestures at him, as Keith takes place next to him. “And the others are Lance, Pidge and Hunk, our ghostbusters.” Lance opens his mouth, but Hunk drags him on his side to stop him.
“So,” Keith begins, “from what I heard, you feel there is a supernatural creature in your office. The first thing we need to confirm is which kind of creature it is. We have different methods to take care of them. And, of course, there is also the possibility it isn’t a supernatural creature at all.”
Allura nods. “How can you confirm it?”
“We have some equipment that can define the spectrum of the spirits.”
“So you have to be in the office, correct?” she asks. At the positive nod from Keith, she adds, “because I don’t want the others know about my suspicious… Their consideration for me is low enough, being an actress and everything, and I surely don’t want to give them any reasons to exclude from the Management Board.”
“Well, the metrospectral is small,” Pidge comments. “We can easily hid under a jacket. You only have to find an excuse for one of us to enter in the office with you. Maybe a client?”
“I have a better idea!” Lance intervenes. “I can be her fake dating, like his boyfriend coming to see her office! I mean,” he explains at the others’ glare, “a client is dangerous because the others may ask about which kind of client, maybe they will ask too much and we don’t have time to make up credible excuses, but they surely wouldn’t care about a boyfriend unless for some mundane questions, right?”
“I actually think it is a good idea.” The disbelieve in Keith’s voice is palpable. Lance snorts at him.
“It’s decided, then,” Coran says. “But, if you accept suggestion, I will go better with Mister Shirogane here for a fake boyfriend. Only for esthetic reasons, of course.”
Four pair of eyes are on Shiro, who smiles embarrassed. “I am the poster boy after all.”
“Good.” Allura takes her pursue, extract a check block and compile one that lends to Keith. “I expect you to enter in action tomorrow. Can we organize now?”
Shiro tilts his head to see the amount of the check. Slowly, he stands up, takes the folder with the expense report, and throws it in the trashcan.
***
The limousine arrives on time in front of the Ghostbuster agency the morning after. Shiro put on his best suit and Lance helped him to arrange the hair, still he felt a little bit out of place once on board of the luxurious car. Allura greets him with a small smile.
“I’ll try to avoid most people, so we won’t give more explanations that we need,” she says. “But if we meet some high-ups, try to look embarrassed. It’s a company, people aren’t supposed to invite guests. Even less, boyfriends.”
Looking at the car and then himself, Shiro thinks he won’t have much problem in faking embarrassment. A small smile erupts from his lips as he recalls back what Keith told him the evening before: just smile and they all fall at your feet. Shiro wishes it is so simple. Especially because the person he wants, well, he receives Shiro’s smiles all the time.
The building of the Castle of Lions Company is a skyscraper, the third taller than the entire city. As Allura explains, they only have a head office, so in the first half of the building is reserved to the laboratories and the researches offices, while the second half to the administrative ones. The personal offices of the two CEOs of the company are on the top floor, only accessible from a private lift at the fiftieth floor. Coran parks the car on the underground parking and, from there, they takes the first lift up. They aren’t lucky enough to not meet people from floor to floor, but most of them are scientists, someone who wouldn’t dare to speak with Allura but a small greeting. Shiro is aware of the look he’s receiving, especially because he has Allura’s arm under his own, but they reach the fiftieth floor without giving any explanation.
Once there, Allura lends him into a hallway and uses the print of her hand to open a sliding door at the end of it, revealing a small room with a glass lift inside, which let Shiro see the city below them. Before Allura has a change to call for the lift, a movement behind her catches her attention. Shiro reacts by placing himself between her and the door, before noticing that it’s a child, who’s trying to hide himself under a decorative plant.
Allura sighs. “Lotor. I can see you.”
“No, you can’t,” the reply comes.
She moves next the plant and she bends down, offering her hand. Lotor takes it. “Are you going up? Can I come with you?” he asks.
“No,” she says, with a sweet smile. “You know you can’t bother your father when he’s working.”
“But I want to help him.” He pouts.
“And you will, staying here and being good.” She shot an apologetic look to Shiro, as she returns in the hallway, Lotor’s hand still in her own.
Shiro follows: she knocks at one door and she enters without waiting for an answer. The room is half an office half a laboratory: it’s a messy, with paper and mechanic parts spread everywhere. A woman emerges from below one of the desk – or what Shiro thinks it’s a desk – waving a paper as she just finds a treasure.
Lotor leaves Allura’s hand and run towards her. “Lotor! Here you are!” She grabs him and she lifts in her arm. “I just find the paper with the calculation I did yesterday.”
“That’s good...” Lotor murmurs.
Only then, the woman notices them. “Oh. Miss Altea. I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to bring him at work but…”
Allura shakes her head. “Just be careful. It’s not a safe place for children.” She doesn’t miss the strange look the woman shot to Shiro, so she introduces them, “this is Honerva Daibazaal, one of the top scientists of our company. And this is Takashi, my boyfriend. Takashi Shirogane.” She grabs his arm and smiles. “He accompanied me here and I want to let him have a look.”
Honerva comes close, Lotor still in her arms, and offers her hand to Shiro. “Nice to meet you. I think I recognize the arm,” she adds, as they shake hands. “The Garla Series. One of my best design.”
“Oh. Well, thank you. It is really amazing,” Shiro says, and he means it.
“Not many people can afford it, though,” she adds. “That’s why I’m trying to product cheaper prosthetics.” There is an implication in her words Shiro doesn’t miss, so he anticipates her question. “What do you do, Mister Shirogane?”
“I was in the military. That’s good for medical expenses.” He laughs, and it isn’t even a lie.
“I see you’re a lot busy, as always, Honerva,” Allura says. “We won’t bother you any longer. Bye, Lotor.”
There is a glint in Honerva’s eyes, as she doesn’t want the conversation to end, but it lasts only a second. She smiles, as Lotor waves at them. “Enjoy your tour, Mister Shirogane.”
They closes the door behind them and none of them talks until they reaches the lift for the top floor.
Only then, Allura explains, “Honerva is not only the best scientist we have, second only to my father, but also Zarkon’s wife. Lotor is their only son.”
“Zarkon Daibazaal, the other CEO of the company?”
Allura nods. “He’s not a bad man. I know him since I was a little girl. But… he’s pretty aggressive when it comes to business. He doesn’t think I’m the right person for taking my father’s place.” Her face hardens. “But this is my father’s company. I won’t let it to anyone else, not even Zarkon.”
“Well, Keith said I do a good impression to people,” Shiro says. “Maybe if I meet him, he will accept me in the family.”
Allura chuckles. “Unfortunately, he probably thinks I’m shallow and vain bringing my boyfriend here instead of being a workaholic as he is. Sorry,” she adds, “you’re not here for petty business quarrels.”
“It’s okay. Knowing the contest of your father’s life is important to find out what is the problem of the office.”
The lift reaches the top floor. Shiro finds himself in a semicircular hall, with a couple of sofa around and decorated with a tone of purple color. Two doors are there, on the opposite wall, only separated by a couple of meters of wall. There, a painter of two men shaking their hand is hung on. Shiro recognizes Zarkon and Alfor, even if they look younger.
“It was shot the day the founded the company together. At that time, they used to work in two separate companies,” Allura explains, in a whisper.
She doesn’t want to attire Zarkon’s attention on their presence. She hurries to open the door of her father’s office so they can disappear inside. Alfor’s office is less gloomy than the hall, with light blue and water blue colors. Shiro smiles at the photo with him and Allura placed on the desk.
She leans over the glass desk. “So… what now?”
Shiro opens his jacked and takes off Pidge’s metrospectral. It looks like a credit card machine, with the bill and everything, and Pidge herself admitted she had that in mind when she built it. The only difference are an antenna on the top of the machinery and the fact that the buttons only serves to select the frequencies.
“The metrospectral can point out the spiritual traces,” Shiro explains. “Every different kind of spirits has a peculiar trace that is left in the spot of their appearances. With this, we can individuate where they are and who they are.”
“Okay.” Allura nods. She’s tense.
Shiro turns off the metrospectral and starts to move it around the room. He starts from the light button, since one of the elements Allura talked about, then he moves to the next wall, to the wardrobe, to the desk. The metrospectral remains silent.
“Nothing?” Shiro can’t say if there are relief or disappointment in her voice.
“Let me finish the examination first,” he replies. “Some kind of spirit leaves traces in only one spot.”
And this is the case of Allura’s office. Once Shiro moves to the opposite wall, the antenna beeps barely. He gets neat the painter hanging there; it portraits a green flat ground where two lions and three lioness lies down, relaxed. The antenna beeps stronger.
“Is this painting somewhat important?” he asks Allura.
She shakes her head. “My father bought it at a shop years ago. He said it remembered him the name of the company.” Well, there are lions in the painting. “Do you find something?”
“Good news, you’re not crazy, and you’re not wasting your money on us. There are spiritual traces in this office.”
Shiro presses another couple of buttons. The small screen on the metrospectral elaborates the data and then it releases a small bill in paper. Shiro rips it and examines. Unfortunately, the string of numbers and letters tells him nothing: Pidge doesn’t project the machine to be read by not ghostbuster people. Shiro takes a photo and send it to her.
The answer comes a few minutes later, with Allura and Shiro both waiting for it, expectant.
“Ghost Print.”
Pidge’s message only says that, but for Shiro is enough. He turns off the metrospectral, he crumbles the small paper and places them both back in his pocket.
“What does it mean?” Allura asks.
“First of all, you have to understand that ghost as you see in movies do not exist,” Shiro says. “Dead people can’t stay in the world of living, it is not allowed to them to cross between them. Only supernatural creatures can do it. The only thing it can remain of the dead is a spiritual print.”
All those things, Keith explained to Shiro. At that time, Shiro believed, like everyone, that ghosts could be real. And Shiro was sure his twin brother Ryou was haunting his room, angry at him for having get him killed in the accident that costed Shiro his arm and his career in the army.
“Sometimes, if the deceased had a very strong regret of something they were supposed to do before dying, and if their spiritual power is somewhat above the normal standard, it is possible that they left a record of himself here on our world.”
Ryou did that. He regretted not telling Shiro he lied, and that Shiro was supposed to be the pilot on that mission. Ryou wanted it so badly, and he regretted realizing he would have killed Shiro instead. Knowing it didn’t make Shiro feel better about his brother’s death, but he was grateful he didn’t resent him for the accident.
“We need to find out what the spirit that left this print regret and then find a way to make this regret disappeared,” Shiro ends his explanation.
Allura sighs. “I have no idea what my father could regret…” She looks at the painting as it can give answers.
“We aren’t sure it’s your father yet. It’s likely, since this is his office, but the metrospecrtral can recognize only the spiritual traces and nothing more. For a deeper analysis, we need other machineries. And Keith.” He smiles. “Unless you want to tell Zarkon you’re in a poly relationship and you’re organizing a party in your father’s office, we need another excuse to enter here.”
***
“We could have chosen something a little more… fashionable.”
“They’re the uniform for a cleaning company, not a fashion company, Lance.”
“So what? I don’t discriminate. Every workers has the right to have a nice, fancy dress, you know.”
“None of you are actually worried about the fact we’re illegally entering in a high protect pharmaceutic company?” Hunk asks, as he pushes forwards the trolley. “I mean, we won’t have the money for pay a lawyer if we get caught.”
“Well, then let’s not get caught,” Lance replied. “I don’t want anyone see me wearing with this thing.”
Pidge rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry. Allura gave me enough codes to hack the security system so the camera won’t record us. This is pretty exciting, to be fair honest.”
“I hope a real thief doesn’t decide to give a shot tonight,” Hunk sighs.
“Guys, quiet,” Keith, who was walking in front of them, orders. “Here we are.”
Pidge paces the glover with Allura’s fingerprints on her hand and uses it to open the door, then they hurry to take the lift. Lance turns on the torch as the lift’s door opens in the top floor. The place is dark and silent.
“Allura said this area is done at last,” Pidge says. “Which mean, by my calculations, that we have an hour before someone get here.”
“Hunk, stay on guard.” Keith gestures at Hunk, who nods and passes him the CARRELLO. “Let’s get moving.” He placed it next to the office’s door once they enter. “This should be the painting Shiro talks about.”
“Nice,” Lance comments, as he enlightens it with his torch. “Can you feel something?”
Keith nods. “Definitely. But the print isn’t strong enough for me to see it yet. I will need the amplificatory for it.”
“Help me out, guys,” Pidge calls for them. She starts to take off her equipment from the trolley, where they hid them beforehand.
Lance places the torch on the ground, so the lower area around the painting will be clear enough from them to operate. He grabs from the bucket his magnetic backpack and wears it, testing the rifle in his hand. Meanwhile, Pidge places on the ground her laptop and, as it turn on, connects some dots from the audiospectral and from Keith’s. He straps two magnetic band around his wrists, as he stands, back at the painting.
“You must put on the check-up machine, too,” Pidge warns.
“Must I?”
“Yes.”
“Dude.” Lance moves at his next. “Last time you almost had an earth attack and lucky enough for us Shiro was there. He had a first aid knowledge, we haven’t. And, most important, I’m not going to give you a mouth breathing. Not gonna happen.”
At the memory of Shiro giving him that, Keith shuts his mouth and do as he was told. Not only he also does not intend to have Lance kissing him, it’s embarrassing enough that Shiro of all people did it. It’s something it should be forbid to talk even again about. Pidge gives Lance the thumbs up, and Keith rolls his eyes.
“We’re ready,” she announces.
Keith put his visors as she presses the button on the machinery. He takes two deep breathes to calm himself and focusing on the shadow that is appearing in front of him. He feels his eyes becoming thinner as the shadow defines himself.
From the photo they saw, it is definitely the ghost print of Allura’s father. Not really a surprise, but still years of practice taught Keith to be prepare to everything. He stands still, looking directly in front of him. His expression is a little bit worried, with a frown between his two eyebrows.
“I see him,” Pidge whispers. Slowly, she taps on her laptop, trying to take a scan of the imagine the visor gives her.
“Hi,” Keith says. He doesn’t move.
The ghost print of Alfor remains still. Then, he opens his mouth. “Voltron.”
“Voltron,” Keith repeats. “What it does mean?”
“Voltron,” Alfor repeats. “Voltron.”
“It is a person? An acronym? Why this is important?” Keith asks again.
“Voltron,” is the only answer.
Pidge checks her audio. “The ghost print is too weak, I can’t register it. Can you do something?”
“I can try. It doesn’t look it’s strong enough to understand question.”
“So it’s like a broken recorder? Never easy task,” Lance comments.
Keith takes two steps forwards: now it is right in front of the ghost print. “Voltron.” With a sigh, Keith places himself in the exact spot of the ghost print. He feels the coldness of the spirit and the word “Voltron” resounds inside him. He clenches his fist to resist at the desire of moving back. His heartbeat increases, making difficult to hear.
“What does it mean? What are you doing here? Do you have a last word for Allura?”
At the name of his daughter, Alfor stops repeating the same word. Being inside him make impossible for Keith to see how he’s acting, but he can feel the hesitation. “Tell me.”
Alfor trembles. “Find… Vol…” The sentence is cutting suddenly.
Keith screams, a pain radiates from his chest as someone is trying to rip it apart. He stumbles backwards, falling on his knees, putting as much space as he can from the ghost spirit. Alfor screeches and Keith heard it all in his brain at louder volume. His head hurts, so he presses a hand to keep focus and lift his head.
“Man, you’re okay?” Lance and Pidge are at his next, hands on her back and arms.
The visor’s vision is blurs, but he can see a dark figure wrapping himself around Alfor’s. Keith can’t see it well, it looks like a snake but with small tailor and small wings. He knows what is it, but before he can act, the snake tightens his spires and the entire figure of Alfor disappears.
“It’s a famiglio,” he coughs. “There’s a famiglio.”
“Where?” Lance jumps still, his rifle in his arm, as he loans it. “Tell me where.”
The famiglio moves on the ceiling and Keith is fast to point out the direction. Lance press the button and blue energy comes off his rifles. “I think I take it!”
Pidge takes from her pocket a small metallic box, she presses the button to open it and throw it in the air, where Lance is keeping still the famiglio with his rifle. The box generates a small tornado that swallows the famiglio before closing it inside, effectively trapping it.
“What happen?” Hunk enters and let the door hit the opposite wall. “You’re doing a lot of confusion.”
“You’re doing worse,” Lance point out as he put back his rifle.
Hunk is about to reply, but he sees Keith still on the ground. “My God, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he replies.
Pidge gestures Lance to collect the box, as she returns at her laptop. “Keith’s condition are stable,” she say, and there is a hint of relief in her word. “A little hyperventilating, but I feel it’s normal.”
“My head is killing me,” Keith admits. He can still feel the pain on his chest and the heartbeat in his ears.
“Rest, for now,” Pidge advices. “We don’t have much time left, so there is something left to do?”
“No. The ghost print is gone.”
“Okay.”
Hunk returns to look at the main hall and at the lift, while Lance and Pidge hid back in the CARRELLO all their equipment. Keith remains in the ground, breathing hard. Once they’re finished, ha can stand up alone even if he still has a headache. Still, Lance and Pidge help him to walk. They takes the two lifts they need to reach the underground parking, and their van.
“I drive,” Lance offers, and Keith can’t prevent him. His head hurts too much to even complain about his driving skill.
He regrets Shiro isn’t there with them, so he can lean against his shoulder and let Shiro taking care of him and caressing him with his pretty hands. He put the neck backward hoping it’ll help for the pain. The others are kind enough to not speaking, not even for asking about his condition.
“Who the hell sent a famiglio here?” he comments, once the van left the parking.
***
They are all there at the ghostbuster house. Keith lies down on the couch, Shiro at his side helping him to keep the ice firm on his still hurting head. Allura and Coran sit in the couch in front of them, Lance and Hunk in two chairs at the side, and Pidge is kneeled down, the laptop in front of her.
She played the record of Alfor’s voice, something that put Allura on the edge. The voice isn’t the same, being filtered by both Pidge’s machinery and the fact Alfor was just a ghost print, but it’s recognizable in any case.
Coran passes his arm behind her back. “So you’re saying that he was exorcised? Like in the movie? I like it.”
Pidge rolls her eyes. “That kind of movies are horrible.”
“Don’t say that,” Lance replies.
“Come on. Have you seen them? They don’t take a thing right!”
“I’m not saying they’re accurate. I’m only saying they aren’t such a big problem,” Lance says. “Some of them are actually quite enjoyable.”
“Back to the point,” Hunk intervenes before Pidge can start a thirty pages of dissertation about how narratively bad they really are. “I’m sorry to communicate that the ghost print of your father is gone.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Keith adds. “It was so weak it hardly manages to communicate with us.” This gains him a disapproving look from Shiro, to which Keith answers with a frown. People keeps saying he’s too blunt, but sometimes there isn’t a good way to tell the truth.
“But how he was exorcised?” Coran asks. “Like, a priest with holy water and everything appears out of nowhere? Like this?” And he shows a very good imitation of the priest from the movie.
Keith groans and feels his headache is just getting worse. “Okay, I admit it, you’re right about the movies being a problem,” Lance comments, a little baffled.
Pidge releases a satisfied smirk. “No, that’s not how it works.”
“Please, explain.” Allura regains her composure. “I believe you were exorcists, in a way.”
“Not really.” Pidge looks around to receive the approval to continue. “When it comes to ghost print, there are two ways to deal with them. Ours is to understand the reason of its existence and create a situation for the ghost print to terminate naturally his life.”
“We think it’s better in this way,” Hunk adds. “If a person has such a strong desire at the point it creates a ghost print, the least we can do is try to gain it.”
“For example, it happened once that a girl died before reaching the place of the date with his boyfriend,” Lance says. “She wanted to confess that day, so her ghost print remained in that place until his boyfriend came and said to her I love you. It was very romantic!”
“The other way,” Pidge continues, “is by brute force. This is what exorcists do, and what happened to your father’s ghost print.”
“So exorcists are bad guys?” Coran asks.
The eyes of the other turns on Keith. “No,” he sighs. “Exorcists are people with the abilities to separate a piece of their soul and turn it into a supernatural creature called famiglio. A famiglio can interact with other supernatural creatures, fighting with them and so on.”
“Ghost prints are easy to fix,” Hunk comments, “but other supernatural creatures aren’t, and they needs more… definitive methods.”
“We do what exorcist do, but with technologies,” Lance anticipates the other question. “Well, almost everything they do. For the rest, we have Keith.”
“So… Keith’s an exorcist?”
“No. I haven’t been able to create a famiglio. But I came from an exorcists’ family, so I have higher sensitivity than normal people.”
Allura’s eyes moves to Keith, still with the ice bag on his head. “I’m sorry about what happened.”
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse.” Keith shrugs. “And it’s not your fault. We can’t foresee the exorcist’s action.”
“I think I get it,” Allura says. “So, what now?”
“Well, technically our work here is done.” There is slightly disappointment in Shiro’s voice, and Keith can’t blame him. They haven’t had a client for days and things end too fast. “Normally, we would try to discover who or what this Voltron is, and then bring it back to the ghost print. But now the ghost print is gone, so…”
“I still want to find out about Voltron,” Allura affirms. “Whatever it is, it’s important enough to my father to leave a ghost print. And for someone to hire an exorcist to get rid of my father’s last message. I will reach the end of this story.” She looks at each one of them. “Can you help me?”
“Well, we aren’t detective tout court,” Hunk murmurs, “but it is what we do. Just we don’t have a ghost print anymore.”
Keith nods. “We captured the famiglio. We can start from it to find out more about who their owner are.”
Pidge nods. “I already run a search through the database, comparing the vibration from the famiglio to our data. If they were a register exorcist, we can find them and see who hired them.”
“What about Voltron?” Shiro asks. “Do you have any clue about it?”
Both Allura and Coran shake their head. “No. I’ve never heard that word before,” she says.
“Your father’s ghost print stood before the painting. That place has to be important,” Keith says. “Connected to Voltron somehow.” He closes his eyes and recalls the events of the night before. “He said… find Voltron.”
“So we can assume it is something he was searching for?” Hunk comments.
“Behind the painting there is my father’s safe, with documents of the company,” Allura remembers. “I only have the time to give them a briefly look, but maybe there are some clues about Voltron there.”
“It’s likely,” Pidge nods. “The ghost print is too weak to even spoke, let aside open a safe. His only way to indicate a way was to stay in front of it.”
“It also means he didn’t know where Voltron is,” Keith adds. “Otherwise he would have appeared in the place where it is.”
“It’s decided, then.” Allura stands up. “I will look through my father’s files, while you will investigate about the exorcist.”
***
“Are you sure you’re fine?” Shiro asks.
“Yeah, don’t worry. My headache is better now,” Keith answers. “And I’m just going to Kolivan’s. The worse that can happen to me is a lecture.”
Shiro nods. He would like to accompany him, but someone has to stay in the agency and right now Pidge and Hunk are outside looking for exorcist since their analysis gave no useful results. And Lance is doing the second shower of the day.
As Keith leaves, Shiro sits down and the desk and starts fix their agenda. He needs to do something – anything. He’s grateful he got a job instead of spending his time at the park with a dog as many veterans do, but he wants to do more. He wants to feel useful. Being more on the field instead that blocked behind a desk.
He’s a soldier, after all.
And the office work is getting boring.
He hears Lance getting off from the shower and takes his decision. “Lance! I’m going out. Answer the phone if someone call!”
“Ehi, wait! Where are you going?” Lance, with his bathrobe on, emerges from the upper floor, in time to see Shiro taking his coat. “And what am I supposed to do?”
“You’ll be fine. Just use your charm.”
Shiro is outside the building in a second. He stops to buy flowers and then heads directly to the Castle of Lions Company. One of the secretary at the main entrance recognizes him from the previous visit and reserves him a nice smile.
“You’re here to see Miss Altea?”
He nods. “It’s a surprise.”
“Unfortunately, no one can access to upper floor without authorization,” the secretary replies. “I’m sorry. Security reasons.”
“Of course.” Shiro sighs. “Can you tell Allura I’m here?”
The secretary nods and composes the number on his phone. “Miss Allura? There is a visitor for you. Your boyfriend.” We she takes off the call, she turns to Shiro. “She’s coming.”
Allura doesn’t let their act falls and she greets him with a big hug as she reachs the bottom floor. Only when they are in the lift, without the looks of the others, she frowns. “Has something happened?”
“No. We didn’t find any match between the famiglio and the exorcists in our database, so Pidge and the others are doing some researches on the field,” Shiro explains. “I just pass by to see how you’re doing and if you have some news.”
“Unfortunately, I haven’t.”
Alfor’s office is a mess. Papers are everywhere and some of them fall on the ground as the door opens. The painting with the lions is on the ground, and the safe is opened and empty. Allura places the flowers on the window and sit down with a sigh.
“I searched troughs all the files that were in the safe. There is no reference to a Voltron whatsoever. I thought it could be an acronym, but for now I had no luck finding something that could has some resemblance.”
Shiro sits down in front of her and picks up a paper. It contains all the tentative she made to find a sequence of words that makes sense. “Voltron seems a little bit long to be an acronym.”
“Maybe is something like Vol and Tron? I don’t know.” Another sigh. “I’m running a research in the company’s database too and I asked Coran to see if he looks in our house, maybe there is something there.”
“Giving that your father’s ghost print is here in the office, I think whatever Voltron is, the clue to find it is here.”
Allura nods. “But… Maybe he didn’t mean Voltron. Maybe he means something else entirely and he just didn’t have the time or the possibilities to tell us. You said the ghost print was weak.”
“That’s true, but the word Voltron is pretty clear,” Shiro says. “It is possible ghost prints don’t manage to tell an entire sentence to explain the situation, but they don’t get words wrong. Unless they don’t know it’s wrong.”
“A surname?” Allura reflects. “My father could have nominate something Voltron unofficially. In that case it can be anything and we don’t have a clue anymore about it.”
“Don’t let it beat yourself. We still have the exorcist investigation going on. The person that hired the exorcist might know about Voltron.”
“I hope so.”
The door of the office opens up with strength. In the gigantic figure that appears, Shiro recognizes Zarkon Daibazaal. He doesn’t look happy. He storms to Allura’s desk and smashes his hands on it.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yells.
She startles, surprised, but she doesn’t back. “What do you mean-”
“You’re looking for Voltron. You’re not even supposed to know about it. What game are you playing?”
Oh, well. This is not the way Shiro imagined to discover something about Voltron, but he isn’t going to complain.
“And what do you know about Voltron?” Allura replies.
“Stop researching about it immediately!”
“No. This is my company and I have every right to make research in the company database.”
“This is not your company!”
At that point, Shiro reacts. Zarkon has get too near to the point of physically attack Allura and Shiro isn’t going to let it happen, not on his watch. He grabs Zarkon’s arm and as soon as he acts as he wants to hit him back, Shiro turns the arm behind his back and press him down on the desk, making papers flying around.
“Allura is the owner of a part of this company,” Shiro affirms. “Now, if you start to speak like a decent human being, maybe we can talk.”
Zarkon grumbles. “I will denounce you for assault.”
“Not if I does it first. And I was in the military, just for your interest.”
Since Zarkon doesn’t reply back, Allura gestures at Shiro, that releases him. “My father mentioned me about Voltron. What is it? Why it is so important and why does it make you so angry?” she demands.
“I’m not surprise it’s the only thing your father left.” Zarkon fixes his jacket. “I don’t know what Voltron is. Not in details, at least. It’s a medicine, one Alfor wanted to use to get rid of my quotes of the company.”
Allura’s eyes widens. “That’s not possible.”
“It is.” Zarkon snorts. “Years of test and analysis… everything about Voltron disappears from the database. It’s the longest project your father worked to, and in the end he hid it completely. What do you think the reasons may be? He wanted to sell it at the best buyer out there and leave this company.”
“My father wouldn’t leave this company. Ever. He built it.”
“Maybe he was tired to share it with me,” Zarkon replies. “You won’t find anything about Voltron in our database, but I swear to God, I won’t let you ruin this company for me.” With this, he leaves.
Shiro waits until he disappears in his office, before closing the door and turning to Allura. “Are you okay?”
She nods slowly. “I… know that Zarkon has a temper. It’s just… I can’t believe my father did that.”
“He could be lie.”
“Yes. Of course.” Allura sighs. “My father loved this company. He built it. His relationship with Zarkon wasn’t as good as before, but I can’t believe he planned to sell a medicine behind his own company’s back.”
“Well, at least we know now what Voltron is,” Shiro says. “We can check in your father’s note if there is some contact with other companies… just to be sure,” he adds, not wanting to upset Allura more than she already is.
“Sure.” She takes the papers on her desk, folds them altogether and places them again on the safe. “I need fresh air.” She closes the safe and takes her purse.
“I come with you,” Shiro says, and it isn’t a question.
They leaves the building under the looks of everyone, hand in hand. “Let’s go enough far,” Allura proposes. The area around the Castle of Lions is too crowded by employers and other people she doesn’t want to be heard from. Shiro suggests a stop to his favorite ice-cream shop. They take a bus to reach it and then sit down in a bench at the park, ice cream in hand.
Allura looks better. She licks the cream from her fingers and smiles happy. “Earlier, in the office… that was great.”
He realizes she means his stunt with Zarkon. “Oh, well, old habits, I guess. They won’t work on spirt unfortunately.”
“You explained like exorcists and sensitives are born like that.”
“They are. It’s a talent like another one.”
“How did you end working in a ghostbuster agency?”
“Destiny, I guess.” He reflects if tell a little more about the circumstance of his meeting with Keith, but his cellphone rings in that exact moment and, destiny it is, because it is Keith. “Hi,” he greets him.
“Where are you?” Keith asks.
“With Allura. I went checking if she needs help.”
“You left Lance alone in the agency,” Keith points out.
“Keith. Come on, do you really think he can’t handle himself? In one afternoon?” Shiro laughs. He knows very well Keith’s act with Lance isn’t true at all and he really respects Lance’s expertise.
“Well, it’s on you,” Keith replies, annoyed. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Did you find out something interesting?”
“No, unfortunately. Kolivan never sees a famiglio like the one we caught. The exorcist may be new in town, or a private one. It happens sometime.” The disappointment is palpable in Keith’s voice and Shiro realizes he still felt guilty about the destruction of Alfor’s ghost print.
“Well, at least we have news.” Shiro put his cellphone in loudspeaker so both him and Allura can tell the story. Keith listens to everything in silent, without making any questions.
“Coran is searching my house,” Allura finishes. “He hasn’t call me yet, but it is possible that my father had something about Voltron there, if he really was hiding it for the rest of the company.”
“And I also suggest to look for other pharmaceutic company that Alfor could have contacted before dying,” Shiro adds.
A long minute of silent passes. “It doesn’t make sense,” Keith says at last.
“I agree. My father wouldn’t-” Allura starts, but Keith stops her.
“No. I’m talking about the ghost print. Your father’s was in his office, so Voltron has to be connected with it somehow. If documents about Voltron are in your house, the ghost print should have been there too.”
“But Allura looked in the safe, there is nothing there,” Shiro points out.
“When I managed to connect a little more with Alfor’s ghost print, he said ‘find Voltron’. Not just Voltron,” Keith remembers them. “Right now, I’m convinced someone stole it. Maybe the safe was the last place Alfor put him before it was stolen.”
“Oh.” Allura has a little frown on her face. “That would explain everything. My father doesn’t want to turn his back at the company, but maybe someone else did. And this someone stole my father’s project and erased every documents about it to make Voltron his own. And Zarkon is wrong thinking it was my father’s doing.”
“It’s likely. And the same person could be behind our mysterious famiglio.”
“Do you know where your father was going when he died?” Shiro asks. “If he let a ghost print about Voltron, maybe he was investigating about the thieving. If he had some suspicious, it could help us find the culprit.”
“Allura, did your father have a laptop?” Keith adds. “Pidge may be able to recover the data from it if someone try to cancel it. She’s pretty good as a hacker.”
“Yes, he had one. And it’s mine now. It’s in the office. Let’s go to take it now.”
She threw the rest of her ice cream in the trashcan as she stands up. Shiro smiles. “Can you survive a little alone in the agency with Lance?”
“I’ll manage,” Keith jokes. “See you later.”
Shiro closes the call and put the cellphone in the pocket as he follows Allura. Once they are sitting down in the bus to go back to the Castle of Lions, she comments, “he’s a little overprotecting with you, isn’t he? Keith, I mean.”
“A little,” Shiro admits. “But for reasons. A couple of time dealing with spirits triggered my PTSD and we’re trying to avoid it as much as possible.” It’s actual the second reason of him being only the secretary at the agency.
“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.”
Shiro shrugs. “Let’s focus on your investigation for now.”
He takes her hand again once they enters in the building, but this time one of the secretary run towards them with a worried look on her face. “Finally you are here, Miss Altea. I tried to contact you, but you felt the cellphone in your office.”
“I apologize,” she says. She’s tense. “What happened?”
And Shiro holds his breath as the secretary says, “Mister Daibazaal has been killed!”
***
It’s not like they don’t deal with murder before. Some of the ghost prints they helped in the past were killed. Still, it’s the first time one of them almost got charge because of it, and the first time they get involved in a murder after their investigation about a spirit.
The fact that Shiro of all people was the one in the middle doesn’t help. So Keith is looking around with an annoyed frown on his face.
“I should arrest all of you,” Iverson says, as his only eye passes on every one of them.
“No, you shouldn’t,” Pidge replies, as a matter of fact. “It’s not like it’s illegal to fake a relationship.”
“Yeah, it’s not,” Hunk adds, but his tone suggests he’s trying to convince himself. “And if Miss Altea is okay with it, Shiro can go in her office with her authorization.”
He shot a look at Keith, that nods. Shiro accompanying Allura wasn’t illegal. Disguised themself like cleaners and entering in the Caste of Lions at night might by. Better Iverson never finds out about it.
“Unfortunately no, I can’t,” Iverson admits. “I can’t avoid Miss Altea or anyone else to believe in ghost and whatever, or even waste their money like that.”
Both Pidge and Keith rolls their eyes in annoyance. Shiro eyes at them to stay put, and he has to place his hand on Lance’s neck to stop him from complaining.
“But this is a murder. Real stuff. If I see any of you around my crime scene, or my suspects, or my witnesses, I’ll arrest you for obstruction of the justice,” he warns. “Go doing your witchcraft somewhere else.”
“It’s not witchcraft-” Pidge starts, but Keith interrupts her.
“Fine, detective. But Shiro’s free of charge, correct?”
Iverson nods, and he doesn’t look too much happy about it. “Luckily for him, Mister Shirogane and Miss Altea left the building when Mister Daibazaal was still alive, so they have an alibi.” He throws a last shot at them. “I’m watching you.” And then leaves the agency.
“That was…. Uhm…” Lance comments. “Damn, Shiro, couldn’t you lie about your relationship with Allura?”
“Of course I could,” Shiro replies calm. “Right now I’d probably be in prison for a fake testimony because there is no way me and Allura could come up with two similar stories about our relationship but, hey, maybe I would like the new experience.”
“I guess we can be happy we didn’t chose Lance as the fake boyfriend,” Hunk comments, as Lance crosses his arms and grumbles.
Keith finally sits down next to Shiro. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Iverson is right, I was lucky. I kinda attack Zarkon like ten minutes before someone killed him, so…”
“You were protecting Allura.”
“I know. Still I’m glad that the killer was considerate enough to wait for me to leave before murdering Zarkon.”
“We aren’t going to stop, right?” Pidge chirps in. “Zarkon was killed right before he talked about Voltron. It can’t be a coincidence.”
“Definitely not,” Keith agrees. “And I’m thinking Alfor’s death couldn’t have been accidentally too.”
Hunk gasps. “We really find ourselves in a very bad conspiracy then.”
