Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Legend hates everything about the ocean during a storm.

Each little thing about it just… puts him on edge. The sounds of waves crashing on top of each other in battle for dominance, the howling currents spraying water all across, the ugly and uninviting pitch dark colour that eliminates any hint of sparkling blue in its wake as it spreads to the horizon. Any time he sees it like that his lungs begin to burn with phantom water, and his throat locks up in defiance of the air it’s breathing, shunting his mind back into a state of pure fight for survival while there is nothing to fight.

All that said.

When it isn’t storming, he keeps having to begrudgingly admit to himself that the ocean is kinda nice. 

And, well, that he likes it. There is a reason he went out to sail it in the first place.

Sure, it can dredge up memories that hurt like a fucking Lynel wedging its blade into his chest. And there are days he can’t take a single step towards a beach without being haunted by blurred ghosts that escape his memories despite the tight lock he tries to keep them under. Where he fears to see another world crumble and fade away around him just because he feels sand between his toes and hears the crying of a flock of seagulls overhead.

Today, though, is not one of those days.

Today, he’s spitting out lighthearted curses in between one of those dumb chuckles he hates that his voice does without even asking permission beforehand. While he’s assaulted with water relentlessly being splashed into his face, courtesy of a Wind and Wild tag team.

“I swear to the fucking Three I will -!” he tries to complain, but the exact nature of his threat is lost as he stops to cough when another heap of water goes straight into both his mouth and nose.

He can hear the two mischief-makers laugh as he hacks and snorts out whatever got into the wrong pipe. Three damn it, the salt makes it so much worse than it has any right to be.

Screw this, maybe the ocean blows after all.

It’s an empty threat. Even were he to decide today to not be an ocean-friendly day, it’s not as if he could avoid its presence right now. He grumbles as he reaches up for his hat, which, unsurprisingly, feels too wet to keep wearing it now, so he slides it off his head and begins to wring out as much moisture as he’s able.

The midday sun stands high above the Great Sea, its surface sparkling as it reflects unrelenting rays of light, and Outset Island’s beach area has never seen this many visitors crowding it at once.

There are no threats to take care of on a peaceful island such as this, as Wind triumphantly tells them each time. Apparently the Great Sea is only truly dangerous further out, and the last time Outset Island had dealt with monsters close to its shores was when the entire ocean had trembled in the wake of destructive magic during Wind’s journey. It’s safe to say they aren’t at risk of that repeating any time soon.

So, here they are. Nine whole Heroes of Courage, playing around by the beach just by Wind’s grandma’s house. Some, like Wind and Wild, wasted no time stripping down to their swimming clothes and diving into the waves, while others, including Legend himself, chose to remain on the dry parts of the beach for now.

Well, until he was assaulted and the sand around him now soaked.

They’ve definitely still had worse first days in some eras. But it's teetering on that tightrope more with each fucking second.

“Come on, you two, leave mister grumpy no-pants alone,” he hears Warriors’ voice from his side, and tries to snap his hat over his shoulder with very dubious aim. It hits nothing but air, and the captain comes up from his other side with a grin plastered on his face a moment later. Misdirecting bastard. “Him being a bit water-shy is hilarious, but it shouldn’t make him your prime target for the entire day.”

“Excuse you? Water-shy?” Legend snorts at that before he can help himself. An entire tribe of Labrynnan Zora would like to disagree with that assessment. 

“What else would you call flinching away from some splashing fun?”

“Not wanting to get my clothes wet, maybe, genius?” he says, waving his damp hat around in a very poignant way. “I’ll have you know, I could give all of you a run for your Rupees in water. I’m just choosing to leave you your dignity.”

“You keep talking, and all I’m hearing is air coming out of your hothead.”

“Strong words for someone whose shins are right next to my fists.”

“Besides, captain,” Twilight inserts himself into the conversation before it can escalate into further banter. There’s a loud splash, and when Legend turns he sees the rancher in the water, currently holding a flailing Wild’s head under. Legend isn’t surprised Wild didn’t hear his mentor coming, neither did he. “Aren’t you the one that can’t swim?”

Oh, yeah. That little tidbit. Despite the potential Legend has stopped using it in banter, it doesn’t get any good reactions.

True to form, Warriors only irritatingly puffs his chest out, hands on his hips. “I've not forgotten. I’m not the one boasting about swimming skills without putting actions behind my words.”

Legend is about to retort to that, because oh, now that was another direct attack that he won’t take sitting down. But before he can even begin, he’s interrupted.

“Oh, oh! Hey,” Wind half-yells half-breathes, and his enthusiasm immediately has the attention of everyone around him. “I have an idea!”

Granted, for a few seconds he shares it with Wild breaking free from Twilight’s grip - flinging his head back out with such force that there’s water coming Legend’s way again. Wild’s hair has gone loose under the surface, enough for the cook to have to part the veil of soaked blond strands in front of his face in order to glare at Twilight. 

A slight pat on the shoulder and a smile are the only acknowledgment he gets, before Twilight gestures for Wind to continue.

“We should all have a race! A swimming race!” Wind proclaims once he’s back in focus, and meets Warriors’ eyes just after he’s done. “Landlubbers excused, of course.”

“A race? Who?”

It doesn’t take fine hearing to assign the question to Hyrule. The only surprise waiting for Legend after he turns is Sky - in only a single linen shirt, the least layers of clothes he’s ever seen the sky-bound hero wear - trailing behind the traveler, and the curious look in both of their eyes.

Another splash of water hits the side of his head, and he snaps his head back around with a snarl. Wind’s arms have come up from under the waves, outstretched to encompass the entirety of their number.

“Everybody who wants to! It’ll be cool!” he basically yells.

The clear expectation and childish excitement in Wind’s face as he declares this is the only thing that keeps the snark out of Legend’s throat. He’d never admit it out loud, fuck that noise, but he has a soft spot for when the kid gets like this. Wind tries too hard to be an adult sometimes. If he can stay a child after two entire adventures, then that childishness is worthy of being held on to for as long as possible. 

At least in Legend’s curated opinion of having lost his own somewhere down the road.

Twilight and Wild exchange a quick look, and their faces all but confirm they’re both in before they give a nod. It makes Wind’s smile all the brighter.

“I’ll pass,” Sky says with a hand raised in sheepish apology. “I can swim short stretches pretty fast, but I know I won’t keep up with the rest of you towards the end.”

Next to him, Legend can see Hyrule tap his feet on the sand, then his cheek with his finger. His answer is obvious before he gives it, even without some very specific knowledge about Hyrule’s lacking swimming skills in Legend’s head. 

“Yeah, sorry, me too. I’m not too great with… all that.”

“But not to worry, sailor,” Warriors’ calls out in that hideous overact of his, and Legend’s eyes roll back so far that he feels dizzy for a spell. Next thing he knows, the captain has wedged himself between Sky and Hyrule, arms around both their shoulders. "Us landlubbers are going to make a fine trio of referees. Someone’s gotta make sure there’s no cheating going on in these lawless waters. What do you say?"

Legend wrings out his hat one more time before he stuffs it between his belt and tunic, then he stems himself up from the sand. His efforts to try and pat his tunic free of gold are foiled by the grains sticking to the dampness of the cloth. Wonderful.

Oh well, they’ll get washed off soon anyhow. “I say we go grab the old man and the smithy, and then you’re all going down.”

