Chapter Text
Depths of the Yiga
Chapter 12
The Summit
It was dark out. She wandered along the top of the plateau, aimless. It had been days, maybe a week since she had left the Lost Woods; she just wasn’t sure anymore. All she knew was that, somehow, she had fallen back into the Hero’s shadow.
It hadn’t been hard. He appeared from the forest not long after she had left, except He didn’t faceplant into the ground first. He simply walked out of the mist as if it was an old friend of his. She felt a bit envious, but let her body fall back into the rhythm it had during her months of reconnaissance. She had been able to take the time to replenish her rations just a bit before the Hero set off for the southeast. It had been hard to keep up; He was riding a horse, while her precious Amencer was still at Dueling Peaks stable. Thankfully he stuck to the roads, so while he rode during the day she ran at night, rushing to keep up with the Hero who seemed to be making his way to Gerudo Desert with all speed.
What’s his rush? It’s not like he can enter Gerudo town. She thought as she neared the edge of the plateau. She looked down to see the stable, nestled in the shadow of a cliff. It was the last stopping point before the wide desert beyond, home to the Gerudo and, unbeknownst to most, the Yiga. She had seen two of them rushing past through the canyon, just missing the Hero as he stepped inside to stable his horse. Minutes later he was walking towards the oasis, completely oblivious as to the near miss. He’s mad if he thinks he can free Vah Naboris without the Thunder Helm…
The Thunder Helm, prized possession of the Gerudo now in the Hands of the Yiga. She shuddered. He’s going to come face to face with my… with the Yiga, and they won’t take my word for it. She thought sadly. Who knows how many of them are going to get hurt when he comes a-knocking…
She felt helpless. She didn’t dare reveal herself to the Hero and warn him-what reason would he have to believe a total stranger, or even a Yiga? She would be swatted aside as soon as she came close. But at the same time, those who she had once considered family no longer listened to the advice she gave. She couldn’t stop the oncoming battle, only watch from a distance as it raged.
I need to do something. She thought. I don’t care what it is, but I can’t just sit here while everything I worked for goes to waste.
She sat down on the plateau and looked across the Desert. On some days, it could be called beautiful, it you came at just the right time to watch the sunset. She could faintly see Vah Naboris as it rampaged through the eastern part of the desert, frying anyone who dared to come close indiscriminately. Far, far in the distance the remains of one of the great leviathans could be seen, bleached-white bones ravaged by the sun and the passage of time. And scattered throughout the desert were the ruins of what must have been a far greater Gerudo civilization.
They faded too. She thought as she watched the moon shed its light over the desert and the few who chose to wander it in the night. The Gerudo faded much like the Sheikah did-or were ravaged by Ganon’s return-but they still manage to thrive. Why can’t the Sheikah do the same?
She looked up. Zirco Mesa loomed above her, far above anything else she could see. If she cared to pull out her spyglass, she would see snow gracing the utmost peaks. To any other passing traveler, it was just another unremarkable part of the landscape. But to her, on that night under the silver moon, it rang out as a challenge to a yearning soul.
I’ll climb that peak. She decided. I need to do something to dispense this excess energy. Who knows-I might even get a decent view of Vah Naboris from up there.
It took her only minutes to cross the gap over the canyon, landing easily on the other side. Then she began to climb. It was not a singular, continuous cliff-not even the Hero would be able to climb that. No, the path to the Mesa top was a series of smaller cliffs that leaned against one another, providing small places to rest as she climbed.
It didn’t take long until something digging into her back made her stop. She twisted her head to see the sickle dangling from its place right in the small of her back, poking her incessantly. With barely a thought she removed it and tossed it on a ledge before continuing her climb. If I really need it I can come back and get it. She decided. And up the cliff she continued.
The wind began to blow, threatening her precious handholds in the cliff face. She reached a ledge and stopped, catching her breath and leaning into the rock out of the wind. She looked down. It didn’t seem that far, not in comparison to the rest of the mountain that loomed above her. She considered, just for a moment, giving up and going back down to the stable. She shook her head, grabbed a fresh hold of the cliff, and pressed on.
A pebble bounced off her head. She looked up, irritated, only to see it was the topknot brushing the cliff above her and scattering rocks upon her own head. Irritated, she pulled it off with a solid yank and tossed it to the wind, not even bothering to watch as it blew away aimlessly. Then she continued.
Another ledge, another rest. The Stable seemed far away now, a tiny splotch of color against the landscape. The rest of Gerudo canyon was laid out in front of her, a dry, winding snake in the land weaving its way towards the desert. It was almost peaceful in the setting moonlight. She shook out her limbs and kept climbing.
Her muscles strained, but it wasn’t because of the climb and the strength it took to pull her frame up the mountainside. No, it was the uniform, its now extremely tight fabric fighting her movements at every turn. She glared, irritated even further. No sooner did her feet hit the next ledge than the top piece of the uniform came off, armor and all, and was left in an unceremonious heap as she continued the climb ever upwards.
She was almost there. She could practically taste the arctic air on her lips, the cold wind stinging her bare arms as they stretched and strained towards the summit. Her body trembled, the strain from the climb taking its toll as the hours passed.
Just give up. A voice said inside her, one that wasn’t her own. You’ll never make it to the top. Just go back down and go back to waiting.
She soundly ignored it.
She heard a riiiiip, looked down and realized that the leggings she wore had managed to rip solidly down one thigh. She sighed, then sat down on the next ledge and pulled those off too, tossing them down to land next to the abandoned top. Then she turned around, bare feet in the show, and climbed.
The sweat glistened on her arms, the fingers trembled as they reached for another hand hold, and another, and another. Then they met with empty air.
She had reached the summit.
She pulled herself up gracefully, landing in the soft and fluffy snow that covered the ground at the top. It was cold, but she didn’t care. She breathed, her chest finally free from the restrictive uniform. Then she flopped over on to her back and started laughing.
She had done it.
She sat up, pulling the mask from her face and enjoying the wind blowing across her face and through her snow-white hair. Then a glint of light caught her eyes. She stood up.
The sun had risen, casting its warm rays across Hyrule. She stood in awe, mask held limply in her hand as she watched the sky turn gold and red and pink in her moment of triumph, Hyrule turning into a field of light before her eyes. Then she looked down at the mask in her hands. She, despite all her years as a member of the Yiga clan, had never looked that closely at the design; it was simply an inverted Sheikah Symbol, after all.
And that’s all it ever was. She realized. There’s no massive symbolism or meaning behind the mask; just a temper tantrum painted on paper Mache. Sure, back when the Yiga first split it may have been symbolic, but now… now it’s just the sign of a group of people who refuse to let go of their ways.
And so are the Sheikah, I guess the two groups aren’t as different as we thought.
She inspected the backside of the mask. Nothing. Nothing to mark it as hers or anything other than a wooden symbol. Even her training tools back in Kakariko had her name lovingly carved on them.
I came to the Yiga seeking strength, and I found weakness. I came seeking community and I ended up alone. I came seeking prestige and I was anonymous in a group of traitors. Everything the Yiga promised us was a lie.
She looked across Hyrule, in nothing but her underclothes and the band holding her white hair in place. And, in the light and the wind and caught up with the adrenaline of her triumph, she made her choice.
“Once you find yourself, then you’ll find your way home.”
The mask dropped into the snow.
I may not be Sheikah anymore, but I am not Yiga either. Clementa decided. I may not know who I am, but I am determined to find out.
And who knows? Maybe that little Hero Link may learn a thing or two from me in the process.