Chapter Text

-Blue Arrow-

Chapter One: Hero Worship

The sharp crack of a falling tree echoed over the forest, followed by a dull boom. Birds took to the air, screeching warnings that drew the attention of Sakura and Kukiel as they hurried up the side of a hill. The two young girls stopped to peer up through the canopy where the silhouettes of the frightened birds flashed between branches. A second boom rumbled, spurring the birds.

“Come on, Kukiel!” Sakura dragged her friend a few steps further up the hill. “He’ll be here soon!”

“Right,” Kukiel replied, reminded of what she and Sakura had snuck out of the village to see. She hurried up the hill on her friend’s heels, using saplings and underbrush as handholds when the slope increased.

The top of the hill flattened out into a small plateau of soft grass that extended to the edge of the hill’s face. Said face was a scar of exposed rock and loose soil that swept down to a meadow in the midst of the forest. Two deer were grazing by the stream that ran through the middle of the expanse. At the sound of a third, closer boom, the deer lifted their heads and swiveled their ears towards the meadow’s west side.

From within the trees to the west, a beam of short-lived blue light shot out. Straight as a pole, it lanced across the meadow and struck the trees on the opposite side. The deer bounded away, their hides singed. The line of fire left behind by the light found little purchase, as it had rained only that morning and the grass and trees were still wet.

Lying flat against the wet grass with their heads over the hill’s edge, Sakura and Kukiel gasped in both admiration and fear. They recognized this light, as well as its destruction. It was the main weapon of the mashitako--a creature of foreign design with a dome-like rock body and tentacle arms that glowed with a strange light. The mashitako had threatened Hyrule for the better part of the past month. Little was known about the creature’s origin or why it was always enraged. So great was its power and ruin, few people dared to gather together as a force to face against it; and only one was courageous enough to face it alone.

With a violent parting of the tree line, the mashitako crashed into the meadow. Its six tentacles, five of them ending in four-fingered claws (the sixth was a half--broken how, no one knew), tore up chunks of earth as it raced to put distance between itself and its aggressor. When the mashitako reached the stream, it hesitated.

Kukiel gasped and pointed down the hill’s face. “There he is, Sakura!”

Sakura had already seen the horse and its rider emerge from the forest in the wake of the mashitako’s ravaged path. The duo stood on the edge of the broken tree line. They smoldered from an earlier near-miss of the monster’s attack, and for a minute they watched the mashitako attempt to work a way over the wide stream without getting its claws stuck in the muddy bed.

The horse was a dark brown mare with a black mane and tail, and white fetlocks. Her rider was mostly hidden under a black cloak marked by a gray and red design. Sakura and Kukiel were familiar with this stranger through both stories of his conquests against monsters, and from catching glimpses of him in the field and forest around their village. They knew to look for the flash of blue under the cloak that was the stranger’s telltale tunic, and for the unique weapon lashed to his horse’s saddle that had given him his newest nickname.

“Blue Arrow,” Sakura whispered, sharing an awed smile with Kukiel. The girls got to their feet and waved their sedge hats, calling out more or less in unison, “Go, Onii-san! Get the mashitako!” along with various other encouragements.

The mashitako turned to face its challenger.

The stranger, named Link, heard the calls but paid them no attention. The monster--what locals called mashitako--sent out its blue light again, angling it down this time to catch him. Link was already several feet away; he knew what to look for in the monster’s eerie, glowing eye. He felt a wash of heat flatten his cloak, pressing it to his arms and back, and he tore it off in frustration. It fluttered away on the warmed air to crumple into a pile on the grass. With the cloak gone, the whole blue of Link’s tunic was revealed, along with his ponytail and sidelocks. The girls’ voices spiked to an ecstatic note at this development.

After four previous encounters, the battle with the mashitako was a familiar one to Link by now. At a distance, he could use his horse Epona’s better agility against the monster’s wider turns, and keep out of range of its arms. But to attack it from afar would require the use of arrows, and they in turn would enrage the mashitako to close the distance to Link. It was a risk he had to take. He had chased the creature across Hyrule for weeks, following its trail of destruction and--inadvertently--provoking it to cause more damage through its attacks against him. Today was the day to end all that.

Link pulled a bomb arrow from the quiver hanging on Epona’s saddle. It had taken a lot of practice and several burnt fingertips before he had developed a method to light the arrows as they were pulled from their quiver. A ring of steel on the quiver’s inside lip sparked across a flint tip at the end of each arrow’s fuse, lighting the thin fiber. It rarely failed to catch, and when it didn’t Link only had to reinsert the arrow to strike the flint again.