Wind almost beams brighter than the burning island sun before he takes off, leading them all back to the house with no time to waste.

Not even ten minutes later they’re all lined up at the shore, most of them ankle-deep in the waves.

Despite the nature of the ocean the temperature is comforting, much more inviting than the piercing cold streams they’ve had to make do with for quick washes lately. It’s enough for Legend to separate it from the recollection of howling winds and ice-like cold seeping into his entire body from being pushed under. 

He shivers once to shrug it off completely, before taking one more look across the contestants.

Four is first in line. They didn't have much of an ordeal coaxing the smithy into participating, the combined whirlwinds of Wind and Wild soon outweighing any hesitation. Fastened to his feet are a pair of shining blue flippers, similar to ones Legend himself has used before.

Right to the smallest hero's side stands - or rather, hops - the next tallest, Wind, in little clothing, alternating on his two feet in one of the giddiest moods Legend has ever seen the kid.

Besides Wind comes Twilight, and the rancher's appearance... certainly shows he is tackling the competition in full earnest. Twilight has changed into what looks like full ornate armour, if there weren't parts his skin is still exposed between. Countless small scales cover his arm and torso, a deep blue version of all of their fucking favourite hat shape resting on his head. There are gloves to complete the look, and a pair of flippers on his feet as well.

Wild stands next to his mentor, and Legend honestly didn’t expect to see the champion in anything but his strange blue undergarments. Instead, Wild is wearing clothes of a very similar style to Twilight's, though they look more ceremonial and form-fitting in comparison to the rancher’s more practical attire. A different pair of earrings than his usual are dangling from his ears.

As for Legend himself, the next in line? He hasn’t bothered with anything but putting his hat back on. His advantage will show once they enter the water.

But for now, he swerves his head to his other side.

The last one up is Time, whom they plucked out of a chat with Wind's grandma. Despite the old man's general serious disposition, Legend knows full fucking well a cheeky bastard hides somewhere behind that eye of his, and the spark that appeared in it when they told him of the race only confirms that. 

Time has only just gotten in line, patting down an azure blue tunic of the same style as the beige one he usually wears, along with his usual boots and trousers. One could almost imagine a hat similar to Twilight's going with it, but Time's hair is free for the wind to tousle as it sees fit. 

Nothing else that could count as swimming equipment is visible on the old man, and it's almost hard to believe that's all he's accrued over his many years. Legend feels the need to prod whirl up his throat and snaps his mouth shut before it can escape. With the competition about to start, it's not like he'd get a non-cryptic answer, anyway.

And he’s also kinda sorta being a hypocrite about it. 

At least until he shows his own cards.

“Everybody ready?”

Warriors’ voice calls out from where he stands on the island’s small wooden pier, right alongside Sky and Hyrule, who are dangling their feet in the water. Wild handed the captain his slate earlier, fully set up for its purpose.

Multiple agreements sound off across the line, Legend’s included. Now that they’re about to start, he can’t suppress a grin anymore. Nobody has any idea what he has in store for this.

"Remember, once around the post. First one back on the beach wins. On go!" the captain exclaims, and Legend watches everyone fall into different starting stances. "Three!"

He rolls his shoulders. It's been some time, he wants to make sure his muscles are prepared.

"Two!", Sky chimes into the count.

He puts one foot behind the other.

"One!" Hyrule's voice now.

The magical spark he reaches for somewhere inside him sings with excitement.

"Go!" 

All three of their referees call out at once, Warriors' practiced projection the most prominent among them. Just as they do so the slate in the captain's hands gives out a high-pitched sound. Not a moment later, a pillar of ice grows in the water a long distance from the shore.

Legend sprints into the waves towards it, alongside all the others.

He's barely in up to his waist when the growing anticipation finally spills over, unable to be contained. So he halts, spins on his heel in the sand, and calls out, “Hope none of you planned on winning!"

His arms are spread when he lets himself fall backwards, like he's awaiting a soft mattress to cushion his fall, and the feeling once he's fully under might even be greater than that. 

Pulsing through his entire being he feels the magic of the mermaid suit spring out from where it usually lies dormant. Feels every single tingling sensation as his legs begin to make way for a single tail, as each of the myriad sea blue scales lay themselves over the previous one to appear. The water around him changes from a cold and uncomfortable weight pulling at his clothes into more and more of a warm welcoming embrace, and he returns that embrace with elated fervour.

Once his tail is fully formed, its magic repelling the dampness from his clothes, he takes a long and deep breath. Instead of Outset’s tropical, humid air, what fills his altered lungs is a refreshing and cool sensation he’s missed ever since his last foray into the ocean, incomparable with lakes or rivers.

Then he kicks his tail and begins to glide into deeper waters many times faster than any Hylian possibly could.

He resurfaces his head and torso after two elaborate strokes of his fin, with careful attention to look as casual as he possibly can. He’s still on his back, arms crossed above his chest while his tail remains underwater, sweeping back and forth in a steady rhythm.

The looks he finds on him are priceless, and worth every single minute of stopping his ego from bragging beforehand.

He’s made up more than the distance he fell behind from the short while the transformation takes with just the two strokes, so he’s floating a decent distance ahead of the others. Without fail all their eyes are fixated on his form, to varying degrees of surprise, fascination, and sheer incredulity. From the sailor’s bulging eyeballs, to Wild’s open mouth that soon leads to him gulping down a good amount of saltwater, to the rancher’s deadpan stare - he couldn’t have asked for better reactions.

Well, except one. One glance over to Time’s side of the row reveals that while the old man is mustering him, his expression holds… more. Recognition, perhaps? Legend can’t decipher the encryption it is sealed behind any further, but he gives a mental shrug. If any of them witnessed something similar before, it would be Time.

There’s still a raised eyebrow, so he counts it as a win.

“Hey, captain!” he calls out, tilting his head just enough to get a good look at the pier. He finds another trio of astonished heroes there, and Warriors specifically looks like he just finished fumbling to not drop Wild’s slate into the ocean. “You wanna repeat that comment about me being water-shy?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, diving back under in an arched flip while Warriors is still sputtering for his first word.

Goddesses, just being fully submerged like this fills him with elation. His body twirls into half spins and elaborate broad sways without his conscious thought, and before he knows it he’s ended up swimming all the way behind Four, and then a full lap around all of them. They’re making headway towards the pillar as a group, but he still outclasses them by a wide margin, easily keeping pace even with all his embellishments.

By the time he’s completed his second lap around their entire number, he figures they’ve all gathered just how severely doomed they are.

He’s proven right when, just before he’s about to raise his fin to splash Wild in revenge for his earlier assaults, the champion is pushed below the surface with a gurgling noise that spreads bubbles all around him. Wild’s flailing arms cloud visibility even further, but Legend catches a glimpse of another gloved hand holding onto his head, unrelenting against his struggles to resurface.

Curiosity gets the better of him, so he kicks upwards and out of the surrounding waves.

He barks out a laugh when he sees Twilight, a satisfied grin on his face, doing his best to stay steady while asserting enough force to keep Wild submerged. There's blond hair floating all around in front of the rancher, right above where he saw Wild struggle. 

Twilight has mercy on his protégé after not too long, and releases his hold to let him emerge with a loud, heaving intake of air. He does, however, use the opportunity to dash past Wild and Legend, sprinting his way to safety from revenge.

“That’s cheating!” Wild yells after him once he's caught his breath. “Referees!”