“Yeah, well…” Shiro shrugs. “It’s likely. Someone stole Voltron. Then, to cover their traces, they killed Alfor and erase every data about Voltron. Zarkon believed it was Alfor’s doing, but he was probably wrong.”
“But why they killed Zarkon then?” Hunks asks. “Allura is the one looking for Voltron.”
“You’re right!” Lance exclaims. “Allura might be in danger! She could be the next on the killer’s list! Someone has to go there to protect her, and by someone I mean me.”
“You’re in danger too,” Keith points out. “We all are. If the killer wants every person with a small knowledge of Voltron’s existence dead, we are on that list too.”
“My God…” Hunk exhales.
“Allura is fine for now,” Shiro states. “She’s at her house, and Coran and the rest of her team are with them. I doubts the killer will try something. For now.”
“So, what now?” Pidge asks. “We obey Iverson and stay put?”
“Of course not,” Keith replies. “I can trust detectives when it comes to living, but we have a killer with knowledge of the spiritual world here. It’s our area of expertise. I’m just disappointed we couldn’t put our hand on Alfor’s laptop anymore.”
“Can’t you control it from remote?” Lance asks to Pidge.
“I can try, but if the police technicians are working on it, they can be able to detect me.”
“Yeah, we have already a heartless killer on our tail. Let Iverson go for now,” Hunk comments.
“I was thinking…” Shiro begin. “Ghost prints appears in the place where the regret of the person manifest, and not where the person dies, correct?”
“Yes. Alfor himself dies in a totally different place,” Keith answers.
“But, for the ghost print to manifest, the last action of the dead has to be tied up with the regret.”
“Ah, I see!” Pidge exclaims. She opens her laptop and starts looking on it.
“Explanation, please?” Lance demands.
“Alfor was going somewhere the day of his car accident,” Pidge says. “Somewhere related to Voltron.”
“Oh, that’s right!” Hunk gets it. “His ghost print told us to find Voltron. Maybe he was going to take it himself that day.”
“Yep. From the newspaper, we know the place of the accident, so I’m running a research to check out if in the area there is something that gives us a lead to Voltron.”
They wait, all their eyes fix in Pidge’s screen, until his searching program gives back 0 results. “This is strange…” she comments, as she restarts it with new parameters. “I tried it for pharmaceutic company or old place related to Alfor… It has to be something there.”
“Maybe he hid Voltron in a bank? Or something?” Hunk guesses.
“Try also places related to the Castle of Lions in general,” Shiro proposes.
“Okay, let’s see…” A couple of minutes later, the program signs a result. “How strange. The street Alfor took before dying brings to Sincline College.”
“And is it interesting because…?” Lance says.
“Lotor Daibazaal attends that school. You know, the son of Zarkon.”
“Do you think Alfor was looking for Lotor?” Shiro comments. “It’s just a child. I’m not sure he knows something.”
“Maybe not,” Keith agrees, “but you told us he’s often at the Castle of Lions. Maybe, without knowing, he took something related to Voltron and Alfor was about to ask him where he hid it.”
“It is possible,” Shiro nods.
“Okay, how we proceed from here?” Hunk asks. “I highly doubt we can go and interrogate this Lotor child.”
“Especially because he lost his father today,” Pidge adds.
“We can’t, but maybe Allura can,” Keith replies. “She will see him at the funeral. In the meantime, let’s continue our researches on the exorcist and try to find out if Alfor managed to speak with Lotor the day of his death. If he did, his ghost print could have another clue for us.”
“I will speak with Allura,” Shiro offers. “Lance can come with me at her house. It’s better if none of us remain alone, giving the situation. Just to be careful.”
“I agree, but I have the feeling you’ll be Lance’s bodyguard and not the other way around,” Keith jokes.
“I’m fine with that,” Lance replies.
“We will stay here at the agency, keeping our analysis on the famiglio and try to not get on Iverson’s nerve as we investigate Lotor’s school,” Pidge says.
“Sounds like a plan.”
***
A month passes. Zarkon’s funeral has been held, the investigation has been carried out, and everything goes back to normal. Sort of. The killer is still free and Voltron is still a mystery. Shiro is sure Allura has no intention to stop her searching, but the entire assassination thing was a lot to accept. Besides, his father’s company needs her a lot more, now that the other CEOs is dead too.
She told them to keep the paycheck – she can use their service later on – but to stop their researches for now. None of the ghostbusters were happy about it, but they obeyed. Work returns to normal, with a couple of very simple case of ghost prints.
None of them forget, though. They get sloppy, more relaxed, but at the back of their mind Allura’s case, a case they aren’t able to resolve, is still there. Shiro swears Pidge still checks the famiglio from time to time, Keith keeps himself informed about new exorcists in town, Lance sends message to Allura a couple of time a week and Hunk has managed to gain as much information as he can about Lotor’s whereabouts, even if most of them are useless.
Shiro himself uses his charm to go and chat at the police department, hoping to find some clue about Zarkon’s investigation. But even Iverson seems to have no idea how the all murder occurred.
“It’s like a ghost,” he said Shiro once, and he immediately regretted it. “Pity they don’t exist,” he hurried to add.
Shiro didn’t contradict him, but it made him wondered if something spiritual could have killed Zarkon. Keith is skeptical. It’s hard for spirit to interact in the human world and even when they’re strong enough to do so, killing a person is still out of their league. For once, they’re out their field of expertise.
But Shiro doesn’t stop to think about the case and this is one of the main reason his attention is immediately caught by a painting similar to the one in Alfor’s office.
Shiro is at a flea market. It’s Sunday, and the agency is closed, so Shiro spends his free time wandering there and hoping to find a spirit like Kosmo. Kosmo is pretty useful to show people spirits exist and also it’s pretty cute. Not only Shiro, but also the others would like a friendly spirit like it for a pet. Until now, not luck, but Shiro forgets it easily as his eyes fell on the painting.
He moves closes to observe it. He isn’t surprise he remembers every detail of Alfor’s one, since it’s the one covering the safe Alfor’s ghost print was pointing out. The painting in front of him is the exact copy of Alfor’s, saving for the draw of the small castle on the hill.
“Nice, eh?” the seller approaches Shiro. “It’s a special offer for today.”
“Oh, well, I’m not really interesting… I’m just surprise because a friend of mine has the same painting.”
The seller doesn’t flinch. “It’s normal. There are five of this kind of painting around, made from the same artist around the time of the Cold War.”
“An artist made five identical paint?” Shiro repeats perplex. “They’re like copy or…”
“No, they’re just more than paintings.” The seller moves behind the canvas. “The name of this artist was Sven and he worked with Russian spies. The paintings were a cover to move around secrets without people noticing. Look.”
Shiro hears a small click and suddenly, in the painting, the draw of the small castle appears. “Oh. It’s… a secret spot?”
“Exactly. It’s small, but enough to contain a small spool,” the seller explains. “Once the castle is out, people are aware the secret is inside the painting, so they can take it and move it around.”
“I see… This is… very interesting. I gotta go.”
“Ehi. Aren’t you going to buy it?” the seller yells after him, as Shiro starts to walk away.
“Maybe later,” Shiro answers without stopping or looking back. As he almost run out of the market, he took off from the pocket his cellphone, looking for Allura’s number. A preregister message informs Shiro Allura isn’t available at the moment. Shiro leaves a message.
“Allura, call me back as soon as possible. I think I know where Voltron is.”
Next number is Keith. Before he has a chance to dial it, his metal hand clutches against the cellphone, strong enough to crush it completely. Baffled, Shiro stops his run and looks at the accident he just caused. He knows his prosthetic arm is stronger than the human one, but he’s used to it and he never put more strength than necessary on it.
He can’t remain shocked for long. A piecing pain hit his head. All his nerves burn from his right shoulder to his temples. Shiro fells on his knees and scream, unable to remain aware of the surrounding. He registers whispering around him, even some hands on it, but the pain is unbearable and he can’t do anything else but shivering in every fiber of his body.
At a certain point, he lose consciousness.
When he regains it, the pain is gone, but not the feeling of having it. He resists the urge to gag and tries to recollect himself, placing the hands on the ground to recollect his balance. The artificial light is too bright and Shiro squints his eyes to adapt to it. With a deep breath, he looks around. At first, he doesn’t recognize the room, with all the tables and the papers on them.
Until his eyes fell on a figure sitting in a chair, a laptop on her lap. Shiro jumps still. “Doctor Daibazaal?”
She doesn’t acknowledge him, still looking at the screen. “That arm of yours… it’s one of my masterpiece,” she says, as she isn’t speaking with him. “It connects directly with your nerves, so your brain can control it as it does with every other limbs of your body. It is in every way equal to a human arm.”
She presses a button on her laptop and Shiro groans, as another rush of pain hit his head.
“Unlike human arm, it can be hacked. I always put a backdoor to my creation. They’re mine.”
Shiro looks at his arm and, as the time he woke up after the surgery, he doesn’t recognize it as his anymore. “It was you?” he asks. “You killed your own husband?”
“I’m not here to talk,” she replies. “I’m not an evil boss from a James Bond movie.”
“Then what do you want?” Shiro snarls.
“Tell me where Voltron is.”
“I don’t know.”
“Lying is useless. I heard the message you left to Allura.” At Shiro’s frown, Honerva smiles. “Allura Altea is smart. People see her as an actress and believe she’s shallow and vain. She plays with it so people underestimate her. I don’t. I hacked you cellphone from day one.”
“You hacked my phone?” Shiro has been a soldier long enough to realize what a hacked phone can do.
“Yes. Allura isn’t the kind of woman to bring his boyfriend at work, despite what everyone thinks. And I was right, wasn’t I?”
“I’m not telling you anything,” Shiro states. His mind is running wild, thinking of all the information he could have transmit just keeping his cellphone with him. “The ghost print! That’s how you know about it!”
She doesn’t answer. “I can charge your arm until it burns all your nerves and turn you into an empty body for the rest of your life.”
“But you won’t,” Shiro replies. “I’m the only one to know where Voltron is, so I’m useless without my consciousness.”
“This is true.” She takes her eyes off him, but her expression remains stoic. She returns tapping in her laptop, ignoring Shiro.
He looks around, trying to find something to defend himself, or escape, or leave a last message. But there is a lingering feeling of fear at his prosthetic arm: it feels heavy than usual and Shiro keeps it still, unable to move it.
“I can’t kill you, but I can kill someone else.” Finally, Honerva lifts her head again, not to watch Shiro, but the door of the office. It opens a second later and Keith’s figure appears. His lips are parted, breathing hard, and there is a lingering fear in his blue eyes. He frowns as he sees Honerva.
Shiro understands immediately.
“Keith. RUN!”
It’s too late. Keith manages to turn his head on Shiro before Shiro’s arm moves by itself, dragging Shiro with it. The metallic hand clutches around Keith’s neck. The strength of the blow makes Shiro’s body to crash into Keith’s and both of them fell on the ground. Shiro’s fingers tighten around Keith’s neck. He lifts his hands to free himself, as Shiro presses the human arm on the ground as a leverage to stand up and take the prosthetic arm with him, but the grip on Keith’s neck is too strong and Shiro has no control of it anymore.
Keith struggles under the grip, teeth gritted, as he loses his breath. “Make it stop! Make it stop!” Shiro screams.
“Tell me where Voltron is,” Honerva said calmly.
“I’ll tell you. Just make it stop!”
She presses a button and Shiro feels the fingers move and the grip disappearing, even if the palm remain pressed on Keith’s neck. Keith stops struggling and put his hand on Shiro’s human arm, a reassuring gesture Shiro isn’t sure he deserves.
“Where is Voltron?” Honerva asks again. Her index finger rubs the button.
Keith barely shakes his head, but Shiro swallows. “In the painting in Alfor’s office. The one with the lion. There is a mechanism inside the canvas.”
“I see.”
She returns to the screen, as they aren’t even in the room, and Shiro regains the control of his body. He moves aside from Keith and helps him to recover. He keeps him still and hides his metal arm under his back. Keith pants hard and brushes his reddened neck.
“Are you okay?” Shiro asks, in a whisper.
“Yeah, I don’t think it’s damaged.”
“Why are you here?”
“She calls for me.”
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“She had you,” Keith points out, in a tone that avoid any replies. “How do we manage to free your arm?”
“I don’t know.” Shiro shakes his head. “Maybe, if Pidge was here, she could have found a way to shield it from hacking…”
Honerva finishes her work: she presses a couple of button and the prosthetic arm moves again, this time to grip Shiro’s own neck. Humans can’t choke themselves to death, because they would lose consciousness before and their hand would stop, but the same can’t be said for a metal arm controlled by an evil scientist.
“Let him go,” Keith orders and he stumbles still.
Honerva stands up and places the laptop on the desk next to her. She moves the chair a little bit in front of her. “Sit down here.”
Keith’s gaze passes from it to Shiro, and he nods. Slowly, he walks towards it. She smirks as she takes back her laptop and put it far from him. Keith grits his teeth, but obeys and sits down where she orders. Shiro swallows as he feel the finger digs in his skin.
“Don’t! I did what you told!” Keith yells and he doesn’t dare to stand up.
“Just a guarantee you don’t move.” Honerva opens a closet. “Let me finish it so I can stop my creation in time.”
“Be fast,” Keith snarls, sarcasm in his word.
She still complies. Shiro pants to take every inch of air, as he watches Honerva tying Keith to the chair with a duct tape. She doesn’t save on it. Once she is satisfied with it, she threw the roll on the floor and leaps to her laptop. Shiro takes a long breath as the grip in his neck lightened, but his prosthetic arm remains on it, and a sharp pain hit his brain.
Honerva doesn’t reserve a look at Keith, who started struggling on his restraints, neither at Shiro, but she orders, “Come with me.”
Shiro’s eyes lingers a second on Keith, who tries to tell him something under the tape on his mouth, before following Honerva out of the room. As long as Keith is far away from him and his controlled arm, Shiro is happier. Keith can free himself, and maybe warns the other. For now, Shiro would prefer to keep his metallic arm as far as possible from him.
First, they reach Alfor’s office: Honerva has access at the upper floor and she also owns a key of the office, even if Shiro can’t say if it’s legal or not. Still with the laptop in her hand, she throws the canvas on the ground and she rips it apart with scissors. The secret spot is there as Shiro guessed and she finds an USB pen inside.
“This is Voltron?” Shiro asks.
From the satisfied look on her face, he guesses it is. He wonders what Voltron really is for a person to kill, and to kill her own husband too. She doesn’t answer, nor she asks Shiro to follow her again, but he still does. They move in one of the lower floor, where the laboratories are. She chooses one and places herself at the lab table. She connects the USB pen to the laptop and starts working with her bulb.
Shiro, hand still at his throat, looks around. His mind works fast to find a solution at this situation: Honerva proved already to be a cold blood murder and Shiro doesn’t doubt he and Keith would be her next victims. The only reason for them to still be alive is because she wants something from them. Shiro already gave her Voltron, he isn’t going to wait for the next request.
She looks enough distract by her work. He individuates a small chirurgical knife in one of the other table. He shifts in that direction, being careful to not make a sound. He grabs it and returns to his previous spot next the door. Whatever she’s doing, she finishes it. She places the purple liquid into three syringes: two put on her pocket, as she takes in her hand only the third.
As she approaches him, syringe in one hand and laptop in the other, Shiro’s grip on the chirurgical knife tightened. He isn’t going to let her use that on him. He isn’t going to be a guinea pig.
She smirks. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to waste it on you.”
Shiro remains wary; the pain that from time to time hit his brain is still here and first he has to remove it. He grits his teeth and leap forward: she hit him with his left shoulder. Honerva isn’t fast enough to dodge, so she let her laptop fall, but she manages to kick it out of Shiro’s way. Another sting of pain hit Shiro’s brain, slowly him enough for Honerva to recall her laptop. She presses a couple of buttons and the grip around Shiro’s throat tightens again.
She recollects her laptop and reserves only a brief look to Shiro before leaving with fast step. Shiro takes the knife put of the pocket where he hid it. The pain and the lack of oxygen blurred his vision, but he’s able to stab himself in the shoulder. The sharp pain doesn’t block him to realize the prosthetic arm shakes a little, so he keeps stabbing himself until he cut out all the nerves of the arm. At that point, hacking or not, the arm isn’t able anymore to connect to the brain. The arm fells immobile at his side.
Shiro doesn’t concede himself a second to recover. If Honerva kept a syringe in her hand, it means she wants to use it now. Shiro fears Keith can be his designated victim. He drags himself near the lift, realizing it is going upstairs. He calls for the other, which arrives when the other stops at the fifty floor. Once there, Shiro realizes with relief Honerva doesn’t target Keith, but her intention is to return in the upper floor.
Shiro struggles only a second before moving towards the hallway. He has to stop Honerva. Once she’s defeated, Keith and everyone else will be safe. He reaches the private hall just before the door closes, so he manages to enter, but Honerva already took the lift. When Shiro is able to reach it, Honerva is in front of the painting, back at him.
She turns as she heard the lift door opens. She looks shocked to see him again, and her gaze passes on his bloody shoulder. “I underestimated you,” she admits.
Shiro swallows to remain focused. “Surrender.”
“It’s too late.” The syringe in her hand is empty.
“Mom… mom, it hurts…”
She reserves a smirk to Shiro, before turning again and kneeling down. “I know, starlight. You just have to let everything out, and the pain will cease.”
Shiro recognizes Lotor and he frowns at the thought she used a drug or whatever Voltron is on her own son. Lotor is crying and he looks in pain. He’s trembling too.
“I… I’m not sure I can…”
“You can. Do it!”
Lotor’s eyes become entirely white and a dark figure flicks out of his shoulder. And Shiro understands.
“He is the exorcist!”
***
Keith stops struggling against his restraint.
He’s still stuck on that chair, and his attempt to break free only result in him falling on the ground still tied up, and he hasn’t been able to collect his knife or his cellphone from the pockets. The thought of Shiro with that woman keeps him going, but right now, his sensitive senses freeze in fear.
He feels a spiritual power around the building. At first, it appears with the same energy of a famiglio, but it is too strong. No exorcists will be crazy enough to put so much of their soul in a famiglio. And the energy isn’t concentrate in only one spot, but it looks free to roam in the air. A famiglio would be a concentrate form.
Keith has no idea about the source of the spiritual energy. He only has the certainty he has to get out of there as soon as possible. He closes his eyes, try to focus on the mantra Shiro taught him in the past, and the fear decreases enough for him to keep struggling.
He only manages to lose a bit the restraint around his ankles, when dark material erupts from the corners of the room and ejects to the ceiling, drooling. Keith can see the drops splash on the ground and burns it. The door is still free, so he can escapes from it, but he needs more time to get free. He looks around at the dark material, seeing if he can use it to burn the duct tape, but as it collects himself to the center of the ceiling, bigger the drops become. They would burn their entire body before freeing him.
He kicks strong and finally his ankles are free from the chair, even if still tied up together. He uses them to push himself towards the exit, but stop as he hears steps coming in his direction. He screams trough his gag, hoping it isn’t Honerva all along, and takes a deep, relieved breath as Hunk appears on the door, his ghostbuster suit on and the sniper already in his hand.
“My God. Keith!”
Keith nods with his head at the ceiling and Hunk understand. He points the sniper and shot: the blue stroke of energy is enough for the dark material to retire. It disappears on the wall entirely as Keith feels the negative feel leaving his body.
Hunk kneels next to him and rips off the tape on his mouth. “Ah, sorry!” he exclaims at Keith’s painful moan.
“Knife,” Keith just responds.
“Right.”
Hunk put the rifle away and dig into Keith’s pocket to recall it so he can cut the rest of the tape. He finishes the work and help Keith to stand up in time for the other to arrive. Keith frowns as he sees Allura dressed with the ghostbuster suit, rifle in her hand.
“Keith, are you okay?” Pidge asks.
“Now, yes. What happened?”
“Shiro left a message in my voice mail,” she says. “He said he found Voltron. I tried to call him back, but the cellphone was off so I went to the agency.”
“I tracked your phone. Sorry,” Pidge comments, and she wasn’t sorry at all. “So we found out you’re here and in the same moment my equipment showed a peak of spiritual energy.”
“Allura wanted to help, so I suggest it to give her your suit,” Lance finished. “She’s pretty good, we should hire her.”
Keith reserves a small smile at Allura, who seems proud of it. “What is this dark matter? It’s not normal we see it, right?”
“No. It looks like an aborted famiglio, but it shouldn’t be so strong,” Keith answers. “Pidge. Can you detect the source of it?”
She nods. “It comes from the upper floor.”
“Let’s go then.”
They follows Allura for the right direction and, from time to time, they have to face the dark material that erupted from the wall. Keith is able to feel it before it attacks, so they’re ready to hit him with the energy of their backpack.
“You said it’s an aborted famiglio?” Lance asks.
“Sometimes, inexpert exorcist can’t make a famiglio,” Keith explains. “But they still separate a piece of their soul that ends up being just dark matter without any reason to live. It usually disappears within minutes. This… has the same energy, but it’s too strong, and it seems to be self-conscious too.”
“Do you think it’s related to Voltron?” Allura comments.
“I have no idea, but I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“What happened here? And where is Shiro?” Pidge sounds worried.
Keith grits his teeth. “It was the scientist, Zarkon’s wife, all along.”
“Honerva?” Allura’s voice is full of disbelieve.
He nods. “She controlled someway Shiro’s arm and she forced him to reveal where Voltron is. Using me.” He breathes hard. “He left with her so I have no idea about his whereabouts now. But if we don’t stop the dark material…”
Lance places a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll save him.”
“Coran hacked the security system of the Castle of Lions so we could be able to access without losing too much time,” Allura informs him. “He told me he registered three people on the upper floor. Shiro might be there.”
“Not good. We need to go there fast.” Keith walks faster.
Unfortunately, the dark material made the lift too dangerous to use, so they have to use the small emergency stairs. Once they reach the upper floor, they’re all out of breath, and tired for all the dark material they fight. Gritting his teeth, Keith forces himself to keep walking until the hall.
He pushes the door to enter and he freezes. The ceiling of the building is completely ripped off and the dark material is turning and twizzling around with the form of a giant cyclone, creating a cold wind around.
“Keith…”
A voice calls from him from the right side, and Keith turns. Shiro is there, sitting down next the lift’s door, blood dripping out of his right shoulder. Keith rushes at his side. He immediately takes off his shirt to cover Shiro’s wounds.
“It isn’t bad as he look,” Shiro smiles. “At least I’m free from my own arm.”
“Oh, Shiro’s here!” Lance happily announces, and the others surround him, relieved and worried at the same time.
“What happened?” Allura dares to ask, a worried look at the dark material behind them.
“Lotor… The son… he is the exorcist all along,” Shiro says.
“Well, it explains why he isn’t register,” Pidge comments.
“Voltron… I think it’s a formula for a kind of… doping or medicine? Honerva created it and injected her own son with it. What you see it’s the result.”
They look up: in the floor, at the beginning of the cyclone, a small figure is barely visible. The dark material emits from him. On the other side of the hall, Honerva’s body lied down, her face horribly mutilated and bloody. Hunk almost gags and Lance hides behind him.
“She was next to Lotor when the dark material took over,” Shiro told them. “I was lucky it doesn’t consider me a threat.”
“My father was working on creating something that can increased senses,” Allura comments. “To help people with problem with sights, for example. It may be Voltron.”
“And it may increase even the spiritual abilities,” Pidge understands.
“I don’t think it’s the case,” Leith says. “It may increase it, but Lotor lost completely the ability to control it. He’s using too much soul, he’s risking to lose himself.”
“If we reach him, we can stop everything,” Pidge proposes.
“Uhm, guys? It may be harder than you think,” Hunk comments.
The cyclone has stopped moving and he finally gets his own form. It’s like a gigantic version of Lotor’s famiglio, a snake with wings and tailor and claws. Lance swallows. “Are our traps strong enough to contain it?”
“No,” Pidge yells back, and she isn’t happy.
“What do we do?” Allura asks, to no particular anyone.
Keith turns to Shiro. “Honerva prepared only one dose of Voltron?”
“No, she has other two syringes with her.”
“Where are they?”
“In her pocket, I think.” Shiro’s eyes widened as he understands. “No, Keith. You can’t take it. Look what it did to Lotor!” The others aren’t so convinced too.
“We don’t have a choice,” Keith replies. “This famiglio won’t let us escape. And after is done with us, wonder what he will do with the city.”
Lance bit his lips. “But you aren’t an exorcist. What Voltron can do to you?”
“Everything it can, I hope. Just… cover me.”
He moves towards Honerva’s body and he feels the famiglio’s eyes on him. The other starts shooting with their antimaterial rifles, enough to distract it. Keith places his hand on the pocket and finds out the cover with the syringe. Without thinking, he inject one of them in his arm.
At first, nothing happens but a small burn where the syringe pieced the skin. Then, Keith starts to feel everything amplified. His sight becomes better, he can ears even the shouting on the street and almost every fiber of his body is under his control. He slow down his own heartbeat and concentrate as Kolivan and his mother taught him. He sees clearly the form of his soul and separates a piece of it, a small ball that erupts out of his chest and it lands with grace on the floor as it turns into a giant black lion.
Keith doesn’t have to order it to do anything, because the lion attack Lotor’s famiglio by itself, turning his attention from the other ghostbusters. Keith runs to them: they are still unharmed.
“That is you famiglio?” Hunk asks. “Cool!”
“Are you okay?” Shiro’s eyes are on him, worried. “You look feverish.”
Keith nods. “Yes. I’m more experience than Lotor, so I can control it better.”
“What we can do?” Lance says. The black lion is still fighting, but it doesn’t look it has an advantage.
“Lotor is using too much soul, so his famiglio is more powerful. I can’t do the same,” Keith explains. “I need your help. Please, give me a piece of your soul.”
“Are you going to create our own famiglio?” Pidge yells, excited.
“Sort of.”
“What are you waiting for?” And she lends him her hands.
One after another, Keith takes a piece of their soul, taking off in the form of a small ball, and create a lioness for each of them, with different color. “Can you do it?” he asks Shiro, because he’s the one already debilitated by the wounds.
“Well, it’s not like you’re taking off another of my limbs, right?” he jokes. “And besides, I’ll be pretty offended if I would be the only one without a lion.”
“Well, you are the secretary…” Lance pointed out. “But I guess you can have one too,” as all the other shot him a meaningful look.
Shiro’s lion turns out white and it reaches the battle. Keith pants hard, realizing it’s pretty difficult to control six famiglio, even if five of them didn’t come out from his soul. And they’re still weaker than Lotor’s.
“What if we combine it?” Lance proposes. “Six soul can become stronger that one used too much, right?”
“Well, it’s like when you order pizza with different topping?” Hunk comments.
“Great. I’m hungry now.”
“I think it may work,” Allura says. “But I have no idea how to do that.”
“Keith?” Shiro asks.
“I think I can try to do it.”
Keith closes his eyes. His senses are still overwhelming and he can feel the breath and the heartbeat of the others. “Follow my breath,” he orders. Once they are all at his own rhythm, he can focused on the six famiglios, and they merge naturally. The form they create isn’t a lion anymore, but more a human, and his size is bigger than Lotor’s.
“Can we call it Voltron?” Pidge proposes.
Voltron attacks Lotor’s famiglio, grabbing his claws so it can’t use it to attack, and then he pulls it backyards. Allura notices it isn’t connected anymore to Lotor, who now sit on the floor, paralyzed. She reaches for him. Lotor doesn’t seem to respond to her touch, but she still hugs him, rubbing his head and whispering reassuring words on it.
It is enough for the famiglio to become even weaker. Voltron’s grip becomes stronger and tightens it until it basically breaks Lotor’s famiglio in small pieces that fallen graciously around and disappears before toughing the ground.
“It’s okay. It’s over now,” Allura murmurs to Lotor.
Voltron separates itself and, one after another, the lion land in front of their owner and disappearing inside them. Black is the last one and Keith takes a long breath. The effect of the drug are still in his body, making his sense still too much overpowered. He kneels down.
“You okay?” Shiro asks.
“That’s my line,” Keith replies.
Lance gets near to Allura. “Do you think he’ll be okay?” he asks. “I have two cousins of his age… I can’t imagine…”
Allura shakes her head. “I hope so.” Lotor is still in her arm, he stops cry but his body is completely still.
“Okay.” Pidge stretches her fingers. “How inappropriate am I if I tell you this all lions-thing was so cool?”
Hunk looked around, at the completely wrenched floor, at Lotor’s still body, at Shiro’s bloody arm and at Honerva’s dead body.
“Iverson is so going to arrest us.”
***
Shiro wakes up in the hospital bed. He takes some time for him to recall his consciousness entirely, between the foggy of the anesthesia and the long sleep. He watches down at his now empty right sleeve and, for a long instant, he panicks, remembering the feeling of waking up after the accident.
A hand is placed on his left palm. Keith is here. He smiles.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good, I guess.” His throat is dry and he’s grateful keith moves to take a glass of water.
As Shiro drinks, Keith explains, “The circuit of your prosthetic arm were damaged by Honerva’s hacking, so the doctor decided to remove it for now. Allura assured she’ll order a new, more advanced arm for you and Pidge will make sure it won’t be hacked again.”
“Well, it can be useful if we ever face another evil scientist,” Shiro coughs.
Keith isn’t too eager to joke on it. “The nerves of your right shoulder are damaged too. You will face at least another surgery before you can have the prosthetic.”
“Yeah, stabbing myself wasn’t the brightest idea of my arsenal, still…” He looks at Keith and he’s happy to see there aren’t signs left on his neck. “What about you? What Voltron did?”
“From the doctor’s analysis and Honerva’s researches that the police found in her laptop, Voltron is a stimulant. Not a drug, so no addiction effects. More like a doping. But apparently, it works better for spiritual senses or something like that.”
“This is why Alfor hid it. He didn’t consider it a medicine, but a weapon.”
“This is the close guess. But Honerva found out and used her own son to kill first Alfor and then Zarkon himself. Alfor just wanted to protect Lotor…”
Shiro shudders in his bed. “What the hell Honerva was trying to do?”
“Dunno.” Keith scoffs. “But I have a guess.”
“You’re going to tell me or you just like to play mysterious?”
Keith smiles. “She was a scientist. She probably didn’t believe in the spiritual world until she found out about his son’s power. The thought she could control the spiritual world through the power of science made her frantic. Most of her researches are delirious.”
“I see.” He frowns. “What about Allura?”
“She’s busy with the Castle of Lion’s company. What happened had been a big shock for everyone, but she won’t let it down. Coran is giving her a big hand.”
“I’m pretty sure she’ll pull it off. And Lotor?”
“The Children Care is looking after him, but luckily Voltron didn’t do too many damages. He’ll recover, but it’ll take time.”
Shiro is an expert of needing time to recover, so he just nods and let the conversation moving on lightly matters. “I don’t see any handcuff, so Iverson didn’t manage to arrest us? Not even this time?”
“Well, he tried.” Keith laughs. “But, I mean, the entire city saw Lotor’s famiglio and Voltron, so… it’s not like he can negate it.”
“So… we were luckly.”
Keith shots him a glare. He takes Shiro’s hand in his own. “You really had me worried there.”
“Before or after my hand tried to kill you?” Shiro jokes. Keith doesn’t look amused, so Shiro’s expression soften and he smiles. “I’m okay. For real.”
Keith nods. “I… I know you want to be on the field again,” he murmurs. “You deserve it. One with your expertise will certainly find a security job or something like that more… normal.”
“And what are you gonna do with the agency? You need a secretary too.”
Keith snorts. “We’ll find a way, because the others suck with public relationship.”
“You sucks too,” Shiro points out, with an amused smile.
“Yeah, that’s the reason I hired you as poster boy in the first place.”
“The only reason?”
“You mean, another one but having you around so I can look at a six feet of handsome man every time I like?”
Shiro laughs. “Fair enough. And I can’t complain about the view too. Will you keep my hand when I’ll be on surgery?”
“I can do better.”
Keith leans his palm forward. Black smoke erupts from it and it twists around until it become a lion, small as a hand. The lion flies on Shiro’s chest and he holds his breath, remembering it is a piece of Keith’s soul.
“If Allura permit it, you should change the agency’s name with the Castle of Lions.”
“Pidge proposed Voltron.”
Shiro snorts. “Voltron is the name of the team.”
Keith smiles and the lion literally purrs. “Team Voltron from the Castle of Lions Agency. We can work on it.”
And he looks softly, with a smile on his face, a secret question for Shiro to stay with them. Shiro tightened the grip on his hand.
***
It’s a boring day.
Well, it has been a boring week. One can image that after all the publicity that the entire event with the Castle of Lions and the giant famiglio more people would start to believe in ghosts and come to their ghostbuster agency for help. Instead, they only got the worst out of it, and most people consider that it was a publicity moves. Shiro’s shoulder disagrees. Their last work turns out to be just an electricity failure, so the owner didn’t even pay them, and despite the fact that Hunk actually repaired it.
With a sigh, Shiro closes his laptop. He takes the folder and climbs the stairs to reach the mansard, Except Keith, who was out for a commission, the other are there. Lance is sprawling on the sofa; next to him, Hunk was leafing through a book, while Pidge, on the floor, is playing with her Playstation Portable. They all shots a look at Shiro.
“What’s that?” Lance asks, pointing at the folder Shiro has in his hand.
“It’s the list of the expenses cut we need to do if we want to survive until we find a customer that actually pays us,” Shiro answers.
“Again?” Hunk protests. “Allura paid us tons of money. How it is possible we are again in this kind of situation?”
“Well, for example, Lance uses part of his money to buy a Jacuzzi,” Shiro points out.
“Ehi. It is the best for taking my body safe and sound. Damn, you made me met Allura after only a shower,” Lance grumbles.
“Which results in Lance doing five bathes at day instead of five showers,” Shiro concludes, ignoring Lance’s protest entirely.
“Okay, but it can’t be enough to spend all your money,” Hunk replies.
“Please, ask Pidge and the fact that she basically bought the entire Game Stop’s RISERVA last week. Even videogames she already has.”
“They are special edition!” Pidge exclaims.
Shiro is not impressed. “Three special edition of the same videogame? Come on.”
“Okay, maybe three of the same may be a little bit over the top…” she admits.
“And Hunk,” Shiro returns his gaze on him, “we ordered food at the top restaurants in town for three weeks straight.”
“After almost a month of precooked food, you can’t complain.”
“Maybe not, but we’ll soon return to our nice instant ramen.”
“Oh, come on,” Lance exhales. “I’m pretty sure we still have some money left.”
“Most of them is necessary to pay for the new prosthetic arm of the agency’s secretary,” Shiro says. “Which, if you don’t remember, he’s me. And I’m pretty sure you don’t want to risk it being hacked again by an evil scientist.”
“Oh.” Lance hums for a second, under the disapproving look of Hunk and Pidge. “Please remember me the reason we hire you in the first place?”
“Because apparently Keith likes having me around,” Shiro replies.
“Well, that I can understand,” Lance admits. “Hey, by the way, what do Keith pay with his part of the money?”
Nothing. The answers is nothing because Keith uses his entire part for the medical expense of Shiro, even if Allura offered to pay for it. Before he can find a way to answer, Pidge coughs.
“Uhm, guys… We might have a new client.”
She’s looking troughs the open window. Shiro moves next to her. A limousine parks next to the pedestrial, in front of the agency. It’s a black car, not a stain on it.
“Nah,” Hunk says. “It’s impossible.”
A young boy with dark red hair opens the back door of the car, so the passenger can get off. It’s a young woman, with long blonde hair RACCOLTI in two tails. She’s short, almost childish, with her short pink dress, a curious gaze in her blue eyes. She’s cute.
“My God,” Lance exhales. “She’s Romelle Polluk.”
“Who?” Pidge asks.
“She’s, like, my favorite singer. She’s an idol, you know. And pretty cute. And… Like, I have her CDs in my room.”
Oh, that is why Shiro thinks she looks familiar. He keeps his eyes on her as she and the boy with her exchanges looks between them. Then, hand in hand, they move to open the door of the agency and disappear inside.
“She mistakes our place,” Hunk says. “There is no other explanation.”
“Well, do you think I can take the chance and ask her to sing for me?” After Pidge’s look, he corrects himself, “at least an autograph?”
“No. Let Shiro handle this. He’s our poster’s boy, remember.”
Sometimes Shiro wonders how he ends up in that role, after being a top star class fighter pilot. But, as he climbs down the stairs, he reflects he has his answers already. He likes working for the agency. He likes the job, he likes the employees, and he loves Keith.
And despite the fact that they can get a job that will bring him to face another terrible supernatural creature or another evil scientist, there isn’t another place he wants to be.