The fuse caught, and Link raised the arrow as he detached his bow from the other side of the saddle. The arrow swung awkwardly from his fingers with the extra weight of the black powder packed around its point. However, Link was familiar with how the arrows handled; he had little trouble in stabilizing the arrow in the bow’s rest and taking aim, all before the fuse was half-spent. He waited until the right time to release. (A hard-learned moment that had cost him a few inches of singed bangs months ago.) The arrow sang when it flew through the air, and it struck the mashitako’s right side with a satisfying, booming burst of fire.

The mashitako wasn’t capable of making a sound of pain, if it felt such a thing. It was as silent as its opponent; its body only staggered for a second, and its arms tensed. Link had already pulled out a second bomb arrow and taken aim. It struck the mashitako on its left an instant after the monster relaxed its arms.

Sakura and Kukiel cheered and danced in place. They called out praise and encouragement that bounced down the hill’s scarred face and across the meadow. They hushed when the mashitako charged at their hero. The rumble of its steps vibrated through their feet at the top of the hill where they stood close together. They held each other’s hands in both solidarity and in a silent prayer to the Goddesses.

Epona was familiar with the battle against the monster as well. She hardly balked at Link’s direction for her to gallop forward to meet the mashitako. A foot from the edge of the monster’s reach, Link drove Epona into a sharp turn. The mashitako blew past and hurried to stop. Its upper body--a column-like structure--pivoted independently while the arms scrambled for purchase. The dangerous eye was brought to bear, and another shot of the blue light made the wet grass hiss in Epona’s wake.

Link tugged at Epona’s reins, guiding her back and forth in half-circles around the mashitako. The monster’s eye followed him, striking out with its dangerous light, but he never stayed in one place longer than it took to pull out and aim a bomb arrow. The fiery arrows found their mark on the monster four more times. Each boom was echoed by the young spectators’ cries of approval.

In the wake of the bomb arrows, the mashitako was nearing the end of its endurance. Link could see fatigue in the monster’s slowing arms. He had to end this quickly before the mashitako decided to use its remaining energy to flee. He dodged another shot of the blue light and pulled Epona to a stop. He felt her shaking beneath him. Her strength, too, was waning, yet she bowed forward, bracing herself, as her rider pulled out yet another bomb arrow.

There was a noted absence of a crackling fire in Link’s right ear, but it wasn’t until he notched the arrow and drew it back did he notice the fuse had failed to catch. There was no time to relax the bow and attempt a relight. The glow of the mashitako's eye was intensifying. Link let the arrow go; it struck the monster’s hard outer body and broke apart in a rain of splinters, torn burlap, and black powder. Before the whisper of the black powder against the mashitako's body had ceased, Link was already pulling out his trump card.

The failed bomb arrow, though harmless, distracted the mashitako just long enough for Link to get his feet out of his stirrups and under him. Epona, recognizing the cue, reared up to give Link more height as he leapt up from the saddle. The mashitako's light beam shot through the empty air between the saddle and Link’s boots; he felt the heat in his heels.

As he rose, Link brought his bow around and notched the most unique arrow of his collection. It was even more awkward than the bomb arrows, with a salvaged relic lashed to the point. An extension on the relic snapped out when Link flipped open a cap and pulled a hidden switch within. It birthed a blue light--not unlike the mashitako's weapon of choice--that formed into an intricately curved blade.

Link had a half-second to aim before he began to descend. He used it to its fullest, lining up the arrow with the mashitako's eye. The arrow snapped forward, and the object lashed to it struck the eye an inch from its middle. There was an explosion of light and fire that rippled the air.

Link hit the ground in a crouch. He kept his head down as the mashitako's arms thrashed above him. The hand not around his bow whipped around to his lower back to grip the hilt of the short blade there, beneath his quiver. He tensed, waiting for retaliation.

Yet the mashitako was through with fighting. It staggered away from Link with its arms flailing at the arrow stuck in its eye. The attempts to loosen it petered out, and the creature was left to stumble across the meadow until one of its arms slipped on the wet bank of the stream. The mashitako half-collapsed into the water, sending low waves hissing over the grass. It moved no longer.

Sakura and Kukiel whooped as one when they saw their hero straighten out of his crouch. They clutched hands and spun in place, laughing and cheering. One side of the cheers heightened to a scream when Kukiel’s enthusiastic feet sent her tumbling over the edge of the hill. Sakura screamed her friend’s name and dropped down against the grass in an impossible attempt to catch her. Her fingers caught on Kukiel’s collar and gripped, but the weight of her friend sent Sakura tumbling over the edge next.

