The day started out as any other had. Keith was asleep, ear against Shiro's chest, listening to his heartbeat and slightly off breathing. He avoided the diseased arm, Shiro would always note in those moments where he woke before Keith. Shiro liked to let him sleep, for his health and because it was in those moments that Shiro felt something good.

He was a father.

And he was terrified, especially with their circumstances, but in moments like these, he believed that things might be alright.

Shiro pressed his lips to Keith's hair and just breathed. The position was incredibly uncomfortable, but Shiro couldn't bring himself to care.

Shiro... Shiro still didn't know what to think sometimes.

He was a father, but he didn't know what to think. Keith called him Dad, but Shiro... Shiro didn't think the title was his. Keith had parents once and Shiro hoped they were good to him, but he knew life isn't always kind to those who deserve it most. His hold on Keith tightened. Still, Shiro accepted the title, because Keith was so scared of rejection, of being abandoned, but Shiro still didn't think the title was right. Shiro didn't deserve to be a father. He wasn't ready. And...

The Champion is no father.

Keith whined and looked up at Shiro. Those purple eyes looked into his own and Shiro was enraptured by them. They glowed and swirled and...

They closed as Keith yawned.

He was like a little kitten, Shiro mused. He let out a groan as his arm twinged. Keith looked to his arm in worry, glancing at Shiro. Shiro gave him a reassuring smile, but he knew Keith could tell it was strained. Shiro was sick and getting worse. They both knew it. It was affecting his fights now.

There was nothing they could do about it.

———

Shiro felt the vibrations of the stadium long before he heard the crowds and even longer before he reached the stadium. The Champion always drew a crowd, but this felt excessive, different.

It became clear why very quickly.

He ignored the jeers and the cheers from the crowds and focused on the opposing tunnel. His opponent would be coming through and he refused to waste a second that could be used observing and learning. He wouldn't be taken off guard.

It was also a matter of respect for the life he would probably be forced to take.

His opponent snarled and hissed, loud enough that even Shiro could hear as they were forced out. They were crouched over and kept swiping at the guards carrying long, electrified sticks.

Huh. It had been a long time since those were required for any gladiator. Most learned quickly or were too weak to resist being forced into the arena and died. This one was determined and immediately garnered Shiro's respect. He wished he still did that, but he was only human and he was so tired. He could barely commit his little acts of rebellion by sparing some opponents.

Shiro's stomach dropped.

Keith was on the ground from a shock to his leg. He charged the entrance that he came from and the door was slammed shut. It didn't stop him scratching at the door.

And Shiro just watched, unable to comprehend what was happening.

Keith had told him that he was different in the arena. He never expected this. He was like a wild animal, but, Shiro reminded himself, so was he when he was in here. The Champion wasn't Shiro, just like how this wasn't Keith.

Shiro had hoped the day they would be forced to fight would never come, but they both had known it would. They were the headliners and they brought in fans. A fight between them would reveal the true champion and sales would skyrocket. The one silver lining of their situation was that a rivalry would be more profitable, so they would both survive this fight.

As long as neither lost themselves.

Keith turned to look at Shiro. He wasn't there. Something else was in control and all Shiro could do was stare into those slits.

The pain of being slammed into the floor jolted him back to awareness and he managed to get his feet under his opponent - not Keith, never Keith - and kicked him away as he attempted to swipe at Shiro's eyes with those slight claws.

The Champion stood up and snarled at its opponent.

———

The Champion pinned them underneath with its legs and punched until the other was unconscious. Its arm hung, bone visible and slightly cut into, but it knew better than to fight with the dying limb. This creature aimed for the wrong arm. Fool.

Now, the Champion would be victorious once more.

It raised the knife the other had used and brought it down right over the other's heart, intent on ending them.

Shiro shoved his way back into his own body.

He stopped his body before the knife can strike somewhere vital. It still pierced Keith's skin, enough for blood to trickle from the wound at a slower rate than his own half removed arm hanging uselessly at his side. He threw himself backwards, gasping for air he didn't deserve. His hand dropped the knife and pressed to his bleeding side.

He almost...

He felt the pride at his victim lying there in pain and he gagged.

"Good work," the Druid appeared, hand on his boy's shoulder and Shiro felt something only the Champion felt, watching that darkness approach his boy.

He wants to rip them apart.

Keith's body shook and he spluttered, sitting up. He was disoriented and only just managed to hold back the instinct to punch the Druid. Instead, he stared at them, glancing at Shiro out of the corner of his eye for half a second.

"You have your newest experiment now," Keith didn't look at Shiro, but his face looked so broken and all Shiro could see is that pale figure crouched in the corner of a cell, "Your Champion," Keith's face hardened and Shiro couldn't tell what he was feeling as his boy whispered.

Shiro didn't hear it, but he could guess from lip reading.

Save him.

He passed out from blood loss.

He woke up on a table feeling nothing but pain.

His boy didn't approach him when he was returned to the cell. Shiro didn't have the energy to move, despite how much he wanted to hold him close and get as far away from him as possible.