Twilight just shoots back a laugh. "Hey, the hoarder's got this anyway, everything's fair game now!"

"That's not how that works! Just because we can't win doesn't mean you get to sabotage -!"

The bickering continues while Wild swims past Legend's other side, in his best attempt at catching up to his mentor - who seems to easily be keeping his distance. Their pathing is completely destroyed now, choosing a route that makes for the best chase regardless of how it strays from the direct line to the goalpost.

Legend smirks to himself when he sees the smithy, who’s been watching with that observational skill of his, begin to drift to the side and off the direct path now as well. His fin beats once to push him out of Four’s intended way, and their eyes connect for a single moment as he passes him by. 

Four’s eyes are sparkling with a deep purple.

And that’s all he needs to know to lean back and get himself ready for a show. There’s a plan cooking in the smith’s mind, and Legend’s gonna do his damndest not to interfere with it.

Four’s goal becomes clear once he gets closer to where Time has reduced the tempo of his own strokes now - but approaching carefully, towards the old man’s backside. From what Legend can see, Time is fully fixated on watching Twilight and Wild’s shenanigans unfold, and Four visibly takes care to produce less noise with each foot of distance he closes.

There’s barely two strokes between them when Four’s grin widens, and he calls out a loud, “Hey, old man!”

Legend lets loose his second bout of cackling laughter in the last minutes when the smith proceeds to throw his arms around Time’s neck. He locks them into place grabbing his opposite wrists with each hand before the older hero has a chance to react, and now their smallest is holding on tight to their tallest.

“I’m sure you can handle a little extra weight, yes?” he says, expression smug as he lets the lower half of his body float above Time’s. “Don’t worry, I’ll get off before we’re back at shore.”

It’s obviously a ploy to conserve sprinting stamina, and such a Four-move that Legend can’t even pretend to be surprised by it. Whenever their smith reveals the thoughts that oftentimes stay locked behind his observational silence, they are elaborate, fully planned out. As if he refuses to speak them out loud before checking them over tenfold.

It’s why Time’s growing smile is so satisfying to see, and Legend raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

Oh, so the old man knows something he doesn’t, is that it?

“May I just confirm something with you?” Time asks, his voice calm as if he didn’t have another hero dangling from his neck. They’re floating still in the water for now, but Legend has no doubt the old man won't take this without retaliation.

Four, on the other hand, does not look nearly as convinced of that. Perhaps it’s due to him not being able to see the absolute mischief the old man is attempting to hide behind his eye. He’s relaxed as he lets the waves keep him horizontal, his reply confident.

“Sure, go ahead.”

Time makes an expression that tells Legend he’s humming before he keeps talking. “Your item enhances your diving ability, but it does not exempt you from needing to hold your breath. Am I correct?”

The words hit Four like one of those Blade Traps he and Legend have bonded over despising.

“Uh,” the smith exhales, confidence all but vanishing from his expression in less time than it takes for Legend to reach up to cover his mouth. The implication behind Time’s statement is more than obvious and he can’t fault Four for quickly unlinking his arms from his own hold.

Time, however, is faster. He brings his hands up to grasp Four’s arms before they can retreat, keeping them locked in position even against the smaller hero’s futile attempts to withdraw.

“Don’t worry,” the old man says, tone sweet as honey, and Four’s face pales in its wake, “I’ll make certain your hold won’t slip.”

“Wait, wait, wait -!”

Time does not wait.

Four's pleas are cut short when the older hero dips his head beneath the waves, dragging first Four’s torso and then the rest of the smith along with him. A couple of kicks later they're fully submerged, and Legend wastes no time to follow their example.

Below the surface, he sees the rest of the foiled plot play out. Four's cheeks are round, and blown up, likely filled with the last gasp of air he managed to inhale. Time, meanwhile, is looking forward as he dives without a care, his legs the only force lending them both speed. The air he pushes from his nose blows small bubbles in a steady rhythm, without signs of discomfort. 

Legend can recognize someone breathing underwater by now.

He watches them for a bit, his tail swaying beneath him once for the passing of each second he taps onto his bicep with his finger. Four has stopped trying to escape, accepting the fate he brought onto himself in calm defeat as his hair sways around him, sometimes landing in his eyes without the ability to brush it away.

Once Legend’s tapping count rises to 30 that demeanour changes. With each tap more, the smithy’s expression suddenly grows more frantic, until at the 35th tap he balls one of his hands to a fist and knocks it against Time’s chest as best as he’s able. It’s a signal the old man understands, judging by the immediate swerve in direction that takes the pair back up to break through to the surface.

This time, Legend doesn’t follow. Instead, he finally does what they initially ran into the water for - swim towards the slate-made pillar of ice.

In all likelihood, the old man will grant his de facto prisoner ample time to catch his breath and then dive back under, only to make certain Four has learned whichever lesson he’s meant to. While he’s somewhat interested in Time’s swimming ability still, along with his remaining doubts the tunic is all he has to aid him, there’s little chance he’ll gain any insight while Four is still hanging off the man.

A practiced few strokes of his tail turn him back towards their original destination, and he makes his way to the crystalline sheen of magical ice visible from within the waves. Once there he almost dips his head back out, to make his presence known, before halting in the motion.

He could just quickly show his head.

He could also add some well-rehearsed spectacle to rub in his eventual victory with even more prominence.

Needless to say, his flair for the dramatic rears its powerful head once that thought reaches his mind. Before he knows it he has backpedaled and sunken lower, to give himself ample distance to the surface. A quick decision is made in the seconds he takes to plan out his next movements.

Then he dashes, tail pushing him upwards as fast as he can muster. He breaks out of the water with such high speed that his entire body is flung free of it for a few moments, and the air he rushes through sends chills through his limbs still pearling with droplets. The cold has barely reached him fully when gravity asserts its dominance and soon returns him to the ocean headfirst.

His fin smacks against the surface last, and he feels the impact as the water makes way.

A smile settles on his face. There. If nobody noticed that then they have different problems than incompetent referees.

He changes direction in a fluid turn, back to where he came from. While showing off feels amazing both for the others’ reaction but also his own enjoyment, there is still a race he has to win, regardless of how easily his victory will be achieved. Once he’s touched back on the beach, he’ll be able to take all the time in the world to astonish his audience.

On his way he passes by Time and Four, who the former still holds hostage as he dives. According to Four’s disheveled look the dips have happened more frequently after the first, and he briefly wonders how long the old man is going to draw out his vengeance.

Then he rushes past them, ignoring the look of betrayal he earns from Four.

The distance from the ice pillar back to shore is much faster covered without self-assigned detours lengthening it in multiples. At the speed he’s going he soon sees the beach gain ground below him, and waits for the sand to approach to about his own standing height before he makes to resurface.

His head only just breaks the water’s surface when the sailor's voice echoes out in a triumphant, "I WIN!"

Legend blinks a few times to get the remaining droplets out of his lashes and looks to his side. 

Where, sure enough, Wind is standing closer to shore than he’s currently floating himself, his swimming clothes dripping onto the sand as he soaks in the sun with a huge grin plastered on his face.

Ah, crud. He forgot to keep tabs on the sailor. Kid must’ve kept on target while he wasn’t paying attention.

“Alright, you got me,” he groans, as theatrically as he can muster, and leans back to let the waves carry his back. His tail floats up until he’s sprawled out as if on a mattress. “Guess that’s what I get for messing around first, huh?”

