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Chapter Text

The door to his shop jingled, barely audible over the throng of the crowd outside. Then it slammed shut, and the cacophony was replaced with the soft chiming of a fairy and the shaky breathing of the child who traveled with her.

“You didn’t have to run all this way, you know. You need to take care of yourself,” she chided, noticeably struggling to keep her voice down.

Almost immediately, he could tell this new face wasn’t from around here. The sword and wooden shield he carried on his back were the most obvious clues, of course, but on top of that, there was the fairy who hovered about. Plenty of people in Castle Town held some degree of interest in them, but they were typically kept in glass containers, purchased from the potion shop and then taken home, not left to roam free, and certainly not left unsupervised with a child, who might allow them to fly away.

Sword, shield, and fairy aside, there was also the matter of his dress—a simple green tunic over shorts, a floppy green hat, and sturdy brown boots. As if whoever had dressed him expected him to be climbing and scuffing himself up quite a bit.

And the fairy had said he had run a ways…From the woods, perhaps? It would certainly explain the clothing and fairy. Perhaps the shield, as well. He was certain he’d never seen that design before.

Still, he reminded himself as the boy stood and started for the counter, it was rude to stare, even if it was done with a smile. Drawing a breath, he prepared his greeting. “Hiyeee! Welcome to the Happy Mask Shop! We deal in masks that bring happiness to everyone!”

As he continued making his pitch, some part of him wondered just what he would say to it. Children were generally more inclined to borrow and sell masks than adults, who were more likely than not to lecture him on his business practices, as if he would just sit by and let himself be robbed, but on at least one occasion, he had been scolded by a pair of Castle Town parents for, what was it? Trying to turn their son into a traveling salesman? Which, he had explained, was not the case at all. Though he may have traveled to collect the masks, he had very clearly set up shop in Castle Town, and did not sell the masks at any other location. Nor did he have any interest in training a successor at the moment.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he was simply not interested in selling masks, that he had only come in to escape the dull roar of the crowds.

“If you want to read the fine print, take a look at the sign right over there,” he spoke, nodding just to his right. “After you’ve sold all the masks, you will become happy yourself! Have faith…”

But considering he had barely been able to reach the doorknob, was he even old enough to know how to read? Or perhaps he read something besides standard Hylian. Though if he was traveling with a fairy, if he was indeed from the forest, then perhaps she was some kind of interpreter.

After a minute, the boy returned to the counter, pointing to a mask just over his right shoulder. Ah. The Keaton mask. Very popular with children, though some adults held a bit of nostalgia for the character as well. Around Castle town, especially, Keaton stuff was hot, hot, hot!  “This one is worth ten Rupees,” he told him, taking it from its shelf and handing it down to him. “I’m certain you’ll find a good home for it!”

With one final reminder to return once he had the money, he sent him on his way.

Chapter Text

When the child returned, he was angrily nursing a bottle of milk and visibly holding back a pout. Perhaps the drink made the crowds more bearable to him.

There was a faint scent of smoke and ash. So, he hadn’t gone back to the woods? The mountain, then. But what business did someone so young have atop Death Mountain, especially with only a wooden sh—oh. Somewhere along the way, he had traded it out for a proper shield, one made of metal that would withstand the burning rocks that fell from the mountain in its anger. He hadn’t noticed it at first. How strange. It was almost as large as the boy was tall, jutting out across his shoulders and stopping just below his knees, making him look rather like an odd little Hylian turtle on two legs.

Just what business had someone his age had on Death Mountain? Surely, he wouldn’t find a customer all the way up there. The Gorons had little interest in masks—which was unfortunate, he was certain they would have created some excellent ones—and the guards remained too close to the base of it to justify the scent of smoke and volcanic earth.

Still, it wasn’t his place to question where his borrowers sold his masks. It only mattered that they found good homes. He had long been able to tell a good borrower from a bad one—another reason children were much better at selling the masks, as they understood these weren’t just trinkets to go to whoever was willing to buy. If he gave a mask to someone who would not do well with it, it was as if something was screaming just below his skin. This boy was more than trustworthy, even if it was a little troubling that he would go to such lengths to sell the masks.

Not that he himself would have done any less.

But for the time being, he reminded himself to smile—not that it ever left his face—and asked if he’d managed to sell the mask.

