Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. 

…

“But first they must catch you.”

—

“We’re looking for the hero Link! We’re, um, distant relatives! Can you please maybe give us some directions? Or maybe where he’s been?”

That boy looks exactly like Link’s dead sister.

“Of course! But you’re looking in the wrong place. We’re too close to Kakariko, you know? Usually he’s found up north, by Lookout Landing.” Have the Yiga really fallen on such hard times? Link beams, nursing his dish of wine under the stable’s dim lights as he pulls the sleeves of his threadbare yukata close to himself.

They’re getting less creative. Same script, searching for the hero, Link answers the wrong way and they’ll attack any time now. Maybe it’s because Kohga got brain damage the last couple times he threw him around.

That boy in the lobster shirt really looks just like her. His skin is a deeper color, burnt by the sunlight off the sea, like the people of Lurelin, and his hair follows suit, a deep black with lightened tips. Does he feel like an outlier among the others? Link feels some empathy for him. But his eyes are the same, the facial structure the same— it’s enough to make Link hope he leaves soon. 

“Oh.” The browner, more drab, beige-is-all-I-know character sighs, his head drooping. It shouldn’t be so heavy, considering how empty it is. If they are assassins, they should look into a new career. Even Link changed careers. “Is it possible for you to show us the way?”

Link smiles, sipping playfully from his dish. Absolutely not. “I wish I could! But I have my own arrangements to make. There are many merchant carts headed that way, though. Almost every one here is headed back to the Landing.”

“Really? That helps, thanks!” The little one in the lobster shirt is practically buzzing with energy. Sheesh. Wild sips more wine. Who has the damn energy. After the whole dragon debacle and chunks of Hyrule ripping themself out of the ground, he wouldn’t mind another hundred-year nap. 

Besides, this is a… bad time to catch him. 

“Miss!” One of the traveling troupe members pokes her head into the stable, accidentally hitting her head on one of the lamps. “Yowch! Hey, dancer, we’re heading out soon. Kakariko waits for nobody, you know?”

Kakariko waits for everybody. It’s waited for a hundred years, and ten thousand before that. Link laughs lightly, standing to his feet and brushing off the nonexistent dust on his pants. “Sorry, I must be off, then. Safe travels.”

“Miss?” The tallest of them, with thick steel armor that’s almost greedy to own after the Calamity, tilts his head cautiously. “My apologies. We didn’t know.”

He really is tall. Wild scoffs. Maybe he enjoys the leaves up there. “It’s an easy mistake to make.” He waves his hand back lightly, not bothering to look behind him. “Farewell, travelers!”

Among the fallen heroes of Hyrule, only two remain and of those two neither retains the legacy. Of two there is one, and that one does nothing worth remembering for long. 

Their names are etched into legend and their selves washed away into the winds of the world, because maybe when everybody’s done the legendary battle then you haven’t done anything at all. 

Among two daughters, one died and one lived but not long enough, because before there was Link there was Aryll, and before Aryll there was Haruka. 

Link glances at the back of that boy with the lobster shirt, the cadence of his steps just one heartbeat too unfamiliar. He has eyes more similar to hers than anybody in Hyrule— because there’s only one village in Hyrule that has that fox-like crease carved out by Hylia herself. Not that Link would know anything about who’s theirs and who isn’t.

Before there was a hero, there was a sister, and Link has spent his entire life pretending to be good at both.

—

So here goes the story—

A Sheikah woman, of the collapsing Kitabatake military clan protecting the line that carries the noble name Impa, has a child with one of the captains of the royal guard in Hyrule, Farryn. Frankly, it’s a horrible decision. They have a child, Haruka, who’s a little short and quiet but she does the laundry on time so nobody complains. 

They have a second child, Aryll, because Captain Farryn insisted that they had to have a child with a Hylian name and nobody cared enough to argue. Aryll doesn’t do the laundry on time, but that doesn’t matter because Haruka does. This is foreshadowing for the next sixteen years or so.

They meet Zora royalty which is close enough to Kakariko, and it’s all well and dandy until their mother decides she’s had enough. Kitabatake gets sick of it as all mistreated mothers do eventually and leaves. As the remains of their family move to Hateno, Haruka makes the unwise decision to draw the Master Sword, which is a mistake that has been made too many times for parents not to warn against— don’t enter the Lost Woods, or else you’ll get roped into a destiny that involves your enlistment in the military at six years old. Hey, Link knows this story! 

So Aryll moves to Hateno, and lives with their Hylian grandmother who hates their mother and her eyes with a passion. When Farryn insists Sheikah girls don’t become heroes, Haruka resigns to being Link, a Hylian boy with too-pale hair and too-sharp eyes, and he guesses that works for now. 

Fast forward six years, and Link realizes that Zelda’s inadequacy is an amazing opportunity for him. He prays to Hylia she never improves because when she inevitably unlocks the sealing power, they’ll realize that Link can’t hear the sword’s voice, he was always Haruka and nothing else, and everybody will realize he never had any ability to save the country at all. Which is exactly what ends up happening.