Wind’s response comes with a laugh.

“Sure do!”

Legend puts on his usual grumpy exterior in response, but it's shallow. He can still hear the screeching and shouting voices of the rest of the race participants behind him, who he reckons are going to be a while. From the side come footsteps, first hitting a wooden underground and then padded by the beach, and he knows the referee trio is making its way to them.

His mind provides his next plan of action before he even has to ask it.

“Only one thing for me to do now, then,” he says, only lifting his head enough to gauge the distance still left between them, careful to keep his expression neutral.

Warriors is up front of the small approaching group and comes to a halt near the sailor. He can already see the pretty boy preparing for a jab at him, now that the initial shock’s worn off. Perfect.

“Not gonna lie, you make for a cute mermaid, vet. Almost a shame that tail isn’t as sparkly pink as your -”

And before the rest of the words can leave Warriors’ mouth, Legend has splashed said tail into the water hard, and a large portion of it flies straight towards the captain’s face.

Laughter erupts around the beach, Wind’s the most enthusiastic accompanied by the lower timbre of Sky’s soft chuckles and Hyrule’s half-snorts.

Legend doesn’t stay around long enough to hear all of the ensuing string of curses from the captain. He flips back under the surface of the waves, pushing further and further out, and lets the magic in him sing freely for a little while longer.

Chapter Text

It’s long past midnight, and Legend can’t sleep.

The waves are calm around him while they rock him back and forth on the water’s surface. Only the light of the moon is reflecting off the otherwise pitch black sea as far out as he let himself drift. The faint lantern lights in some of Outset’s houses are too far to truly illuminate any space near him; he doubts they’d do a much better job even were he further in. And besides, all he’s truly watching are the stars speckled across the clear night sky, burning all by their lonesome.

His arms are stretched out on both his sides, in a position that would have him sprawling on the ground were he not floating. Instead of his legs, his tail is swaying in its familiar element like the rest of him, only ever adjusting its fin when a stronger gust of wind threatens to veer him too far off shore.

The lack of sleep doesn’t come as a surprise, not really, despite the hope that rose in him after the day’s activities left him exhausted in a good way. He’s not caught a full night of rest while near large bodies of water for years, at this point. It’s nothing new, and he doubts anything but the passage of time will truly ever affect the condition.

So, eyes wide open after no one else’s were, he gingerly stole himself out of the pile of pillows and blankets covering both floors of Wind’s grandma’s house, leaving on the tip of his toes with no regard for footwear. Were he a religious man besides cursing in divinity's names, the silent thank you for no one needing to be on watch would’ve been uttered to a specific Goddess. But he’s distinctly not, so they fell from his lips with no recipient in mind.

He’s grateful for the calm state of night. It means he’ll be able to drift here until dawn almost approaches, undisturbed.

And most importantly, no gulls are crying at this time. 

A wave splashes over him, coating the scales on his tail with sparkling droplets of water. He feels each of them as he would on skin, maybe even more intricately. 

The morphed limb has long become a soothing presence whenever he’s in deep waters. The capabilities it grants him bring with it a sort of certainty the elements won’t be able to toy with him quite as easily as they would otherwise. Without the lightning striking his body that fateful night long ago, he’s certain he’d never have lost consciousness, and found his way underwater barely harmed.

But that’s a what if. It’s not what happened, and short of abusing Nayru’s abilities as Veran did he doubts there’s any way to make it so in earnest.

He exhales in tandem with the gentle sway of the waves. This exact train of thought has coursed through his mind so many times now, unrelenting whenever he’s left alone to ponder its beginnings. He shelves it back whence it originated from with practice he’d rather he didn’t have.

A splash catches his attention among the otherwise silent sea. He has scouted the deeper regions of the shore before presenting himself as an easy target, so the alarm it brings into his muscles is minimal. Nothing but the usual need to be aware of his surroundings.

He does little more than tilt his head to the side. True enough, there are ripples emerging from a spot closer to the beach than his - he can’t make out specifics like this, for want of both perspective and proper light, but they look like a vaguely Hylian-sized entity caused them.

He considers moving for maybe one blink of his eyes before remaining still. If this is one of the other heroes, the effort would be wasted. 

And if it’s not, well, his entire arsenal is one opening flick of his pouch away, and he doesn’t need to be upright to use most of that.

The ripples calm a little, as one can expect after the initial impact, and he waits for whoever it is to give themselves away by technique of their strokes. But, and this actually gives him pause, once the water calms, there’s nothing left above the surface to watch. 

That’s… strange. There’s nowhere to go but below.

He’s withdrawn his arms ever so slightly, ready to maybe have to make a move after all, when he’s presented with an explanation.

Multiple lengths from where they splashed in, not too far from him, a figure emerges from below the surface, jumping until they are level above the water with a speed akin to a loosened arrow. For a short moment, the pale moonlight illuminates an outline for Legend to study. Whoever this is has broken from the waves in a rigid and controlled posture - one he hastily manages to liken to poses he’s taken on for greater speeds. It’s an interesting detail, though nothing compared to the other realization it brings.

This is not a Hylian.

That’s the only thought that truly persists when the figure dives back under a heartbeat later.

Legend doesn’t wait for the ripples to reach him. Instead he turns his tail to the side, lifts the large fin and pushes the rest of his body under in one swift motion. The instinctive need to close his eyes and take in a breath of air before his head dives in takes hold of him for a short moment, but he’s practiced enough to suppress it.

Once submerged he feels his perception shift and adjust to the ocean’s difference to the outside air. His first inquisitive look focuses on the direct line back towards the beach, but catches nothing but the ground of ever-rising sand. There are lingering disturbances in the water, though, and he follows the signs until his head is tipped to look below him.

Sure enough, he finds exactly what - or rather who he’s been scanning for.

There, straight under where he’s currently floating, a lanky yet muscular Ocean Zora is horizontally coasting in the water, staring straight back up at him with a satisfied smile. Their arms are crossed behind their head while one leg rests on top of the other, both drawn in to mimic a casual lounging position. Two fins protruding from their lower arms are synced in slow and natural strokes, counteracting the weak current to stay in place.

It quite frankly looks purposefully effortless, to a ridiculous degree, and Legend doesn’t know whether he’s supposed to feel impressed or annoyed by that, seeing as he did the same earlier today. He settles on a healthy combination of both.

The Zora - now that Legend’s had the chance to look at them properly, he’s fairly sure they’re male - just remains as he is while Legend assesses further.

He’s still wary over this new arrival, even without true alarm in him, and the rest of the Zora’s appearance plays a significant part in that. Some of the scales around his arms and shoulders seem to be hardened and protrude out akin to armour, forming a sharp but still sleek pair of shoulder guards and gauntlets. Some of them cover his chest and abdominal area as well, almost like a breastplate would. Legend has never seen the like before, at least not on his era’s Zora.

Then again, he’s never seen a Zora wearing leather boots before, either, so he guesses there’s a first time for everything. For all he knows, this is just what the race has evolved to be and wear in Wind’s world.

There’s also not a single shred of hostility in the Zora’s mannerisms, at least not as far as Legend can tell. And he's become quite good at judging intention over the years.

“Anything you want or are you just gonna float here?” he asks, deciding it’s not worth trying to figure out on his own. “‘Cause I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really looking for company.”

The slight distortion inherent to when he speaks underwater is surprisingly calming to his ears. It’s been a while since he’s properly held a conversation amidst the waves, even if it’s just to re-establish his solitude.