Posted: 30/3/2019, 16:53

Of racism and discrimination - Storie per il COWT

In the dining room of Krolia’s house, they substitute the sofa and the armchair with carpets and pillow. In the center of the room, Kolivan places a metallic pod full of fire stones; next to it, a plate with small, white balls and a glass with long, dark stick.
Shiro is too tired to ask what is about. He shook too much hands, he thanked too much people, now he’s grateful he can enjoy a little bit of peace. He sees Kolivan as he takes his place next to Krolia in one of the pillow. Krolia is serious, composed, but she hasn’t say a word since the funeral ceremony speech. Kosmo put his head on her knees and she pet his back. Kolivan takes her hand, a private and comforting gesture.
Pidge and Hunk sit on the other side of the cup, on their pillows. Their eyes pass from Krolia, to Shiro, to the cup, to each other. Hunk especially looks like he wants to talk, to break the silence, but he doesn’t know what to say, what it can be appropriate from the situation. Pidge taps nervously her datapad.
The bell rings and Hunk startles, a relief expression appears on his face. Something is going to happen but he won’t take the responsibility for it. Shiro nods a little at Krolia to remain sit as he opens the door.
Allura, Lance and Coran appears in front of him. Shiro smiles. Allura cut her hair since last year and she has now a small pageboy. Lance wears his Garrison officer uniform and Coran is still Coran. Both him and Allura wears pink.
“Hi,” Allura greets him and hug him. “Sorry if I didn’t manage to be with you at the ceremony, but as a Queen of New Altea they asked me to remain with the other planets’ delegation.”
“I get it,” he assures her.
As Allura enters to greet the others, Shiro pats Lance’s arm. He’ great in that uniform. “How are you?” Lance asks.
“As someone who’s told his boyfriend died and just attend his funeral.”
Coran intervenes before Lance has the time to feel bad about the question. “These are from Romelle.” He gives Shiro a bouquet of red and black roses. “She wanted to come, but someone has to remain at the palace and take care of the planets, so she sent the flowers instead. She made them grown personally.”
“That’s a nice gesture from her,” Shiro says. “Can you thank her for me?”
“Of course.”
Lance sits down next to Pidge. “Wait. It that Kosmo’s son?” And he points at the small cosmic wolf next to Krolia.
“No. This is Kosmo,” Pidge answers. “Apparently, cosmic wolf’s circle of life involved a rejuvenation during mating season. We don’t know much other. Keith…” Her voice trails off. “There aren’t much records of tamed cosmic wolf,” she concludes, as Kosmo teleporters next to her and bumps his head on her arm.
“Only Keith could have a dog like this.”
Coran moves on the other side of the room and sits down to Allura’s pillow. “We’re doing the traditional garla funeral?” he asks. His voice sounds a little bit too exciting. “I remember it from the old time!”
Kolivan nods. “With the Blade of Marmora, during the war… we don’t have the time or the possibility to do that with all our losses,” he says, “but I think that now… we can do that. For Keith.”
“They want to do this alongside with the public ceremony,” Krolia adds. “We decides it’ll be better just between us. I’m pretty sure Keith would have preferred something inside his family.”
The other don’t say anything. Being a family is something they lost after the war, with all the works they had and the different life they chose. The fact that Krolia herself, Keith’s mother, consider them as part of Keith’s family is reassuring. They built something during the war.
Shiro sits down on the opposite side to Allura and Coran and places the flowers in front of the cup. “Can you explain this to us?” he asks.
“It’s pretty easy. Galra aren’t for complicate things.” Kolivan distribute the sticks. “As you enlighten them, think about a memory of Keith you want him to remember,” he explains. “Once it’s all red, put it on the cup. In this way, your thoughts will reach Keith and his spirit won’t lose his feeling.”
One after another, a small flame passes between them as they enlighten their sticks. Shiro is the last one, and observes as the fire consuming the dark and substitutes it with red. Black and red. Looks like a bad destiny joke. Nothing comes in his mind, though. He doesn’t want to be there, he doesn’t want to be at Keith’s funeral just to remember him. He wants him back.
Lance chuckles on himself. “What?” Hunks asks.
“Nothing,” he replies. “I just… remember that time Keith and I wanted to go to the swimming pool and then we remained blocked in the lift and then Zarkon’s attack and we have to fight him with only our swimming suit on…”
His voice becomes lower and lower until tears slip on his cheeks. At that sight, Hunk isn’t able to restrain himself anymore and he hugs him. They ends up sobbing, hiding their faces in one another.
Pidge closes her eyes and let the tears flow quietly. Allura leans on Coran and releases a small smile. She looks straight up to Shiro. “Once, we were all there to ask Keith to move on after your… disappearance,” she murmurs. “Since the end of the war, I never thought, not for once, we will have to do the same thing for you.”
Shiro knows about it. He was there, just inside the Black Lion. He saw through the Lion’s eyes. Everything that happened back then, how Keith was reacting and how bad it was with it. And how, in the end, he managed to bring Shiro back, while Shiro can just sit there and accepting Keith died. His hand grips the stick with anger.
“Always the selfish one,” Lance comments, still with his head against Hunk’s chest. “Leaving us like that…”
Kolivan is the first to put his stick in the cup, and the other follows after him. Shiro doesn’t have a memory yet. He decides he can do that later, after assuring that the people that murdered Keith will pay for it.
“We need to say the memory we thought?” Pidge asks.
“Only if you want to,” Krolia answers.
“Okay.” Pidge nods, and she doesn’t seem to particularly want to reveal it.
“Next thing, we will cook the traxises.” Kolivan drops the white ball inside the cup. “The sticks will warm up the fire stones, so the traxises will be cooked by your own memory. Eating it will be our way to maintain Keith’s memory inside us.”
“What are those exactly?” Hunk put his finger in one of them, to sag its consistency.
“Galra sweets.” It’s Coran, this time. “They’re made with a particular flour with a plant that only grow up in Daibazaal. They are a little spicy too.”
“I don’t think they taste as anything you have on Earth,” Allura adds. “The Garla doesn’t use this kind of flour raw but for the traxises.”
Pidge looks at her datapad. “Traxise means blossom in Garla language, right?”
Krolia nods. “Yes. The memories of the dead will blossom inside you.”
“I think they’re ready.” Kolivan rummages the stone inside the cup.
Hunk is the first one to try it. “Ouch. It burns.” It doesn’t prevent him to stuff the traxise entirely in his mouth and swallow it despite it being too hot. “Nice,” is his final verdict.
Kosmo almost puts his muzzle inside the cup before Pidge manages to grab him and drag him behind.
“Ehi, he wants to remember Keith too,” Hunk comments as he offers a traxise to him. Kosmo licks his hand happily.
As the other tastes the traxises and make their opinion about it and about the resemblance with Earth food, Shiro chews one slowly. He feels he doesn’t have to eat a traxise to remember Keith. He understands it’s a tradition between Garla and he has no intention to ruin it for Krolia and Kolivan, he’s… just so angry.
The bell rings again. The others look at each other, surprise by it. Shiro is grateful he has something to do. He stands up and open it. He blinks: the Deuces are there in front of him, accompanied by two guards.
“May we, Admiral Shirogane?” one of the two – FARUX – asks, since Shiro just stands here on the door.
“Of course. Welcome.”
He moves so they can enter in the house. They close the door behind them, and the two guards remain outside. The others look at the Deuces with curiosity. They know who they are, both because they’re the face of Daibaazal at the moment and because they hold a speech at Keith’s public funeral just an hour before.
NURU bows a little in front of the cup. “We apologize,” FARUX says. “We don’t want to interrupt your private grieving.”
Kolivan grubs a little, which, in his language, can mean either annoyance or dismissal.
“We just want to give you our condolences in person,” FARUX continues, “and assure you we’re doing everything to find out the culprits. The best men of Daibazaal are on the case and we have suspects in custody.”
Krolia nods and murmurs a thank you.
“Already?” Lance comments.
“Of course.” FARUX seems almost annoyed by Lance’s remark.
“They’re from them?” Hunk asks. “From the Sincline’s force?”
“I apologize, but we won’t discuss the details with you.”
“I want to help,” Shiro states.
“That’s nice of you, but we can handle it.” FARUX’s voice isn’t as cordial as he wants it to sound.
“It’s Keith we are talking about,” Shiro replies. “And we are the Voltron Paladins. I may be a little bold to say that, but we know better than you how to deal with Galra that murder people. We need to participate at the investigation.”
Actually, they haven’t talk about it. Shiro is telling them what he wants to do, but none of the other interrupt him or disagree with him. They just stare at the three of them.
“The Red Paladin is our responsibility.” NURU answers this time, and he grits his teeth, as he’s trying to calm himself. “He was one of us.”
“You have to understand, Admiral,” and FARUX put a lot of emphasis, “that we are proud of having a Paladin of Voltron as one of us. You saw the funeral, you saw how many people came to give the Red Paladin a last goodbye.”
“I saw it,” Shiro admits. He gave him a little bit of comfort.
“None of them will let the killers get unpunished, that much I can assure you. But the Galra republic is growing… We are trying to amend to our past mistake. And for this reason, we can’t let anyone involved on other government deals with something that is a responsibility of us.” He turns his head on Allura. “I’m pretty sure you understand, your majesty.”
“I do,” she confirms, with a small nod.
“Admiral Shirogane, as you were the Red Paladin’s mate, we will inform you of our progress, as a form of respect to the Red Paladin himself. But as you are a member of the Earth Government, we can’t let you help the investigation,” FARUX concludes. He doesn’t wait for a reply; he moves his attention on Krolia and Kolivan. “May I have a word with you in private? It’s about the Blade of Marmora’s organization from now on.”
With a frown or her face, Shiro looks as the four of them move to the kitchen and close the door behind them, so they can’t be heard from the dining room. Shiro sits down again on his pillow and grabs a traxise from the pot. He chews it slowly, looking very firm at Allura. Nobody else speak until he finishes.
“The last thing – the last,” he repeats, “I want to do is let go this. If they think I’ll let some strangers take care of Keith’s killers for me, they’re wrong.”
He was in the Black Lion. He saw all the month Keith spend looking for him in the space. Even if Shiro can’t save Keith anymore, at least he can be sure all Keith’s work with the Galra don’t get wasted.
“Dude.” Lance sounds annoyed. “It’s Keith we are talking about. All of us want to find out the culprits.”
They all nods. “As much as we know how much Keith means to you,” Allura adds, “we have a lot to take in consideration before acting. And the first thing is how much Keith means to the entire universe.”
Shiro presses his lips. He knows, of course, what Allura is talking about. As the Admiral of the Atlas, he received many calls from different planets ambassadors, all worried about the terroristic attack and what it can mean for the peace of the universe. It’s understandable, since the war ended not many years before.
As Paladins of Voltron, they are the symbol of peace. Having someone kill one of them put everything in jeopardy again. It showed that Voltron himself isn’t as invincible as it seems, and it means there is someone out there that wants war again. The fact that this someone is Garla, the same race that conquered the universe in the first place, doesn’t help. The video doesn’t help at all.
The planets of the Voltron Coalition are freaking out and their duty as Paladins is to reassure them first and foremost.
“We should leave the Deuces at the investigation for now,” Allura continues. “It may give them reassurance – losing Keith hits hard Daibazaal too. I’m pretty sure they’ll be more helpful to let us help them if we show them we trust their operated.”
“In the meantime, we have to focus on the Voltron Coalition.” Hunk sighs. “I just received so many calls, everyone is scared out there… It’ll be easy if Voltron would be here.”
“Even so, we don’t have Keith for piloting the Black Lion,” Lance points out.
“Well, maybe Shiro can do it for a while?”
“This discussion is pointless,” Shiro states. Thinking of the Black Lion still hurts him, because of both Keith and himself. “Voltron is gone. We have the Atlas, and ourselves, and the coalition. It’s enough.”
Pidge nods. “It doesn’t mean we won’t do some… investigation of our own. I already created a small program to see if I can detect the source of the video from the deep web.”
“And do you find it?” Hunk asks a little too eager, maybe.
“Not yet.” She smirks. “But I will. If they’ll be able to send it, you can be sure I’ll be able to too.”
“Good.” Shiro nods, trying to not sound disappointed. “I also can’t keep the Atlas on stand-by for too long. A couple of day maximum, then I have to return to work.”
Coran looks at him with a soft gaze. “Don’t you want to take some time for yourself?”
“Maybe, later. But first, as we said, we have something to do as Voltron Paladins. And if I decided to take a holiday, I have to organize it beforehand.”
“I’ll help you,” Pidge nods. “Matt and I can move our researches to the Atlas for a while.”
“And the Atlas should stop to Altea for at least a couple of days,” Allura adds. “So we can decide better how to move from now on.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s decided, then,” Lance exclaims. “I propose a toast, to Keith and to the fact we are going to rub in his face all this we will see him in the afterlife.”
“Yeah, but I hope it’ll happen later on,” Hunk adds. “Better include in the list of things we have to do be careful that the Sincline Force won’t attack us too.”
“Oh, let them come!” Lance replies. “I have an army of children ready to fight for me.”
“Since they’re trained by you, I’m not too scared,” Pidge comments, not looking at him, fully aware he’s going to blow up at her for insulting his cadets and his teaching methods.
Shiro sighs, as he feels the tension caused from the Deuces’s arrival lowered. Still, even if he’s grateful of their help and their advices, he still can’t let it go. He won’t let time passes before he can take care of Keith’s investigation himself. As he said before, it’s the last thing he wants to do, and he won’t do it.
The door of the kitchen opens. The Deuces bow a little. “Again, we are sorry for your loss and we apologize for interrupting your ceremony.”
They leave. “Everything okay?” Shiro asks to Krolia and Kolivan, as they sit down again with them.
Kolivan grunts. “Yeah, just burocratic stuff.”
Shiro doesn’t question further. They stay a little more together, finishing all the traxises and speaking more about their lives than Keith’s. At a certain point, it’s too painful when he’s not in the room with them.
“I have to go,” Allura announces at a certain point. “I stay at the hotel with some other kings and queens and they asked me to join them for dinner.”
“Me too,” Pidge says. “Matt is waiting for me at the Atlas.”
“You stay with us?” Krolia turns to Shiro.
“Yes, I… the Atlas is stationed around Daibazaal, but I’m not in the mood to return there yet. I ask for a couple of days off.”
“But we’ll see each other tomorrow, right?” Lance pats his altean arm. The other paladins but Allura all stay in the Atlas for now.
“Of course.” Shiro assures him. “I’ll pick you up at the spaceport.”
“Good. See you tomorrow.”
They leave. Kolivan takes care of the dishes from the ceremony and Krolia warms up a soup for dinner. Shiro isn’t eager to eat, and none of them isn’t eager to speak either. To be fair, Shiro would like to ask for Krolia’s assistance, because he knows her enough to understand she wants to participate at her son’s investigations.
But she brushes off her conversation with the Deuces as it isn’t important, and so does Kolivan. Whatever the Deuces told them, there are probably rules between Garla. Shiro isn’t Garla, and he won’t let it go.
They let him sleep in Keith’s room. Ten minutes here, and Shiro wants to escape. His PDSD improved in the past, but his time inside the Black Lion’s consciousness makes him a little bit claustrophobic for particular kind of small place. His dead boyfriend’s room is one of those places. It’s a familiar place, he has been there before with Keith, and it still has Keith’s personality, and the Atlas’ poster with Shiro as a pin up hanging on the bed.
Shiro lies down on the bed, still dress up in his uniform, and sighs. A flash of light and Kosmo is upon him, sniffing his face with attention. Shiro chuckles a little as Kosmo’s warm breath tickles him. With a whine, Kosmo sits on him and places his head against Shiro’s neck.
“I miss him too.” Shiro rubs its ears.
Trapped below the wolf’s body, Shiro looks around, at the room in the dark. No more rumors come from downstairs.
“I need fresh air,” he says to Kosmo.
Kosmo understands. Another flash and they are outside the house, and enough far from here not to be spotted by Krolia and Kolivan, if they’re still up. Not that Shiro needs to give them any explanation, still he prefers not to let know where he plans to go. He takes his datapad.
“Bring me there.”
The Blade of Marmora headquarter is a huge complex on the city’s suburb, a high skyline for the office and an entire area for employers’ ALLOGGIAMENTI, gyms, canteen, and laboratory. Shiro’s idea is to enter secretly in Keith’s office, but then he notices the light is up – he remembers the window from his previous visits. Another familiar light is on.
Therefore, he rings at the welcome hall and wait for a guard to answer. “I’m looking for Officer Axca,” he says. “We don’t have an appointment, but it is very important. Tell her Admiral Shirogane is here.”
The guard seems unfazed by the late request. He returns five doboshes later and he lets Shiro enter in the building. Axca appears from the lift and reserves Shiro a comforting smile.
“Admiral,” she says, and she nods at him to follow her.
He obeys, Kosmo following behind him. The reach her office: Shiro blinks as he notices she isn’t alone. Ezor and Zethrid are there. Axca takes place at her desk.
“What we can do to you, Admiral?”
“I spoke with the Deuces today,” Shiro explains. “They don’t want my help for the investigation, and I have the fear they are intrude in the Blade of Marmora organizations too. I got this impression from Krolia and Kolivan’s behavior, I can’t be sure about it.”
Axca snorts. “This sounds like them. If they want to protect the independence of our organization, they have to concede something to the Deuces.”
“I see. But I’m not them. I’m not going to let the Deuces take care of this investigation alone.”
“That makes four of us,” Ezor comments.
“What? Do you think we’ll let them too, so I can’t get my chance to throw some good punches at those killers?” Zethird snickers at Shiro’s expression.
Oh, how things have changes. Shiro wonders if remembering Zethrid she almost killed Keith in the past is a good idea, but in the end he just smirks and takes a chair to sit down. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“Before the Deuces arrived, we did a small research from ourselves,” Axca explains. “Even if the cargo ship doesn’t exist, the distress call was real. It comes from outside and with our codes. It looked real and there wasn’t any reason to believe it wasn’t.”
“Inus, who is the one to receive it and the one that called for Keith, respected the procedure,” Ezor adds. “We can rule him off. The Deuces arrested him, just for precaution, but he’s a half-garla, so…”
“What about the bomb?” Shiro asks. “Any information about how it could be placed on Keith’s ship.”
Axca shakes her head. “No. The procedure for preparing a ship in emergency situations makes impossible to know beforehand which ship will be chosen. The only one it’s the spaceport employ that prepare it on spot.”
“The Deuces arrested the one that prepared the ship for Keith.” Zethrid snorts, as she doesn’t approve the Deuces methods. “He’s a pure-blood Garla, but not even they can be so stupid. I mean, they should know they’ll be the first suspect.”
“We have the hypothesis,” Axca continues, “that they set all the possible ships with a bomb, so whatever ship Keith would have taken, it would explode. And then, after Keith’s departure, they came and removed all the other bombs.”
“It’s possible, but it requires organization and definitely more than one person. And probably, even someone that cover for them,” Shiro comments.
Axca shows him a list of names on her datapad. “Those are all the employees that have access at the spaceport, both pure-blood galra and half-galra.”
“I mean, pure-blood may be behind this, but others can be bought,” Ezor points out.
“Or they can just like make things explode.” Zethrid speaks from experience.
“Unfortunately, there was a… mysterious failure on the access database,” Axca smirks, “so we don’t have information about who really was in the spaceport that night. We need to check all of them.”
Shiro pats his legs. “When we get started?”
***
Zhimir is a small planet, the fifth of his solar system, blue colored from the space. It remembers Mercury to Keith. Lorne contacts her headquarters for gain authorization to land. The spaceport of the capital is well organized, but it can contain only small pods. Big spaceships aren’t able to park there.
“It’s one of the problem,” Lorne says. “We aren’t prepared to welcome the Voltron Coalition yet.”
“It was the same before the war?” Keith asks.
“More or less. We haven’t been exploration people, except out solar system and the one next to ours. When the Galra conquered us, they use us as slaves in the other planets around here, where we have mines useful to them. They don’t need for us a bigger port.”
“But you know the Olkari,” Keith states.
“Yes. They come to us, not the other way around. And we don’t like them very much at that time. We fear they were the cause of the Galra invasion. They weren’t, of course, but their technology is very distant from us, and it didn’t help.”
Keith nods. For now, he doesn’t have the time to resolve controversies between Zhimirians and Olkari. He will speak with Pidge in the future, after understanding the problems of Daibazaal.
He lands in the indicated spot. When he and Lorne get out from the small ship, someone that looks like a guard welcome them.
“Captain Lorne, Red Paladin, their majesties required your present immediately,” she says. “I’ll escort you.” She moves her head a little to the right, and her voice tender. “It’s an honor to meet you, Red Paladin.”
“Thank you, nice to meet you too” Keith answers. He shakes her hand, and asks, “you said their majesties?”
“Zhimir is a monarchy,” Lorne explains. “It’s not a hereditary position. Only the people born with the chosen mark can become queen. It happens we have only one queen, or even ten or eleven at once.”
“In our history, the record of queens governing together has been twenty-three, and it happens only once, and for three years, to have none.”
“Interesting,” Keith nods. “What is the chosen mark?”
Lorne smirks. “You’ll understand when you’ll see them. Right now, we have three queens.”
“Their majesties need to speak to you immediately for an urgent matter. Please, come with me.”
Keith is grateful for the Zhimirians help so he doesn’t complain. He and Lorna follows the guard in a machine that looks like more like a caterpillar. The guard drives them to a triangular glass palace. There are few people in the main hall that looks at them, but the guard walks straight to the left side of the hall and takes the lift.
“00-AB234 here,” she says. “I’m with Captain Lorne and the Red Paladin.”
The lift starts by itself. Keith can’t say how many floors they pass before the door open again, to reveal a small room. It is completely cover with green wallpaper that, at a closer look, it’s made by brushes. A rectangular glass table is placed in the center and three people sit down in glass thrones, at one side of the table.
Looking at them, Keith understand what Lorne meant with the chosen mark. All the Zhimirans he met until now have different number of tail but, as Ezor, the width of the tail is large and most of their head is bald. The queens have numerous very small and short tails, they end up looking as real hair. Only one of them looks old, the one that sit in the center, while the other two are middle age.
“Their majesties.”
Both Lorne and the guard stand still but lowered only their head, as they wrap their tails until they form a small bun on their head. Keith imitates their position and hide his braid behind his shoulders.
“You may go,” the eldest queen says, with a small nod to the guard. She leaves without a word. Once the door of the lift closes, the queen continues, “please, sit down.” She smiles. “We’re glad you’re safe and sound, Red Paladin. We owe you our gratitude for your help with the heart.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Keith took place next to Lorne on the other side of the table. “I’m just glad the heart made here in time. And to be honest, the pirates didn’t treat me badly. I’m the one that is grateful: Lorne’s arrival saved my life.”
“We’re happy to hear that,” the queen says. “I’m sorry we can’t meet in more fortunate circumstance.” She turns her head to Lorne. “Captain, please, your report.”
Lorne nods. Her voice is clear as she tells the three queens how the pirates agreed with their exchange and how the three Galra cruisers attacked the pirate ship and how they ignored Keith’s calls as they didn’t care at all about saving him.
Hearing her report doesn’t help at all Keith to understand his situation. Someone wants to kill him, that much is clear, and it is someone inside the high ups of Daibazaal government. The reason is still unknown.
Once Lorne finishes, the elder queen nods. “This event put everything else in a different light,” she says. She’s talking more with her two colleagues than with Lorne and Keith. They both nod. “Red Paladin, you have to see this.”
The queen on the right side turns her chair and press her bracelet, to project a video on the opposite wall.
“What is it?” Keith asks.
“This is a video that was distributed to the planets of the Voltron Coalition ten quintants ago,” the elder queen answers. “It came from a secret channel of the deep web, but they’re able to reach all the Government, included us.”
Keith looks at the video. At first, he doesn’t recognize the place. There is a familiar rumor, and he guesses the camera was inside an engine. The area was dark until a trap door opened, enlightened it. A face appeared from it, and at that moment Keith understands. The videocamera was placed in his engine, next to the bomb. It was his own face that looked straight at the video, recognizable because he didn’t wear his suit mask back then.
