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Chapter 1
Real Shiro was in bad shape when they found him. The intel they’d been able to gather with help from the Blade, rebel units, and Prince Lotor had been correct. Takashi Shirogane was alive, and in need of rescue. Project Kurons main flying fortress while heavily guarded, and surrounded by a small army of Galra ships, wasn’t prepared for the viciousness and pure power Voltron held. Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Allura and various rebel’s ships decimated the smaller Galra fighter jets and kept the fleet busy while Keith and the Blade extracted Shirogane Takashi from the main ship.
Shiro, or Kuron as they had been calling him, watched it all from within the castle under the watchful eye of Coran and other allies. Matt, Pidge’s brother, was helping Coran man the castle and shouting encouraging things to his sister while shooting not-Shiro suspicious looks. Ever since Shiro (Kuron) had been outed as a clone, they all had been treating him with extreme caution. Likely expecting him to go rouge and start attacking them.
Not that he could blame them for thinking that. He himself didn’t know what possible triggers him might have. He was a sleeper agent after all, a thing one would only expect to hear of in those ancient Spy movies from earth. Who knew how long they all might have been ignorant of his true origins. The only reason they’d all found out was thanks to Lotor.
Lotor who had practically waltzed into the castle requesting a truce. Lotor, who to prove his trust worthiness, had told them all he knew about project Kuron. Lotor who showed them the secret tracker implanted into Shiro’s (Kurons) arm. Lotor who with a single word had made Kuron pass out. Lotor who almost mocked them all for not realizing it on their own, but who had told them of the real Shiros existence. Lotor who saved Takashi Shirogane from the Galra, but doomed Kuron to the anguish of Voltron.
None of the team had taken it well, Shiro (Kuron) hadn’t taken it well. Hunk had been silent but sorrowful, looking closer to tears than Shiro (Kuron) had seen in a long time. Pidge, spitting with anger and swearing vengeance had ignored his existence to the best of her ability. Lance, who had looked so broken hearted Kuron couldn’t meet his eyes, hadn’t said a word. Allura turned frosty and short, her anger and distrust almost overwhelmed him. And then there was Keith. Keith who had been his (Shiro’s) brother, had turned his back on him and walked away. Kuron had been confined to his (Shiros) room for hours before being let out.
Only Coran had stayed even slightly the same, talking with Shiro (Kuron) while he was confined to his (Shiro’s) quarters. But even then Kuron could sense something cold in the older man, but also something sad, something regretful that showed only slightly in his demeanor. Kuron was grateful for Corans sympathy, but he hated the thought of having caused him pain. It was pain that was making them all act in such ways. They were all consumed by guilt at having not noticed, and Kuron hated the thought that he’d been the cause. Ignorant of it or not, he had pretended to be their Shiro, and in doing so he’d nearly torn them apart. They all had suffered because of him.
So, Shiro (Kuron) couldn’t blame them. Not when he was still reeling from his own shock and horror. Nothing he had ever experienced, or thought he had experienced, could have prepared him for his own self-loathing. He had no memories, none that were truly his own. His team wasn’t his, his family wasn’t his. Every relationship he thought he’d ever had was a lie. Cowboy had never been his dog, he had never shed tears over his death. He’d never had a mother who loved him or a father that was distant but caring.
He’d never felt rain on his face or climbed tree with classmates. He’d never stared through a telescope dreaming of flying out to the stars. He’d never swam in the ocean or gone on a road trip. He’d never gone to the garrison or met a punk kid who would turn into the little brother he’d always wished for. He’d never met Commander Holt or Matt and flown with them for six months to Kerberos.
He’d never been the true Paladin of the Black Lion. He’d never been their leader, never gotten into a food fight with them or turned the lounge into a blanket fort. He’d never been banned from the kitchen by Hunk, carried Pidge to bed after an exhausting day, and never bonded with Lance over their mutual hatred of ‘cotton eyed joe’. Real Shiro had been with them all since the beginning, Voltron needed him back, not clone who simply had his memories.
Saving real Shiro wouldn’t change the fact he had hurt them all. But at least then they all could start to heal. With their leader truly returned they all could learn to forgive themselves for mistaking the imposter as the real thing. But for all his wishing to bring Shiro home, Kuron knew there wasn’t room for the two of them here. Despite how much
Kuron loved and cherished them all, but they couldn’t heal with him here. For the Castle of Lions, there was only ever meant to be one Shiro. So Kuron knew he had to leave. As soon as Shiro was back on the castle and everyone was safe. Before they had a chance to contemplate what to do with him, he would be gone. He was never meant to exist, so he would disappear, and their world would return to how it was always meant to be. A world where there’s was one Takashi Shirogane, and where Kuron was alone.
