When the black fades away and becomes white room light, Shiro sits up.
The first thing he notices is not how light his right shoulder feels or the fact that his arm is now white and completely... detached, but the fact that he still â fortunately â has his two real human legs.
Maybe itâs his paranoia. Maybe itâs his cynicism. Maybe heâs been taught to be afraid of everything and anything so much that the moment he wakes up he primarily checks that his body is still intact as it was the last time he remembered it. Wherever this instinct comes from, he shakes it out of his head because how the hell could he ever think that his friends â his team surrounding and protecting him â would ever want to hurt him?
âWhat happened?â He asks, dazed. He tries to remember, but he canât figure out what the last thing he recalls is. âI donât remember anything.â
He clenches and unclenches his hands, and notices the white robotic arm doing exactly as he wants. A surge of positive energy rushes through his right side, as if his arm itself is sending life through him.
âI feel... great,â he says, almost surprised at himself by how light his voice sounds.
âAre you okay?â Allura asks him.
He looks over at her, and she gives him a soft smile. He returns it and reaches out to her, but thatâs when heâs startled once again by his armâs new look and function. His hand actually glides forward in the air toward her â much further than normal human reach. He blinks and pulls his hand back again, cradling it on his lap and staring down at it to analyze it more.
Heâll need to re-learn how to use his arm.
Whatâs that phrase? To know something so well you know it like the back of your hand?
Shiro doesnât think heâll ever know his own hand that well. Heâs never kept it long enough to grow comfortable with it, and heâs not sure heâll ever accept the fact that these mechanic reincarnations are his own when he is still mourning his flesh and blood, still waking up to nightmares where he loses, again and again.
âIâm sorry if the... floating surprised you at all,â she apologizes.
âNo, no,â he assures her. âIâm... just getting used to it.â
He lifts his hand, slowly flipping it back and forth in front of his face, taking in all of its details from fingertips to palm, from wrist to elbow. White fingers and palm, black knuckles, silver joints, blue glow...
Itâs shaped like a human hand. Works like a human hand. As powerful as a human hand â and more. In fact, itâs designed exactly as a hand, but is in so many ways not.
But this time is different. This arm vibrates with a warm electricity, with a current that feels comforting and familiar. He can tell it was designed with him in mind â created out of love and generosity.
He looks at it again, impressed by how easily he controls it.
âI hope you like it,â she says. âI tried my best to accommodate everything youâll ever want to do while still respecting the anatomy.â
âI do,â he replies, outstretching his fingers. âI like it so much more.â
And as his eyes unfocus from the back of his hand to her smile, he realizes that maybe she is all he really needs to know.