On the video, his eyes widened: the moment he understood there was a bomb. Then, his figure disappeared from the area, the trap door still opened. Then, the bomb explodes and the video becomes dark. At his side, Lorne startles visibly. She places a hand on her mouth in shock.
“For all the sacred…”
The queens don’t move. The video isn’t finished. After two seconds of dark, the scenery changes. This time, the video shows three Galra. Keith guesses they are Galra from their bodies and from the armor they wear, but their faces are covered with a mask with Zarkon’s face. Behind them, the Galra symbol glows purple at the wall.
The Garla in the middle starts speaking, as he is reading a pre-written discourse. His words are steady, his voice hard.
“We killed the Red Paladin,” he affirms. “It is what he deserves, as every filthy half-Galra out there.
Once, our Galra were the most important and powerful race in the entire universe. We were the rules of the universe. Then, we became sloppy, we let our blood being tainted by the other lower races, at the point that you, you all, started to call your hero the same person that stripped you of all your privileges of being a Galra. I guess we can’t expect much from you lower creatures, even you possess a once of true Galra blood.
Well, now your hero is dead like the shwamus he was.”
Keith doesn’t know what a shwamus is, but he can image it isn’t a compliment from their side.
“And you all half-blood will follow shortly. It is time for the true Garla to return and take back their place in the universe. Beware, Voltron Coalition, you’ll be next too. We, the Sincline Force, will end you. Surrender or die.”
The video ends. The queen on the right turn off her bracelet and turns again to the table. There is a sad expression on her side. She looks at Keith, and so do the other two. Keith doesn’t have a clear answer for them. He suspects the culprit of his bombing may be the Sincline Force, but he doesn’t expect them to be so organized to send video to the entire Voltron Coalition.
The thing that worried Keith most is his family and friends’ reaction. Not only they received a confirmation of his own death, but they had to see that horrid video. It’s terrible and Keith first reaction is to take the first ship available and fly to Daibazaal to show them he’s alive. Instead, he remains still.
In the end, the elder queen speaks. “As you may imagine, this video shook the Voltron Coalition until its very core. Not only they kill a member of Voltron, but they called himself the heirs of the Galra Empire.” Her voice trembles a little. “For all the planets subjugated to their control for all the previous years, it looks like a nightmare. Voltron is no more, and the Galra are returning.”
“It won’t happen,” Keith affirms. “Voltron disappeared, it’s true, but we don’t need it anymore. Now we have the Atlas, and the entire coalition. I don’t fear this, and neither do you.”
The elder queen nods. “When Captain Lorne returned from her expedition and informed us about your rescue and your kidnapping, we rejoiced.”
“Not for the kidnapping, of course,” the queen on the left side chuckles, covering her mouth with her small tails.
“The Red Paladin was still alive. The Sincline Force wasn’t as smooth as they thought. Your returning would raise the coalition’s humor.” The elder queen continues ignoring the interruption. “But Captain Lorne’s report gave us new information we have to take in consideration.”
Keith nods. He’s glad he’s speaking with people that gets things fast. “The Sincline Force isn’t just a secret group,” he states. “They have members in the Daibazaal Government, and at enough power position to stop communication from other planets and organizing at least three cruisers.”
“That’s what we think. Do you know about this Sincline Force?”
“Not much. I’m usually around the universe with the Blades. I only heard about them few quintantes ago. The people I spoke with doesn’t particularly fear them.”
“Instead, they were waiting for the right moment to strike.” The left queen activates again her bracelet and shows them a diagram. “That’s what we guess we happened: the pirates contacted someone in the Daibazaal Government for your ransom. They were unlucky they spoke with a member of the Sincline Force, or maybe the Sincline Force kept an eye on the communication to be sure nobody saved you. Probably, the pirates spoke about our ship, and this was the reason our communication has been cut off. Then, they send the cruisers to destroy the pirate ship with you on board. The video was already on-line and they couldn’t risk you survived.”
“Tell us, Red Paladin,” the elder queen says, “do they know you escaped again?”
“I can’t be sure,” Keith admits. “Their attention was on the pirate ship, and I was careful to let the explosion covering us, but I can’t tell if they register our position with their radar. Those cruisers have very sophisticated equipment.”
He passes his gaze on the three queen’s faces. “I don’t think they will attack the planet,” he adds. “The cruisers aren’t enough for it, and it’ll be too risky.”
“We agree. Still, they’re coming here.”
Keith grits his teeth. “Here?”
“They don’t seem to have aggressive intentions,” the elder queen tranquilizes him. “For now, they just sent us a communication about their passing.”
“Did you tell them I’m here?” Keith asks.
“Of course not.” The queen on the right side frowns. “Something is fishy in this situation. Tell us what you want to do, and we’ll do it.”
The elder queen seems annoyed by the other’s intervention, but nods. “We will assist you, Red Paladin.”
“Thank you.” Keith breathes hard. He’s still a leader, he learned how to lead in the past. “I’m really sorry to have put you in this situation.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Lorne speaks for the first time, even if her head is lowered and she isn’t looking at him.
“I image the communication are still down?” Keith asks.
“We haven’t tried again since Captain Lorne’s departure,” the elder queen explains. “But we guess they are, since I suspect they won’t risk us to divulgate your possible survival.”
It makes sense. They surely want to confirm the Zhimirians aren’t hiding him before letting them contact again the coalition.
“For now, may I ask you to not reveal my presence here? At the moment, I can’t say which one is an ally and which one is an enemy. I can’t trust no one but you.”
“Not even the other Voltron Paladins?” the queen on the right shots him a meaningful glare.
Keith’s heart clenches. His mind shots him imagining of Shiro looking at the video, f his mother looking at the video. Again, he feels the urge to rush to them and hug them and tell them everything is fine. He can image Lance mocking him of his kidnapping, and Hunk hugging him crying.
“I trust them,” Keith affirms. “I don’t trust the idea of someone else intercepting my communication to them.”
“We understand.” The elder queen stands up. “Until we won’t find out the cruisers’ course of action, we will hide you here.”
“Captain Lorne, please, you will stay here too.” The queen on the left presses her bracelet, and the lift’s door open. “For your own safety, and because we may need you soon.”
She and Keith take it. They don’t talk until they reach the new floor. It is a hallway, and two doors are opened. Looking inside, they are two bedrooms. Keith takes a long breath. He said I can’t trust anyone but the Zhimirians, but is it true? For now, Lorne has been on his side, and the queens seemed ready to assist him. The arrival of the cruisers may change it: they are reserved people, maybe they will hand him to the Sincline Force to save their planet. Keith won’t even be angry at them for it.
Lorne places one of her tail on his back and he startles. “Rest,” she advises him. “You piloted for a long time. You can’t think clear.”
“I don’t have the time,” he replies.
“Listen.” She licks her lips. “I can’t say I get how bad it is having all the people you love that believe you’re dead. But a varga or a quitant won’t change it. You need to survive so you can return to them.”
Keith nods. Lorna smiles. “I’ll rest awake, so I can call you if something happens.”
“Fine. But I don’t think I can sleep at all.”
He’s wrong. As soon as he places his tired body on the straw bed, his eyes close shut.
***
Zhimirians’ beds are like nest, with soft brushes on the inside and a good, peaceful smell. Keith curls in himself, still half-asleep, before remembering that everyone out there believe him dead and there are still killers after them.
He jumps still. The door of his room is still open, and Lorne sits there, looking outside. He can’t believe she stayed there for so long only for him. He brushes her shoulder and she startles a little.
“You’re awake.” She sounds tired.
“How much time passed?”
“Almost four vargas.” Lorne stands up. “They brought us some food.” She nods at the table inside Keith’s room, where a covered tray was placed.
“Do you eat?”
She nods.
“Go to sleep,” Keith orders. “I’ll keep an eye from now on.”
Lorne moves her mouth a little, as she wants to reply. In the end, she moves to her room and closes the door. Keith returns to the table and notices there is also a datapad places there, just next to the tray. It’s an older model than the one Keith is used to, but it works.
The food in the tray smells good: Keith eats distract, as he taps on the datapad.
He searches news about his death, he finds the video of his funeral ceremony on Daibazaal. A crowd was there for him. Keith learned something about Galra traditions when he was with the Blades and he realizes they held all the honor for him, almost as he was an emperor.
The Deuces held the first speech, talking about how important was for half-garla like them having someone to look up, and that the very existence of Keith was indispensable for the redemption of the Garla. It was more about the importance of Keith being a half-garla in the universe than Keith as a person, but it was nice.
His mother spoke after, and it was a small speech about the fact she had left him and she was grateful to have the chance to meet him again, even if they lost so many years because of the war. Kolivan was with her, and told shared to the crowd a small anectode about Keith’s time with the Blades.
It is surreal from Keith’s part, seeing his own funeral. He also knows that those people love him, Krolia, Kolivan, and the Paladins, yet there is a small warm on his chest. His life has a meaning.
Shiro was the last one. His face was like stone and the word came out one after another, heavy as stone in the water.
“Once, Keith said to me he would have saved me as many time as it takes. And he did. I wonder if he would come back again for me. I wish I would have been there for you the only time he needed me.”
Keith shuts the datapad. “You were there, Shiro, you were…” he murmurs under his breath. His stomach is clenched and his throat’s emits a sob. He wants to see him so badly…
“Are you okay, Red Paladin?”
Keith takes a deep breath and turns his head to the door. The same guard that welcomed them is there. “I’m fine.”
“Their majesties need you again. Now.”
He doesn’t ask. For now, he needs something to do so he can distract himself. ”Coming. Can we let Captain Lorne rest?”
The guard looks at the door of the other room. “I guess we can,” she decides at last.
They take the lift and end in another different floor. It looks like an inside balcony, completely covered by glasses. Below, you can see a big, empty room. On the opposite side, on a platform, the queens sit on their metal thrones. The throne room, Keith guesses.
“We can’t be seen from there, but we can hear everything,” the guard says. She presses a button on her portable datapad and, in the same moment, the queen on the left looks at her bracelet. She taps it and a screen appears in front of them: it has a double face so Keith can see at it.
On the screen, the face of a half-galra appears. Keith doesn’t recognize him, but the area behind him. A galra cruiser. He has to be one of the people in charge of the attack at the pirate ship. How strange…
“We are the queens of Zhimir,” the elder queen says. “Please introduce yourself.”
“I am Captain Plantux from Daibazaal,” he says. “I am deeply grateful you concede me some time.”
The elder queen nods a little, for him to continue.
“I am here to investigate about the incident that stole from us the Red Paladin,” Plantux explains. The three queens bow their head in respect. “You may not now, but the incident happened a couple of light-years from here. While we investigated, we intercepted a communication from your planet. It’s directed to Daibazaal, but unfortunately a solar storm blocked all the communications in that area. They are still blocked for now.”
“This is unfortunate indeed,” the elder queen confirms. “This explained why we never received an answer.”
“This is the reason why we come here. We apologize for the delay.”
“We understand, Captain. We still need your assistance.”
“Please, feel free to ask me. As a member of the Voltron Coalition, we’ll do everything to help.”
“Fifteen quintans ago, we send one of our spaceship for a medical expedition to the solar system next to our,” the elder queen explains. “We lost contact with them at a certain point. We fear they might be in danger, or having some incident on the street. That area is full of space pirates. It is a mission of highly importance for us, so we hoped that someone from the Voltron Coalition may help us. You have better technology than us.”
“It’s too late, isn’t it?” the queen on the right comments. “Even with all good intention, too many quintants passed.”
“I’m afraid so,” Plantux confirms. “We haven’t meet any spaceship in our way, neither we received any emergency calls. Also, we engaged to a pirate ship and they ended up blowing up their own ship to escape us. If they were captured by the pirates, probably there wasn’t anything we can do.”
“It’s horrible!” the queen on the right exclaims.
“Indeed. We can’t be sure, though. If you sent me coordinates about the route of your spaceship, we may go back in the area and do a better search.”
“This is utterly appreciated,” the elder queen says. “We’ll sent all the information immediately.”
“I’ll wait for them. And please, feel free to contact me as much as you’d like. I hope soon the solar storm will end and we’ll restore all the communication to Daibazaal too.”
The queen on the left presses her bracelet, and the screen disappears.
“It’s a bluff?” Keith asks.
“In our attempt to contact Daibazaal, we never speak about you or your rescue,” the guard says. “We just try to reach for them, so they can’t be sure the real reason. But it is possible that the space pirates, when asked for you ransom, told them some details about us.”
“But they can’t be sure,” Keith deducts. “And they may believe I still died back in the explosion of the pirate ships.”
“Correct. It also means that, for now, you can’t leave. Not until they’re around, and not until the communications don’t work.”
Keith grits his teeth. He understands, of course, but it isn’t much reassuring. He wants to do something, as usual. “Fine,” he spats, hoping she understands his anger isn’t direct at her. “I want to go outside. I need to clear my thoughts.”
“No problem, but it’s better if you put our clothes on. Most people here don’t know very well the face of the Red Paladin, but it’s better if you keep a low profile.”
They return at the room floor, and the guard leaves Keith alone so he can change, using their long tunic, with the large sleeves and the large long pants. Once he finishes and he returns in the hallway, Lorne is here.
“They informed my about what happened,” she says. “Do you want to talk?”
“Not really. I still haven’t put my thoughts in place.”
“There is something I want to show you. Come with me.”
They leave but not trough a secondary door on the basement of the palace. There is another car, a smaller caterpillar, and Lorne drives them in the city. They reach a small, green area on the suburb of the city, and she park outside. Blue flowers with three long petals surround a small path that lends to a small two-floor building.
It is the hospital of the city, a quadrangular structure with a porch in the middle. Lorne shows Keith, from the window of the first floor, a woman that play with a child. They sit down in the grass, they are both laughing, as the woman uses her tails to make the child fly.
“That woman… she’s the one that awaited the heart,” Lorne explains. “As I told you, the operation was a success.”
Keith places a hand on the window and smiles. “I’m glad. Thank you for showing me.”
She doesn’t reply, just smiles still at his next. Keith keeps his gaze on the woman for a while, then he moves to the other people. Despite being a hospital, there is a calm feeling inside, reassuring, in the way people come and go.
“Zhimirians are only women?” he asks.
Lorne bends his lips. “For simplicity when we come in contact with different alien species, we identify as female, but truly the best definition would be hermaphrodite. Our genitals aren’t inherently male or female.”
“Oh. Oh, I see.”
“You sound surprised.”
“It’s not… Just…” He smiles. “I have a friend. She’s half-galra half-zhimirian. She never spoke about it, and I understand the reason, but…”
“Well, we don’t have many records of half-zhimirians, but the ones we have shown they tend to tale the genitals of the person of the other species.”
“Okay, I think I’m done talking about my friend’s genitals. Or everyone’s genitals for that matter.”
He flushes, and she chuckles. “You asked first.”
“And I regret it.”
“Keith!”
He turns to the voice: Vixer is coming in his direction. He doesn’t manage to answer because he finds himself trapped in her hug. “Of course you’re safe. I’m glad.”
“Thanks,” he answers, embarrassed.
At Lorne’s gaze, she takes a step behind. “I saw the video. About the explosion. It was terrible…”
“It’s okay.”
“What are you going to do? We’ll bring back and show them it’s not easy to kill a Paladin of Voltron!”
“Doctor, please, it’s better do not talk about it,” Lorne intervenes.
“Of course, of course.” She nods. “I just want to know that I want to help, if I can.”
“You already help a lot of people,” Keith replies. His gaze is again on the woman and her child.
“Still…” she whispers. “I have work to do. I’m glad you’re safe, Keith.”
Once he leaves, Lorne sighs. “We informed both her and Merthred. They’re worried, you know.”
He nods. “Did they tell you everything about the call with the Galra cruisers?”
She frowns. “I think so?”
“The Captain was a half-galra.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
The Sincline Force claimed his assassination, but at this point Keith is convinced there is a large conspiracy inside Daibazaal. Their motives are still unknown to Keith, but he has the feeling they’re something more complicated than a new Garla Empire. He can’t trust anyone back then except, like, seven people. There is only one curse of action he can take.
“You know,” he starts. “There is one thing… It’s the last thing I want to do. To my friend, to my family…” To Shiro. “The last thing I want to do,” he repeats.
“But you’re going to do it nevertheless,” Lorna states.
“I don’t have other choices.” In the past, Keith already took decision that made him suffer the consequences for the sake of the people he loves. It hasn’t changed. “I just hope they’ll forgive me.”
Lorne understands. “You want to remain dead for now.”
“It’s the safest way to protect me and the others,” Keith explains. “They might be suspicious, but I guess they expect me to return as soon as possible. If I don’t, it’ll allow me to investigate better.”
“And they might get cocky, with the conviction of having been able to kill you.”
“Yes, this is what I hope.”
“But how do you think to move from now on?” Lorne asks. “You will need some assistance, at least to reach Daibazaal. And your face is recognizable…”
“Yes, I’ll need some help. The plan is still in the making. Since I’m stuck here until the galra cruisers will be far, I have some time to spare.”
Lorne takes his hand. “If I can, let me assist you again.”
***
“We’re here,” Lorne warns Keith.
He moves from the back of the cockpit and sits next to her. From the glass, he can see the enormous white form of the Atlas. Shiro is so near, yet so far… His heart clutches and he rubs the head of the cosmic cat in his lap.
The cosmic cat was a present for Merthret. It was found badly wounded in the space during one of their medical expedition. It’s heal now, but nobody is able to get near to it. It’s too aggressive. But Keith has already a cosmic wolf, a very unusual pet, so Merthet decided to give it a shot. Also, cosmic cats have physic powers, or so they say. They can’t read minds per se, but they can connect two minds together, allowing them to speak telepathically. It can be useful for Keith’s mission.
Keith opened the cage of the cosmic cat and let him roams freely, until it itself decides to befriended him, with Lorne’s disbelief. He called him Red, because, unlike Kosmo, Red sends him through his brain a feeling, something that tell him it likes the name. It remembers Keith of the Red Lion: it doesn’t have a fur, but is skin was bright red, with some bloody red streams on his back. It’s small, it can stay on Keith’s hand.
It doesn’t purr, but his presence reassured Keith.
Lorne sends a message to the Atlas and receives back the authorization. They park in the second hangar, the one reserved to the guest. Keith returns to the hold, hidden, while Lorne leaves the spaceship. Waiting is hard for Keith, especially in that place, but he won’t back up from the plan now.
Luckily for him, he gets a distraction. In his lap, Red hisses, and in a flash a small cosmic wolf appears in front of Keith. He blinks, because he is too small to be Kosmo, but once it jumps on him and starts licking his face, Keith recognizes him.
“It’s you! It’s really you!” he says, rubbing his fur. “How can you be so small now?”
Red growls lowly next to Keith’s ears. Kosmo turns its attention to Red: a bad move, because Red hisses again and rushes to hide in a corner.
“I need you to get along,” Keith murmurs slowly. “Please.”
In his mind, he can feel Red’s annoyance, but it lets Kosmo getting near and sniffing it. When Lorne returns a couple of Vargas later, they are playing together, with Kosmo that pop in and out the existence to let Red ambushing it. Keith diverges his attention for them and he goes to greet Lorne.
“No luck,” she says. “The Green Paladin is busy in an important matter and can’t receive me for now. They ask me to do a presentation with the other high-ups tomorrow, and I was invited at dinner tonight.”
“It’s okay. I have another way to enter,” he says, nodding a little with his head at Kosmo. “Just… When you’re at the dinner, sent me a message. Tell me if Pidge is attending or not.”
“Sure.” She nods. “I met the Black Paladin. I mean, Admiral Shirogane.”
Keith holds a breath. He doesn’t want to ask. “How is he?” he asks.
“He looks tired. Sad.”
“I see.” He lowers his head. A part of almost hopes Shiro is okay. He prefers a happy Shiro over a Shiro that misses him.
“We can stop, you know. You’re here, you’re probably safe here.”
“No.” Keith shakes his head. “Do it.”
“Okay.”
She doesn’t question him further. She goes at the dinner and, as promises, she sends him a message. Pidge isn’t there. Nothing really surprising, since Pidge has habit to lost herself in her work when she’s near some new important discover. Back at the Castle of Lions, they found her sleeping around, her laptop next to her.
So Keith knows very well where to find her, and probably alone. He takes Red in one hand and places the other on Kosmo’s head. “Let’s go to Pidge.”
Kosmo teleporters him in Pidge’s laboratory, the one reserved for her, but in the far corner of the room, in the dark, behind some metallic box. From that position, he can see the small figure of Pidge, sitting at her desk, five computer screen around her. They enlighten her with their blue light.
Keith presses lightly Red’s head. He places it on his head. Red’s light blue eyes glitter.
“I hope all the legend about the psychic powers are true,” he whispers. Then, he thinks, “Pidge.”
She looks around, then she returns to his computer.
“Pidge,” Keith tries again, putting more strength in his thought.
This time, Pidge stands up. “Who is it?” she asks, loudly.
“It’s Keith.”
“W-what?” she stumbles. “Matt? This isn’t funny.”
“Please, Pidge,” Keith pleads. “Turn off all the camera and I’ll explain it to you. Please.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but her curiosity gets the better of her. She still takes out her bayard – Voltron might be gone, but they still have their weapon – and then taps on one of the screen. “Done.”
Slowly, Keith advances in her direction. “I hope you don’t want to hit me with that,” he smiles, pointing at her electric weapon.
Pidge’s eyes bulges, her mouth opens, and she lets the bayard falling on the ground with a loud clack. A second later, she’s hugging him, her hands are all over him, groping every inch on him to make sure Keith’s in there, flesh and bones.
“I’m here, Pidge. I’m alive.”
She takes a step behind, tears in her eyes. “We should’ve known you survived… I’m so happy, Keith… We need to call Shiro immediately. And the others…!”
“No!” Keith grabs her hand. “You can’t tell anyone. This has to remain a secret between you and me.”
“Why?”
“It’s better this way. The people that wanted me dead… they have to believe I am.”
“But… But Shiro…”
“Do you think I’m happy?” he snarls. “This is the last thing I want to do. But…” He licks his lips. “If Shiro believes I’m dead, everyone else do too.”
Pidge melts back on her chair, her face deflated. She knows he’s right, and that she can’t change his mind. “How do you manage to sneak here in the first place?” she comments, and Keith appreciates the change of the argument.
He leans a hand and points at Kosmo. She snorts. “Of course. Nice dress, by the way.”
Keith still wears the large green tunic. “Zhimirans gave me a big help. You should definitely speak with Lorne when you have the time.”
“That explain how you get on Atlas,” she murmurs. “Why me?” she asks. In her voice, he can feel all the weight of the responsibility of being part of such a big secret. “Why are you telling me you’re alive?”
“I need your help.”
Pidge crosses her arms. “Just… let’s Shiro never find out about it, gotcha? What do you need?”
Keith takes places next to her. “I need a dispositive to disguise me as a pure blood galra. Then, I need an identity as a garla. And last, I need the list of the crew of the three galra cruisers that moved in the Zhimir’s solar system last week, names and everything.”
“What you have in mind?” Pidge looks at him, worried.
“Infiltrate in the Sincline Force and take them down from the inside.”
“It’s going to be dangerous.”
“I know.”
She sighs. “No problem for the names and the identity, but your disguise could be a problem. I guess I can create a full body suit that covers you entirely, and maybe, maybe, I can make it in a material that remembers fur, but it won’t be perfect. You should be careful to not let others touch you too much.”
“I don’t plan to,” Keith replies. “How many doboshes do you need?”
Pidge smirks at him. “Give me twelve vargas and you’re in.”