The Zora doesn’t answer him in words. Instead, the smile morphs into a taunting grin and the fins on his arms pick up their pace to propel him into what Legend supposes counts as upright. The Zora lifts one of his hands out from behind his head, balled into a fist with his thumb pointing over his shoulder, back at the island.

Before Legend can do much more than raise an eyebrow, the Zora proceeds to first place the finger to his own chest, then towards Legend’s. After that he holds out his arm and draws a circle out in front of him, all the while not losing the challenging expression he fell into.

It takes only a couple of seconds for Legend to understand the meaning of the gestures. “You saying you want the two of us to race? Around the island?”

A single nod confirms his deduction. Legend feels his nose wrinkling.

“Could’ve just said so instead of doing that whole charade,” he grumbles with a sigh. 

The Zora has the audacity to shrug at him, and Legend takes it as a silent ‘Well, you understood, didn’t you?’. It’s true, so he supposes he can’t righteously get too offended over it.

The pause in conversation presents him with the time to ponder his answer - the necessity of that already comes unexpected.

By all means, his original plan was to turn down any attempt at socializing if asked. A race of all things isn’t really what he thought of when he came out here, either. When his insomnia hits like this he’s usually best left alone, a bundle of frustrations unable to restrain himself from blowing up whoever ends up in his vicinity. It’s a lesson he’s learned long ago.

But… he finds himself uncharacteristically excited right now. Maybe the race earlier in the day wet his appetite. Enough to wake the competitive spirit, yet too little of a challenge to satiate it.

“Sure, why not. I’ve got nothing better to do,” he agrees then. The deep blue Zoran eyes, one of them a lighter shade than the other, begin to sparkle more than they’re normally wont to do underwater. “Lead the way.”

It’s a request he doesn’t need to make twice. Almost the moment he finishes the Zora turns around, flips into a frontal somersault and kicks back, propelling himself forward. Legend has to rush to catch up, a few powerful sweeps of his tail hastening his leave.

They swim for a short while before the Zora decreases in speed, so he follows suit. A wooden structure is plunged into the ocean floor right at their side, and Legend recognizes it as the bottom of the lookout on the opposite end of the island to Wind’s house. 

It makes as good a goalpost as any, he surmises. Easy to spot from a distance, hard to overlook, far enough out to not run the risk of hitting an area too shallow to keep up tempo without risk.

“Single lap?” he asks, drifting into position next to his soon-to-be opponent. He’s in the process of tucking his hat to his side between his belt and tunic when an enthusiastic nod accepts the suggestion. “And how are we gonna count down? Want me to?”

The Zora shakes his head at him and holds one of his arms high, presenting one of the fins on his forearm to Legend. In a similar gesture to earlier he raises his other hand to draw a circle; this time, from his fin away from them and then back towards it again, snapping his arm up as if he were catching something.

Legend just blinks in confusion at the expectant expression that follows. What?

“...you’re gonna have to demonstrate, ‘cause I understood fuck all of what you just tried to tell me.”

A sigh is his answer, and he feels himself fall into a more standoffish stance on pure instinct. It’s not his fault this guy wants to play charades with him. He’s not about to shame someone for not being able to talk, but this improvised miming isn’t exactly as clear cut as proper sign language.

The hand that drew the circle is now lifted with a straight palm towards him. ‘Wait’, if he had to hazard a guess.

Next he knows the Zora brings his arms up in front of his chest and holds them parallel to each other. Then the fins on them suddenly harden, becoming more stiff than what he saw while they were swimming in tandem, and detach from their place at the Zora’s forearms, flying off in a straight line away from him with a visible trail behind them.

He watches in, granted, fascination as they seem to reach a set distance, split off into two different directions to both form a half-circle and make their way back to their owner. Once they do, the Zora catches them back on his arms with the same snapping movement he demonstrated earlier.

Legend’s not an idiot, so he gets it now.

“Not gonna lie, that’s pretty cool. We go when you catch ‘em back, right?” he still confirms, not wanting to have to start over for the slightest chance he misunderstood. 

The Zora just nods at him, confident smile back on his face. That’s that settled, then.

“Well, I’m ready whenever,” Legend says, returning the confidence in his own expression, and brings his body into a position ready to propel him forward at a moment’s notice. He only keeps his head turned just enough for the Zora to stay in his peripheral. “Shoot your fins, fish man.”

A short and a little gill-distorted chuckle leaves the Zora. So the guy can make sounds after all. Good to know after there’s nothing to be said anymore.

He hears the swoosh of the fins being released before he sees them shoot out into the water ahead of them. Time slows around him as they reach their peak, split off like they did before, and the long breath he exhales brings forth a cluster of bubbles that rises above his head. He raises his tail in anticipation, prepares his muscles for it to swing down in a stroke powerful enough to give him a good starting boost.

The fins snap back, the Zora goes into a front flip again, and Legend wastes no time to propel himself forward before his opponent can. In the end, the rush of water next to him tells him he’s not far behind even so. 

His arms find their best position on instinct, the one that best supports his intended speed, as if he were running in his regular form. Swimming amongst the currents of a deeply troubled ocean in Labrynna has taught Legend to be cautious. Taught him to take sharp yet controlled turns, to steer precisely where his tail swings without compromising the power behind each sweep of his lower body. In a sea as calm as this it keeps his line of movement straight.

They soon reach the first turn around the island, hazy grey and black shadows his only lead as to not get too close and ram into the cliffs. Legend leans into the current that flows just where he wants to go. 

He’s not been overtaken yet, but he can’t imagine he’s made any headway in the short amount of time they’ve spent so far either. Curiosity gets the better of him, and he glances to his side.

What he sees is his opponent coming out of a tight corkscrew, arms pressed as tightly against his side as his legs together. He’s seen Zora swim before, of course. The less elegant River tribe, shoving their way through the waters with sheer force, as well as other Ocean Zora, who work with the waves instead of fighting them. 

But there’s still a control there he can’t place. Superfluous movements that are missing, an absence of comfort he can’t explain.

Or maybe he can. This is the sort of control needed in danger. To navigate treacherous waters and obstacles too harmful to even brush with the tip of a fin. All of a sudden the armour-like appearance of the Zora’s scales slots into a bigger picture.

His musings are interrupted when the current is no longer where they want to go, and they both straighten their direction. While Legend picks up more forward speed, the Zora begins to rise closer to the surface. Before Legend can even question that decision he sees him leap out of the waves at a shallow angle, only dipping into the air for a short moment before diving back under.

Once he’s fully submerged, he uses the same momentum to curve his body into another jump just a few seconds later.

Legend watches this for just about the time he needs to swear under his breath once he realizes he’s now falling behind.

There’s an elation he’s not felt in a while in needing to give his speed his all. Not what’s necessary to impress or to overtake an opponent without much effort - pushing himself to his limits, shoving that ceiling further and further up as he works muscles he only rarely uses.

Soon he’s closed the distance again, and follows the Zora’s jumping path without much issue. The small turns and adjustments he can make gain him ground over the more rigid pathing that strategy comes with.

They make it to the next turn around the smaller part of Outset’s two connected rock formations in no time, with him only barely behind. The Zora has kept to the waves while they approached, and Legend sees him yet again go into a corkscrewed turn before he loses sight of his behind the rock. He pushes himself to the side as well, determined to overtake once he can put all his efforts into the long straight coming up. There’s another current he just entered, one that lends itself to being followed.