Death waited for the girls at the foot of the hill where large rocks had fallen and collected over the years. They screamed, their eyes filled with the pain that they could already imagine. The screams were jolted away when the girls came to a sudden stop. Something had caught them in midair.

Kukiel could feel her collar digging into her neck. She looked up, swaying, to see an arrow shaft adorned with familiar green and white fletching. It was stuck through the back of her shirt and buried in the hill’s face, holding her up. A few feet higher, Sakura hung from a similar arrow. The two girls met each other’s eyes with wide alarm that quickly spilled over into giddy laughter.

Sakura was the first to stop laughing, and her eyes shifted past Kukiel at the same time. Kukiel looked down to see a familiar stranger at the base of the hill. He stood with his hands on his hips, and his blue eyes studied the girls with gentle admonishment.

“Onii-san, you’re so awesome!” Sakura cried, seeming to forget that she hung on the brink of danger. Kukiel rolled her eyes but she, too, quivered with excitement. This was the closest she and her friend had ever come to their hero.

Link shook his head, lowered his bow to the ground, and raised his hands to take hold of the rocky face. He climbed up it with quick grace, finding hand and foot holds where there appeared to be none. He reached Kukiel first and indicated with a motion of a hand that she should grab hold of him. Once she had a secure grip, Link tugged the arrow out of the rock face and through her shirt. He put the arrow in his mouth, leaving his hands free to continue climbing.

Kukiel clung to her hero’s back and tried to quell the quick thump of her heart. She was so close… She could feel her hero’s ponytail against her cheek. She had never noticed before how young he was--surely no older than twenty. And he had the loveliest pierced ears, and the heat of his back against her was thrilling, and his sidelocks were quite cute, and…

Link worked his way up to Sakura next, moving a little slower with the extra weight. She, too, was prompted to take hold of him before he removed the arrow keeping her aloft.

“Onii-san, don’t you talk?” Sakura asked as she took hold of her hero’s shirt. Kukiel hissed a warning at her to shut up, which in turn earned her a snappy retort, which of course had to be countered.

Link put the girls’ squabbling out of mind and braced both arrows against the rock face. He used them to slow his descent when he loosened his footholds and slid down the rock. The girls’ quarrelling turned first to screams before they became cheers of delight. When Link touched solid ground, the girls dropped off of him and rolled around on the grass, laughing. There was no sign of their earlier antagonism.

Link picked up his bow and left them be. He had to collect his arrow from the mashitako. The object lashed to it was too precious to waste. He had found it in a scattering of ruins miles from here, and his presence there had awakened the monster he had only just vanquished. As Link walked, he looked around and wondered what sort of harassment he would get for the shattered trees and scorched grass; not to mention the downed monster partially blocking the stream, which was a vital source of water for the nearby village’s rice fields.

Link climbed the mashitako's body with the same ease he had displayed while climbing the hill. It took a little more work to free the arrow’s unique head from the mashitako's eye. Sparks of blue light flew from the dark eye when Link managed to wiggle the arrow free. The blue blade was dormant, but Link knew the power was still there. He snapped the object closed and dropped off of the mashitako's body.

Sakura and Kukiel were waiting for Link. They gave him a bit of a start, as he had not heard them approach despite their penchant for giggling every time they looked at him. He waited as they pushed one another forward only to have to do it all over again when the one in front turned right back around. After several rounds of this back and forth, Sakura stepped forward with Kukiel right at her back, peering over her shoulder.

“Um… Thank you for saving us,” Sakura said, bowing low.

“And for defeating the mashitako and saving our village,” Kukiel added.

“And for defeating the mashitako and saving our village,” Sakura echoed, looking up with a shy smile.

There was more. Link could see it in the girls’ shifting feet and clasped hands. He waited, arms folded, the arrow stuck out beneath his elbow, until Kukiel finally asked in a rush, “Can we pet your horse?”

Epona was farther downstream, drinking. Link turned his head and whistled three quick, descending notes. The mare’s ears perked up and she lifted her head. A double-click of Link’s tongue brought her to his side. He kept hold of her reins as the girls fell to petting her neck. Epona wasn’t fond of strangers.

And yet, something about the girls had a calming effect on the mare. She endured the attention without flattened ears or a pawing hoof. Link decided it was safe to go a little further. He secured his bow and arrow amongst his saddle bags and took out a small, white sack. Epona nickered and mouthed at the sack when Link came back around her front. He discouraged her searching mouth with a gentle push before he crouched in front of the girls and motioned for them to hold out their hands. A handful of oats was deposited in each girl’s cupped palms. They fed these to Epona one turn at a time. Their laughter at the touch of her velvety lips was balm enough for the ache in Link’s back and arms.