Posted: 23/3/2019, 18:02

Looking at the best pilot - Storie per il COWT

The suitcase is ready. It has been ready for days by now, with Takashi that keeps taking off and put on things daily. Even with the list, he still fears he will bring with him the wrong things, so he can’t help but confronting all his clothes, his belongings, and so on.
Right now, he stares at the big poster hanged upon his bed. Takashi doesn’t want to let it alone at home: he can imagine in his head his mother as she tears it apart, taking advantage of Takashi’s absence. At the same time, he feels it be a little bit embarrassing bringing it with him. It’s not like he can hang up in his new room at the dorm and let all the other cadets knowing of his little obsession.
It’s not even a real poster, Takashi had made a COPISTERIA print a giant version of a newspaper photo just for himself. Definitely, he can’t let anyone see it, and more important it’s not like he’s going to go and ask Keith Kogane to sign it in plain sight. He already decided it’ll ask for the autograph on Takashi’s space album collection.
In the end, he decides to bring the poster with him. He doesn’t doubt the other cadets to be Kogane’s fans too. They’re talking about the Garrison’s best pilot after all. And Takashi won’t mind being called Kogane’s number one fan. Besides, he really likes the poster, the confident way Kogane smiles and the casual way he leans to his hoverbike, arms crosses on his leather jacket.
Takashi careful folds the poster and put it on top before closing the suitcase. He can say he’s ready, at the end. He brings the suitcase downstairs and places it next to the door, then joins his mother for breakfast.
She doesn’t greet him. His father already left for work. Both things do not surprise him, still Takashi wonders if they’ll regret it once he’s off. He doesn’t plan to return to Japan, at least not very soon. He plans to go very far away, out of Earth.
His family is a traditional Japanese one, with a mother that takes care of the house and a father that works twelve hours in the same company that hired him after university. They are unhappy with Takashi not being a traditional son. They blame him for his muscles disease. They are ready to organize OMIAI for him since the day he confesses to be homosexual. Takashi doesn’t expect them to appreciate his dream to become an astronaut, neither his decision to transfer in the USA to study at the Galaxy Garrison. They don’t.
Takashi eats his breakfast in silence. “Thanks for the meal,” says in the end. At least one of them can be polite.
His mother doesn’t answer. Takashi doesn’t care: the bell rings and he’s already up to open the door. His grandfather is there, and he smiles fondly at Takashi. People says Takashi is a lot like him, sweet, smart and big. Takashi is proud to be considered a small version of his grandfather.
“Are you ready?”
Takashi nods with strength. He takes his jacket and ties his shoes. It’s strange putting back his slippers in the wardrobe, knowing he won’t be there in the evening to take them back.
“Shirogane-san.”
His mother’s way to call his grandfather shows Takashi the big distance that there is between the two of them. His grandfather pretends to not notice as he smiles, but he greets her with just a small nod before taking the suitcase.
“Take care, mother,” Takashi says. “Goodbye.”
She observes both of them from the door of the kitchen, as she expects Takashi to change his mind and return and ask for forgiveness. Takashi leaves the house without looking back. His grandfather doesn’t comment further.
He places the suitcase in the car and start driving towards the Sapporo airport. He points out at the small package placed on the backseat. “Your grandmother prepared something to eat for the travel. Dorayaki. Once we land in Phoenix, we’ll call her.”
“Great.” Takashi looks at the small package with an affectionate smile, remembering the strong hug his grandmother gave him the evening before, when he went to their house for saying goodbye before his departure. He will miss only two things of Japan, and they are his grandparents.
“I’m sorry you have to accompany me,” Takashi says.
“Oh, don’t worry, little one,” his grandfather replies. “It’s not I have better to do. Plus, I really want to meet that idol of you.”
Takashi sputters. “What? What idol?”
“The one you have countless photos in you room.”
“He’s not my idol,” Takashi protests.
“Well, he’s the reason you’re going, isn’t it?”
“No, he isn’t,” Takashi replies. “He’s just the best pilot out there and I admire his flight stile, that’s all.”
He crosses his arm, pouting, and his grandfather releases a small chuckle, but he doesn’t add anything.
It’s true that he has a lot of photo of Keith Kogane (all the one available of him, and they aren’t much to be fair honest) and it is true he speaks a lot about him. Being interesting in space, it’s only natural being informed about a pilot that breaks all the records and only as a twenty-three years old. Kogane’s flight test are out there, in internet, as an example for everyone. Takashi has seen a huge amount of them, always lured by the way Kogane flies. By the way he does maneuvers that looks impossible, still he manages to do them.
Well, okay, Takashi might be a little bit obsesses with Keith Kogane. And he could be one of the reason Takashi wants to go specifically to the Galaxy Garrison.
Not the only one, Takashi convinces himself of. He loves the idea of space and of being an astronaut. Maybe because the space seems so far to the mundane problems of his parents’ life. The vastness of space calls him. And he chose the Galaxy Garrison because he wants to prove himself: to show that despite his disease he still can be great and he still can be accepted by one of the best school for pilots in the world.
And he did. He got accepted. He’s going to be an astronaut, and the best one of all them, even better than Keith Kogane. His disease can be damned.
“You’ll be fine, Takashi,” his grandfather assures him. “You passes all the tests with the highest grades. Includes the physical ones. You’ll be great.”
“Thank you, ji-chan.”
Still, Takashi has a grip on his throat as the airport comes into view. There is no turning back now.
***
Takashi passes over all the luggage and the suitcases that are in the hallway to reach the number of his room. All the cadets arrive at the Garrison and are taking their spot on their dorm the weekend before the beginning of the lessons, the next Monday. Takashi can feel the excitation in the air and he can’t wait to start.
He looks at the small paper he has in his hand and then at the numbers around: the door of his supposed room is opens. He drags his suitcase behind him and enters. A boy with scruffy dark blond hair is there, knelled down, ruffling his hands in his opened backpack and spreading his things around.
“Good morning,” Takashi says.
The boy lifts his head and looks at him with a small frown.
“This is my room,” Takashi explains.
“Oh, sure, of course.” He jumps still and smiles. “Sorry for the mess. I don’t find my documents anymore, wonder where they end. So… we’re gonna be roommate. Cool. I’m Matt.”
Takashi observes the hand Matt leans towards him and decides the best course of action is to shake it, so he does. “Shirogane Takashi.”
“Japanese, right?” Matt says, with a smile. Then, after Takashi small nods, he adds “Don’t worry, Garrison is full of foreigners. You’ll be great.”
“I hope so.”
Matt points at one of the bed. “I took that one, but if you like it more…”
“No, it’s fine.”
Matt moves his backpack nearer his bed so Takashi can enter with his suitcase and places it on the floor. Takashi opens the wardrobe and starts placing his clothes inside. They gave him the uniforms the day he lands in Phoenix and Takashi put particular regards in hanging them. Matt doesn’t have the same attention.
“So, what are you here for?” Matt asks.
“I want to be a pilot,” Takashi answers, with a small smile.
“Oh, cool.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll take the astrophysical course, with a specialization in geology and chemical.” He sounds proud. “Eh, we may even be on the same special expedition one day.”
“That will be nice,” Takashi says, more for courtesy.
Matt blabbers about his father being one of the up rights office at the Garrison, and the one taking care of organizing the Kerberos expedition. Takashi hears about it, even if he knows it’ll be too soon for him to have a change to be part of it. Still, it’s a project in the making and Takashi is happy enough to be there looking for it to became a thing.
Once Takashi’s suitcase is empty, he says, “I’d really would like to look around the Garrison. You know, see where the AULA and the other things are.”
“I can show you!” Matt jumps happily. “I’ve been here before, I’m the best tour guide you can find.”
“Nice,” Takashi smiles. “But you don’t have to…” He points a little at Matt’s backpack, which is still half-full with clothes.
“Uh, no.” Matt takes the entire backpack and stuffs it inside his wardrobe. “All done. We can go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Takashi nods. He puts his own empty suitcase after his bed before realizing that he leaves his poster on the bed when he took off all the clothes. With a fast gesture, he tries to hide it below the pillow, but Matt catches it.
“What is it?”
“That, well…”
Matt opens it and blinks. “Oh, wow… I don’t even think they made posters like this.”
They don’t.
“In Japan there is a market for pilots, so…” Takashi lies.
“I see.” Matt gives it back with a small frown. “Listen… I know from outside Kogane looks like this superhero pilot, but in truth he’s an ass. Sometimes I wonder how he hasn’t get expelled yet. Maybe the Garrison is waiting to find another good pilot before discharge him.”
“Why… How do you know that?”
“My sister knows him,” Matt replies. “She studies aerospace engineering here. She invited him a couple of time to our house, and it was bad.”
Takashi remains silent. To be fair honest, despite Matt’s claim, the first time his brain gets was ‘can your sister introduce me to Kogane?’, but Takashi feels this isn’t a good idea.
“I don’t say it to upset you,” Matt says sweetly. “Just, don’t keep your hopes high just to be disappointed later, okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
Even if, at this point, it’s impossible for Takashi not having his hopes high. It isn’t only about Kogane, is about everything he dreamt of becoming true. He can try to focused less on the possibility of meeting Kogane, it’s fine for him, but he sure hopes to prove himself a worth pilot.
“Perfect. Let’s go, Shiro.”
Takashi blinks. “What?”
“What what?” Matt asks.
“How do you call me?”
“Isn’t Shirogane your name? Since it’s a little long I just cut it off.”
“Shirogane is actually my family name.” Takashi forgets westerns don’t have the same way of introducing themselves.
“Oh. Sorry, I thought… What was your name again then?”
“You know what, Shiro it’s fine. I like it.”
New life, new friend, new name.
Shiro is it.
***
Shiro meets Kogane for the first time three weeks after the start of the school, and in the most mundane way. He heads to the library with Matt and Adam, looking for a specific book to prove that Matt’s making up things, and Kogane is there, at one of the table.
He almost has a gay panic. Kogane is shorter than he looks in photos, and more serious in his gray uniform, but the long dark hair and the blue gaze are still here. His head rests softly in his hand, as he taps his datapad with the other.
Sitting in front of him there is a girl, with long dark blond hair in a high ponytail, glasses on, focused on the book and the papers around her. She doesn’t wear a uniform. Kogane’s girlfriend? Shiro isn’t informed about it, but Kogane is a reserved type.
“Oh, my sister’s here,” Matt notices, happy. “We can ask her.”
“No way,” Adam replies. “She’ll back you up. I want proves.”
“You’re too much untrusting.”
“She’s your sister?” Shiro asks. “You said she graduated last year.”
“Yep. Two years earlier. She’s a genius.” Matt looks a proud little brother. Funny, because he also got admitted at Garrison two years early than his age.
“She knows Kogane?” Adam realizes only who is the person at the table.
Matt’s gaze darkens. “She’s like, the only one that bear him. Never understand what she finds in him.” He takes two steps forward. “Come on, I introduce you.”
His sister notices him only when he pats her shoulder. “Katie, these are my friend, Shiro and Matt. Guys, this is Katie.”
“Nice to meet you,” Adam and Shiro says together.
“Please, call me Pidge.” She smiles and she pinches Matt’s cheeks. “Please tell me if this punk does something bad. I’ll put him in his place.”
“Ouch, Katie, stop it. You’re embarrassing me.”
“I sure hope so.”
Adam asks something to Katie, but Shiro isn’t listening anymore. His gaze is already on Kogane who, despite their arrival, is still looking at his datapad. Shiro has his space album in his bags, the one he created in the last three years he worked to get to the Garrison. He remembers Matt’s word about Kogane and, being the stubborn creature he is, decides to ignore it.
He takes his album and gets near Kogane. He coughs a little. “Excuse me, sir.”
Kogane doesn’t hear it, but the others do. Matt looks at him with a disapproving look, while Adam is uncertain. Pidge frowns, then leans her hand forward and gives a slap to Kogane’s datapad. Kogane startles.
“What the hell, Pidge?”
“He’s talking to you.”
Kogane turns his head a little and looks at Shiro with a mixture of annoyance and surprise. “Yes, cadet?”
“Can I…. Can I have an autograph?” Shiro asks. He shows his album. “I’m a fan of yours.”
He sees Matt rolling his eyes, but he ignores it. He opens the album at his favorites page, the one with the photo of the last eclipse. He stayed all day with his grandfather to get the best photo he can do.
“I don’t sign autograph,” Kogane replies. “I’m not some kind of idol.”
“I… I know,” Shiro says. “But I saw you flies and… You inspired me.”
“Everyone has, you’re not that special.” Keith returns at his datapad, ignoring Shiro and his album still opened. “And haven’t you better things to do than bothering senior officers?”
Pidge snorts. “You can do that. It’s just a signature.”
Kogane shots her a glare, and for a second they have a silent conversation only with their eyes, until Kogane sighs. “Fine.”
“No, it’s okay,” Shiro says. He closes his album. “I understand.” He puts it in his bags. “Shouldn’t we go and search for that book?”
“Uh, sure,” Matt says. He seems relieved to leave.
“What an asshole,” Adam comments once the three of them are out of their sight.
“Told you,” Matt states. “Are you okay?” he adds, towards Shiro.
“I’m fine.”
He’s not fine. He dreams too much about a meeting with Kogane to not being disappointed about the actual out coming.
But Shiro is also stubborn. If Kogane doesn’t think he’s special, well, he’ll sure prove him wrong.
***
Cadets aren’t allowed to use the spaceship simulator until their second year, and aren’t allowed to use it outside the lesson time until the third year. Third year students and forwards have card with their name and their identified number that also registers their score, so every single person that uses the simulator is register.
Matt has an anonymous card. He creates it out of boredom, and it works on the simulator, registered the score with an anonymous code. He doesn’t use it because he doesn’t want to be a pilot. Adam refuses to use it because “it’s against the rules”.
Shiro doesn’t have such a strict moral compass when it comes to harmless action as using a simulator at night to become better and surpass Kogane’s record. Not an easy task, as Shiro understands the first time he gets in the simulator and crashes three time before understanding how the commands work.
But despite the initial failure, Shiro feels the shiver of excitement just sitting down on the pilot’s seat. Even if it’s just a fake, it gives Shiro the confirmation he didn’t make an error in choosing to become a pilot. He wants to be in real space sooner or later.
Going in the simulator becomes an addiction to Shiro. At first, he tries to go only once a week, to avoid getting caught. But he’s improving, and soon he finds himself lures to the simulator at least three time at week. He rejects Adam’s invitation to go there, alone.
“You’ll get caught if you keep up this way,” Adam tells him. At first, he’s worried, but then he becomes annoyed because Shiro’s refusal to see reasoning.
Matt is a little bit supportive, until Shiro’s scores become so high they start to appear in the ten top position and caught the officer’s attention. Iverson gives a lecture to all cadets, remembering them the rule of the Garrison. Matt doesn’t fear for himself, and he doesn’t think they will expel Shiro giving his results, still he hopes Shiro starts to be satisfied and learns to control himself.
He doesn’t. The gossips around the mysterious person that keep making higher and higher scores make him ever more eager to live up their expectation. He’s still far from Kogane’s scores, but he’s better than some of the senior officers.
The day after he scores in the second place overall, beating even James Griffin’s record, he finds a new route in the simulator. It’s impossible, but Shiro almost feels he’s made for him. He selects it: an asteroid route with only one functioning engine before landing to a water planet.
Shiro can’t contain the excitement. He launches it and spends the night to complete it. He returns to the simulator the night after, and manages to score at second places again, second only to Kogane.
It becomes a routine. Every time he gets the overall best score after Kogane, he finds a new route to explore. They become more and more difficult, at point that it takes more nights before resolving them, and even more to gets the best score. Shiro realizes he’s becoming a better pilot, and now the normal route annoyed him, at the point that Iverson calls for him and gives him a lecture about how important is to follow the lesson even if he’s better than the other students.
Adam waits for him outside Iverson’s office. He’s annoyed and for a second Shiro images to being petty and accused Adam of being jealous of his talent.
Instead, Adam bites his lips and swallows back his own lecture. “We have the free night,” he says. “My roommate his out of town for personal reason, so I was thinking… why don’t you come? We can see a movie together.”
He doesn’t invite Matt. Shiro understands very well what it means. “Sure, why not,” he answers. He likes Adam, he’s nice.
“Oh, great.” Adam looks surprised Shiro accepts. “We can order a pizza and…”
“Sure. I’ll take the pineapple one.”
“Okay. I’ll call for both of us. At Eight is fine?”
“Yes. I’ll go shower and then I’ll come.”
“Yes. Perfect. I’ll wait.”
“See you later.”
Shiro doesn’t plan other than the shower. For real. But then, to reach Adam’s room he passes near the hallway that lends to the simulator and can’t resist. He doesn’t get there during the day, because it’s too risky, but he still has to make the best score for the last route. And he doesn’t have time in the night, not after accepting Adam’s invitation.
He only takes a look for Shiro to give up. He still has ten minutes before Eight. And he finished the route in six minutes the time before. Adam won’t mind a small delay. So he takes the hallway. He was about to grab the handle of the door, when it opens and James Griffin appears.
He frowns. “Cadet, this is a reserved area.”
“I… I know. It’s just…”
“Cadet Shirogane, right?” Griffin continues. Shiro is the only Japanese cadet around, so it isn’t a stretch to get it.
“Yes, sir.”
“Iverson speaks good thing about you, like you’re his favorite cadet,” Griffin says, with a smile that isn’t reassuring. “Don’t tell me you’re the mysterious man that keep using the simulator in secret.”
Shiro beats Griffin’s score many times before. Shiro wonders if he feels some anger towards the secret pilot, and if he’ll be happy to bring the culprit to Iverson and maybe making him expelled.
“Of course not, sir,” Shiro says. “It’s forbidden for first year students to use it.”
“Then why are you here?” Griffin presses.
“James, fuck off. He’s with me.” Kogane stands beside Shiro, arms crosses.
“Oh, yeah?” This time, the annoyance in James’ voice is palpable. “Cadets aren’t allowed in the simulator, not even with officers.”
“Even so, it isn’t your problem,” Kogane replies.
“I can report you. Both of you.”
“Please do so,” Kogane smiles. “I want to see you telling Iverson about the great violation of Garrison’s rules as walking in the hallway at Eight o’clock.”
Griffin snorts. “We both know you’re going to the simulator. You’re letting him in.”
“Funny thing, cadets are allowed to watch people in the simulator. This isn’t against the rules.”
“Funny thing, I didn’t picture you as a baby sitter type.”
Keith passes an arm towards Shiro’s shoulders, an easy gesture since they have almost the same height. “Do you want him?”
“I don’t have time to lose with cadets,” Griffin spats. With that, he leaves without another word.
Kogane waits for him to disappears outside the hallway, before taking off his arm to Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro is still paralyzed about what just happened to him. He’s under the impression that Kogane hates him. Maybe not him in particular, but still.
“Sorry about that,” Kogane says. “Now that Griffin considers you a friend of mine, he won’t like you and he won’t be nice to you like he is with others. Except with me. He’s always been an asshole to me.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Shiro says. “Thank you for helping me.”
Kogane looks at him with a smart smile. “Maybe using the simulator during the day isn’t a good idea, he?” he comments. “Come with me.”
He enters in the simulator’s room as he expects Shiro to follow, and he does. Kogane sits down in the seat and turn on the simulator. He gestures at Shiro to come near before closing the door of the simulator. He put his own card and launch the route Shiro is trying to win.
Shiro grips the back of the seat as he watches the screen. He saw Kogane’s flying many times before, but this is the first time he had the luck to see one directly. It’s like being in a spaceship with Kogane, and it’s amazing. He can’t help but smile of excitement for the entire duration of the simulation.
“Wow,” he comments, al last. He doesn’t need to look at the score to know it’s even higher than before.
Kogane shots him a look. “Come on, give it a try.”
Shiro swallows. He wants to. He wants to fly, and he wants to fly with Kogane there with him. “It’s against the rules,” he says instead.
“Oh, it doesn’t seem a problem when you sneaked inside at night,” Kogane comments casually as he prepares the simulator for restarting the route.
“You know it’s me?”
“I have the habits to use the simulator at night too,” Kogane explains. “I saw you sneaking inside weeks ago.”
“And you didn’t say anything.”
“Why should I? I used to do the same when I was a cadet. With the difference that Pidge creates for me a badge that leaves no trace at all. Iverson never found me.”
“Oh, so you have the smarter Holt sibling on your side,” Shiro says. “Unfair.”
Kogane laughs – and it’s beautiful. A full, cheer laughter. “Sure I have. But I have the impression you don’t mind the publicity too much.” He smirks at him a little, and Shiro avoids his eyes, as a lips erupts from his lips.
“Maybe,” he whispers.
“Do, do you want to try or not?”
“…yes.”
Kogane stands up to let the free spot in the seat. Shiro put on his own card and launches the simulation. After seeing Kogane’s, his grip on the controller isn’t steady like always, and the fact he’s been watched does not help. He still finished the simulation, but with a very low score.
“Damn,” he mutters under his breath. Kogane’s expression doesn’t change.
“Do you want to know the trick?” he asks.
For a second, Shiro think to answer no, that he wants to get it himself. But then, nods. Kogane is here and he’s teaching him. Shiro isn’t sure he will get another chance.
“The trick isn’t not even try to save the ship,” Kogane says. “At a certain point, being a good pilot isn’t avoiding the crash, is crashing but saving everyone. A good pilot can land in the worst situation.”
“But how do you know it’s better crashing?”
“That, I can’t say,” Kogane admits. “For me, it’s always being a feeling. Feeling if the ship can be saved or not. But experience can work too.”
“Okay.” Shiro nods and launches the simulation again. This time, he follows Kogane’s advices and let the ship near the surface before landing safely. In this way, he avoids most of the damages at the ship and at the crew.
“Good job,” Kogane smiles, and he looks proud.
Shiro looks at the score: second place again. He smiles brightly. “You’re the one that created this simulation, aren’t you?”
Kogane nods. “Yes. I do that in my free time, to keep myself fit.”
“Oh,” Shiro says.
“Why do you sound disappoint?” Kogane raises an eyebrown.
“I… don’t?”
“Is that a question?”
Shiro rolls his eyes. “Okay, my best guess it was someone doing it for me. Not for me-me, for the anonymous pilot that breaks records. But I’m not that special, as you said.”
Kogane chuckles a little. “Maybe your guess wasn’t so far-fetcher,” he says. “Aren’t the standard Garrison’s simulations boring after a while? Especially if you’re such a good pilot.”
Shiro blinks. He’s saying what Shiro thinks he’s saying. “They kinda are,” he admits.
“That’s what I thought.”
Shiro’s datapad rings. With an apologetic smile, Shiro takes it to check: it’s Adam, and at that moment Shiro remembers he’s late for their evening. His fingers flinches, but he doesn’t answer.
Kogane pats his shoulder a little. “Until next time, cadet Shirogane.”
“Shiro,” he whispers. “Everyone call me Shiro.”
“Fine, then. Shiro. I’m Keith.”
Adam’s call stops. Shiro writes down a small message for him, to apologize for cancelling their meeting with such short notice. He hopes Adam won’t be too angry at him, but he can’t let this change slipping from him.
“Would you… teach me some other trick? With the other simulations you created.”
“Don’t you have something to do for the evening?”
“No.”
Shiro held his breath as Kogane tilts his head a little while observing him. “Okay, then. I don’t have anything else to do too.”
***
Five days later, Adam is still angry at him. Shiro pleas for forgiveness countless time, he brings him chocolate and even if Adam swears thigs are fine between them, Shiro still feels something is off between them.
Matt, despite not knowing about the all Friday night fiasco, notices it, and being a sweetheart, he jumps on the trail to bring things back to normal. “Would you like to go to the city this Saturday?” he proposes. There is an exhibition I’d like to see, and we can stop by for lunch. My sister suggested me a very good hot dog trunk.”
Shiro smiles in Adam’s direction. “It sounds nice.”
“I’m in,” Adam says. “Can’t say the same for Shiro.”
He rolls his eyes. This time, isn’t sorry anymore. “I apologize already. How much time do you want to drag this?”
Adam realizes he went too far, because his gaze shifts on the left. “Sorry,” he comments. “It’s just… you can tell me the truth. You can tell me you changed your mind, instead of making up silly excuses.”
“It’s not an excuse…” Shiro starts.
“Please, tell me again how you spent the evening with Kogane at the simulator.”
“Wait, what?” Matt chips in, and he looks incredulous too.
Shiro frowns. “It’s supposed to be a secret, so do no tell around.”
“Because it’s not true,” Adam retorts.
“He really doesn’t sound like… like Kogane at all,” Matt has to agree.
Funny, Shiro agrees too. But his point of view is a little bit different, because, after their evening, Shiro started to believe that people have no idea of the real Keith, and that Keith doesn’t do anything for them to change their minds. He probably doesn’t care enough. But he does care enough about Shiro to help him put with the simulator.
Fine, if Adam and Matt don’t believe him, he won’t do anything else to change their mind either.
“Speaking about the devil…” Adam murmurs.
Keith enters in the canteen alongside with Griffin. The two of them seem to have at least a civil conversation, probably because Iverson his behind them and they try to keep their emotions under control. Then, Griffin turns to tell something to Iverson and Keith leaves them.
Shiro doesn’t expect for Keith to greet him, let aside coming to him, so he just watches as he grabs his tray of food, guessing he will eat at the table alone. His eyes widen as Keith walks in his direction.
“Hi, Shiro.”
It takes two second for Shiro to reach. He jumps still, abandoning his fork on the table and almost letting his chair falling down. “Yes, sir!”
Keith raises an eyebrow. “You did it to prove me I’m small?” Shiro is five centimeters taller than him of is at least, and he’s bigger too.
“N-no, that wasn’t…” Shiro flushes.
Keith smiles, and Shiro relaxes a bit. “Are you free this Sunday? I want to show you something.”
“I, uh, sure. I’m free. Totally free.”
“Good. Meet me at the third hangar at four, then. Put something comfy.”
With that, he leaves the canteen, tray still in his hand. One of the RESPONSABILI try to yell at him that eating outside the room is forbidden, but he doesn’t stop. Shiro slumps back on his chair, wondering what just happens.
“What. Was. That?” Matt asks slowly, his mouth wide opens.
“I’m not sure,” Shiro admits.
He throws a look around and realizes all the eyes of the people are on himself. Even Griffin and Iverson’s one, and for a second Shiro fears they will come to tell him something, to forbid him to see Keith. None of them moves and, after ten minutes, the situation returns back to normal, even if the whispers around continues.
“I’m sorry,” Adam comments. “I… I was an ass. I should have believed you, it’s just…”
“Incredible, eh?” Shiro ends the sentence for him. “And I should be the one apologizing, because I’ll skip our Saturday together.”
Nor Adam neither Matt can say anything about it.
***
Shiro arrives at the hangar a little early than four o’clock. It’s stupid from his part to be nervous: he already spends an entire night together with Keith in the simulator and it isn’t a date in a romantic sense. Still, he is and he checks his clothes – a pair of jeans with boots and a blue sweater with a white shirt – to calm himself.
Keith is already there. He doesn’t notice Shiro at first: he’s knelling down next to a red hoverbike, checking its engine. He wears a leather jacket and he looks a lot like Shiro’s poster. He concentrates on his work and Shiro just stares at him, at the way his dark hairs move and his big blue eyes.
“Oh, ehi,” Keith greets him with a big smile as he notices him. He closes the engine and stands up. “Are you waiting for long?”
“I just arrived. Great bike.” Shiro nods in the direction of the hoverbike.
“Yeah, it’s my baby.” Keith rubs the red surface with an affectionate smile. “Have you ever try one?”
“Yes. It wasn’t mine, but my grandfather’s neighbor let me use his from time to time.” Shiro remembers fondly the days he raced with the hoverbike around Hokkaido’s campaign. When it was winter especially, flying below the white expanse of the ground and the cold breeze on his face.
“Oh, great, then.” Keith throws a helmet at Shiro and starts to look around. The third hangar is full of hoverbikes, and Keith gets near and check the engine of another one. “This one it’s good. It’s Griffin’s.” He winks at Shiro and he opens the main door of the hangar.
“Can we take it?” Shiro wears the helmet, but waits before taking the hoverbike.
“He won’t notice. Let’s go.”
Keith jumps on his own and turns on the engine. In a second, he’s out and Shiro doesn’t have much time to think. He takes the hoverbike and follows Keith out of the Garrison’s field.
“Where are we going?” he screams.
“You’ll see,” it’s Keith’s only answer.
The buildings if the Galaxy Garrison are in the middle of the Arizona desert, full of canyons. Shiro never realizes they make an actual nice road to race over. Ten minutes inside and Shiro already forgets he just stole Griffin’s hoverbike, too taken by the feeling of the bike below him.
Keith is a good racer, of course. Shiro follows his lead alongside the canyon’s path, letting his mouth screams every time they do a particular hard move. Keith doesn’t turn to look at him, but he seems to enjoy the race as much as Shiro.
Shiro is able to follow up with him until they reach the end of the cliff. As he slows down, he saw in awe as Keith let his hoverbike over it, able to fly and land perfectly at the bottom of the ravine. Keith laughs happily as he continues to race, and Shiro hurries to find another path to climb down and catch up with him.
Keith stops at the entrance of another canyon, waiting for Shiro. “That was great,” Shiro comments as he parks next to him. “How do you do that?”
“It’s all about feeling.” Keith shrugs. “Feeling the right moment to press the pedal.”
“I hope I’ll be able to get that feeling one day.”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll be.” Keith jumps back on his hoverbike and heads for the center of the canyon.
“Maybe we should go back,” Shiro proposes. “We got pretty far from the Garrison.”
“Are you joking? The best has yet to come.”
They reach a small shackle in the desert, hidden after a small hill. It looks abandoned, with the small porch in front full of grass and junks. Keith tinker with the handler to open the door.
“Who lives here?” Shiro asks.
“Me.”
“What?”
Keith enters and gestures at Shiro to sit down in one of the chair in the kitchen. “It’s my dad’s house. When I was a child, we lived here.” He places his backpack on the table. “When he died, I went to the orphanage and then at the Garrison when they admit me, so nobody else take care of this house, but it’s still mine.” He takes off a small hot plate from the cupboard and connect it to the electricity. “I come here from time to time.”
“I see.” Shiro doesn’t ask what he wants to know more: why does Keith bring Shiro there, in his own old house?
He sits there, in silence, and looks while Keith put a small box on the hot plate to warm, and places two plastic dishes and two beer cans on the table.
“I can’t drink,” Shiro states. “I’m a minor.”
“Oh.” Keith sounds like he didn’t think about it. “Well, the water should be edible.” He opens the tab and brown liquid erupts with a cough from it. “Or maybe not. Sorry”
“It’s okay,” Shiro comments. He opens one of the can. “If you don’t tell anyone…”
Keith smirks. “It won’t be the worst thing of today.”
“No, I already stole a hoverbike, so.” He takes a sip and tries to not look too much like a virgin.
“You’re a criminal.” Keith laughs. He divides the content of the box in the two dishes. Shiro takes a piece of it with his fingers.
“Is this… a tamagoyaki?”
Keith nods. “My father was half-Japanese and he taught me some recipes. I’m not as good as a cook though.”
Shiro eats the first bit and licks his lips. “It’s pretty good.”
“You’re a bad liar, but thank you.”
Keith tries a piece himself. “Edible, at least.” Shiro looks in awe as he sucks his finger.
“You made it for me?” he asks. “Because I’m Japanese?”
“Not many people here can appreciate it,” Keith replies dryly. He looks flusters and Shiro decides to let it go. For now.
“Why did you bring me here? In your house?”
Keith looks at him, but there isn’t fear in Shiro. “It’s the only cover spot around for dinner,” Keith explains. “What I want to show you it’s only at evening.”
Shiro may ask, but he doesn’t. He’s curious to see Keith revealing it step after step. After dinner, Keith places back the hot plate in the cupboard and he cleans the dishes with papers before putting them in the backpack. He put it on his shoulder and returns outside.
Shiro follows. “Where are we going?” he asks, seeing Keith jumping on his hoverbike.
Keith throws him another can of beer. “Nowhere.” He lies down on his own hoverbike, hands behind his head, and he doesn’t add anything.
With a small frown, Shiro takes another sip of beer before imitating him. His head lies on the cold metal of the hoverbike and his eyes see the dark sky above him. He gasps. There, so far from the city lights, the stars are endless and blinding. Shiro feels as his body is floating in the space.
“It’s amazing,” he whispers. “Incredible.”
“I hoped you like it.”
“I do! I do…” Shiro licks his lips. “I used to go and see the sky in Hokkaido, but it was hard to find a spot so clear…” His heart is beating fast.
“Yeah. I’m lucky I grew up here. I’ve always lured by the stars since I was a child.”
“You have been in space,” Shiro points out.
“I have.” Keith’s tone is sweet, nostalgic. “It’s a wonderful place. Make all your worries disappeared. You are nothing in the space.”
“I want to go there.”
“You will.”
“I have a disease. A muscle disease. I don’t know how much meds can keep me-”
“Shiro,” Keith interrupts him. “Do not let anyone tell you you can’t.”
Shiro bits his lips. He takes another sip of beer. “Why are you so nice to me?”
For a while, Keith remains silent. “We look similar,” he answers, at least.
“You told me I’m not special,” Shiro says. “You was an asshole back then. Everyone think so. You’re not. You’re kind.”
“I’m not actually-” Keith begins.
“I’m glad you show this to me,” Shiro continues. “But why me? Why not everyone else?”
“I’m not good with people,” Keith admits. “I have problems… connecting with people. When I became Garrison’s best pilot, people started look at me with expectation. And then they are disappointed because I don’t live their expectations.”
“I think I understand that.”
“It’s easier being the one disappoint people before they can be disappointed by themselves,” Keith finishes.
“But you’re friend with Matt’s sister,” Shiro points out.
“Because she’s like me. She’s a genius, she had it hard because of it. But apart her, people will give up on me sooner or later anyway.”
“I won’t!” Shiro exclaims. “I won’t give up on you, never!”
He pales as he realizes what he just said, and Keith’s lost expression. “I should say that for you, kid,” Keith chucks. He smiles sweetly. “But thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They return at Garrison late at night. Keith has done it before, so he knows how to enter without being noticed. They part way on the hangar, because Keith needs to check Griffin’s hoverbike so he won’t notice someone using it. Shiro thanks him again for the day and rushes to his room.
Matt is sleeping. Shiro lies in his bed without a sound and sinks his head in the pillow.
He had a huge, hopeless crush on Keith and there’s no point in negate it anymore. Not now that he met the real deal.
***
The news arrives after the exams. Matt is jumping in the hallway, so happy they finish them after a two week of hard studying, and his sister tackles him from behind.
“Hei, what the hell,” he protests, as she pinches his cheeks.
“Don’t complain,” she replies. “You have in front the scientist that has been chosen for the Kerberos mission.”
Matt’s eyes widen together with his mouth. “Congratulation!” he exclaims. “Even if there isn’t anyone else they can choose.”
“Oh, thank you,” she pouts.
“Ehi, I meant in a positive light! Like, you’re the best!”
“Who is the pilot?” Shiro asks. Deep inside, he already knows the answer.
Pidge confirms it. “Who else they could have chosen?”
“Sure.”
Adam looks at him with a small frown, but Shiro doesn’t add anything. He leaves the two friends behind, and Matt is too distracted by his sister’s success to notice, and Adam just lets him go.
He finds Keith inside Iverson’s office. He stands here, outside the door, enough far to not hearing their conversation, but near enough to see once Keith leaves the room. Then, he approaches him.
“Ehi,” Keith greets him.
“I heard you will be the pilot for the Kerberos mission,” Shiro states.
“Oh, yeah. Iverson just gave me a lecture about how I’m supposed to at from now on, since this is a big project for the Garrison and bla bla bla.”
“Well, it is.”
“It is,” Keith confirms. “Man, I can’t wait to be on space again.”
They walk together in the hallway. “So, how it will go from now?”
“In two weeks, the other members of the crew and I will do a four weeks special training to prepare for the mission. Then, three months for reaching Kerberos.”
“The longest trip of humanity.”
“It’s fine by me. Including the month will stay on Kerberos, it’s a seven-months trip in the space. It’ll be great.”
“Yeah, it’ll be great,” Shiro confirms.
Keith stops his steps. “What’s the problem?”
“Nothing. Really, nothing. I’m happy for you.” Shiro looks at the ground. “Just… I’ll miss you.”
“Oh.” Keith smiles fondly. “It’s nice from you.” He places a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll come back, you know. And we can race in the desert again.”
Shiro nods. “Sure.” He has the feeling that speaking too much will result in him crying, and he doesn’t want to upset Keith in his great day.
“Speaking of it… would you like to come at the launch with me?” Keith asks. “We are allowed to bring someone before the training session starts.”
“Yes! Yes, it’s be great.” Shiro wants to be on the launch sites since he got admitted at the Garrison. Being with Keith just made everything better. “But are you sure you want me to come?”
Keith shrugs. “There isn’t anyone else but you for me.”
***
There isn’t anyone else but Shiro for his funeral too.
Commander Hold was appreciated by all his colleagues and the scientific community mourns Pidge and her brain. Also, they have a family, a wife and a mother and a son and a brother that cry for them and will miss them. Nobody will miss Keith, and the other pilots will take his top stop from now on.
Iverson makes a generic discourse at the funeral. He doesn’t use it to blame the fault of the incident on Keith, but everyone else already know the Garrison puts it under the “pilot error” accidents. Everyone know they blamed Keith for the death of two important people.
Even Matt blamed Keith. He makes it pretty clear as he yelled at Shiro, only because he tried to say something about it. Shiro looks at him: he sits down next to his mother, still sobbing against her chest. Shiro wants to leave, but he has to be there.
He has to be there for Keith.
Someone touches his arm. Adam. “How are you?”
Shiro shrugs. “Like one at his mentor’s funeral, with one of his best friend that hates him, so not so bad, I guess.”
“Matt doesn’t hate you,” Adam says. “He’s at the anger stage of grieving.”
“I know.” It still hurts.
His eyes return to the funeral ceremony, and Adam doesn’t add anything. He just remains there at his side, but Shiro can’t tell him anything. Shiro can’t be the person Adam wants him to be, just like Keith wasn’t the person everyone wanted him to be.
At least, Shiro thinks, he died in the place he loved most. The space.
After the funeral, Shiro takes the red hoverbike. Keith left the key for him, so he could go around by himself if he wants to. He heads for the desert: he can’t reach the shack by himself, so he just wanders around between the canyons. Ho stops by the hill they used to jump from and stay there for a while.
His grandfather calls for him a couple of time, but Shiro refuses to answer. He can’t face him for now, even if he knows his grandfather means well. Shiro just needs sometime to cool down. Keith told him to not give up, and he won’t. He will become a pilot and he’ll go in space, he’ll go to Kerberos.
Alone, again, as at the beginning of his dream.
The warm wind of the desert rushes against him. Tears come down his face and Shiro let them. He sobs, curled in himself, throat dry and shakes by tremors.
Once he calms down, he wipes off the tears and comes back to the Garrison. It’s a sad day, so nobody complains about him being outside despite the rules. Shiro checks the hoverbike and caresses its metal a little before leaving it in the hangar.
He returns in his room and, to his surprise, Matt is there, sitting down in his bed, his laptop on his knees, cuff on his ears. He lifts his gaze at Shiro’s entrance, and Shiro just nods a little as a greeting gesture. He turns his back at Matt and collects his pajamas.
“Shiro,” Matt calls.
Shiro turns at him with a taut smile.
“I’m sorry,” Matt says. “What I said…”
“It’s okay,” Shiro interrupts him. “I understand.”
His father and his sister’s died. Matt has every right to be sad and angry. And, even if it hurts, he has reason into thinking that Shiro’s grieving isn’t comparable, since Shiro has known Keith for a less than a year.
“No, you don’t.”
But Shiro won’t stay and let Matt grieves on his face. “If that’s how you want to play it, you can spare your efforts. I’m done bearing your grieving, I have my own and I deserve it.”
“No!” Matt’s expression turns into a panic one. “That’s not what I meant.” His gaze moves to his side and he grits his teeth.
“What do you mean then?” Shiro presses.
Matt sighs. “Pidge and I… we made a communication device. So she can send me message from Kerberos.”
Shiro blinks. “This s definitely against the rules.”
“We know! But…” Matt smiles. “It’s just between the two of us. No scientific secrets or anything. But do not tell anyone, okay?”
“I won’t.” Shiro just understands. “Did she leave you a message before the incident?”
“No.” Matt shakes his head. “But I turn on today, after the funeral… it was stupid from my part, you know, because I know Pidge couldn’t answer… it was a way to keep her near…”
He trembles, and Shiro sits down next to him and places a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, man.”
Slowly, Matt takes off one of his earphone and gives it to Shiro. He takes it and put it on, expecting a sad song or even a happy one. He frowns, as he listens at the strange record Matt is playing. A language Shiro doesn’t recognize.
“What is it?”
“The device responds when I turned it on,” Matt says. “It shouldn’t have. If the ship went destroyed in the impact, the device would have to.”
“Maybe it didn’t, for some reason,” Shiro says, and his guess seems weak to him too.
“Even so, it should be on Kerberos. What are those voices?” Matt replies. “I run a vocal program to find out the language. It doesn’t exist on Earth.”
Shiro swallows. “I’m pretty sure there is a logical explanation for it.”
“That’s what I thought.” Matt gives a smart smile. “So I hacked the Garrison’s database.”
“You did what?” Shiro exclaims. “And then you bother me about using the simulator.”
“Well, I gave you the card for it, remember?” Matt replies. “Don’t you want to see what I found?”
“Of course I do,” Shiro answers immediately, a little too eager than he wants to show.
Matt smirks. “They have the records of the landing on Kerberos.”
Shiro blinks. “But if they have it…”
“It means that there wasn’t any crash on Kerberos.” Matt nods. “Whatever it happens ut there, Shiro, it wasn’t a pilot error.”
***
Shiro, Matt and Veronica get out from the simulator after nailing the practice exercise perfectly. They are welcomed by an applause from the other students and by a proud nod from Iverson.
“This is how you do it, cadets,” Iverson says. “Do you realize what Shirogane, McCain and Hold did and you didn’t?”
Murmurs come from the group of students, and Shiro exchanges a look with Adam, that smiles back at him. He isn’t going to answer.
“You will do a short essay about today’s simulation,” Iverson orders. “You’re dismisses from today.”
The students leave the room grumbling. Veronica walks before them while Adam reaches for them. “Good job,” he comments.
“Thanks,” Matt grins. “Since we’re exonerated by the essay, tonight let’s go to do a little bit of observation.”
“Speak for yourself,” Adam replies, with a frown. “But fine for me. I’ll manage.”
Veronica turns her head at them. “What are you talking about.”
“Nothing. Man’s things.”
Wrong sentence to say to Veronica. She stops, she adjusts her glasses and then she puts her face very near Matt’s. “I know you all slip out of Garrison at evening.”
Matt laughs nervously. “Yeah, man’s things, as I said.”
“Girls?”
“Yeah, girls.”
“Good, because I like them too. I’m coming. I don’t have essay too.”
She crosses her arms and she looks at them daring to tell her no. The three of them shot glares at each other, trying to find a solution. Shiro decides the truth may be the best solution. A part of truth, at least.
“We aren’t go for girls,” he says. “And I’m gay, by the way. We’re looking for aliens.”
Veronica blinks. “That you’re gay, I can believe it,” she comments. “But aliens? No, thanks. We’ll see you three tonight, and then we’ll see what you’re up to.”
So she waits for them at the exit of the men’s dorm, so they can’t escape her. They takes Shiro’s hoverbike and head for the nearest hill in the desert. They park there and Matt places around his laptop and his equipment.
“There is a strange activity tonight,” Matt comments.
“What activities?” Veronica asks.
“We’re intercept frequencies that comes from the space,” Shiro explains. “Usually are asteroids or the solar activities, but sometime else it could be…”
“Aliens? For real?”
“We warned you,” Adam remembered her.
She snorted. “Still, I can’t believe the brightest minds of our generation are alien conspirationists.”
“We’re space nerds,” Shiro points out. “Isn’t it normal believe that there is someone else out there?”
At that, Veronica doesn’t seem to have an answer. “Even so, I doubt we will find aliens with a made-up equipment when even the Garrison hasn’t find any evidence…”
“Then, what about that?” Matt jumps on, almost letting his laptop failing on the ground.
They all look at the sky where Matt is pointing his finger, and they all see something rushing down at high speed. In the dark night, it isn’t easy to understand what it is, but its form is round.
“Is that an asteroid?” Adam comments.
“It’s too small,” Veronica replies. “It should have burned in the atmosphere. It can be a plane?”
“There isn’t airplane with that form,” Shiro says.
Whatever it is, it crashes in the desert not far from them. The sound of the impact is terrible, but there isn’t an explosion, neither a fire. The thing just lies there inside the hole it created.
“Tha Garrison must’ve seen it,” Adam guesses.
“It means we don’t have much time.” Matt jumps on the hoverbike and gestures at Shiro. “We need to get there before them.”
“Maybe we should let them go.” Veronica still gets on the hoverbike. “Maybe that thing is radioactive or something.”
Shiro turns on the engine and the hoverbike flashes in the night. “The something can be an alien.”
Veronica rolls her eyes. “I apologize for join your secret evening. It won’t happen again.”
“Shut up and look.” Matt stretches his neck. From the hill they’re driving in, they can see the crater. The thing inside doesn’t look like an airplane, but the form is similar to a Garrison’s pod. The layout is different.
“My God. It’s an alien ship.” Veronica gasps.
“Maybe not,” Adam reasoning. “It’s dark, maybe it’s a new Garrison prototype…”
Then the door of the spaceship opens and a slender figure trips out of it.
“An alien!” Matt screams.
Shiro accelerates and jumps off the cliff, with Veronica’s scream in his ears (Matt and Adam are used to it at that point). He reaches the crater in the moment the figure from the spaceship manages to climb it.
They all hold their breath as they figure limps in their direction. Even if he wears a strange suit, he actually looks human, with long dark hair except for two white locks on front. They watch him, his legs, his arms.
Shiro gets off the hoverbike and takes two step forwardsm even if the other try to stop him and grab him to take him back.
“Hi.”
The figure lifts his head and Shiro’s heart misses a beat.
“Keith…”