Until he gets tackled out of it, rough, someone colliding with his chest hard enough to take the air out of his lungs were there any filling them.

There's enough white in his vision to know what - who - it was too, and he immediately barks out an annoyed, "Hey! Watch where you -"

Whatever else he meant to say becomes a cacophony of gurgles and bubbles behind the deafening sound of something colliding with the rock only a single pace in front of them. The rumbling is almost worse than the noise, and Legend feels a couple of splinters hit the enchanted fabric of his tunic.

"The hell?!" is the next thing that leaves his mouth.

His vision clears when the Zora lets go of him, and his eyes widen and narrow in quick succession. What crashed into the rock looks like part of a gigantic tentacle, one he catches just a glimpse off before it retreats back into the depths of the ocean. His ability to see underwater is enhanced, but he can't even make out an outline when he follows that direction, which doesn't bode well. Maybe his companion fares better in that regard, Zora biology isn’t exactly Legend’s field of study.

There's a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see the Zora still floating next to him, now angular eyes filled with a determination to pursue. Legend knows his own damned Hero’s spirit well enough to know he would’ve done so regardless, so it’s good he’s not gonna be on his own.

“Guess I owe you," he grumbles, and injects a healthy amount of both snark and gratitude. "Wouldn't have been fun to get smacked by that. You know what we’re dealing with?”

The head shake that follows isn’t quite disappointing. He’s learned to expect to not have information ever since this blasted adventure began. All this means is they’ll have to figure this out without the local hero to guide them, and while it’s an added annoyance, he’s done that plenty on patrol.

“Figures. Nothing to do other than go take a look then.”

And with that he accelerates, taking off to where he saw the tentacle retreat to. The current from earlier tugs at him again as he moves, promising to grant him speed, but he’s suddenly much less inclined to let it carry him. The beating of fins in his periphery is more of a comfort than it by all rights should be.

His hand reaches for his pouch on instinct, opens the flap to reach in and grab the handle of his sword. Swimming with it drawn affects his maneuverability, so this is the best compromise.

It soon becomes harder to keep his line straight as the current’s pull becomes stronger, more adamant to lead him away. It’s not yet taking all his effort, however, so he pushes against it. Being in control of his path is always preferable to the alternative; his experience is making him expect another attack any moment.

Before it can come, he’s finally able to make something out in front of him. Darkness paves way for shapes, something solid amidst the waves and multiple yellow lights that creep him out before they fully come into view. 

When they do, he almost wishes they hadn't.

What’s towering in front of them is a massive squid-like creature, bigger than anything Legend’s fought underwater before. Two tentacles float by its side, and its entire body is covered in what seem to be at least a dozen bright yellow eyes that both track nothing and everything he does. His grip on his blade tightens immediately as he breathes out a swear.

“Shit, it’s huge. The fuck is it doing so close to the island?”

So much for the sailor's claim that the sea was calm close to islands. Clearly there were very prominent outliers around these parts.

Any further musing is cut off by one of the tentacles drawing back, ready to snap towards them, and Legend has to focus on darting to the side. The Zora also ducks away, and they’re both just in time for the tentacle to rush between them. Legend feels the force it pushes the water towards him with on his face.

Well, that’s it then. He draws his sword now, holding it protectively in front of him.

The Zora seems to have reached the same conclusion he has. While Legend got his weapon out he's already swam further towards the monster in one decisive dash, and Legend sees him raise his arms the same he did to release his fins earlier. True enough they harden and shoot off towards the squid, straight towards one of its eyes.

Their aim is true. They both impact into the glowing eyeball with a gross squelching sound, and the entire gigantic creature flinches back from the hit with a deep howl that reverberates through the water.

But that’s all it does. When the fins circle back the eye still glows the same as it did before, and the monster seems no worse for wear. It clearly caused the thing pain, though, and that’s more than nothing.

Legend doesn’t think long before his lower body moves into a powerful sweep. The current greets him with open arms and accelerates his dash, carrying him towards the same eye with his blade raised.

The squelch is even more disgusting from up close. Legend has to retreat back once the monster’s entire body convulses in pain a second time to not get smacked away by force. As he backpedals he sees the eye’s glow shift colour, its pupil vanishing and taking on the same sickly blue as the rest of it.

Interesting. At least it's clear 'strike the eye' looks to be the name of the game once again.

“GET DOWN!”

The voice is low, distorted as it swings up and down in pitch, and closer than Legend’s awareness likes it to be.

It’s all the warning he gets before a white blur once again enters his vision. It doesn't collide with him this time, only swims up right between him and the monster, now hidden behind some sort of long shield. That’s the moment his reflexes choose to tuck his head in and bring his limbs close.

Next he knows a tentacle he’s definitely not seen coming rams against them. The Zora is flung back into him from the impact, and Legend makes an effort to counter the force of the push to steady them once he has his bearings. He’s about to lean in to gain them some ground, but a curt reprimand stops him.

“Stop touching me! I can’t -” A groan interrupts the Zora as the monster increases its strength. “Just. Hands off, you’ll see.”

Legend does as he’s asked. It’s almost on instinct, as if he knows it’s important to trust in those words.

The moment he’s at half an arm’s length, just as he fears he’ll be served a face full of flung-away Zora for his efforts, his field of vision erupts in crackling blue magic. 

A whirl of electricity has erupted around his companion, encasing him in pulses of rising magic that fade in and out of the water around them. Legend hasn’t been electrocuted yet, or the way it mimics the lightning sparkling on Hyrule’s fingertips as he casts along with the fact they are in the ocean would’ve given him more worry. 

The squid isn’t as lucky. A shrill howl fills their surroundings as the lightning travels from where the Zora’s shield - which, where the fuck? - makes contact with the tentacle straight into its entire body, visibly shaking the monster to its core. It retreats from its assault not long after, withdrawing the tentacle in haste. 

The Zora chooses this opportunity to drop the magic and immediately makes to gain some distance, which Legend realizes might be an idea to follow. He begrudgingly returns his sword to his pouch as he swims. Close combat has lost its appeal somewhat.

Ebbing howls still in their ears, they seem to both suss out the same time to come to a halt. Legend watches as the Zora’s shield softens, and has soon retreated to return to its form as one of his fins. Ah. So that’s the secret.

He wants to ask about the magic. He really does. But he’s already seen what it can do, so that can wait. Something else, on the other hand, cannot, and he brings his arms up to cross them in front of his chest as he begins to wear a smirk.

“So you can talk after all, huh?”

The Zora doesn’t seem quite as eager to go with the banter as he does. If Legend had to guess, there's even some dissatisfaction in his expression. “Perhaps you should focus your efforts elsewhere than noting that,” he says, all without ever turning towards Legend. The distortion caused by the gills all Zora sport is less pronounced now that they aren’t shouting, but still there. It almost has a melodic touch to it that contrasts the matter of fact in the tone. “Preferably on the enemy.”

Legend can’t help but roll his eyes. The reaction almost feels natural, despite the fact he’s never met this guy before. It’s strange for a moment, until he realizes what caused the feeling. “Yeah, yeah. Hylia, your nagging reminds me of an old man I know.”

Immediate silence is his reward for that particular remark. And once he does get a response, it very deliberately skirts past a direct acknowledgement of it.