Epona finished Sakura’s handful first. The girl brushed spit and missed oats from her hands against the grass before she straightened up and volunteered, “I’ll get your cloak for you, Onii-san.”

Link nodded his thanks. Sakura set off at a run to the far side of the meadow where the cloak was discarded. Link watched her, admiring her ease in childhood, until a sharp whinny snapped his head around.

Kukiel had backed away from Epona and now stood regarding the rearing mare in fear. At first, Link thought the girl had unintentionally upset Epona. He rushed forward and placed himself between his horse and the young girl. He snatched Epona’s reins and fell to settling her down, but none of the usual tactics worked.

Something rumbled nearby. Link looked around for the source of the sound and his eyes caught fresh ripples in the water around the downed mashitako.

Kukiel took off running when she saw one of the mashitako's submerged arms arc up to plant itself against the stream’s bank. She met Sakura halfway across the meadow; the girl was returning with her hero’s cloak neatly folded in her hands. The friends once more took up a stance close together as they looked on at the scene unfolding by the stream.

Link had enough time to pull his bow and makeshift arrow from Epona’s saddlebags before the mare bolted. The mashitako was gaining its feet, pulling itself out of the water a foot at a time. Water flowed off of it in sheets, and the blue light in the kinks of its arms stuttered to life. Its shimmering eye caught sight of Epona, and it shot a weak beam of light at the mare. Link watched the beam graze the top of Epona’s rump. The mare screamed with pain and quickened her pace until she was safe within the shadows of the tree line.

Link turned back to the mashitako, his face dark and his mouth set in a thin line. The creature’s eye fixed on him next, and two of its arms rose up with flexing claws. Link gave the mashitako no chance to land a hit. He ran forward, his bow and arrow in hand. The mashitako's arms swung at him once he was within range. Link dodged them by sliding forward on his knees across the wet grass. He stopped in the shadow of the mashitako's body, arched his upper body rearwards, and aimed his arrow straight up.

Sakura and Kukiel watched the arrow bloom to life beneath the mashitako, highlighting their hero in a blue light. They never saw the arrow released, as the immediate explosion of light wiped out the view. Rings of blue lightning flashed over the mashitako, which was reaching down for its attacker. The arms stuttered to a halt, and its body shuddered once. Every bit of light left it in an instant, and it dropped with the suddenness of a stone.

The girls gasped and clung to each other while they rode out the tremor of the mashitako's fallen body. In the silence that followed, they stared at the monster in hopes of seeing their hero walk away unharmed. After a half-minute had gone by with no movement, Sakura became overcome by emotion. “Onii-san! Onii-san!” She screamed this again and again while hanging onto her friend for support. Tears rushed down her face, and she wobbled on weak knees.

Kukiel was close to tears herself, but she kept herself calm for both her and Sakura’s sakes. An idea had just come to mind. “Come on, Sakura!” Kukiel urged. She yanked on her friend’s arms until Sakura stood up on her own. “Listen, can you whistle? I can’t.”

Sakura understood the request. She copied the mare’s song, casting the whistle towards the tree line where the horse huddled. The mare trotted forward willingly enough and allowed the girls to take hold of her reins. They led her to the smoking remains of the mashitako.

“I have an idea,” Kukiel said. “Back up, okay?” Sakura did as told, taking the mare with her, but not before Kukiel pulled a bomb arrow out of the quiver amongst the saddlebags. The arrow’s fuse lit up, as Kukiel guessed it would. She tossed it at the base of the mashitako where its body met the ground. The arrow clattered against the mashitako and fell beside it, crackling. Kukiel backed up to stand beside Sakura; the girls waited.

The explosion cracked the air. Once the smoke cleared, Sakura and Kukiel rushed forward to inspect the damage. The arrow had done little to the mashitako, but it had created a deep crater in the ground beneath. Sakura knelt at the edge of the crater, stuck her head beneath the mashitako, and called, “Onii-san!”

The low sound of shifting dirt answered the call. A dirty hand reached out from beneath the mashitako to grip its edge; a second hand appeared, clutching the broken-off, foreign arrowhead. The girls cheered and helped their hero to his feet once he had slid out from beneath the monster. He dropped down again when he was clear of the crater to rest his back against the mashitako's side. His clothes and exposed skin were stained with mud, his hair was a mess, there was a frightening cut on his cheek… but he was alive. The girls pressed against his sides as best as they could in a tight embrace. He endured the attention with minimal unease in his face.