Posted: 21/3/2019, 18:30

Of racism and discrimination - Storie per il COWT

Chapter one

“Authorization gained.”
The sky of New Daibazaal is cloudy and the surface of the space airport appears once Keith surpasses the atmosphere. It’s chaotic as usual and Keith takes his time to move between the other different spaceships before the ground tower authorized their landing. He places the cargo ship on the right spot.
“Aaaand we’re home.” Ezor stretches from her seat. “I hope we can get at least a week of rest this time.”
“We haven’t finished yet,” Axca remembers her. “We need to go to the office to write down our report for the mission.”
“Why you have to ruin everything?” Ezor protests.
“You can go,” Keith tells them. “I can do the report for everyone.”
Zethrid jumps and pats him on the back with all her strength. “You’re the best, chief.”
Both her and Ezor are out of the cockpick before he has any chance to change his mind, hands in hands. Keith smiles, but Axca frowns. “You’re spoiling them too much.”
“Maybe,” he comments. “But I’m at my mother’s house this night so I don’t have to worry about resting.”
“You sure you don’t need any help?” Axca asks.
“No, don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nods in the end and anticipates him out of the cargo ship. Keith takes his time to speak with the officer about the ship’s situation before heading to the Marmora headquarter. He greets the coworkers at the reception desk, then closes himself in his office for the reports.
The mission was a success. They freed a planet on the second quadrant from a small group of resilient that put their hand of old Galra weaponries. They opened a new channel for humanitarian refugees there and set up the course for the rebuilding of the main cities. Keith writes down the need for a second expedition there – helping for a diplomatic structure, the teacher of medicine and engineers for the new generation – and his work from the day is over.
His mother has already messaged him to confirm the dinner, so Keith heads in the direction of the house. While he has his own place at the Marmora Headquarter, his mother, after resigning from her place on the government, opted for a real house in the new residential district. She hasn’t had a house before, because of the war. The only time it was when he was with his father, so Keith understands why she chose it.
Returning on new Daibaazal after his missions it’s always strange. Around the galaxies many people know the Voltron Paladins, but not as many how they look. There, everyone has seen them at least once, and everyone recognizes Keith. He can see the look around as he walk down the street.
“Our Voltron Paladin,” they call him. They care about the fact he’s Galra, at least in part.
Keith stops to a pastry buying his mother’s favorite dessert, and the shopkeeper refuses to let him pay. “It’s free for you.”
It’s a change respect the way he felt as a child. He feels he belongs with someone and that he built something worthy. At the same time, he didn’t do any of it for an award, only because he was the right thing to do, so the Garla gratitude is appreciated and embarrassed at the same time.
His mother hugs him at the door. “You look good.”
“I’m good. A easy mission.”
“Where’s Kosmo?”
“Gone.” Keith hides a small gulp.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“He told me about something he has to do,” Keith explains. “It’s not like I understand everything, just that he has to go.” He places the dessert on the kitchen’s table. “And probably he’ll come back, but I don’t know when.”
“Oh. I’m pretty sure he will.” His mother pats her shoulder. “We don’t know much about cosmic wolf after all.”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t say that earth dogs leave when they die, and that he fears Kosmo might have done the same thing. “Where’s Kolivan?”
“On a diplomatic mission on the Second Quadrant,” Kolia explains. “They’re trying to build an international space institute.”
“Oh, yeah, Shiro told me about that. Iverson is there too.”
“Yes. It’s an interesting project, you may take a look.”
“I will.” Keith nods. “What about you?”
“I was proposed for a six-months mission for taking care of a new outpost, but I had to decline. Probably they’ll propose to you,” she guesses. “I’m looking for something else to do, but I feel I’ll be stuck here for the time being.”
“Why did you decline?”
She smiles. She takes a deep breath. “I’m pregnant,” she says, at last. “So I prefer to be around when the time will come.”
Keith blanks. “How?” is the only word that comes out his throat.
“Galra’s lifespan is longer than Earthlings, so is it our fertile period,” his mother explains. “As for the reproductive methods, Galra-”
“That’s not what I meant!” Keith interrupts her. He isn’t going to listen to a sex-talk from her, and definitely isn’t going to have details about her sex life with Kolivan. “I was just… surprised.”
“Two of us. Three, actually.” She chuckles. “We didn’t look for it, but we didn’t avoid it either. War… took a lot from us.” She slides a hand to brush Keith’s arm. “I’m lucky I still have you back.” She hugs him and Keith leans in her body and in her arms, like a child.
“I’m happy for you,” he says, and he means it.
“You know this doesn’t change anything, do you?” The tone gives Keith the impression she isn’t sure as she tries to be.
“I know,” he confirms it, and he doesn’t mean it. It changes a lot, wherever they want it or not.
“Well, you’re probably tired,” she says as she let him go. “I prepared your room, and dinner won’t be ready for at least a varga, so…”
“I’ll go shower,” he nods, and he hopes it doesn’t look too much like a run.
Once he let himself cool down in the shower, he sends a message to Shiro with the datapad. Living in two different Quadrants of the universe makes their communication difficult, but they manage. Keith wear clean clothes as he waits for Shiro’s answer: it may arrive tomorrow, for all Keith knows.
It’s his lucky day, because Shiro calls him directly. Keith rushes to answer and he jumps in the bed backward, datapad in one hand and the head that sinks in the pillow, his long black hair fluttering around.
“Hi,” he smiles as he sees Shiro’s face appearing on the datapad.
“Hi.” Shiro puts on the glasses that helps him severed his connection to the Atlas and smiles back, with sweetness. “I miss you.”
“Me too.” Keith realizes he’s already more relaxed just seeing Shiro’s face. “Can you talk? Which time it is? It’s late afternoon here in Daibaazal.”
“Early afternoon,” Shiro answers, with a slight lift of his eyebrow that means that their time difference is really a pain in the ass. “But Atlas is in the move this week, so I can take a couple of vargas for myself.”
“Good.”
“How are you?” Shiro asks. “How was your mission?”
Keith bites his lips a second, and then blurts out, “fine, I just found out my mother is pregnant, but everything else is fine.”
Shiro blinks. Twice. Then he laughs. Loudly. Keith would pout, but seeing and hearing Shiro’s laugh is still a pleasure he can’t be angry at him, not for real.
“Thank you,” he comments dry.
“Sorry,” Shiro says. He rubs his eyes to calm down, but the smirk is still there. “I just imagined you with your baby brother and I can’t help.”
“Oh, yeah, I can see it’s fun. I’ll probably make him fall the second I have him on my arms. By mistake, but still…”
“Oh, no, no,” Shiro shakes his head. “Actually, I was thinking better. You’re going to spoil him so much. So much. He’ll have you doing everything he wants.”
“That’s not true.” Keith pouts, this time. “I’m a very strictly boss. Ask Ezor or Zethrid.”
“That can be true, but I see how you treat the people you love.”
There is still the smirk on Shiro’s face, and Keith flushes a little realizing that Shiro doesn’t have to say ‘how you treat me’ because it’s clear enough.
“Also,” Shiro adds, with amused tone, “your baby brother may be a baby sister.”
Keith loses it. “You’re an ass. I’m here confessing my worries to you and you just…” He gestures one of his hands.
“I just?” Shiro presses.
“Made me feel a little better, to be honest.”
Shiro laughs again. “You’re welcome. But, Keith-”
“I know, I know,” Keith interrupts him. “I’m not a little child, I’m not jealous. It just caught me off guard, you know? It’s strange.”
“I think it is, and it is a change of your life too. But a positive one.”
Keith nods. “I wished for a family, back then. I wished for my mother’s return, and then for my father’s. Now I have a mother and… Kolivan may not be my father, but he’s still an important person in my life.”
Shiro doesn’t reply. He stands there, smiles and lets Keith talking and venting. It’s a reassuring presence, but Keith misses him ever more: he misses the simple idea of them being together, in silence, their body one next to each other. To actually touch and to hear the other’s breath and voice without the use of a datapad.
“When we can meet?” he asks. They haven’t seen each other in almost a year.
“Atlas’ mission in the Second Quadrant won’t end for another four months,” Shiro says. “Then I may have some free time. If you don’t manage to get a mission next to my area in that period, we can organize later.”
“Sure. Tomorrow I’ll check with the Marmora Headquarters about the new mission.”
“Good.”
None of them want to talk more about the possibility of other four months without a meeting, so they change subject. They talk until Keith’s mother doesn’t call him for dinner.
***
Keith isn’t used to wake up late. His spends most of his time in mission, and there they have a strictly timetable, let aside the time they are in war zone and they do guard duty. But his body needs a good dose of sleep, because without an alarm call, he wakes up at late morning. His mother leaves him a note on the datapad to inform him she let him sleep on purpose.
He decides it’s too late to reach for the headquarters now and that he can take the morning off, considering he finished his report the day before. He sends a message to Axca so she and the other will know and they can take care of the work in his place, if something is up.
He’s in the kitchen, deciding what to eat for breakfast, when the bell rings. With a frown, he opens it. “May I help you?” he asks at the Galra in front of him.
“Red Paladin,” the Galra says. “I apologize for disturbing you. I’m here to deliver an invitation for you from our Duaces.”
“An invitation?”
“Yes. They like to have you for brunch right now.”
“Now?”
“They are sorry for the short notice, but you’re a busy person. We don’t know how much time you’ll stay on Daibaazal before your next mission,” the Galra explains. “I can wait until you’re ready, and I have orders to escort you back to the Town Hall.”
“I’m ready,” Keith says.
He says goodbye to his free morning, but it hasn’t eaten yet and a brunch sounds good.
Plus, he can’t say no to the Duaces. Even if the Blade of Mamora are an organization that depends more from the Voltron Coalition than Daibaazal government, all their members are Galra and they still have their Headquarter on the planet. They have some obligations towards the Duaces. After all, the first Duaces in the history of the Galra republic were his mother and Kolivan, and they were the ones to push for a new role for the Blade of Marmora.
Keith doesn’t know the new Duaces in person. He saw them during the election campaign, even if he didn’t vote for them, but he was on mission when they were elected. Besides, it’s not likely for him to speak with the government. Keith minds his own business with the Blade. He didn’t meet the Duaces that were elected before too, the ones after his mother and Kolivan.
Diplomatic missions are more Allura and Hunk’s role after all. He’s still a little bit curious and a little bit worried about the invitation.
The Duaces are waiting for him in the meeting room at the second floor of the Town Hall, with a table set near the terrace, with view on the capital. The food is already on the table and Keith can smell it from the door.
“Oh, here he this, our Red Paladin,” one of them says, and trumps to welcome Keith. The Galra that accompanied him bows and leaves, closing the door after him. “I’m Farux, it’s an honor to meet you.”
He’s a half-galra, shorter than Keith; his fur is green and he has three eyes, a short tail and not ears. The other Duace is also a half-galra, with not fur but purple scales. He has closes gills on the neck, but overall he seems an average Garla, height and everything.
He shakes Keith’s hand with an iron grip. “Nuru. I’m glad to finally meet you, Red Paladin.”
“I’m Keith,” he introduces himself. “I’m… not a Paladin anymore. Not since Voltron was destroyed.”
“Oh, but it doesn’t matter,” Farux replies, as he gestures at Keith to sit down at the table. “Once a Paladin, always a Paladin. Your heroic gestures are well-known in all Daibaazal. You’re an example for all the Galra.”
“You’re in our school book,” Nuru comments.
“Yeah, sure, you are! They respect your wish to still be called the Red Paladin and not the Black Paladin, but they narrate all your feats.”
“I… wasn’t alone. All the Paladins…” Keith starts.
“But they’re not Galra,” Farux interrupts him. “You inspires us. You give the Galra a new purpose. A new possibility after the war. You save us.”
“I did what’s right.”
“This is why you’re our hero,” Nuru states. “And the reason we ask for you today.”
“Which is?” Keith asks.
“I’ll explain in a second,” Farux nods.
He fiddles with his datapad, while Nuru eats. Keith is hungry and let himself indulges in the food while Farux manages to project the hologram in front of him. It shows a pie chart with three different color.
“It’s a statistic of Daibaazal’s demography,” Farux says, pointing at one of the color. “Around 65% of the population is half-garla, intended as people with a full-blood garla parent and a non-galra parent.” He turns to Keith and smiles. “Like the three of us.”
“I didn’t realize there are so many,” Keith comments.
“It’s only natural,” Nuru says. “After so many years and many planet conquered, mixed race become inevitable. Around Zarkon’s entourage, there was an attempt to keep the purity of Galra blood, but the lower Garla population didn’t mind too much. And Zarkon’s himself had chosen a not-garla as a wife before… the accident.”
Keith nods. He isn’t sure he likes speaking about Zarkon and Honerva. And Lotor: for what he remembers, being a half-garla had been one of Lotor’s downfall. Both Keith and Allura still regret not being able to realize it in time.
“Only the 15% of the population is full blood galra,” Farux continues, “the rest is divided from three quarters Galra, which means people with one full-blood parent and one half-blood parent, and a one quarter Galra, people with a no-garla partent and a half-garla parent.”
“I see.”
“Three quarters Galra are increasing, and so are full blood ones,” Nuru states. “Since we have a planet where we live, unlike during the war.”
“We want to invert this tendency.” Farux turns off the hologram. “By forbidden the wedding between full-bloog Galra.”
“I’m sorry?” Keith blinks.
“We realize it may sound a little bit extreme.” Farux eats for the first time. “But we decide this is the best course of action to salve our people.”
“By forcing them to mix with others?”
Keith isn’t against the idea of mixes relationship. He’s the product of one, his closest colleagues are half-breed too and he met a huge amount of them during his time with the Blades. He’s against the idea of forcing people, and the idea of erasing the Garla that comes with it.
“Yes.” Nuru’s expression is determined.
“Garla brought a lot of destruction to all the other planets,” Farux adds. “We can’t cancel it. But it’s a half-blood Garla that ended the war and save the universe.” He looks at Keith straight in the eyes. “We, as Galra, are better when we’re half breed. We can be better than Zarkon and his men.”
“None of the other paladins are half-blood,” Keith replies. “I don’t think that being a good person has anything to do with it…”
“They’re not Galra,” Farux repeats. “You are. You’re the example we need. Just watching at you, and realizing being a half-breed it’s a lot better than being a pure blood.”
“If you support our marriage law proposal, everyone will agree with it.” Nuru nods.
“My answer is no.”
“But… but why!” For the first time, Nuru loses his cool. “You’re a half-breed! And your mate isn’t Garla, too!”
Oh, no, they wouldn’t drag Shiro in this. Keith places the fork on the table and look at them straight in the eyes.
“My mother is a pure blood Garla, and so he’s is partner, which he was the former leader of the Blade of Marmora, when they were still against Zarkon. They’ll have a child soon. Do you really think I will walk out of here and tell them I vote against them?”
“Well, full-galra marriage happened before the law will remain, of course….” Farux lips his big red lips. “It’s not retroactive. Your mother will be fine.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Keith replies. “I won’t force anything on anyone. I told you before that I do the right thing. This isn’t right.”
“We can’t do the law without you, Red Paladin,” Nuru pleas.
“Then don’t do it.” Keith stands up. “Thank you for the meal. We’re done.”
They don’t stop him as he leaves the room. The Garla at the main gate exchanges a look with him, but says nothing. Keith walks straight towards the Marmora Headquarter and he closes himself in his office to cool it down.
He opens the database with the control checks of the other headquarters and the requests of resource, but his mind returns to the conversation with the Deuces and he can’t help but realizing that most of the people he knows are half-breed. They use to be emarginated, just like Keith was, but now they rise and reject their garla blood. Keith spends time to accept he’s galra, but not all people may have accepted it in the end.
Axca knocks at his door. “You come to the canteen?”
“Uh, sure.”
He didn’t eat too much at the brunch with the Deuces, still he isn’t as much hungry. He takes only a sandwich and sits down with Axca, Zethrid and Ezor. He looks at them with a small frown, until they all become unsettled.
“What?” Zethrid snaps.
“Uh, nothing. Just wondering… what do you think about the current Deuces?”
“Oh, I like them!” Ezor smiles. “I voted for them. They remember me Lotor a little.”
“Uhm… and this is a positive thing?” Keith asks. Next to him, Axca stiffs.
“I didn’t understand all of Lotor’s way of thinking,” Ezor admits. “But at that time, no many uprights gave our half-blood a chance. He does, and that was important. Nuru and Farux speak a lot about the importance of half-galra.”
“And this is the reason why I didn’t vote for them,” Axca comments.
“But you loved Lotor.” Ezor pouts.
“I did, once,” Axca admits. “But he hated being a Galra. In the end, he would have killed us too, because we still have Galra blood.”
She exchanges a look with Keith, and he wonders if she wants to interrupt the conversation at all of she’s reflecting about the difference between him and Lotor.
“Well, he’s like that group,” Ezor says. “The Sincline Force.”
“What?” Keith blinks.
Axca rolls his eyes. “No one. It’s just a fanatic group.”
“Pure blood Garla that assert there are too much half breed around,” Zethrid comments. “They are, like, nostalgic of the Zarkon’s era. Most of them are old Galra that lost their position when the lost the war. They’re not really scared. The most dangerous thing they did was throwing Schmashes’ eggs against a half-breed shop.”
Oh. Great. So they have a government that wants to cancel the pull blood Garla, and a group that mourns Zarkon and hates half-blood. Keith is sure of his statement to the Deuces, still he wonders if he should do something for this Sincline Force’s group.
“Who do you vote for?” Keith asks Zethrid.
She scoffs. “For no one. As long as I have my work, I’m fine.”
The other two looks at her with disapproving look, and Axca starts a discourse about the importance of voting. Keith stops listening and checks about the Sincline Force on his datapad. There are a couple of news about them, but overall Zethrid is right: they speak and do not act.
In the meantime, he receives a message from Nuru.
“We apologize for not being the best guests today. We really respect you, Red Paladin. I hope we may have another chance to have you as out guest.”
Keith doesn’t answer.
***
The datapad rings in the middle of the night. It happens almost every night when they’re on mission, but it’s rare at the headquarter. Keith is still enough used to it to jumps still, fully awakened, and answers.
“Keith here.”
“We have an emergency,” the blade from the shift turn says, “a distress signal from one of our cargo ship in the Third Quadrant of the galaxias.”
“What about it?”
“It got involved into a Weblum attack and it ended up into an asteroid belt. They don’t have a pilot skilled enough to bring them out unarmed.”
“I am the pilot,” Keith understands.
“Correct. They required someone to reach them as soon as possible, because they fear the asteroid might move around them. I send order to the spaceship airport to prepare a pod for you.”
“I’ll be there in five doboshes,” Keith assures.
In emergency situation, the Blade protocol permits individual action without informing the high-up. And Keith, as a former Paladin of Voltron, is considered a special case, so his decisions aren’t usual discusses. Right now, Keith isn’t assigned to another mission, so he can be used in these kind of situations.
He put on his blade armor and rushes to the spaceship airport. He sends a brief message to his mother and another one to Axca, to inform both of them that he won’t be there the next day. At the airport, he finds as promises the pod waiting for him. The office there shows him the pod and all the necessary for his travel.
Keith loads the data of his route and he’s off. The pod is small as a former Galra pod, but with altean and earthling technology. He’s used to fly with it. Without Kosmo and without his usual coworkers it’s a little strange, but he appreciates the quiet for a while.
He checks the route on the control panel to verify that everything is in order. Once he left the solar system of New Daibaazal, he set up the automatic pilot and reclines the seat a little. He can take a nap: he won’t reach the cargo ship in less than five doboshes; the pod will inform it if any inconvenience appears.
He jolts awake without realizing it. He blinks around, unsure. Nothing is strange on the panel control and even looking at the screen and at the window, the route is empty. Still, Keith feels something is strange. He used to sleep on pod like the one he’s piloting now, but his body feels like something is off.
He sends a back-up check on the control panel and he realizes there is a component on the engine that Keith doesn’t remember. It can be a new technology Keith isn’t informed to, still it’s probably the difference of the engine’s rumor that woke him up. Keith turns off the engine, put on the mask of his blade armor and gets to the engine.
He isn’t an engineer. Hunk will be more useful in that kind of situation, but Keith is expert enough to understand that the component is a bomb. He has the same aspect of the one Keith uses back them with the Blade in war. And he also knows that it’s a time bomb. He isn’t sure how much time he has left, so he rushes back on the cockpit, grabs the datapad from the panel control and flies out of the pod.
The bomb explodes. The backlash throws Keith even if he manages to get enough far from the pod to not be caught in the explosion itself. He spins around and loses the grip on the datapad. Once he regained his balance with his jetpack, it disappears in the vastness of the space. The radio on his armor is deactivated, so Keith has no choice but to move around to find it back.
Finding it is useless: the backlash ruined it and make it impossible to use it for contacting the headquarters back. Around him, there aren’t any planet that could have register the explosion. Keith sighs, looking at the remaining of his pod: maybe dying in the explosion would be a merciful dead after all.
***
The dim light makes his head a little fuzzy after the time spending into the vastness of the dark space. Keith stretches his eyes a little to get used to it. The sheets are rough at his touch, hands grip them with strength. His lips are apart, breath fast and desperate.
Patience yields focus.
He lifts a hand to protect his sight and he blink his eyes open. He takes a long breath, filling his lungs with oxygen. His lips are humid as he presses his tongue on them. He regains enough control of his muscles and stands up.
He lied down in a bed that looks more like a stretcher, at the corner of a room with metal walls. Keith has seen enough to recognize it’s the room of a spaceship. He takes a couple of step ahead: a magnetic field separate his corner to the other side of the room. It’s similar to an operation room; alongside the magnetic barrier, it makes Keith a little wary.
He’s grateful to be alive, but he isn’t sure he doesn’t end up into a worse situation. He places a hand on the barrier and he looks down a little, at the white light dress he’s wearing. The idea of someone else dressing him is unnerving.
The slide door on the right opens and an alien enters. Keith doesn’t let his hand fall as he observed the alien: she looks female, with a shape very similar to Ezor. Her skin is more yellow than orange, but she has the same kind of tail on the bald head, with the difference that the tails are two and they start at the nape.
She approaches him. “Good to see you awake, Red Paladin.”
Keith starts. “You know who I am?”
“Of course,” she says, with a gentle smile. “We may haven’t see Voltron coming to our planet during the Galra War, but your heroic gestures are enough. Saving the universe, you saved us too.”
“So you are a member of the Voltron Coalition?”
“Yes. We haven’t much occasion to participate in official events.” She’s now in front of him. “I am Doctor Vixer,” she introduces herself. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” he answers, and it’s a little blunter than he expects. “Can I ask where I am?”
“Of course,” she nods. “This is a medical ship from planet Zhitir. We are returning to our planet after an expedition towards the end of the solar system next to ours. Our route met you a day ago.”
Keith frowns. He does remember his route passing through the end of a solar system with no habitant planets, so Vixer is likely speaking about it.
“Thank you for saving me?”
Vixer nods again. “Of course. Do you remember what happened?”
“My pod exploded,” Keith states. He doesn’t feel to be a good idea informing her about the fact that it was a bomb and not a technological mistake, but she doesn’t ask further, she just nods another time. “Did you find the remain of it around me?”
“No. The area has strong solar winds and we guessed you moved around a lot before meeting with our ship.”
“Yeah, it’s possible. I was trying to contact someone. I don’t remember much.”
“Understandable,” Vixer comments with empathy. “When we found you, you reduced the levels of oxygen of your mask so your reserve would last more, but of course this ended in a less brain activities. And about that,” Vixer moves from one side and she tilts her head to a small device placed on the magnetic barrier. “Zhitirians need less level of oxygen than Earthlings. For you, breathing our atmosphere will be like being at the peak of a very high mountain. Giving your previous condition, we prefer to isolate you in an area where we can inflate a level of oxygen more suitable for you.”
“I’m good now,” Keith assures her.
“Well, then I’ll be lower the level of oxygen so your body can adapt to ours.” She taps the devices a couple of time with her long finger. “Thirty doboshes. In the meantime, would you like something to eat, Red Paladin?”
“That will be great, thank you. And please, call me Keith.”
“Of course, Keith.”
She leaves and she returns five doboshes later, with a small floating tray and a package kept with one of her tail. She pushes the tray through the barrier. “I have you clothes back.”
“Thanks.”
There is also his blade in the package of his Blade’s armor, which reassures Keith of Vixer’s good intention. No reason to give him back his weapon if she plans to keep him prisoner. He changes once she leaves again and then he looks at the food in the table: a dish with grilled meat and a green vegetable and a glass with purple liquid. Keith is too hungry to complain, and in the last years he ate the most stranger things.
The device bleeps just when Keith ends his meal. The magnetic barrier disappears by itself. Remembering Vixer’s word, Keith takes a long breath: it’s true it seems to be in a mountain, but overall it doesn’t seem to bother Keith so much. He places his blade at his belt and he leaves the room, bringing the tray with him.
The door connects with Vixer’s office. “Oh, don’t worry,” she says as she notices him. “Let it be, I’ll take care of it later.”
“Thanks.” Keith places the tray next to the wall. “Listen, can I sent a communication to the Blade headquarters? I was supposed to reach a distresses cargo ship in the Meridian Belt and I need to inform them of my situation.”
“Of course.” She frowns a little, and her two tails flinch. “Come with me. I’ll introduce you to the others.”
Keith follows her in the hallway until the cockpit of the spaceship. It turns out the crew is composed of only three people. Other than Vixer, there are Merther, the engineer, and Lorga, the captain and pilot. Both of them have the same yellow skin and bald head, bit Merther has a long tail on the right side of her head, while Lorga has five of them, all from the back of her neck.
“It’s an honor to meet a Paladin of Voltron,” Merther exclaims with her pitchy voice, and she shakes his hand with strength. “Welcome to our humble space ship.”
“Zhitirians are more known for their knowledge of medicine than others,” Vixer explains.
“Nice to meet you,” Lorga says, and she doesn’t stand up from her spot at the control panel.
“Thank you for helping me,” Keith smiles. “I’m sure you have enough technology for me to send a message.”
Vixer and Merther exchange a look. “We have,” Lorga affirms, “but we won’t use it, I’m sorry. Once we reach Zhitir, we will put you in contact with whoever you’d like.”
“Why not now?” Keith protests. “I was in a mission, for helping a cargo ship in danger. And it’s important to me to inform the Headquarter before they send expedition looking for me.”
“We understand,” Merther assures him. “But our mission is important too, and we can’t risk the communication to be intercepted. This area is outside the frequented route and it under space pirates’ control.”
Keith frowns deepens. Lorga anticipates him, “we’ll be on Zhitir in three quintants. As much as we understand you concert, it’s a reasonable amount to time to wait. Cargo ships have enough resource to survive and the Blades can send someone else if the situation becomes dangerous. We can’t.”
“Of course,” Vixer nods. “Come. I’ll show you.”
Keith resolves to not protest anymore. It’s on a foreign spaceship and he owes them his life. Still, he feels they’re being unreasonable. He leaves the room with Merther’s sorry gaze on him, while Lorga doesn’t look back. He follows Vixer back on the medical quartier, where she opens another room.
It’s a small one, with all the wall surrounded by machines. At the center of the room, there is a circular glass column full of blue liquid. Vixer nods to Keith to get near and he obeys. From near, he can see a small heart-shaped object connected with four cables. The object pulses at regular rhythm.
“It’s… a heart?” Keith asks.
“Of course,” Vixer says. “It’s the heart of a Mixellu.” She taps on her datapad and show him a hologram. “They lives on the rings of the last planet of the inhabited planet system next to us. Their organs have the incredible ability of adapting to any other living being, with no rejection whatsoever.”
A Mixellu looks like an antelope, with six legs and a longer, black fur. The muzzle is long, with fangs, and the two horns round around its neck. It has two short tail.
“Amazing,” Keith comments.
“Unfortunately, a Mixellu’s heart is small, so it can survive outside a living body for a small amount of time, even with our technology,” Vixer explains.
“Do you share this information with the Voltron Coalition?” Keith asks. “A heart that can adapt can save a lot of people around the universe, a lot better than the actual technology with artificial heart. And I have a genius friend I haven’t any doubts can create a technology that can preserve the Mixellu’s heart for longer.”
“I suppose you’re referring to the Green Paladin,” Vixer says. “We know about her intelligence. And also, about her connections with the Olkari. We don’t… get along with them.”
“Why not?” Keith is surprised: Olkari are a very peaceful population.
“Divergence of philosophy,” Vixer comments. “It’s a story of a long time ago, even before the Zarkon’s empire, but… we don’t have many chance to redeem after that. But even the Galra Empire used us in a different way. They’re the smarter one, we’re just the foot soldiers.”
Keith finds the entire situation absurd. Even if Olkari have a better technology, it doesn’t mean they can lower Zithirians’ discovery. “Things are different in the Voltron Coalition.”
“Of course,” she says, and she doesn’t look convinced. “But, as you understand, we can’t risk to get caught by space pirates. My patient hasn’t much time, and so doesn’t the heart.”
“I understand,” Keith confirms. “And I’ll wait until Zhitir. But after that, I assure you I’ll use my role as a former Paladin of Voltron to have more contact with your planet. That’s the role of the entire Coalition.”
Vixer smiles, and this time it looks more genuine. “Of course, Red Paladin.”
Keith can’t say he’s satisfied with the situation: he’s worried about the cargo ship and about the fact that someone put a bomb on his pod. Waiting isn’t one of his best trait, because he’s more a man of action. Still, he can’t be responsible of the death of a person and, if it means wait a couple of Quintans, he can do it.
Of course, as Vixer may say, the universe has other plans.
He steps out the heart’s room and he trips as the entire spaceship trembles. He places a hand on the wall to keep his balance and, with the other, he grasps Vixer’s arm so she doesn’t fall.
“No, no,” she cries. “Not the space pirates.”
The spaceship regains enough its stability to allow both of them to run to the cockpit. The situation is frantic: Keith observes the screen to notice a big spaceship that looks like a crabs on their tail. It is shooting at them.
“The right engine is down,” Merthel informs. “I can shut it down, but it slow down our ship.”
Lorna grits his teeth. “No, for now. We’re still faster.”
“But if it’s on fire, it can reach the heart,” Vixer protest.
“If we slow down, the heart will die nevertheless,” Lorna replies.
“Can I drive?” Keith offers. “I’m a pretty good pilot.”
Vixer and Merthel moves their look on Lorna. “He is a Paladin of Voltron,” the first says.
Lorna presses her lips together. “Please,” Keith murmurs.
“Fine,” she comments, standing up. “But this isn’t a lion of Voltron.”
“I think I can manage.”
Keith sit down the pilot seat and takes the command. It hasn’t piloted such a ship before, but the panel looks very similar to another he tried in the past. He gives a couple of tentative moves to see how much the ship responds to his movement. He smirks.
“Here we go.”
He accelerates the ship, with Lorna that almost lost her balance behind him. He sees the shooting at the right side of the ship and he avoids it, flying into spiraling. At the same moment, he tries to see in front of him if he has enough space of maneuver: they are in a zone between two solar systems, so there aren’t many spot to hide. There is a small nebula, though.
It’s Keith best shot: he gives another accelerate and pushes the ship inside it.
“They’ll see us with their sensors,” Lorna informs him. “And we can’t hide here forever.”
“I know,” Keith nods. “But they can’t anticipate our next move.”
“The engine is almost down,” Mether says.
“Do you think you can repair it?”
“From the damages I see here, I don’t think so. I can make some quick repair to have it working for some time more.”
“Please, do it.” It’s a request more than an order, but Lorne stiffs and presses her lips together. “If it’s okay,” he adds.
“What do you have in mind?” Lorne asks.
“Those kind of ships are usually slower in changing their directions backwards,” Keith explains. “If I shot our ship in their direction instead, they will have to turn, and in the time they succeed, we will be far.”
“We don’t have that speed,” Lorne says. “And even if we manage, they’ll still can reach us later.”
“But it’s a possibility,” Mether murmurs.
Lorne turns her head on Vixer. “What about the heart?”
“I’m afraid the speed and the overload may damage the machines,” she admits.
“So what do you suggest?” Keith demands. He’s annoyed, but it isn’t his ship.
“We surrender,” Lorne decides. “We can negotiate with them. They don’t do unnecessary damage, and we have the reserved money just because of this kind of situation.”
Keith isn’t sure negotiate with criminals is the best course of action. Still, he moves from the control panel. Mether e Vixer agree with their captain’s decision and they definitely know the area better than Keith. He doesn’t want to ruin his possibility to form tied contact with Zithir.
Lorna opens a channel towards the pirate ship. “This is Captain Lorne from the Zithir Army. We are a medical ship for a medical expedition. We don’t have anything of your interest with us.”
The answer comes a second later. “This is Captain Grogs.” It sounds almost like a mock. “And let us decide that. Come out from the Nebula and let us onboard.”
“Roger.”
Keith snorts and Lorne brings the ship in plain sight. From the pirate ship emerges a little pod that attaches at the Zhitirian’s ship. Lorne moves to open the hatch and let them enters, as Keith remains with Mether and Vixer: both of them tries to keep him hidden.
Two men and one woman enters in the ship. Keith understands one of them is Grogs, at least from the way the others just follow him around. He’s a balmerian, and Keith remembers Shay as she told that the Balmera that ended up destroyed by Zarkon created a lot of homeless bamerian, and none of them remained good people. He doesn’t recognize the other two aliens.
Grogs explores all the ship, and his face darkness as they move in the small spaceship, exploring all the rooms. Keith and the other two remains on the cockpit, surveilled by the other two pirates. The woman gives Keith a look, with a frown on her face, but then she let him alone.
“This is all we have,” Lorne says, as she and Grogs return. “You can take the money I show you, and this is it.”
“It’s not enough,” Grogs spats. “We lost time to follow you, and time costs. You speak about that thing’s heart, right? How much your planet we’ll pay for it?”
“This is not possible,” Vixer interrupts. Grogs glares at her, but she continues, “the heart won’t last more than three days. Not enough time for our planet to pay the randsom, making the entire deal useless.”
Grogs comes near her and almost yells in her face, “then let the heart die and tell me how much they’ll pay for you all!”
“Stop.” Keith’s voice is steady in the cockpit, commanding.
“Otherwise?” Grogs grins in his direction and lifts his fist.
He’s slow, and Keith grabs his blade and turns it in a full sword aimed at the other’s neck. He stops as the blade brush Grogs’ skin: the other two pirates raise their guns at him, so Keith reflects if, in that small area, he can defeat all three before they hurt someone else.
Grogs isn’t stupid as he seems, because he orders, “idiot, aim at the others!” And immediately the other two’s guns are on Vixer and Lorna.
Keith breaths hard. “Let this spaceship go, and I’ll give you something worthier.”
“Which is?”
With a slow gesture, Keith moves the blade from Grogs’ neck and keeps it in front of him, the tip points at the ground. It turns back into a knife. “Me.”
Grogs tilts his head and looks at him with attentive eyes. “Damn. He’s a Paladin of Voltron,” the pirate woman gasps. “The Galra one.”
“Are you sure?” Grogs asks.
“Positive.”
“Oh, well,” Grogs’ smirk widens. “Looks like we found something worthy after all.”
“We have a deal?” Keith demands.
“I don’t care about a small planet at the end of the galaxias if I have something to ask back at the entire Coalition.”
“No, wait!” Vixer exclaims.
Keith shakes his head at him and passes her his knife. “Will you call the Blade Headquarter for me, please?”
“Of course,” she nods with vigor, as Grogs gestures at his two crewmates: one of them grabs Keith’s arms and twists them behind his back, while the other keeps his gun aimed at him.
“It was a pleasure,” Grogs says the three Zhirinsian goodbye before stepping backward and the others drags Keith with them.
They handcuff him in the moment he steps in their pod, metal cuff grips his wrists. Keith sags them a little: magnetic ones, remote control, with the ability of get attach to the metallic wall. The space pirates have access to a good technology. A little too good for Keith’s taste.
Once they arrive on the main ship, Keith meets the rest of the crew, counting at least fifteen people. It won’t be impossible for him to escape them, or at least defeat some of them, enough to reach a pod. He doesn’t have his blade, though, and Grogs doesn’t let any opening, for now.
“Look, friends,” he yells. “We have a very important guest with us today! The Garla Paladin of Voltron will stay with us for a while!”
All the crew’s eyes move to Keith, and he sees their curiosity. He still doesn’t like that kind of attention. “He’s small,” he ears one of them whispers.
“Escort him to the guest’s quarter,” Grogs orders to the people that was with him in the pod, “and be careful. He isn’t the usual guest.” Then, he pats Keith’s back in a friendly way. “Enjoy your stay.”
Once they are alone in one of the hallway on the ship, Keith looks around. There aren’t guns aimed at him right now, only the grip of the woman on his arm. He saw worse. In a second, he put his leg in front of the other’s one, making him fall. It is a distraction enough for the woman to stop and for Keith to push him against the wall, freeing himself from her grip.
A second later, his body explodes in pain. Keith falls on his knees and grit his teeth. He realizes his cuff just shoot a jolt of electricity at him. The man in the ground stands up and there is a small control in his arm.
“Boss is right,” the woman whispers. “You are dangerous. I hope you’re also worthy.”
“Oh, he is,” the man grins. “I’ve been on Daibaazal once. He’s a hero there.”
“He’s a hero everywhere,” she scoffs. “Just look at what he did before.”
“Yeah. I hope we don’t ruin his reputation.”
He bends down next to Keith, and helps him standing up. Keith’s body is still shaken because of the electricity.
“We don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “It’s just business. Once they pay us, you’ll free to go. It’s better for both of us to keep this civil.”
Keith nods a little. He has no intention to not try to escape again, because he isn’t in his nature to remain still, but in that moment he only wants to regain the control of his body. The man helps him walking until the room Keith guesses it’s his cell. He pushes Keith gently inside and the door shut closes behind him. Keith blinks and leans down the door, before letting himself fall on the ground.
“We’re here if you need something,” the woman says, from the other side.
“I suppose I can’t ask for letting me go, right?” Keith jokes.
“Unfortunately, no. And we can’t take off the handcuff too. For everything else, we can manage.”
“Just informing the Marmora Headquarter I’m alive.”
“Oh, we sure will.”
***
After seven days, Keith hasn’t find a way out yet. They are very careful with him: nobody opens the door of his cell, the food is being brought by a slot and they let his hands free only for eating and for the bathroom. He isn’t a good actor like Lance or Coran, so his only attempt at faking an illness went into nothing.
The only positive thing Keith can think of is that his mother, Shiro and his friends now know he’s alive. Keith smiles at the thought of Shiro and the Atlas, imagining the pirate ship dealing with the giant mecha the Atlas can become. Of course, Keith realizes Shiro is galaxies away from him and he can’t just drop everything for him.
For now, Keith can just wait for the Blades to send help. The cell isn’t actually that bad: it’s big, with all the comfy, like a holo-television with a great collection of movies from all the planets. The bed is soft and the bathroom has a very big bathtub with hot water. He images diplomats or nobles can even enjoy their time in captivity as they wait for their home planet to pay the ransom.
It’s a smart move. It avoids complains and runs. It doesn’t work on Keith, that spends most of his time sitting in the bed, his brain rushing into finding a way to escape. He doesn’t want Daibaazal neither the Voltron Coalition to pay for his freedom. That money can be used for better reason than him.
His eyes are closed when the first shake happens, almost throwing him on the ground. He spends too much time in war to not realizing that something is shooting the pirate ship. Keith hopes they are Marmora and not another pirates. He stands up and places himself neat the door, ready to run.
Another discharge of electricity passes through his body. It isn’t strong enough to pass him out, but enough to stop him for a second. The door opens and one pf the pirates grabs him and drags him in the hallway.
“Come quiet,” he orders.
“What’s happening?” Keith asks.
“Your friends are more interesting in destroying us that saving you,” the other spats. “We were wrong about you. You’re not as important as a hero now that there isn’t war.”
An irrational fear catches Keith by surprise and takes away his breath. He doesn’t consider himself a hero, still he doesn’t believe any person of the Voltron Coalition would be okay in letting him get killed. Wouldn’t they?
“Stop!” A voice gets Keith out of his head.
“Oh, please,” the pirate grumbles.
“Lorne? What are you doing here?”
Lorne stands there, at the center of the hallway, a laser gun in both her hands. “Let him go,” he orders, but her voice betrays her fear.
The pirate smirks. Keith realizes it’s his change. He presses his foot on the other’s one and the kicks him in the wall. Lorne filches. She has enough reflex to get near and keeps her gun pointed at the pirate. Keith scans his body and then presses again his feet on the pirate’s wrist, forcing him to let the handcuff control go. Lorne understands: she uses one of her tail to collect it and opens Keith’s binding.
Keith rubs his sore wrists. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything,” she replies.
“This is you doing?” he asks, gesturing at the shaking ship.
“No.” She uses the handcuff to tied up the pirate. “We tried to contact the Marmora Headquarter or Daibaazal Government, but our calls don’t get through,” she explains. “I can’t let you here, not after what you did for us, so we put on a ransom and I’m here to deliver here. I was making arrangements with Grogs when Daibaazal Army attacked.” She smiles. “I guess they didn’t appreciate their Paladin being kidnapped.”
“Maybe,” Keith replies.
“Let’s get to my ship and get out of here.”
Keith looks at the pirate at his feet and shakes his head a little. “Come with me,” he orders. She seems unconvinced, but she follows. They reach the control room: Grogs is there and he’s screaming both at his men and at the communication device.
Keith spares him no attention, despite the oblivious looks he gets to be there unbound and alone. He reaches for the communication device and opens the channel.
“This is Commander Keith Kogane from the Blade of Marmora,” he says. “I am unarmed. Please cease the fire and send a ship to collect me.”
“And what if I disagree?” Grogs says.
“Do you prefer they to keep shooting?”
Grogs remains silence. So do the communication device. From the screen, Keith can see three Galra cruisers surrounding the pirate ship. They are part of Daibaazal fleet, Keith recognizes them and the fact they have the most advanced technologies on board.
“This is Keith Kogane. Do you copy? Hello?” Still not answer from them.
“Heroes aren’t worth much these says.” Grogs snorts. “You two, at the cannons, slow them down as much as possible. You, load the pods, you prepare them. I’ll set the bomb for the auto destruction. We’re evacuated.”
Lorne places her hand on Keith’s arm. “I don’t understand what’s happening,” she says. “But we have to go.”
He nods. They run to the hangar: the other pirates are there, but they’re too busy with their own duties to stop them. And, after all, Keith isn’t a valuable hostage anymore. The door is already open, to allow a fast escape of the pirates. Lorne gestures at her small pod and Keith recognizes the Zhirimian style.
“Can you pilot?” she offers.
“Yes.”
Being at the panel control of a ship helps Keith to regain control of his mind after the shock of his own people ignoring him. He tastes the engine before leaving the parking spot and shooting into space.
“What are you doing?” Lorne asks.
Keith flies the ship below the pirate one and keeps the engine turned on, but stable, so they can stay in balance.
“Did you hear? Grogs is destroying his ship.”
“Which is the reason why we should run as fast as we can.”
Keith shakes his head. “They’ll use the explosion as a diversion to escape with the pods. It won’t work: the cruisers might slow down, but not enough. They have radar system, they’ll spot and find them all. The only way we have to escape is to go in the opposite way, and let the explosion cover for us.”
Lorne crosses her arms and bites her lips. “Don’t you prefer to try to contact the cruisers again? They’re from Daibaazal.”
“They are,” he answers only. “But they’re trying to kill me right now, so…”
“Are you sure about that?” Lorne asks. “Maybe they don’t want to negotiate with pirates, but now that you’re free.”
Keith shakes his head. “Do you remember you found me in outer space? The explosion of my ship wasn’t accidental. It was a bomb.”
Lorne’s mouth opens and she gasps. “Your people are trying to kill you? But… But you’re a Paladin of Voltron! You’re their hero!”
“Not for all of them,” he says, and he sounds bitter than he likes.
She decides to not ask further, and she sits down next to him. Keith closes his eyes and concentrates on his senses. The ship is trembling a little for the shooting outside. There is a major jolt and Keith realizes it’s the moment. He presses on the accelerator just when the pirate ship explodes.
The waves of it helps their pod to shot down in the space, but Keith has enough control on it to let the pod remain steady in his route. He directs it towards the orange planet next to them. In the days of captivity, he learned it’s a gasses planet, that the pirates use as a secret hideout. Once, they used the same trick against Zarkon.
The pod hasn’t a very precise radar, but Keith doesn’t need one. He drives upfront without stopping. It takes more than a varga to cross the entire planet, and Lorne doesn’t say a word for the entire time. Once they’re on the other side, she sighs, so deeply as she hasn’t breathed for the entire trip.
“Are we safe?”
He checks with the radar. “I guess so. The explosion covered us, and I saw the cruisers moving towards the pirates pods before we entered in the planet.”
“What now?”
Keith doesn’t know, to be honest. He had some time to think about the bomb while prisoner of the pirates, and understood the culprit should be someone inside the Blades, as much as the thought makes his heart clutches. He trusted the Blades his life in war.
He had no idea of the reason. Keith is a Commander of the Blade, but most of the time is around for missions and he surely doesn’t use his authority with the council. The only guess he has is the Sincline Force Group. After all, they hate half-breed, and Keith is one of the most famous half-breed about there. They don’t look dangerous by their records, but maybe they raised the bar.
Now, with the Zhimirians not being able to connect with Marmora Headquarter and the fact that three Galra cruisers didn’t respond to his call and kept shooting at a ship they knew he was on board, the situation looked a lot more complicated. Or maybe the Sincline Force is more rooted that he thought.
“Can I ask hospitality in your planet?” he asks. “For now. Until I sort out all… this.”
“Sure.” She smiles. She places one of her tail in her pocket and take off his blade. “This is yours.”
“Thanks.” He puts it back in his belt. “Let’s go.”