“I will return to sniping its eyes, it seems to be our best option. If there are any ranged weapons in your possession, I suggest you use them as well.”

Legend is opening his mouth to tell this guy he does not need battle advice from a random stranger, but said stranger has already flipped into yet another starting somersault and dashed off to split their efforts. He allows himself to grumble in place for maybe a second, before following that example.

In the time he takes to find himself a position not in danger of being struck in a blindspot again, the fin boomerangs hit their mark. Judging by the monster’s continued cries of agony it seems to be working - but it’s a slow process, and he’s not sure they can fight the current for as long as it’s gonna take without tiring out.

A tentacle swooshes past the spot he just left. A swear falls out of his mouth, and he reaches into his pouch. He has to think now.

His boomerang doesn’t work underwater. None of his rods are safe to use under the sea. The Cane of Somaria won’t be any help right now, neither will his seed shooter. The current surrounding this thing is too strong for the pallets to reach anywhere near the targets he’d aim them at, he doesn’t need to try to know that. It’s a damn shame too, since it would otherwise be his first choice in a situation like this.

His hand finds the handle of his switch hook, and he pulls it out.

The first shot isn’t aimed anywhere in particular - he watches the chain closely, however, focusing on noting the adjustment he needs to make against the current. The hook stops only a little to the side of where he shot it straight, and he nods to himself as it’s recalled. He can work with this.

Or, he could. He manages to hit an eye exactly once, the squelching noise now a sweet confirmation of progress. Its glow immediately shifts to blue, unlike the other, and while he hopes he has the electricity from earlier to thank for that, he can’t be sure. After that, it becomes more difficult. 

Both tentacles now swing at his every move. Completely ignoring the Zora still methodically picking off its eyes, the squid has focused all its effort on Legend, and Legend alone, and he barely finds moments to stay both still and close enough to the monster to shoot his weapon. 

It’s an infuriating dance of gauging speed and steadiness, one he’s apparently shit at, because the one time he fires he has to break away halfway through the shot.

Once the chain has fully rattled back Legend lowers the switch hook. They needs a change of strategy, very badly, so instead of trying to stay close he retreats and follows the flow of the current, until he spots the Zora further up. His fins have just snapped back, judging by the position of his arms, and he’s about to fire them when he notices Legend approach.

“This ain’t working,” he calls out, drifting closer towards the end and lowering his volume. “How many left?”

The Zora only nods his head towards the monster, and, yeah, that’s fair. One quick turn of his head provides Legend with the needed information - the fact that there are still just as many yellow eyes left as there are blue ones, while he’s about to guess both their stamina to keep control of their movements is nearing much less than halfway.

In other words, they need a new plan, and they need it fast.

“If I could at least get close without it swinging at me any opportunity it gets,” he snaps, turning back to meet an inquisitive gaze. “What, you didn’t notice how none of the tentacles ever went for you?”

The Zora puts a hand on his hip, and another to his chin. It's once again eerily similar to something his brain recognizes. “I did find it a little odd. I wonder…”

Legend huffs. "Well, whatever you’re wondering about, share."

“It might be afraid of my magic," the Zora explains at his insistence. "The shield of lightning? It must have caused quite a bit of damage earlier, even with only that short burst.”

Legend feels his brow furrow as he thinks it over. It would make some sort of sense. The tentacles haven't even come near him ever since he's floating close to his companion.

"You could go and give it a hug?" he says, and it's only half of a joke.

The Zora doesn't have an eyebrow to raise at him, yet somehow the pupil-less eyes convey all the disapproval instead.

"Even if I wanted to, I'm fairly certain that direct of an approach would end less than ideal."

He's right, of course. Legend's dealt with those blasted tentacles enough by now to be well aware of their speed; if the past minutes are anything to gauge by, staying too close for too long is too troublesome.

"Think it'll see you as an ally if I let you deck me in the face?" he proposes, and once again surprises himself with how it’s not even in complete jest. Going by the Zora’s dry reaction, though, it may as well have been.

"Keep up the hilarious suggestions and I'll be tempted regardless."

Legend snorts. "Hey, at least I'm trying. Not hearing you come up with anything better."

That gives pause to the conversation for a while. It leaves a bad taste in Legend’s mouth the longer it goes on - how staying out of the squid’s tentacles’ range almost trivializes coming up with mid-battle strategies, and they still aren’t quite managing to. The current tugs at him in his swimstill, ever present, a constant reminder of the fact that there’s a gigantic monster waiting for them to re-engage.

He still can’t think of anything productive, so he spits out a curse instead. 

Leaving to get the meager number among the others who may be of use in underwater combat would be a waste of both time and strength. And in case he’s pursued? He’s only getting the monster closer to the island. After how the cliffs shook from that first hit, he’s not eager to let that happen again.

There’s still half the eyes left. The Zora’s fins take time to both set up and strike twice to take out a single one. Most of his own items are useless for that. The only truly effective attack they’ve found is the Zora’s lightning magic, and with the tentacles only trying to grasp him instead, there’s no way to -

Hold on.

His fingers clasp the handle of his switch hook, all of a sudden much more aware of it than he’s been only a moment ago. He locks his eyes to it as his mind begins to race, finally grasping at a possibility, finally formulating a plan.

He jerks his head to the side the moment he’s done, snapping his attention from his weapon to the Zora who’s already been eyeing him with curiosity. “I have a plan.”

His words are acknowledged with a nod, and the Zora’s limbs straightening back into a more alert stance.

“I’m gonna get its attention. Stay far enough so it’ll actually target me, but not too far, and take my exact path,” Legend rattles off, waiting for yet another nod of confirmation after he’s done. A grin shoots up on his face then. “You’ll know when it’s your time to shine. Trust me.”

He takes off towards the monster without even questioning how matter of course it feels to tell this complete stranger to trust in a half-explained plan he’s only just cooked up.

His tail’s strained muscles scream of relief as he gives in to the force that’s pulling him in, closer to the monster. Most of its eyes on this side are glowing with that sickly blue, and it almost creeps him out more than the other ones as he rides the current until he’s only a couple sweeps from the main body.

There is no time to waste, so he comes to a complete stop as best as he’s able, and raises his switch hook to aim at the closest spot of yellow he can see. Almost immediately one of the tentacles snaps up, swinging towards him in an arc that will wrap around his body if he does not evade it.

His smile grows wider.

Good.

He sticks to his position, not attempting to swerve out of the way in the slightest. His instincts scream at him, twitch his fin to propel him forward and out of danger’s path, but his instincts aren’t in control of his actions. Instead, he tenses his muscles and braces for what he knows will be painful regardless.

The tentacle slams into his side with a force that he’s sure would’ve cracked a rib if not for his mail. Gritting his teeth he leans into what he’s expecting to come next, and tries to ignore the icky sensation of a slimy texture somehow penetrating two layers of enchanted cloth. It’s not long until he’s fully wrapped in the squid’s grasp, one of his arms now pressed tight to his chest. 

Before he can grin at his successful capture, the tentacle squeezes, and he has to clench his eyes shut from the pressure. This was never going to be the most pleasant part of his plan, but fuck if it doesn’t still hurt like a bitch.

“Hope you’re ready!” he calls out, raises the arm he’s made certain to be free behind his back and shoots his switch hook out straight behind him.

For a single, terrifying moment, he feels the chain go slack after reaching its zenith.

Then there’s a tug, and next he knows the world around him is warping itself out of shape.