The Calamity hits, everybody dies including Link. Link finds Aryll’s gravestone one hundred years later and kicks some dirt on it, cursing her for never doing the laundry.

So, the second his journey is done, Link runs back to Kakariko, learns everything about the Sheikah and his half-a-childhood and the stars that he can, and scrapes up any identity he can find. He finds that name— Kitabatake, and likes it enough to give it a legacy.

After fixing the whole floating castle issue, Link got bored and went home, joining a Sheikah strike team that runs killing sprees on people who look exactly like them but evil, where they call him by his real name that he can hardly pronounce himself. 

Zelda doesn’t like any of it, but Link ignores her, because before he wants friends, he wants to seize what remains of Hyrule. He swears he’s not evil.

The end! 

—

Zelda never liked that story. 

Link cups his dish of wine, watching the moon dip into the sky as he’s carted away to Kakariko. Those strangers didn’t seem too bad, he just doesn’t have the time. They seemed like a family, and he feels some sympathy for their poor mother who had to give birth to all of them. His mother had two and decided she had enough. 

A long time ago, in the middle of the rain, Zelda asked what he would do if he realized he wasn’t born a fighter. Now that he knows the answer, he doesn’t know what to do with it. 

The troupe rattles on behind him, talking about meeting with Kass halfway and what instruments they need to tune before they reach Kakariko. Fireflies stir up in the wake of the wagon, disturbing the sea of grass that starts on the edge of the road. 

When they finally enter the village, Link slides off the cart and his whole demeanor changes, back pulling straight and elegant sleeves with petal embroidery pulled behind him. The day he joined the Restoration, he altered a tunic to match Sheikah warrior gear, but he never let go of the royal blue— not exactly out of fondness, but it’s his.

He can see the troupe stepping back hesitantly as Sheikah warriors rush to meet him, two men clapping him on the back and stirring the scent of plum blossoms in the air. Link can’t help but laugh— before the Calamity, his life was so lacking in good drink and good friends. Coming back here had changed everything.

“Kitabatake-dono! Welcome back!” Pikango finds him eagerly, half-dragging him to Impa’s house. “Lady Impa has been awaiting the return of her least favorite general. You think she’s ever going to add us to your strike force?”

“Impa just likes keeping me lonely,” Link scoffs playfully, shoving back at Pikango. “She knows I want an army, but what do I get? Five retainers and a dream.”

“Four of the best warriors in the village, though! Plus me!” Pikango lowers his voice. “Lady Impa would like to see you. There’s some new activity that she needs your eyes on.”

Link really does scoff this time, a bite of resentment chewing at him. “My eyes? I’ll have to refuse. Pikango, we’re retaking northern Akkala next week! This siege has been planned for a month, the whole village has sacrificed for it and will be expecting rewards. We finally have the Yiga on the defensive, we have no choice but to advance!”

There are rumors Kohga will be there— this time, if Link can really kill him, then the Yiga will be destabilized until they have a new master. That could take months, depending on the power ladder. This is an opportunity they can’t miss. 

Link has fought and risked everything— clawed up from a hunted survivor from a nothing clan to being the forefront of the Sheikah restoration. For the first time in one hundred years, his family is remembered. Any cost became trivial the moment the Yiga began their retreat.

“Then figure it out in Akkala, son,” Pikango says, “You have plenty of experience taking Yiga territory for yourself. I’m sure a location change won’t affect that. But don’t keep the old woman waiting.”

Link sighs, and bids farewell to Pikango before ascending the wooden steps of Impa’s home, the firefly lanterns overhead swinging ominously overhead. The guards watch him warily— he’d scraped himself up from the ruins of Hyrule and his clan, and many aren’t exactly excited to see him take power.

Sucks to be them. When he finally slides open the doors, he drops into a bow before lifting his head and smiling.

“Guess who’s home!”

“Not you again,” Impa grumbles, and she shoves her hat back in the same way she did a hundred years ago. Link just smiles at her, eyes closing into gentle crescents. “Pikango sent you?”

“Ask and you shall receive.” Link sits down casually before Impa’s seat, deciding to do away with the etiquette just to tick Impa off. “Let me guess— did Zelda tell you to call off the Akkala siege?”

Impa sighs, rolling her neck just to prepare for more of Link’s harassment. “For once, no. I suppose the both of us need to resolve her discomfort with the restoration.” Something in Link’s heart hurts. He’s been putting it off. “No, the Akkala siege is still happening— and you’ll still be at the forefront,” she adds, which, oops, Link’s expression must have taken an unpleasant turn. “As promised, you’ll have control of Akkala’s territory and extend your protection to Upland Zorana. The Sheikah have always stayed largely out of the Zora’s way, but even now our relations are strong, despite what happened to Mipha.“

The Sheikah have always been shadow warriors. Their presence in Akkala will not to rule, just to exist so that the Yiga don’t. Their territory will dictate which areas are under Sheikah protection and regulation. They’ll know everything about everybody, but even Impa isn’t interested into telling people what to do— unless they’re Sheikah, and named Link. 