Posted: 19/3/2019, 19:59

Il COW-T! - Storie per il COWT

Keith era seduto sul divano, il portatile davanti a sé, poggiato sulle sue ginocchia, e un film che scorreva alla televisione collegata all’account Netflix. Quattro schermate erano aperte sul Chrome: la pagina del suo profilo su Ao3, il contaparole di Lande di Fandom, la chat di squadra dei vampiri e la pagina con l’andamento settimanale delle squadre del cow-t, che veniva refreshata continuamente per verificare la situazione.
Ovviamente era aperta anche la pagina di word, e Keith passava continuamente lo sguardo sul numero di parole per essere ben sicuro di superare almeno le mille parole per poter tirare un dado di numero superiore. Erano le nove: di lì a mezzanotte contava di buttare giù almeno altre cinque storie minimo.
Prima delle otto era riuscito a postare e segnalare la storia da 20.000 parole che aveva concluso in mattinata, giusto per evitare il malus, e ora poteva andare di short fiction come se non ci fosse un domani. Non era ferratissimo nelle drabble, ma tanto meglio dato che davano meno punti causa presenza di sacre bestie.
Accanto a lui, sul divano, giaceva un cartone di pizza vuoto e una lattina di birra ancora a metà. La sera di sabato durante il cow-t non si aveva tempo di mangiare decentemente, si sarebbe perso troppo tempo che serviva per buttare giù almeno altre mille parole.
Keith caricò di nuovo la pagina dell’andamento settimanale delle squadre. Prima, la sua squadra (i vampiri) era alla pari con quella dei cavalieri, ma adesso li avevano superati. Qualcuno aveva pubblicato un altor paio di fic con un numero discreto di parole.
Keith: come siamo messi?
Lotor: ho ancora tre fic da ca 2000 parole da pubblicare, intanto scrivo delle drabble perché siamo veramente troppo vicini ai cavalieri per il numero di storie e non voglio rischiare di farmi superare
Keith: fai bene
Keith: io cerco di buttare giù almeno altre cinque storie, non so se riesco a fare di più
Lotor: sono un po’ preoccupato per i maghi, non è che ci buttano tutto all’ultimo cinquanta storie come la scorsa settimana?
Keith: nah, Pidge questa settimana ha un esame importante per cui è fuori gioco per fortuna, lei e quel suo maledettissimo sistema di dettatura che le permette di scrivere storie ovunque
Keith: mi sa che pure Matt lo utilizza, ma ha meno fantasia della sorella
Lotor: non possiamo chiedere ai mod di dichiarare illegale una cosa del genere?
Keith: boh, mi sa di no ma comunque non mi preoccupo, la prossima settimana avranno la missione di salvataggio e quindi son abbastanza fuori gioco, se li battiamo sia questa sia la prossima dovremo avere abbastanza vantaggio per resistere
Lotor: certo che se gli angeli si dessero un po’ da fare e superassero pure loro i maghi, gli farebbero perdere un’altra bestia
Keith: gli angeli giocano per il lol
Keith: ho sentito Hunk, è fuori tutta la sera con Shay, mica come noi che siamo a casa a buttare giù parole
Lotor: sono contento di essere capitato in una squadra ipercompetitiva, è più nel mio stile
Keith sentì aprirsi la porta di casa e un Shiro dall’aria stanca comparve nel salotto. Keith si affrettò ad abbassare il foglio di word e ad aprire una pagina a caso su Ao3 fingendo indifferenza.
“Ehi.”
Shiro si abbassò su di lui, ancora seduto sul divano, circondandogli il petto con le braccia e baciandogli la base del collo. “Buonasera…”
Keith sorrise. Alzò una mano ad accarezzargli i capelli e poi si voltò per baciarlo come si deve: le labbra di Shiro erano fredde per il clima ancora invernale, ma non lo rimasero a lungo.
“Com’è andata al lavoro?” domandò.
“Un disastro,” Shiro rispose, con un’alzata stanca delle spalle mentre si toglieva la borsa e la lasciava cadere non troppo cerimonialmente sull’altra poltrona del salotto. “Abbiamo avuto un’emergenza all’ultimo momento, quando avevo già spento tutte le macchine. Abbiamo dovuto riaccenderle tutte e rifare ogni singola verifica. Il tutto con il capo che ci urlava al telefono perché ovviamente secondo lui era stata colpa nostra. È stato terribile.”
“Mi dispiace,” commentò Keith. “Vedrai che andrà meglio non appena troverai un nuovo lavoro.”
“Non vedo l’ora.”
“Vuoi sederti un po’ come me a vedere la tv?”
“Cosa stai guardando?”
“Un thriller? Hanno ammazzato una facendolo passare come suicidio, tipo, e la sorella non ci crede e sta indagando. A una certa mi sono perso però.”
“Passo, allora.” Shiro si stiracchiò un attimo. “Mi sa che vado a letto che sono distrutto. Domani pomeriggio lavori, vero?”
Keith annuì. “Purtroppo sì.”
Shiro lo baciò ancora. “Allora è proprio il caso che vada a letto subito, così almeno domani mattina sono tutto tuo.”
“Buonanotte,” Keith mormorò, sentendosi un attimino in colpa. “Finisco di vedere il film e ti raggiungo.”
“Ci conto.”
Keith aspettò che Shiro fosse andato in bagno e poi n camera da letto, prima di recuperare il foglio di word e finire la storia che aveva iniziato, premendo più piano e più lentamente sui tasti per non disturbare Shiro. Aveva anche abbassato il volume della televisione e a quel punto avrebbe potuto spegnarla direttamente.
Pubblicò la storia e poi caricò nuovamente la pagina dell’andamento delle squadre.
Keith: ma che cazzo?
Lotor: cosa?
Keith: guarda le squadre
Lotor: ma che cazzo
Keith: eh
Lotor: questo è Lance. Sono sicuro che è Lance
Keith: sì ma come cazzo ha fatto a pubblicare venti storie nel giro di una mezzora
Lotor: perché le scrive un autobus sul cellulare per tutta la settimana
Lotor: ma tipo solo drabble, meno di cinquecento parole per le missioni dove non c’è il limite minimo
Lotor: poi le scarica tutte il sabato sera, l’ha fatto pure scorsa settimana, solo che scorsa settimana gli ho dato diversi passaggi in macchina io quindi non ha potuto scrivere
Lotor: adesso capisco perché questa ha messo la sveglia mezz’ora prima pur di evitarmi
Keith: Lance che si alza mezzora prima???
Lotor: magie del cow-t
Lotor: figurati che adesso si fa la doccia in dieci minuti, mai visto prima
Lotor: almeno risparmiamo sulla bolletta dell’acqua questo mese
Keith: vabbé cose dell’altro mondo
Keith: ma anche chissene di Lance, la cosa importante è che ci stanno fregando un sacco di punti e dobbiamo recuperare
Lotor: vai tranquillo che adesso butto giù anche io un po’ di drabble da cento parole così imparano
Lotor: piuttosto che farli vincere trasformo il mio saggio di letteratura inglese in una serie di drabble
Lotor: devono affogare cazzo (cit)
Keith: benissimo, io finisco di buttare giù le altre due trame e poi ti do una mano
A Keith dispiaceva per Shiro ma oh, il cow-t era il cow-t, e poi Keith non ci stava a perdere proprio con la squadra di Lance, scordandosi, per un momento, che anche Shiro era parte della squadra dei cavalieri. E che anche Shiro era iper-competitivo nelle cose.
Keith buttò giù in fretta due storie da poco più di mille parole e le pubblicò immediatamente, sicuramente piene di errori grammaticali perché chi ha tempo di scrivere in maniera decente e in italiano corretto durante il cow-t? Poi aggiornò il contatore delle squadre, solo per avere un’altra brutta sorpresa.
Keith: ma come hanno fatto a superarci pure nel numero di parole totali???
Lotor: e dire che esiste il malus del sabato sera proprio per evitare situazioni di questo tipo…
Keith: banniamo i cavalieri dalle prossime edizioni del cow-t
Lotor: anche dalla vita, proprio
Per curiosità, Keith andò a cercare la masterlist del cow-t per capire chi poteva essere stato a pubblicare così tanto nell’ultima ora di gioco. Respirò pesantemente quando vide scritto, a chiare lettere, il nickname di Shiro su Lande di Fandom (gayblackpaladin). Aveva pubblicato due storie da quasi 10.000 parole.
Keith: sto per commettere un omicidio
Lotor: approvo, ma perché?
Keith: Shiro
Keith: mi aveva detto che andava a dormire, che era stanco, e sta tirando mattoni di 10.000 parole
Lotor: ci sono gli estremi per il divorzio, io te lo dico
Keith: tu ci scherzi, ma l’unico motivo per cui Pidge e Matt sono stati messi in squadra assieme è perché due anni fa hanno rischiato di incendiare camera loro per evitare che uno dei due pubblicasse più dell’altro
Lotor: amo questo gioco
Keith si rese conto che non aveva troppo senso sfogarsi con Lotor quando poteva alzarsi e andare a insultare Shiro di persona. E dire che si era anche sentito in colpa perché lo stava abbandonando a letto da solo! Abbassò lo schermo del laptop e lo appoggiò con poca delicatezza sul divano. Ignorò il cartone della pizza ancora lì e la televisione accesa e raggiunse la porta della camera da letto.
Abbassò la maniglia, ma la porta non si aprì. Provò ancora un paio di volte, ma quando sentì le risate soffocate di Shiro all’interno della stanza, capì. “Ma ti sei pure chiuso dentro?”
“Scusa, eh, ma non c’è andato molto a genio essere arrivati secondi settimana scorsa.”
“Shiro, apri questa porta.”
“La aprirò esattamente a mezzanotte e un minuto.”
Keith respirò pesantemente. “Avevi detto che eri stanco. Avevi detto che volevi riposarti perché domani mattina saremo stati assieme.”
“L’ultima parte della frase è vera.”
“Non lo sarà ancora a lungo se non apri questa porta.”
Per un attimo, Shiro non rispose. “Mi spiace, lo faccio per il bene della mia squadra. E poi hai il tuo portatile, no? Puoi scrivere anche tu nel frattempo.”
“Oh, ci puoi giurare!”
Keith ritornò sul suo divano e spense la televisione. Prima di rimettersi a scrivere, però, diede un’altra occhiata all’andamento delle squadre. Lotor stava pubblicando drabble a manetta, e così anche Lance, ma Shiro aveva probabilmente segnalato un’altra storia dal notevole numero di parole. Probabilmente le aveva da parte, altro che emergenza al lavoro! Quello faceva straordinari per scrivere fic!
Non sarebbe mai riuscito a batterlo con le due-tre fic che gli restavano da scrivere nelle prossime due ore. Sospirò pesantemente e si accasciò sul divano e fu in quel momento che si rese conto di una cosa importante: avevano il modem di internet in salotto.
Keith: scusate, per stasera non posso più pubblicare
Keith: ma non potrà più farlo nemmeno Shiro
Lotor: ???
Keith non rispose. Si alzò e fissò il modem solo per un attimo, prima di afferrare la spina e staccarla di netto dalla corrente.
Ci vollero cinque minuti buoni prima che Shiro si accorgesse di non avere più la connessione a disposizione, e altri cinque prima che capisse che non era un problema tecnico ma umano.
“KEITH!”
“Che c’è?” rispose lui, con tono ingenuo.
“Riattacca immediatamente il modem!”
“Vieni ad attaccarlo tu se proprio ci tieni. Ma dovrai uscire da quella stanza per farlo.”
“Non puoi pubblicare nemmeno tu senza internet!”
“A questo punto preferisco boicottare te e le tue storie da 10.000 parole, guarda, mi dà più soddisfazione.”
“Stanotte dormi sul divano.”
“Per me va bene.”
Keith accese nuovamente la televisione e alzò il volume, non abbastanza perché i vicini chiamassero la polizia per schiamazzi notturni, ma abbastanza per far capire a Shiro che la questione era chiusa e che, per parlare con lui, avrebbe dovuto aprire la porta e uscire da quella maledetta stanza.
Il problema è che erano entrambi competitivi ai massimi livelli: Keith si impose di continuare a tenere gli occhi fissi sulla televisione e fingere di non aver visto, nemmeno per una volta, la porta della stanza schiudersi appena, e poi richiudersi. Ad una certa aveva quasi pensato di fingere di dormire, per vedere se Shiro si azzardava a uscire dalla stanza, per poi saltare sopra il divano, chiudersi dentro e formattagli l’intero hard disk giusto per essere sicuro che non avesse un centinaio di fic da ventordicimila parole pronte per le settimane successive. Ma no, era quasi sicuro che Shiro non si sarebbe fidato a lasciare incustodito il suo portatile. Sorrise al pensiero, immaginandosi Shiro che usciva furtivamente dalla camera, il portatile stretto al petto, e camminava in punta di piedi fino al modem per attaccare di nuovo la spina alla corrente.
Intanto, con il cellulare, Keith provò a buttare giù un paio di drabble da un centinaio di parole. Niente di che, giusto per sentirsi impegnato e per dare l’idea di fare qualcosa per aiutare la squadra. Vedendo l’andamento delle squadre in tempo reale, si capiva che Lotor e Lance si stavano ancora sfidando a colpi di flashfic, ma le tre storie che aveva pubblicato Shiro permettevano ai cavalieri di tenersi a un buon margine di distanza, e le cose non cambiarono molto nel corso della serata.
Con un sospiro seccato, Keith diede un’occhiata ai prompt e alle missioni per la settimana successiva, prima di notare che la porta della camera era ora leggermente aperta. Contemplò per un attimo l’idea di dormire effettivamente sul divano giusto perché non era petty per niente, ma la scartò.
Shiro era effettivamente a letto, già sotto le coperte, probabilmente fingendo di dormire. Keith si mise il pigiama in fretta e si infilò anche lui sotto, voltato di schiena e stando ben attendo a non sfiorarlo nemmeno per sbaglio.
Due minuti dopo, le mani di Shiro si avvolsero attorno al suo petto. Keith fece uno sforzo molto blando per divincolarsi e, con un sospiro mezzo seccato mezzo divertito, si rilassò completamente mentre Shiro gli succhiava la base della nuca. Si voltò lentamente e strinse le sue dita attorno al pigiama di Shiro, leccandosi le labbra.
“Perdonato?” sussurrò Shiro, il suo fiato che gli solleticava il collo.
“Assolutamente no. Eravamo praticamente pari, e invece avete vinto di nuovo voi! Meno male che ti ho staccato il modem, altrimenti chissà di quanto ci superavate.”
“Be’, allora…” Shiro fece per allontanarsi, ma Keith lo bloccò, le mani appoggiate sui suoi fianchi.
“Non sei perdonato,” disse, “Ma è un buon inizio.”
***
Il sabato successivo, Shiro non aveva il turno serale al lavoro. Era rimasto comunque fuori fino alle sei per terminare uno dei progetti che seguiva per la società, e per cui forse gli avrebbero persino pagato gli straordinari, e fra una pausa e l’altra avrebbe anche potuto scrivere qualcosa per le sfide settimanali.
Mentre tornava a casa, seduto in metropolitana, diede un’occhiata rapida all’andamento delle squadre. I maghi avevano il problema della missione di salvataggio, ma Pidge era tornata a pieno ritmo per cui Shiro era sicuro che, se avessero loro permesso di superarli questa settimana, sarebbe stato difficile riprenderli dopo. I vampiri invece erano più o meno in parità rispetto a loro e quindi Shiro sapeva bene che non potevano permettersi distrazioni.
Aprì la chat di squadra.
Shiro: come siamo messi?
Lance: ecco, di questo ti volevo parlare
Lance: ti ho mandato un file su dropbox
Shiro: cos’è?
Lance: sono tutte le drabble e le flashfic che ho scritto questa settimana, tra una pausa e l’altra
Lance: non sono moltissime perché Lotor ha voluto a tutti i costi accompagnarmi ogni mattina e c’è un limite a quanto posso anticipare la sveglia!
Shiro: scommetto che l’ha fatto di proposito
Lance: dici?
Shiro: figuriamoci
Lance: vabbé, ormai è fatta, mi inventerò una scusa migliore per settimana prossima
Lance: il punto è che stasera non posso pubblicarle, Lotor ha invitato Allura a cena e intanto devo iniziare a prepararmi da adesso, quindi devo interrompere tutto
Shiro guardò l’orario: erano le cinque e mezza.
Shiro: per quand’è la cena
Lance: alle otto
Shiro: vuoi che commento?
Lance: no
Lance: comunque, non farmi perdere il punto! Stasera, cena con Lotor e Allura, fine, non c’è cow-t che tenga ma col cavolo che faccio vincere i vampiri, manco morto, quindi ti mando le mie credenziali e pubblichi tu le mie storie a nome mio
Shiro: è legale?
Lance: ho controllato e nel regolamento non c’è niente che lo vieti, vietano di scrivere storie per contro di altri, quindi sarebbe un problema se le pubblicassi col tuo account, ma dato che userai il mio…
Shiro: si, va bene, per me non ci sono grandi problemi, a meno che Keith non mi stacchi il modem anche questa sera
Lance: staccagli le dita
Shiro: stare con Lotor ti fa male, io te lo dico
Shiro: comunque vai tranquillo, abbiamo il modem in salotto, e sto rientrando presto stasera, non dovrei avere problemi, se succede qualcosa di informo, passami tutto
Lance: perfetto
Lance: tra l’altro ti tengo pure occupato Lotor così non potrà pubblicare nemmeno lui, meglio di così
Shiro bravo soldato
Lance: cavaliere, please, ci tengo
Shiro: ci teniamo tutti, altro che vampiri e maghi e angeli
Tornò a casa pensando a un paio di trame che avrebbe ancora potuto scrivere per la prima missione, che era quella dove erano rimasti un attimo indietro. La casa era stranamente silenziosa.
“Keith?” chiamò. Nessuna risposta.
Appoggiò la borsa sul divano e si recò in camera da letto, la cui porta era semichiusa, le persiane alle finestre già chiuse. Accese la luce e venne accolto da un mugolio infastidito di qualcuno che si mosse da sotto le coperte. Shiro si avvicinò abbastanza per notare sul comodino il termometro e una bustina aperta di tachipirina, con un bicchiere vuoto a fianco.
“Ti senti male? Perché non mi hai chiamato?”
Keith spuntò la testa da sotto le coperte. “È solo un’infreddatura…”
“A quanto hai la febbre?”
“Trentotto e mezzo.”
“Non mi pare solo un’infreddatura!”
“Ma adesso ho preso una tachipirina, vedrai che si abbassa.”
“A che ora l’hai presa?”
“Boh? Alle cinque?”
Shiro controllò l’orologio, poi passò la mano fra i capelli di Keith. “Non mi sembri molto caldo adesso, in effetti. Tu come ti senti?”
“Ho freddo e mal di testa.”
“Vedrai che adesso la tachipirina ti fa passare anche questo. Non vuoi bere un po’? Fa bene bere con la febbre.”
“Vorrei solo riposarmi.”
Shiro annuì. “Va bene, non preoccuparti. Mi metto di là così non ti disturbo.” Si alzò e lo sguardo gli cadde sulla confezione della tachipirina. La prese e se la rigirò fra le mani.
“Cosa c’è?”
“È scaduta.”
“…ma se ha funzionato?”
Shiro scosse la testa. “Adesso vado a ricomprarne subito una scatola in farmacia, così se poi alle otto se hai ancora la febbre alta ti prendi quella non scaduta.”
Keith fece un’espressione annoiata, ma poi annuì e si ritirò nuovamente sotto le coperte.
“Tieni il cellulare vicino così mi chiami se hai bisogno. Io torno fra poco.”
Shiro uscì di nuovo di casa, fece la coda in farmacia, acquistò la tachipirina e rientrò in casa. Keith probabilmente stava dormendo perché era ancora sotto le coperte e non si mosse sentendolo rientrare. Shiro chiuse la porta e riportò la scatola della tachipirina al suo posto nel cassetto del bagno, poi si sistemò nel tavolo della cucina a scrivere. Premette i tasti molto lentamente, il che ovviamente causò un rallentamento nella sua velocità di produrre fiction e parole, ma non voleva rischiare di svegliare Keith che aveva bisogno di riposare.
Alle otto, però, oltre a fare una pausa perché cominciava a non vederci più nel mare di parole che aveva scritto, andò a svegliarlo. Si sedette nel letto accanto a lui e gli accarezzò delicatamente i capelli per svegliarlo. Keith mugolò appena e non diede nessun segno di volersi svegliare.
“Sono le otto, ora di misurarsi la febbre.”
Keith borbottò qualcos’altro di non esattamente comprensibile, ma con molta calma estrasse la mano da sotto le coperte per afferrare il termometro, prima di farlo scomparire di nuovo al di sotto. Shiro rimase ad aspettare finché il termometro non suonò. Keith non si prese nemmeno la briga di guardarlo, glielo passò direttamente.
“Trentasette e sei,” commentò Shiro. “Ti risparmi la tachipirina, magari prendiamo un’aspirina dopo. Ti va di mangiare qualcosa?”
“Non lo so…”
“Ti faccio un po’ di brodo?”
“Uhm… Qualcosa di più leggero?”
“Un po’ di tè? Limone e zucchero, che ti sostiene.”
Keith ridacchiò. “Sembri una nonna. Ma grazie, sì, un po’ di tè va bene.”
Shiro annuì e, dopo un’ultima carezza sulla testa, tornò in cucina. Mise un po’ di acqua sul fuoco per farsi pasta e tonno per sé e il tè per Keith, preparò la tazza con tanto limone e tanto zucchero e la bustina del tè che avevano in casa da una vita (ma per fortuna quello non era ancora scaduto). Quando fu tutto pronto, mentre la pasta cuoceva, mise tazza e pacco di biscotti su un vassoio per portarlo in camera.
Keith spuntò la testa oltre le coperte. “Ma potevo alzarmi…”
“Figurati.”
Keith gli riservò un piccolo sorriso mentre si tirava su a sedere.
“Te la senti di mangiare da solo?”
“Sì! Dai, ho solo un’influenza, non sono moribondo.”
“Hai avvertito il lavoro domani?”
“Magari domani sto meglio.”
“Keith…”
“Va bene, dopo gli mando un messaggio.”
Riservò a Shiro un brevissimo sorriso prima di buttare tre biscotti nel tè e mescolare il tutto col cucchiaio. Shiro andò a recuperare la sua pasta con butto e parmigiano e portò il piatto a letto, in modo da far compagnia a Keith mentre cenavano.
“Potevi ordinarti qualcosa a domicilio,” fece presente Keith.
Shiro alzò le spalle. Sarebbe stato brutto mangiare la pizza o qualsiasi altra cosa vagamente decente e da un buon odore con Keith malato e costretto a tè e biscotti senza cioccolato. “A me piace la pasta col burro.”
“Non è vero ma apprezzo la buona volontà.”
“E io non ti bacio solo perché non voglio che mi attacchi la febbre,” ribatté scherzosamente Shiro.
Finito di cenare, Shiro sistemò la cucina mentre Keith si alzava un attimo per andare in bagno, avvolto nella coperta come se fosse una specie di mantello. “Te la senti di vedere un po’ di televisione con me?” gli domandò, mentre chiudeva la lavastoviglie e la metteva in moto.
Keith scosse la testa. “Prendo un’aspirina,” e indicò la scatola che aveva in mano, “e poi vado di nuovo a riposarmi.”
“Hai controllato che questa non sia scaduta?”
Keith gli scoccò un’occhiata seccata, ma Shiro lo vide rientrare in camera girandosi la scatola fra le mani per verificare la data di scadenza. “È ancora buona!” gli comunicò urlando. Shiro scosse la testa divertito.
Il suo computer era ancora sul tavolino della cucina, e lo aprì per verificare la situazione delle squadre prima di mettersi a pubblicare le sue storie e quelle di Lance. Alzò leggermente un sopracciglio e verificò la linea: diceva che non c’era internet. Che strano. Si alzò a controllare il modem che era sotto la televisione, ma le tre luci verdi erano accese e sembrava non esserci nulla di strano.
Riavviò il portatile e poi lasciò andare il sistema antivirus per verificare se c’era qualche problema interno di connettività, ma niente. Controllò anche sul suo cellulare: effettivamente la wi-fi non funzionava.
Scoccò un’occhiata alla camera, da cui non proveniva più alcun suono, riflettendo se fosse il caso di chiedere a Keith se internet avesse avuto problemi nel pomeriggio. Ma no, dubitava che l’avesse usato con la febbre alta che si ritrovava. Stava quasi per cercare il numero dell’assistenza Telecom per chiamare e verificare se il guasto fosse sulla linea, quando notò che il portatile di Keith non era al suo solito posto sul bracciolo del divano.
Con sospetto, utilizzò la connessione del cellulare per andare su Lande di Fandom e sbirciare l’andamento delle squadre. I vampiri erano avanti, e di diverse lunghezze. Dalla masterlist, risultavano diverse storie di Lotor, il che era strano ma non così tanto: se aveva invitato Allura a cena, era perché sapeva che aveva il modo di continuare a pubblicare anche con quell’inconveniente. Ma c’erano anche diverse storie di Keith che, Shiro era sicuro, non fossero state pubblicate prima di sabato.
Tornò a controllare il modem, in ginocchio di fronte alla televisione. C’era qualcosa di strano, Shiro non sapeva cosa dire ma sicuramente non funzionava per ragioni non inerenti la Telecom. Si voltò in tempo per vedere Keith che sbirciava la situazione da dietro la porta della camera. Aveva un’espressione colpevole sul viso.
Ma prima che Shiro avesse l’opportunità di dire qualcosa, Keith sbatté la porta della camera e Shiro sentì il familiare suono della chiave che girava nella toppa. Si precipitò ad afferrare la maniglia, ma ovviamente era troppo tardi.
“Keith! Che cos’hai fatto al modem stavolta?”
“Niente,” ripeté Keith dall’interno, ma era un pessimo bugiardo.
Shiro respirò pesantemente. “Sei davvero malato?” domandò. A questa, Keith non rispose. “Seriamente, Keith, seriamente?”
“Hai iniziato tu,” ribatté Keith.
“Avevo solo detto di essere stanco! Tu hai finto di essere moribondo!”
“A mia discolpa, ho provato a dire che era solo un’infreddatura.”
Shiro scosse la testa e tornò a sedersi al tavolo della cucina.
Shiro: Lance, emergenza! Keith ha di nuovo staccato il modem, non so come!
Shiro: non so come pubblicare le tue storie, help!
Shiro: Lance???
Ovviamente Lance era impegnato con la sua cena e non stava guardando la chat. Frustrato, Shiro diede un’altra occhiata all’andamento delle squadre. Keith aveva pubblicato un’altra storia.
“Come cavolo hai fatto senza internet!” sbottò Shiro.
“Ho comprato un hotspot apposta per il cow-t.”
E Shiro pensava di essere quello competitivo! “Benissimo,” disse, “visto che non sei malato e non mi devo più preoccupare, esco.”
“Come esci?” La voce di Keith risuonava perplessa, quasi delusa.
Shiro non si lasciò intimorire. Prese giacca, portatile, batteria, borsa e uscì. Mezz’ora dopo, suonava a casa di Lance e Lotor. Fu Lotor stesso a rispondere, con solo i pantaloni addosso e i capelli mezzi spettinati.
“Shirogane?” domandò perplesso.
“Lance c’è?” disse Shiro e poi, senza aspettare risposta, entrò e si accomodò col suo portatile sul tavolino della cucina, ancora pieno di piatti sporchi da lavare. “Mi serve la vostra connessione.”
“Shiro? Che ci fai qui?” Lance comparve sulla soglia e aveva l’aria di uno che si era appena rivestito in fretta e al buio.
“La password del wi-fi,” commentò Shiro. “A casa mia non funziona e ho un sacco di storie da pubblicare per il cow-t.”
“E’ dietro il modem.” Lance indicò con la testa la scatola bianca sulla mensola.
Lotor alzò gli occhi al cielo. “Seriamente? Avremo da fare qui. Ed è la mia connessione, mi rifiuto di farla usare a un cavaliere.”
“Ne pago metà anche io, ti ricordo, quindi la possono usare anche i miei compagni di squadra. E pure io sono un cavaliere!”
“Vantatene pure.” Lotor diede un pizzico sulla guancia a Lance. “E poi, vuoi davvero lasciare Shiro qui in cucina mentre noi…”
“Aaaah,” gridò Lance, cercando di tappargli la bocca.
“Io non mi formalizzo, fate pure quello che dovete fare,” commentò Shiro, che aveva recuperato la password e si stava connettendo, pronto ad aprire la pagina di Ao3.
“Caccialo via,” ordinò Lotor.
“No. Sei tu quello che ha avuto l’idea di invitare Allura solo per distrarmi dal cow-t. Hai passato le tue storie alla tua amica perché te le pubblicasse.”
“Oh, vuoi dirmi che ti stava dispiacendo? E poi pure tu le hai passate a Shirogane, quindi siamo pari per quanto riguarda questa storia.”
Allura comparve dietro di loro. Era vestita, aveva le braccia incrociate e quell’espressione che indicava che era arrabbiata ma che non l’avrebbe dato a vedere nemmeno sotto tortura, giusto per non dare soddisfazione.
“Gente, io me ne vado,” commentò. “Visto che per ora sono solo una scusa per perdere o vincere una sfida di fanfiction.”
“No, Allura, resta di prego,” pregò Lance.
Shiro alzò leggermente un sopracciglio. “Se te ne vai, ti porti dietro anche Lotor? Così non può scrivere.”
“Seriamente, Shiro?”
Finì con Lotor e Lance che convinsero Allura a restare (e magari a iscriversi al cow-t l’anno prossimo, giusto per capire che c’era una ragione per cui era serious business) e Shiro seduto sulle scale del pianerottolo, il portatile sulle ginocchia, a pubblicare fanfiction utilizzando la loro connessione.
Quando tornò a casa, la porta della camera era aperta e Keith lo stava aspettando sveglio, un sorriso soddisfatto sul volto: i vampiri avevano vinto la settimana di diverse lunghezze. Senza cambiarsi, Shiro si sedette sul letto di fianco a lui e lo baciò. Sentì Keith rilassarsi sotto le sue labbra e poggiargli le mani sulle spalle.
“Possiamo considerarci pari, adesso?” Shiro domandò.
“Non lo so, bisogna vedere le prossime due settimane,” replicò Keith divertito. “Non abbiamo ancora vinto il cow-t.”
“E non lo vincerete,” commentò Shiro. “Ho già in mente un sacco di plot per la prossima sfida.”
“Per le fanfiction, o per impedire a me di scrivere e pubblicare?”
“Entrambi.”
Keith incrociò le braccia. “Hai appena detto che eravamo pari.”
“E da domani si ricomincia da capo.”
Keith sospirò e si accasciò di fianco a lui. “Dovremo farci mettere in squadra assieme l’anno prossimo.”
Shiro ci pensò un attimo. “No. Non sarebbe abbastanza divertente.”
Tanto il cow-t lo vinsero comunque i maghi.