He’s used to the sensation of the switch hook’s magic, hasn’t gotten nauseous from it in many years now, but the immediate and sudden lift of the pressure around his chest almost overwhelms his enchanted lungs. The involuntary breath he takes in is harsh, and almost makes him cough as the switch hook’s chain rolls back into the tool.

His eyes snap open as he jerks his body around in a quick turn.

He’s just in time to see an explosion of crackling blue magic erupt around the giant squid monster, wrecking its entire body with convulsions as it howls in a cry of agony. 

And in front of it, wrapped in the tentacle Legend has just escaped, the Zora, covered in the same hurricane of magic as before. With both his arms free he’s grasped the slimy limb, tight enough to keep it near even when the monster’s force wanes and it loosens its hold.

It writhes in the electricity more the longer it stays engulfed in it, the current surrounding them losing any cohesive sense of direction as it mimics the sheer panic inherent in its howling. Whatever specks of yellow were still visible amongst the blue lightning are snuffed out one by one.

The last eye turns to blue, and with one final agonized howl the squid monster crumples and deflates into itself.

Its gigantic body, while not turning to smoke and ash, begins to sink into the depths instead. The Zora soon lowers the magical shield, the tentacle long fallen off from around him, and releases his hold on it as it descends. It’s the cue Legend takes to swim up towards him, pocketing his switch hook as he does. 

“Three remind me never to underestimate an ocean Zora again,” he mumbles under his bubble breath before he’s fully arrived, half swallowing the last word as said Zora turns to him. “So. That went well.”

A nod. “It was a good plan. Perhaps a little disorienting, but the results speak for themselves.”

A smirk sneaks itself onto Legend’s face, and his arms cross before he even realizes it. “Yeah, sorry not sorry ‘bout that. At this point I’ve learned it’s easier to just do it rather than try to explain your magical items in the hope people don’t think you’re full of shit.”

A shadow darts across the Zora’s face at his remark - it’s gone before Legend can try to examine it in more detail, though a combination of agreement and resignation lingers. No verbal answer follows, though, so he lets himself deflate a little. Close his eyes, exhale, shake off the tension of the fight.

All jokes aside, there’s a concerning conclusion here that he’s been shoving around since the start of this. Wind’s been both adamant and very confident about the fact no monsters would linger close enough to the island to cause trouble - and yet here he is, after battle with a huge squid that shook the rock of the cliffs with a single hit.

He’s gonna have to figure out how to tell the sailor he might have to take a closer look next time.

The next moment he swats that train of thought away like a persistent fly. That conversation is a problem for the two-legged him of the morning. Tailed him right now doesn’t have to worry about it just yet.

When he opens his eyes the Zora isn’t there anymore.

Rapid blinking is all he manages for a bit, before he snaps his head around. He just about makes out a vanishing outline dashing towards the surface so he follows suit, kicking his tail with all the strength it has left. 

Breaking the surface feels as jarring as stepping from the shade back into direct sunlight on a hot summer day. A breeze ruffles through his hair, blonde and pink falling flat against his head once again instead of it swaying freely in his periphery. The wind hits his skin like a hundred short pin pricks, and while the magic keeps his clothes from waterlogging he almost wishes for a cloak.

A splash catches his attention, and he follows the sound to its origin. A bit further off into the open sea the Zora has jumped out of the water, in the same maneuver Legend’s seen him do earlier.

It takes a dive and another jump for him to realize the bastard is moving away from him, instead of just showing off.

“Hey!” he yells, and doesn’t care that the crashing of the waves probably swallows most of it. Or that his tail is already protesting the effort of the small dash he’s just finished. “What about the race?!”

But the Zora’s form has soon all but vanished into the horizon, swallowed by the Great Sea’s expanse, and Legend is left to once again float in the waves with only himself for company. 

He almost manages not to flinch when the sun sends its first ray of light across the ocean’s glinting surface, and the gulls begin to cry above him.

“You fought a Big Octo underwater?!”

Legend draws out this sip of tea to a length he knows very well is plain obnoxious to wait for.

Wind has jumped up from his seat across the table, leaning across it on both his arms as if it helps him suss out the grade of truth in Legend’s words. Around them sit most of the rest of the other heroes, subtracting Wild, who has gone to help Wind’s grandma with the kitchen cleaning.

When he sets his cup down, it’s like the entire room is buzzing with anticipation for his answer. 

He chooses not to comment on the fact the thing was much more of a squid than an octopus. Monster names aren’t an exact science, and Wind has the right to name his own era’s plagues. “Not like I had much of a choice. The only boats around here are the nutshells on the beach, and I couldn’t exactly go back to get one of those and leave it there.”

“And you beat it all on your own?” the sailor keeps the questions coming, almost bouncing high enough to jump the table. Legend shakes his head at this, and raises a few eyebrows before he goes on to explain.

“Nah, I had some help. From a Zora.”

"A Zora?" Twilight repeats, and Legend returns a nod to the rancher’s words.

"Yeah. Ocean kind. Dude could fight, and he was super fast too. We were in the middle of a race when that thing attacked, actually,” he summarizes, decidingly leaving out the fact he’d been in the losing position when they were interrupted. First off it’s nobody’s business, and second off he’d definitely have overtaken on the straight anyway. 

His cup finds its way to his mouth again and he empties the last of its contents before setting it back down. “Took off after the fight before we could finish it. Still don't really know what that was all about."

“Don’t take this the wrong way, vet,” Wind speaks up again, and boy, isn’t that a start that inspires confidence in taking what follows exactly like that. "Are you... sure you didn’t dream that part?”

The question punches him in the gut the same way it always does.

It takes a few moments to scramble his composure back together and he’s more than aware some of it has shown on his face, but that’s nothing new. Then he exhales, analyzes the words for the actual context behind them. Soon he’s regained all of his usual facade, and leans back in his chair with his arms and legs both crossed to relay his point.

“Yeah? I’m pretty sure. Why’re you askin’, anyway? Think I’m lying?”

The response comes out a bit harsher than he intended, and he feels a disapproving look land on him from where he can see Time sit and drink his own tea to the side. Wind himself thankfully doesn’t seem to be too affected.

“Not really, but…” the sailor says, and there’s a strange tone in his voice. “There aren’t any Zora in the Great Sea. Or anywhere in my era.”

Legends brain stops working for what feels like an hour, and was probably a good second or so. The crowded room falls quiet safe for the backdrop of clinking dishes from the kitchen space.

"...what?"

It’s not exactly a fucking poem, but it’s the best his mind spits out at that point. Wind looks just a little uncomfortable, but mostly there’s a look of genuine confusion sitting in the boy’s eyes as he studies Legend’s reaction. When he makes no moves to embellish, Wind takes on the mantle himself.

"They evolved into Rito here. The only Zora I've ever met before I went to one of you guys' eras was the spirit of a Sage from centuries ago." His hand finds its way to the back of his neck, a treacherous habit they all somehow inherited from each other despite the fact most of them aren’t even related. “I’m not calling you a liar, but. It’s kinda hard to meet someone from a species that doesn’t exist anymore, y’know?”

It takes all of Legend’s remaining self control to not burst out of the door and jump into the ocean, just to find the guy and drag him back to the island kicking and screaming.

He settles on yelling instead.

"Then who the fuck did I race?!"

And if Time’s smirk really just grew the tiniest bit in width at his exasperation, then the old man has another thing coming for him.