He nodded, still sipping at his drink, but seeming perhaps a bit less weary than before.

“Please pay back ten Rupees for the Keaton mask now,” he said. Young as he was, he didn’t want to take the chance that he had forgotten the cost. Better to remind him and to avoid the chance of his own temper flaring before he could stop it. If he frightened this child away, then who would sell his masks?

Perhaps he should have felt more shame that this was his first thought.

The fairy gave him a slight nudge, and he took the bottle from his lips, screwing the lid back over it before opening the bag he carried, fishing through it and digging out two blue Rupees. “Payment received!” the salesman chirped.

He wasn’t quite certain of what he expected next. Perhaps the child would leave, or return to the drink he’d been so attached to before, or perhaps he would notice the new mask in stock, and ask to borrow it. But he only stood, staring up as though he could find the answers to the universe somewhere above their heads. Perhaps he might, if he had…

“Hey!” the fairy chimed beside him. “My friend wants to know if you’ve got any other masks!”

Of course he did. Why, it hadn’t been long since he’d set the next model up. “Might you be interested in borrowing this skull mask?” he asked, taking it down to let him get a closer look. “It may appear quite unsettling, but I assure you, it is harmless.”

A bone mask wouldn’t have done at all. On top of the issues of weight and keeping it from falling off, real bone would have been too stiff to sit comfortably against a person’s face. Oh, there were people in other lands who would have jumped at the offer, who had honed their skills enough that they very well could craft with bone, and would have found a buyer, but that simply wouldn’t have done in Hyrule, and especially not Castle Town.

Ah. The child was staring up again. Had he spoken aloud? “Would you like to borrow this mask?”

After a moment, the boy nodded. “The skeleton mask is worth twenty Rupees,” the salesman told him. “I am certain you’ll find a good home for it.”

He stared at the mask in his hands for a minute or so more, and then he turned on his heels, took a breath, and opened the door to the outside.

Chapter Text

The third time he saw the boy, there were bits of leaves and pinecones clinging to him, though he didn’t look anywhere near as scuffed up as he had been before. He’d gone back to using his wooden shield, which was only natural. He couldn’t very well be expected to defend himself while crouched underneath the metal one, now, could he?

More than that, he seemed brighter than either of the previous times. If he was indeed from the forest, perhaps he’d sold the mask to an old friend, though he could feel a vague unease within himself. It had gone to the right person, he was certain of that, and yet there was something which didn’t sit quite right with him. But if it didn’t make his hands itch to take it back, then he had learned it was best not to question these things. Perhaps it would never matter, and he only fretted for nothing.

This time, the child had walked right up to the counter, digging out four blue Rupees before he could even think to ask for payment, then stepping back and staring up as he had before.

“If you’re still interested in selling masks,” he told him, moving to the shelf, “then this is our latest addition.” He likely wouldn’t have been able to see it without his pointing it out. It was nearly the same color as the walls behind it, and certainly not helped by the lighting, which he kept as bright as he could without blinding himself, but still unfortunately too dim to light that particular face. Perhaps he would have to rethink his arrangement, though he would worry about that when he had a spare moment.

“The spooky mask,” he continued. “Though its energy may be more forlorn than frightening, it takes its inspiration from early sightings of the creature it was designed from. Some masks of this sort can be said to contain spirits, though I don’t make a practice of trading in cursed vessels.”

He took the mask with a grimace which shuddered through his entire body. Perhaps those early sightings had something to them after all. The fairy flitted around his head, making a disgusted noise at the sight of it.

A rapid chiming alerted him to the fact that something had caught her attention. “Hey! What’s that one over there?”

There was no need to turn to know what she was referring to. It had been a quiet presence since he had placed it on the shelf. Really, there was no need to have put it there except for sentimental attachment. He wasn’t sure why he had done it. “Oh, I’m afraid that one’s not for lending,” he clasped his hands. Perhaps he would explain it to them someday, but for the time being…

Something flickered through the child just then, though he didn’t press the subject. As he nodded and turned away, his fairy lingered only a second or two longer, before turning and following him out.