Posted: 18/3/2019, 20:34

To get there - Storie per il COWT

The first time Shiro sees Keith Kogane, they’re on the opposite side of the net.
It’s the last match of the season, the Cup Final. The team that wins the match, wins the Championship.
Shiro is at his second year as a player of Cucine Lube Civitanova Marche and he has still fresh the defeat of the year before, so he is going to do everything in his power to success this time. It’s his pride as opposite hitter that speaks for him.
Their opponent is the Itas Trentino Team. They are the winner of the previous year, but most of the players left at the end of the last championship and they have a brand new team. They can’t be underestimated, though. The previous two match hadn’t been easy, even if Shiro’s team was able to win both times.
“You know how they play,” Coach Iverson tells them, “do not concede them anything and close the match in three sets. You can do it.”
And for the first two sets, Shiro’s team is able to follow Iverson’s instructions. It incredibly amusing playing when everything goes smoothly. The opposite team isn’t bad, but they can’t find the right timing. And, from time to time, Shiro’s team is able to stand up and take the lead. Shiro himself put down a good amount of points.
“Show off,” Matt jokes.
“We’ll take that cup,” Shiro replies, “and the title of MPV.”
The years before, he watched as they awarded the opposite hitter of the other team. This time, that award will be Shiro.
The third set is almost like stealing candies to a child. The Itas Trentino loses all his motivation and they make two very bad mistakes. They look unable to collect themselves, until Shiro’s team finds leading the set (and the match) 10-2.
“The final of the championship should be better but, man, I won’t complain,” Matt comments. “The match is practically ours.”
Adam gives him a small pack on the neck. “Do not lose you focus. We still have fifteen points to make.”
“Let Shiro do those. He’s stealing the show,” Matt replies, and winks at him.
Shiro shrugs. “Fine by me, if you toss the ball as you should.”
Matt fakes annoyance. “I always do. I’m the setter of the USA National, do not forget that.”
A time out is requested from Itas Trentino, so Shiro and the others returns to their bench. Iverson has nothing to do to them. They’re doing their work. Just keep their rhythm and avoid the other team to stand up again.
“Have you seen Kolivan’s face?” Matt comments, nodding with his head at the coach of Itas Trentino. “He looks he’s ready to murder someone. I can’t image how his player might feel.”
“Do you want to lose the match to save them?” Shiro jokes.
“Yeah, sure, so then I’ll be the one getting killed by Iverson.”
But Shiro looks at the bench as they return on the field, and man, Kolivan looks pissed. He doesn’t have the friendliest face out of all the coaches, but when his team is playing bad, his face just turns into a demonical one. It said Kolivan is the best coach out there, and maybe it’s true, but Shiro’s happy not having to deal too much with him.
Once both teams are back on the field, Kolivan asks for a substitution. He made a couple on the first two sets, but this is the first time for the player that’s waiting next to the second referee. Shiro frowns. He doesn’t remember to have seen him before.
“They change the setter?” Adam asks.
“Unsurprisingly,” Matt comments. “He hasn’t get a set well done today.”
“Yeah, but risking so much at this point of the match…”
“They don’t have another choice. It’s all or nothing. Kolivan’s way.”
Shiro observes the new player. He looks young, both by his face and his height, definitely smaller than an average volleyball player. Dark hair surrounded his face, at the point that Shiro asks if they aren’t in the way of his sight. And he has the two most gorgeous blue eyes Shiro has ever seen.
“My God, Shiro has a gay disaster panic attack,” Matt exclaims, and he elbows Shiro. “Why have a player that plays good, when you can have a player who’s handsome.”
Shiro rolls his eyes. “I’m just try to understand if I saw him before.”
“And if you have his phone number,” Matt adds.
“He’s Keith Kogane,” Adam informs him. “He’s good. Kolivan used him in the past, a couple of time, with the lower tier teams. During the most important matches he entered only for serves and, to my knowledge, never against a top tier teams.”
“Kolivan must be desperate,” Matt comments.
“It doesn’t matter,” Shiro says. “Let’s keep our rhythm high and win this match.”
The next point after the time out goes to Itas Trentino. Shiro isn’t surprised, this is volleyball, and it’s pretty normal to score from time to time. It’s harder have such a long strike of points as they managed before. But he has to admit, his eyes turn a little too much on Keith Kogane.
The man is gorgeous, no doubt about that. And by the family name, at least he had Japanese heritage, just like Shiro. But, most of all, Keith walks on the field with confidence, as this isn’t his first important match and as his team isn’t loosing badly. Shiro is curious to see what Kogane can do.
He finds it soon enough. It’s Keith turns to serve, and he throws the ball directly against Shiro’s zone. Shiro blinks and remains still, as the ball passes right at his right and smashes against the field’s line. That was a perfect serve. He ignores Matt’s look as they return in position after the usual ritual.
It’s just a point.
Next serve is less precise, and Shiro is able to move to take it, but it turns out his timing is actually off: the ball hits his closed first and then speeds off towards the public. The serve has more strength that Shiro anticipates and he isn’t able to direction the ball at his setter.
“Shiro! Get your gay ass together!” Matt is less playful this time.
Shiro snorts at him and hopes that Kogane will change the direction of his serve this time so someone else can try to stop him. He doesn’t and Shiro swears under his breath as finally manages to take the ball and sent it, even if not at best, towards Matt. He is kind enough to set the ball for Shiro, who has every intention to make amend for his previous mistakes.
He jumps, looks at the triple block, and spikes the ball above it. Kogane is on the last line of the field and he takes the ball before it falls. Worse than that, he’s able at the same time to direction it perfectly to his own team’s opposite hitter, who scores.
It’s not just a point anymore.
Worse, Itas Trentino Team is regaining confidence. It’s not about Kogane anymore. Even when Shiro’s team manages to regain the serve turn, they are able to stop them from scoring twice in a row, while their blocks and their serves become more precise. They still have the upper hands, but the advantage is getting thinner and thinner.
“Okay, I’m getting angry,” Adam comments. He jumps and spikes: the ball escapes from the opponent’s Libero’s hands. “Try to save it.”
Never sends a challenge to Kogane: he rushes, he jumps on his team bench and he takes the ball before it lands, standing on his knees. And again, despite the incredible bad position, his set is perfect and Antok gains another point.
Kogane isn’t the good server. He’s the amazing setter. He’s probably because his young age that he hasn’t been playing much recently but damn, he’s good. Unlike the regular first-team setter, Kogane uses a lot more his middle blockers, and the opposite hitter when he can make pipes. Their way of playing becomes more various. It makes Shiro wonders what Kogane will do in two or three years, after gaining the experiences he lacks now.
“I can’t believe Kolivan has this ace upon his sleeves,” Matt grumbles. Kolivan’s face seems less dark now.
“Stay calm,” Iverson orders. “We may have caught by surprise by the fact that we don’t know their setter as better as the other player, but if you do what you know, you can win. We’re still head.”
Not for long, though. The third set score is draw right now and with the last point, Itas Trentino takes the first set point, and the occasion to prolong the match and have a hope of winning. Shiro isn’t going to permit it. He will finish the match know.
Matt tosses the ball to him while Adam lures the block on the other side. He can score. He hit the ball and before even notices, the ball returns to him, smashes against his shoulder and fall on the ground. Shiro lands and blinks, unable to process the fact someone blocked him out of nowhere and by himself.
No, not anyone. Kogane did it, and now he’s looking at Shiro from the other side of the net with a small smirk on his lips. Cheesy brat.
“You okay?” Matt asks.
“Yes. Never better.”
Shiro isn’t going to lose to Kogane, he decides. He isn’t going to lose to anyone. He can admit that he has a small admiration for Kogane. He’s definitely one of the best setter, better than Matt probably; his serves are wonderful and he manages to put down a couple of second touch attacks that catch their defense by surprise. And in one occasion he even spikes, just to show he can be a hitter if he wants too.
But he’s still too inexperience. He gets guts, that Shiro recognizes that much, but he still lacks the abilities to see the entire field. He sets the ball sometimes too low, hoping his hitters would be able to take it nevertheless, and he lack the way experienced setter manages to anticipate the blocks. He’s not at Shiro’s level yet. Kogane’ll get there, just not now. Not in this match.
At least, Shiro will end it before it happens.
The two teams are in a draw, and it’s Matt’s turn to serve. The serve is a float type, one Matt is very able to, and he doesn’t miss the chance to ace in the most important moment of the match.
Now they are 24-23.
Matt serves again, the opponent team spikes, Adam defenses so Matt can toss the ball again, and at Shiro. This is the occasion he’s waiting for. The triple block is in front of him, but Shiro isn’t going to risk and throw the ball to high and send it outside the field. He looks at the block, he looks at Kogane’s hands as they aren’t well placed, and smashes the ball right against them. The ball escapes from Kogane’s hand and he’s unable to control its direction.
The ball ends outside the field.
25-23, match point to Cucine Lube Civitanova Marche.
Shiro has just a second to exchange a look with Kogane, so Shiro can see his lost gaze still on the fallen ball, before Matt drags him back in the group hug for the victory.
“We did it! We did it!” he screams in Shiro’s ears. “And you get the MPV titles, you bastard.”
“I can’t say if you’re happy or not for me,” Shiro laughs.
They line next the net to greet the other time and Shiro gets his chance to shake hands with Kogane.
“Great match,” he says to him, smiling brightly.
Kogane grips Shiro’s hand without looking at him in the eyes, head lower. Shiro observes as he returns to his team’s bench and taking his backpack. Kolivan comes next to him, places a hand on his shoulder and whispers something to him. Kogane just scoffs.
“He’s a sore loser, uh,” Matt comments.
“He’s young,” Adam says. “He isn’t used to defeat.”
Shiro understands Kogane. He’s a sore loser too. He wouldn’t become so good if he wasn’t.
The rest of the evening makes Shiro almost forget about Kogane. Almost. He just has too things to do, the winning ceremony (he gets the MVP award), the party afterward and the subsequently drunkenness. He’s happy. They’re a good team.
Still, when he returns home, he’s lucid enough to open his laptop and search on youtube with the search word “Keith Kogane”. He finds only a couple of videos about him, so he has to go back and look for Itas Trentino’s match to see at his play again.
Someone already uploaded the final match and Shiro can see in HD and in slow motion the moment Kogane blocked his attack. But, mostly important, he can see in HD and in slow motion what Kogane can do with his hand. The way he touches the ball is soft, delicate, able to make the ball doing what he wants.
Shiro has the bad though of wanting to be that ball. I am a hopeless gay disaster, he thinks, remembering Matt’s jokes about it. Well, it isn’t his fault if Kogane is a gorgeous man and an amazing setter all in one person.
***
The second time Shiro sees Keith Kogane, they’re in the same side of the net.
Something Shiro doesn’t expect, at least not so soon. He would lie if he says he never imagines he and Kogane playing together. He thinks about it more than once, wondering how fun can be receiving Kogane’s sets. But he thinks he won’t happen for the time being.
He still has a two-years agreement with Cucine Lube Civitanova Marche and he’s grateful to the team for believing in him, so he doesn’t plan to change team soon. And Kolivan is a coach knowing for keeping his players as much as possible to make them grown, so it’s easy to assume he’s going to have Keith in his team as long as possible.
Shiro definitely doesn’t expect to see him as a player of the Japan National Volleyball Team.
He knows Kogane is half-canadian half-japanese, but he believes he chose to play for Canada, as he did in the junior teams. So Shiro has a very bad time to control his mouth from opening for the shock as Kogane enters in the room where the Japanese coach summons their first reunion before the team’s retreat in order to prepare for the World League.
“This is Keith Kogane,” the coach introduces to the oldest member of the team the newest arrival. “He owns a Japanese passport and he decides to play with us from now on.”
Kogane bows down. “I play in Italy, with the Itas Trentino Team. I’m a setter.” His Japanese is a little bit unsure, but the voice is steady. “My grandfather was Japanese. I was in the Canadian National Team before, because he used to live there with my father, but I saw the Japanese Team playing and I decided I prefer your style of playing. Nice to meet you all.”
“Thank you, Kogane-san. Please, sit down.”
The coach introduces other three new players and then explains about the retreat and how he’s going to organize their training and the matches they’ll face. Shiro isn’t listening anymore. He can’t take his eyes off Kogane and his suit. Kogane doesn’t turn to look at him, not even once, and Shiro doesn’t get the chance to speak with him at the end of the reunion,
Too bad.
They’ll have more days at the retreat, hopefully. Maybe Kogane hates him from their last match. Shiro thinks about Matt and about his idea that Shiro is able to charm anyone without even trying, but for some reason Shiro believes it isn’t true and it isn’t especially true for Kogane.
That night, he dreams of him. He dreams of them together in the field, and of Kogane setting the ball at him. It’s a perfect ball, curled in Shiro’s hand as he smashed it in the ground of the opposite field. He wakes up sweaty, after getting a sleepy orgasm because of it. Shiro looks at the sheet of his bed and sighs.
Now facing Kogane will be twice difficult. Well, maybe Kogane hating on him isn’t the worst thing in the world for now.
But it turns out the karma hates him too, because the coach puts him and Kogane in the same bedroom for the retreat. Shiro has the impression that the retreat won’t go as good as he anticipates.
“Which bed do you prefer?” Shiro asks, to avoid an embarrassing silence.
Kogane shrugs. “It’s the same.”
So Shiro takes the one next the bathroom door and starts unpacking his suitcase. Kogane does the same on his bed, and Shiro passes him a couple of hangers for the jackets.
“Thank you, Shirogane-san.”
“You can call me Shiro. Everyone call me that.”
“I know,” Kogane replies, and then he bits his lips. A slightly flush appears on his cheeks. “I mean, I saw the fans back in Italy.”
“Yeah, it’s a nickname I got there,” Shiro says. “It’s either that or samurai.”
“Samurai?” Kogane frowns.
“They love nicknames for players, but they have very limited fantasy. Go a little more famous and you will get one too.”
“Well, I hope it’s something better than Samurai. No offence.”
“Not taken.” He smiles: his embarrassment is almost gone. After all, Kogane doesn’t have to know he got an orgasm with a dream about it. “Can I call you Keith?”
“Sure.” There is a small smile on Keith’s lips.
Okay, so probably Keith doesn’t hate him. It was an irrational though – they are professional, and defeat happens – but Shiro is reassured nevertheless.
“So… how do you end playing in Italy?”
“My mom is a friend with Kolivan, so he saw me playing,” Keith explains. “I played in the Canadian Championship before, but it’s not like the Italian one. The level is a lot lower.”
“It’s true the Italian Championship is one of the best in the world,” Shiro confirms. “But it looks you don’t have problem with it.”
“Thanks, but you still kicked my ass.” Keith smirks. “I’ll get you next time, old timer.”
Shiro doesn’t doubt that. “How’s Kolivan as a coach?”
“Hard. But he’s the best. He’s one that cares about his player, but also realizes the team is more important, so yeah.”
“He looks scary from the outside.”
“He is.”
They leave the room to reach the gym. What Shiro understands from the way Keith trains, is that Keith is a hard-worker, restless, focused, but with no much patient. He has some self-discipline, and it is understandable since he’s a professional, but there is an annoyed frown on his face every time he has to do a basic exercise, or every time he’s put in a second line.
And Shiro should stop to look at him so much.
The worst part arrives during the exercise of attacks. The two setters are near the net, and they alternate tossing the ball at the other players, in line one after another. Shiro has no problem hit the ball with the usual setter – he has played with him for years at that point – but with Keith he just doesn’t manage to get the ball right.
Keith’s set are good. Wonderful, actually. At that’s the problem, Shiro realizes. He dreams about them too much. He had an orgasm over it and now his brain can’t concentrate. The ball arrives perfectly in his hand and he stops to enjoy the moment.
He doesn’t miss the disappointed frown on Keith’s face, but all Shiro can offer is a small, apologetic smile.
They return in the room in silence. Keith takes off the shirt and without a word enters in the bathroom. Shiro ears the sound of the shower. He sighs.
“I’m sorry,” he says, when Keith returns in the room.
“It’s not your fault,” he replies. He doesn’t look at him.
After dinner, two of Shiro’s teammate call for him. “We can stay out until ten o’clock. The other are going to see a movie in the television room, we think about taking something to drink at the café at the corner. Do you come?”
Shiro reflects for a second. “No, thanks.”
“Okay. See you.”
He nods and leaves to check on the television room: it’s dark and small, and Shiro doesn’t see Keith in there. It isn’t in their room. Well, he and Keith aren’t friend, and are teammates from a couple of days. He doesn’t have to inform Shiro about his movements.
With a last shrug, Shiro heads towards the gym. He’s still angry about what happened at the daily training and it’s a habit of his making some more exercise before going to sleep.
He’s surprised to see that the lights are on and there are rumors inside. Carefully, he checks from the main door. Keith is there, with his tracksuit on. He’s setting the ball against the wall, with small and fast movements. The ball jumps in and fort, and Keith hurries to take it.
“Ehi,” Shiro calls, once the ball fells on the ground.
Keith, who is about to collect it, stops and looks at him with big eyes. “Ehi,” he replies, with a little smile.
“I was thinking to do some extra training,” Shiro says, getting near. “To amend the disaster of today.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Keith hurries to affirm. “My sets weren’t good enough.”
“That’s not true,” Shiro replies. “But let’s say they weren’t… one of the best coach in the world used to say that hitters don’t need to talk about the set. They need to make it work nevertheless. And I wasn’t able to.”
“I think I know that coach,” Keith smiles. He takes the ball in his hand and smacks it a couple of time. “Do you want another shot?”
“With pleasure.”
This time, in the silence and the emptiness of the gym, things go smoothly. Keith’s sets are perfectly, and Shiro manages to concentrate on them and them only, putting aside any other thoughts he has in his mind. He can see the opposite field perfectly as he jumps and then the ball arrives directly in his hand so he can smash it exactly in the point he chooses.
“Wow,” Keith exclaimed from time to time, when Shiro manages to get the corner of the field, or the line.
“It’s easier without blocks.”
“Still,” Keith murmurs. He throws the ball below him, then jumps. His right hand reaches for it, the point of the fingers brushing it. Shiro expects to him to set the ball with one hand, instead, with a fast movement of his writs, Keith hits the ball and smashes it on the opposite field. “I’m not so good at directioning it.”
Shiro smiles. “You hit too much for a setter’s standard. I should look my back.”
Keith collects another ball and smirk. “Maybe.”
“You know that your sets were perfect today, don’t you?” Shiro says. “I was distracting.”
“You’re not the only one,” Keith replies. “Sometimes I’m… a little eager.”
“I’ve noticed,” Shiro admits. “So, can I give you a piece of advice?”
“Sure.”
“Patience yields focus.”
Keith frowns. “What does it mean?”
“Just think about all the time you get annoyed at simple tasks or training exercises, and try to see them as a patience exercises instead. Your focus during the actually match will improve.”
“You really got me too much,” Keith comments. He looks a little proud though.
“I may… watch you a little too much today, I confess.” He takes the ball from Keith’s hand and starts moving it from a hand to another. “But I thought before about how nice would be playing with you.”
Keith’s eyes widened. “For real?”
Shiro nods. “I didn’t expect to have the occasion so early, you know? I was certainty I would see you again on the opposite side of the net during the Championship.”
“Bolt to you thinking we wouldn’t meet during the World League too. I was in the Canadian National team, you know.”
Keith is joking, so Shiro fakes regrets. “My deepest apologies for this lack of respect.”
Keith laughs. “Do you want to know my part of the truth, then?”
“Uh, sure.”
“You are the reason I decided to play for the Japanese National Team,” Keith states. “I want to play with you since forever.”
“Oh…” Shiro feels his ears burning. “Really? I’m… I’m flattered.”
“Yeah, well,” Keith nods. “I saw you playing, once. You probably didn’t remember, it was like, six or seven years ago. I was with my mother and he brought me to a volleyball match, and you were playing there.”
“Did I win?” Shiro asks, and regrets a second later. He doesn’t remember, but he wants to.
“Yes, you do. But I fall in love with the way you play, the brightness in your eyes… I played back then, but after my father’s death I lost some motivations… It’s strange, but that day I really think something like, wow, I really want to do everything I can so I can play with him.”
Shiro is there, silenced. He loses all his word. The ball fells from his hands.
“Sorry. It’s probably very creepy from my part.”
“No! No, it isn’t!” Shiro’s answer is a little too eager, a little too fast, but he can’t help him. “It’s kinda of cute, actually. I’m sorry I don’t remember it.”
Keith shrugs. “We only shook hand briefly.”
“Still… I’d like to remember it. And I will glad to play with you.”
“I will have to wait, though.” Keith collects the ball and places it back in the basket. “I’m not at your level yet. The last match made it clear, and I still have to crawl my spot as regular first-team setter.”
“It’s not true you aren’t at my level yet. You just lack a little bit of experience.”
“Which is the reason why I’m not at you level yet,” Keith confirms.
“I am pretty sure you’ll be the regular first-team setter at the end of this retreat,” Shiro states. “But if it doesn’t happen… I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you to reach me.”
Keith looks at him, and smiles. “Get ready, old timer.”

204 replies since 24/3/2008

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