Epona walked forward, eager for attention as well. She mouthed Link’s messy bangs, and he pressed his forehead against her long nose, smiling. Her reins provided the ballast he needed to regain his feet for good, and he fell to inspecting her wound. Sakura and Kukiel rose to their feet as well and looked on, their faces tight with concern. They smiled when their hero’s shoulders relaxed. The horse’s wound wasn’t too bad, it seemed.

“Onii-san, here is your cloak,” Sakura spoke up. She presented the folded cloak to her hero, her face glowing with reverence.

Kukiel noticed her hero’s eyes darken a little when he accepted the cloak. “It doesn’t go well with your tunic,” she remarked, knowing even at her young age that there was something behind the somber look.

Link gave no indication that Kukiel’s comment pricked at him. His mind had other ideas, and it rushed him with guilt. How could he ever tell these young girls the truth? How could he explain to them that their hero was an outcast; a pariah; unwelcomed anywhere because of the destruction and monsters he attracted, like a wounded fawn attracted wolfos to the larger herd?

Instead of letting the girls see anymore of his grief, Link smiled. Against his better judgment (Don’t build ties, it warned him) he kissed each girl once on the back of a hand in thanks for their help. The girls gushed over the genteel act. Link wondered if the blush would ever leave their cheeks.

A call carried through the forest. “Sakura! Sakura! Are you in those woods? Come out of there right now!”

Sakura groaned and slumped on her feet. “It’s my mom,” she moaned. “Not now. Not when it was getting good.”

Kukiel laughed. “Maybe she should have come calling when the monster was still raging around.”

Sakura laughed too. Her mother’s second call cut the sound short. “I’m coming!” she shouted back. Impatience sharpened the words. With a roll of her eyes, Sakura faced her hero again. “Thank you, Onii-san, for everything.” She bowed and, with a sheepish smile, waved goodbye before taking off for the tree line.

Kukiel sighed as she watched Sakura run off. “I’d better go, too. My mom is probably worrying about me. We aren’t supposed to leave the village when the mashitako is around.” Or when you’re around, Onii-san, the subtext whispered.

Kukiel turned forward again to say goodbye, and her face dropped when she saw the gray cloak was around her hero once more, obscuring his torso and face. Kukiel thought fast on a way to encourage the smile back to her hero’s lips. “Onii-san, do you want to come to my house for lunch? We have a horse doctor in our village, too. She can see to your mare’s wound.”

Link drew further into the gloom of his cloak and pressed his back against Epona’s side. He kept his head down to maximize the shadow over his face, and he waited for the pair of sandals he could see to turn away. After half a minute they did, accompanied by the shifting of Kukiel’s shadow that indicated a bow. She murmured a goodbye as she turned.

Link caught Kukiel’s shoulder and spun her around. She smiled at the sight of his dropped hood, and nodded when he lifted a finger to indicate she should stay. As Kukiel waited, her feet squishing against the muddy bank, Link turned to the saddlebags and dug around in them.

Kukiel took the time to inspect what she could see of her hero’s belongings. She spied a sheathed sword that was longer than the short blade at his lower back, as well as a shield. There was also the bomb arrow quiver, the special arrowhead, and… Her heart dropped a little at the sight of a bedroll and folded canvas tent.

When Link turned around, there was no indication of sorrow in Kukiel’s face. He held out what he had put together for her and Sakura: matching necklaces of braided leather with a stone arrowhead tied in the middle.

“Th-thank you so much, Onii-san!” Kukiel rushed out, her tongue tripping over the words. She accepted her gift with a shaking hand and immediately set to tying it around her neck. Once done, she pocketed Sakura’s gift with a promise to hand it over. Link bowed to her in appreciation, eliciting a deeper blush in Kukiel’s face. The hood was raised again when he straightened up.

Kukiel understood it was time to leave. She offered another word of thanks before walking away. At the tree line, she paused and turned back. Her hero was at the stream’s bank, putting together a mud and herb poultice on a scrap of burlap. This he pressed to his horse’s wounded rump while his free hand stroked calm against her side. Kukiel smiled and turned away, confident the two of them would be okay.

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Translations:

mashitako: I created this name for the unknown monster in the Zelda Wii U trailer. It is a blend of the Japanese words for "machine" (mashin) and "octopus" (tako).

Onii-san: Borrowed directly from Japanese. A respectful term for a young man of older age, it is the name that Kukiel and Sakura use for Link in their appearances throughout the fic.