Chapter Text

Whatever concerns the child had about holding the spooky mask, it wasn’t long before he returned with the money, dropping one red Rupee and two blue ones on the counter. He seemed perfectly fine, and yet, clinging in the air around them was a growing unease, not quite a sense that something was wrong, but perhaps not everything was right, either. As if their time together was ending much more rapidly than he could anticipate.

All the while, he could feel the mask behind him tugging, ebbing with an energy he couldn’t quite identify—not quite calling for someone, but certainly too restless to remain where it was.

The child peered up at the last of the four masks available for lending, and the salesman was all too happy to have a distraction. He took it from the shelf and handed it down to him. The bunny hood—not truly a mask at all, some might say. But it carried the same essence of a mask, the same fluctuations in its energy. Not many could sense that, but to him, it was impossible to ignore. If it had that essence, then it was indeed a mask.

“Quite adorable, isn’t it?” he observed. The boy seemed to agree, mouth hanging open just a fraction as he ran his hands over the floppy ears. “It was created out of a great love for animals. Some believe it can improve one’s speed or hearing, but its magic is of a different sort.”

The craftsman who created the bunny hood had placed some form of protective magic inside of it. A very mild spell, perhaps an unintentional one, at that. But if this child chose to hold onto it for a little longer, he certainly wouldn’t be able to fault him for it.

For awhile longer, he stood, continuing to play with the soft fur covering the rabbit’s ears. It was only when the fairy nudged him, chiming softly, that he took a breath, turned, and headed back outside.

Perhaps he ought to have offered that mask, with all the ominous air around them lately…

“Don’t you start,” he muttered, shooting a glare at the culprit. It would continue to press at him, of course. These things had a mind of their own, and this one being what it was, it was even less likely to concede his request. It was too late to do anything about it now.

There was no reason to fret over what might happen, or what he had failed to do. There was only what would come next.

More to himself than to the mask, he whispered his familiar refrain. “Have faith…”

Chapter Text

It was a long while before the child returned again. Or rather, he had still not returned after a long while. This in and of itself was not worrying. He had seen the way he held the mask, never placing it into his bag as he had the others. Perhaps he was taking his own time with selling it, not quite willing to part with something that had clearly brought him some comfort.

Yet the mask on his shelf was nearly screeching with urgency. The boy would return. He was certain of it. Still, that growing unease had magnified until he couldn’t fathom how the people around continued with their daily lives. Could they not feel it, or were they simply unaware of what to do?

There was a sense that he needed to leave, to pack up the mask, and the others, and set out. It was about time. The boy had all but cleaned him out of his wares, and when his supplies grew low, his feet grew restless with the need to collect more.

But he had already decided to wait, and so he would remain until the boy returned.

There was a commotion outside—a clatter of hooves, the shouts of a guard, then something else. A harsh clang of metal on metal. Even without the energy from that mask, he would have known something was wrong. But what could he do? It was unlikely that a happiness salesman with only a few masks—one of which was not for sale—could do much of anything against someone who would take on the soldiers.

Whatever the noise had been, it quickly faded after, the familiar murmuring of the crowds rising to fill the silence. Though there was some note of uncertainty in it, a kind of fear he was not accustomed to hearing in Castle Town, a sort of confusion he was surprised he had not heard sooner.

Where was that boy? Had he gotten caught up in this? As much as he wanted to believe he was hiding somewhere in the field, still playing with the ears of the bunny hood, something told him that wasn’t possible, that he needed to ensure that his mask reached him before…

There was something at work, something in the air which was upsetting the masks, some kind of magic just outside of his own ability to fully perceive.

Still, he would wait.

When the noises did not quiet, when the air crackled with magic and the brewing of an insurmountable darkness, he found himself reaching for that red and white mask, the familiar eye, though the cheerful expression never left his face.

Sometime later, there was a loud banging on the door, and the large frame of the bazaar owner stooped into the entrance moments after. “The Gerudo man’s gone completely bonkers!” he called. “He’s done something at the Temple of Time, and they’re saying the king’s been murdered! No one can find the princess, either, and a bunch of people are packing up and heading to Kakariko—and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll head out too while you can!”

“Of course,” he answered. “Just give me a few minutes to pack up my masks. I couldn’t stand to let them be destroyed…”

“Can’t tell if you’re really bold or just got no sense.” He dragged a massive hand through his beard. “Just don’t stick around longer’n you have to!”