*Break*
Kuron meant to leave with out any of them knowing. The castle had a few rarely used ships in storage that would be perfectly useable to space travel. The castle had been almost over run with people. Rushing from one task to the next. The team was all at the medical bay waiting for Shiro to come out of the cryo pod. Real Shiro had been dehydrated, bruised, and unconscious when he’d been brought back to the castle.
According to Coran he hadn’t been in any true danger but said there was some internal injuries that the pod needed to heal. Shiro wouldn’t be out of the pod until later the next day. And Kuron was banking on everyone being more worried about real Shiro to notice his disappearance. And with the rebels and the Blade of Mamora leaders all eager to discuss future now that Shiro was truly back Kuron knew they all would be kept very distracted.
Kuron was both glad that there would be no good byes, but it also saddened him. He tried not to think about the fact that they would all probably be very relieved realize he was gone. Relived to not have to deal with such an unknown factor. ‘No,’ Kuron thought to himself, ‘this way is for the best.’
Kuron needed to get away from it all, needed to find out if he could be his own person or if he really was just not Shiro. He needed to know if he really was just Project clone. And he couldn’t do that in the Castle of Lions, not with these people who he knew to well but had no real relationship with. He needed to be his own person, before he could be someone leader, teammate, friend or any other variation.
Kuron rolled his shoulders back before standing, he’d been sitting on the edge of his…of Shiro’s bed for the past few hours and it was well into what everyone assumed was night. He was dressed in sturdy black boots, used but well taken care of tactical pants, and a dark grey long-sleeved shirt with a long-sleeved jacket that was like a cross between a wind breaker and a leather jacket. It hid his prosthetic well and its hood would help conceal his very noticeable hair.
He had a rucksack at the end of his bed, he’d managed to sneak a few containers or food goo and water, along with toiletries and small first aid kit into and still had room for a non-descript blue blanket he’d taken from on of the many small closest scattered throughout the castle. A change of cloths was squeezed inside and knew he was ready.
Kuron felt bad for basically stealing from Coran and Allura. Everything he had was technically theirs or real Shiros but Kuron reasoned it was all essential to survival and that despite how they all might feel, known would begrudge him these few items.
He slung the bag over his back before carefully walking out of his room. In everyone’s excitement to get Shiro back and in their rush to leave the Galra far behind no one had thought to make sure Kuron was safely confined in his room. Not that that would have prevented him from leaving, but it did feel a lot less like breaking out when his door wasn’t locked.
Kuron carefully made his way down to the hangers where they kept the smaller less used ships and transports. He nearly ran into several Blades but had managed to remain anonymous as the turned the opposite way as him down a hall.
He stopped outside the hanger that the lions stayed in. Kuron bit his lip before walking inside, the room empty, no Pidge designing features for her lion. No Hunk humming away to a tune no one else could hear. No Lance or Keith bickering back and forth as the helped clean and polish the lions.
Kuron walked past Blue, Red, Yellow, and Green, despite not being active he could feel their eyes on him, silently sizing him up as he walked towards the Black Lion. He stopped, and stared up at him, he was the head of Voltron, the leader of the Pride. And Kuron suddenly felt more alone than he had before walking into the hanger.
Kuron continued to gaze up at the black lion before he felt something compelling him to step forward. He slowly made his way towards the Black Lions head, Kuron gently rested his hand on Blacks muzzle before a Black made his presence known. Black didn’t so much as speak as impress his thoughts with feelings.
Kuron felt Blacks regret to see him leaving, Kuron was part of Blacks pride after all, one of the cubs he’d allowed to be his Paladin. Even if Kuron was never meant to be his. Black was sad to see him leave. He felt something akin to a hug being given before Black presence disappeared.
Kuron frowned staring up at the Black Lion in confusions. What did Black mean by never meant to be his? Kuron shrugged it off before walking towards the door. He already knew he wasn’t ever truly meant to be a Paladin, he just assumed he’d had enough of Shiro in him to make it work. Kuron threw one last glance behind him, staring up at the Lions before walking out.
*Break*
Kuron entered the abandoned hangers and took a steadying breath. It was dark and chilled in this part of the castle, with only six to seven people, not including the mice, living there on the regular, places like this were rarely visited, save during very intense games of hide and go seek. Hunk was a surprisingly good hider, usually out lasting all of them save for Lance, who took the game far too seriously and had ended up on the ceiling more often than not.