With that, he rushed out, thankfully shutting the door as he did, blocking out the din of the outside. Moments later, the first explosion sounded.

There really was no time left. And no sign of the boy from the forest or his fairy interpreter.

Well, it had been about time to head off in search of more masks. A second explosion rocked the foundations, but his store stood for now. He took his pack, his bedroll, the few masks which had not been sold, and finally…that. He would not be able to pass it to him. He hadn’t felt the snap of a breaking bond between mask and owner—it was nearly screaming to be passed on—so the boy was still alive, and yet he was certain he wouldn’t find him in Kakariko.

More than that, it wasn’t his place to bring such an artifact back to a location which was so steeped in…

He tucked the final mask into his backpack, opened the door, and stepped outside. Some of the shops had already begun to fall apart. A great evil would fester in this place, and he wondered if the spellcaster knew what he was creating in bringing this ruin, if he had the capacity to care about such a thing.

Still, he would not remain to see it grow, not while he carried that mask, not at his age. With that, he stepped outside of the city.

Sometime later, he had felt the release of the mask’s pulsing, its constant demand to go to its chosen owner no longer reverberating through his skull. Which could mean one of two things. Either he had died, or—

He opened the pouch on his backpack, finding the pocket where he’d kept it hidden away, only to turn it out, empty. Perhaps he ought to have been alarmed. So many things could have happened to it, and yet…

“So, the mask found its way to him after all.”

Chapter Text

There was something which had shifted, another way things were supposed to have been, which he couldn’t quite recall and which he probably wouldn’t have been able to mention to anyone else without being told that frankly, he spent entirely too much time with his masks. But something had happened, or hadn’t happened, and he couldn’t put his finger on just what.

The door chimed, and he half-expected to see the burly frame of the bazaar owner instead of the child who stepped through. How strange. That ominous feeling continued to grow, and yet there was some relief in it.

Any relief he may have felt was intertwined with a low, twisting alarm which coiled inside of him, yet there was relief even so. Whatever had happened, that other way things were supposed to be, he must have been aware of it, too. There was a haunted look in his eyes, a refusal to entirely focus on anything as he dug a purple Rupee from his pouch and sat it on the counter.

There was little he could do about it, not when the child hadn’t volunteered any information on whatever had led him to that hauntedness. “Very well done,” he told him, “I’m all but sold out. I knew I could trust you!”

What more could he do, being a mere salesman with a knack for reading masks? He could hear the fairy chiming something as he went to retrieve that last mask, the one he had refused to lend before. “As a reward…” His hand hovered over it for a moment, not entirely willing to part with it, even though he knew what must be done. “I will lend you this special mask.”

With that, he took it from its space on the shelf. How strange, it seemed he had done this before. But it had been very different that last time… How strange to think so.

“This is the Mask of Truth. It is a mysterious mask passed down by the Sheikah.” An ancient mask, even older than the current appearance of the Sheikah Eye. Something which had been used for…

The child hesitated a moment, studying the grooved surface before taking it into his hands. So he had a proper respect for it, then. So much the better. It was not a mask which could be well-used by those who presumed to understand its power. Had he been the type to approach it eagerly, the salesman was certain it would not have chosen him.

As he turned it over in his hands, the salesman continued. “With this mask, you can see into other people’s hearts and minds…It’s useful, but scary.”

He was peering up at him over the curve of the Sheikah mask. Even without the fairy’s chiming, he might have guessed what he wanted to say. “Why is it scary, you ask?” Oh, he suspected he already knew of some of it, and yet there was still so much more he could not possibly have understood, should not have been able to understand at his age. “You may find out as you grow older and wiser in the ways of the world.”

Even with his years, there was so very little he himself understood. But he had heard the mask’s call, and had answered it. This was all he could do.

The child turned the mask over once more. Did he plan on using it here? But perhaps he understood the formalities of such a thing being turned over to him, and he tucked it into his bag almost reverently, even though he could not have known the full weight of it.

He took a deep, cleansing breath, blowing it out slowly, shakily. And then he was off. It was unlikely their paths would cross again. But the mask was where it needed to be. There had been a part he was called to play, and he had done so. That was what had mattered. The rest, whatever happened next, would be up to the child, the boy from the forest, traveling with his fairy interpreter.

Believe in your strengths…believe…