Kuron shook his head back and forth, these weren’t his memories, and he shouldn’t reflect on them with such nostalgia. It was a gross invasion of personal space and it disgusted him to think he was part of it, unintentionally or not.
“Going somewhere number 1?”
Kuron whirled around hand automatically lighting up in defense, (he’d taken the restrictive cuff that kept him from using the weapon hours ago).
Coran looked completely nonplussed at being on the receiving end of Kurons weapon, simply raising an eye at the man and twirling his mustache between two fingers.
“Cor-Coran? What are you doing down here?” Kuron stuttered, completely thrown, he’d planned for being caught, but having Coran being to catch him was unsettling.
“Well,” Coran said, resting his hands on his hips and looking rather sad, “I figured if you were going to be heading out, someone needed to be here to see you off. No journey should ever begin with no one to see it. Especially with one as important as yours.”
Kuron felt a lump forming in his throat, his eyes stung and he took another shaky breath. Coran was a good man. He’d had his planet destroyed, his people wiped out and forced to fight in a war with children as soldiers he had to see go into battle. But he never let it get him down, he was always there for them with a funny remark and a warm hand on the shoulder. Kuron wasn’t Shiro, but Coran still looked sad to see him go.
“Not going to try and stop me? I could be going to the Galra for all you know.” Kuron said, carefully watching Coran for any indicator that he wasn’t nearly as suspicious as he appeared.
“Well yes I suppose that is an option,” Coran mused, “But then, why would you look so sad to go?” Kuron didn’t answer. The lump seemed to swell in his throat and he let out a choking sound fighting it back.
“This has been harder on you than any of us Number 1, you’ve been just as violated by the Galra as your counter part but we’ve all been blaming you for what they did. It’s not right by you and I’m sorry you had to go through it. But you don’t have to leave just because the original is back,” Coran said.
Coran walked forward and gently put a hand on Kurons shoulder. “You’re a person too Kuron. You may not be who you thought you were, but you’re still somebody. And you deserve and a chance with the people you care about.”
Kuron thought about it for a moment. He’d had a lot of time for thinking, going through his memories, Shiros memories, and one thing had stuck out to him from back in Shiros childhood. A story that had left Shiro at the time frightened but was giving Kuron hope now. Not-Shiro squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. He looked at Coran before giving the altean a small smile and saying,
“You know Coran, there’s a story on back on earth about a man named Odysseus. As he was traveling to get home from war he and his men had to stop on an island filled with one-eyed creatures that wanted to kill and eat them. He tricks one and tells them his name is Nobody. After he pokes it eye out, the creatures’ friends asked him who did it, and all he could say was ‘Nobody’ and Odysseus was able to escape. It took years, but Odysseus did manage to get home. I don’t have a name like Odysseus did, I’m a copy of someone. A fake, whose only identity literally translates into ‘clone’.”
Kuron stopped and glanced outside the nearby window. Space really was gorgeous, shining with potential, with worlds and people he’d never dreamed of. He needed something new, something real. He glanced back and saw Coran smiling sadly at him. Kuron felt his own smile widen and he gave a small laugh.
“Kuron is a project owned by the Galra. But Shiro is already a person, a person I’m not,” Kuron stated, feeling more confident in his decision now that it was right in front of him.
“So, until I can figure out who I am, I’ll simply be Nobody. And maybe someday, I’ll find my way home too. And who knows, maybe that place is on Earth, maybe it’s somewhere out there in the galaxy, or maybe it’s here. Regardless, Odysseus had to go on journey to get back to his home, maybe I need to go on one to find out where mine is.”
“Well, can’t say I’m surprised,” Coran said shaking his head, “but do this old man a favor. After you’ve done your soul searching, even if you haven’t found exactly what you’re looking for, let us know. You may not be our Number 1, but you’re still a Paladin in my eyes.” Coran smiled even wider before frowning a bit, “Do you really want me to call you Nobody?”
Kuron frowned before shaking his head, “In Shiro’s language it would be Dare Mo, (*Dah-ray-moe*) until I find out who I am I’ll be that.”
“Well then Dare Mo,” Coran said briskly, “Despite the…circumstances that led to our meeting, allow me to say, you will be missed. By me, by this castle and its inhabitants, even if they don’t know it yet. Good luck on your jouney, and don’t forget that even this castle will always have a room for you.”
Dare Mo felt tears roll down his cheeks and he hugged the older Altean tightly. It wasn’t a very Shiro-esque move but he wasn’t Shiro. For now, he was Dare Mo, and that was enough. That was a start.