This world doesn’t need a princess anymore. Link will make sure of that.

“So what’s the change?” Link asks more cautiously. “If I’m being redirected, it has to be something I can do before Akkala.”

“I’m sure you’ve already seen them. The group of warriors carrying a divine blessing.” Impa lifts a pipe to smoke, and Link raises an eyebrow. She’s a little old for that. “Weaponry beyond this world. A strange magic from each of their men. They aren’t Yiga, and that is likely for the worse. You must accompany them to Akkala.”

“… Where the Sheikah will meet them.”

A haunting fog escapes the wrinkles of Impa’s lips. “We’re already sending out the forces. I want them outnumbered. Whether we will kill them or not will be up to your discretion as you get to know them.”

“If I die again to these people, tell Zelda I looked good while doing it.” Link yawns, stretching out. “Any rules to the game?”

Impa just laughs to that, a tired mischief in her eyes. “Just make it until Akkala in a week. Try not to drive them insane before then.”

“Then I’ll be off. Where are they in proximity to Zelda?”

“Zelda is leading a research expedition on the Water Temple, well out of the way. You’ll find the suspicious group at Lookout Landing.” 

—

Link teleports to Lookout Landing with the Purah Pad, manifesting at the base of the Skyview Tower. Purah waves at him from her makeshift lab, and he can see Robbie there too. Link is the first to stride forward. 

“We already got briefing from our shugenja,” Purah says lightly, just enough to seem like regular conversation. “Our men make up half the crowd here, so you’re ready to go. They’re over there, by the stables.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the group of strange warriors perfectly— the one with pink hair is feeding Spot a carrot. Maybe it’s poisoned and they’re trying to attack their cavalry. The other warriors mill around— Blue Scarf is teasing Sailcloth and has an arm around his shoulder, One-Eye is speaking quietly to Beige and Lobster-Aryll, Four-Square is inspecting the quality of the horse gear with Pelt.

A woman dragging a hefty bag of groceries brushes by his side, and Link turns subtly to her whisper— Warriors, Sky, Time, Hyrule, Wind, Four, and Twilight. Wow. He can’t help but laugh to himself. Link would kill himself again if he had a name like those. 

“Hm.” Link sweeps around to get a better look at them. “Purah, I’m not Link today. Traveling dancer. Same story as always.” She’s missing her usual cheer when Purah nods sternly. The upcoming Akkala siege has everybody on edge. The word spreads silently through the crowd, starting from Purah’s little apprentice. It’s enough that nobody will call him out. 

Link shuffles cautiously into the crowd, losing himself into the bubble of conversation before he reappears behind the group. “It seems we cross paths again! Was your journey well?”

“Weren’t you in Kakariko?” Four is the first to turn to him, a distrusting lavender sparking in his eyes as his hands rest lightly at his side, two heartbeats from his sword. He’s small, deceptively lean, wiry back, probably has some serious core strength and too smart for his own good. Link can’t really put a finger on why something is so off about him, until he sees his lack of shadow on the road. “Interesting change of course.” 

“I—“ Link winces. “Wouldn’t anybody be worried if a bunch of big warriors with weaponry came to a place where all your friends are?” She pulls in her sleeves closer to herself, hiding her face. “Of course, everything seems okay, so I guess…”

Warriors steps forward and bows quickly, and his face is almost apologetic. She’d be sorry too if she had that face. “I’m so sorry, miss. You must have been so worried about your friends. Trust me when I say that we’re not here to do any harm. Many of our families come from knights— we exist to serve the common people.”

What a stupid idea! She knows plenty of knights who were straight-up horrible people! Who needs Yiga when she had her comrades?

“It’s all right,” she says cautiously. “I guess I’ve been so on-edge— after all, with all the trouble in Akkala, it’s going to come here too. Even the hero is making his way north.”

“Trouble in Akkala?” Twilight stirs up, with broad shoulders made for wrestling. There’s a roll of muscle there that one could mistake for a hunch, but it’s the boxy shape only the strongest fighters take on. She doesn’t like that one bit. “What’s wrong? Are there black-blooded monsters up there?”

She refuses the urge to mock, are there black-blooded monsters up there? Black-blooded monsters can probably be found in the kitchen cabinets if one looks hard enough. Every goddamn monster has black blood and has for one hundred years!

“You haven’t heard?” She gasps out, drama weighing down her voice. “Monster fighters are heading there to help clear out the scene. We could use all the help we could get. I’m just a traveling dancer, but I’m heading there myself, to help with the…” What would she do if she couldn’t fight? “… morale. And I cook for the corps.” 

“Poor girl,” Sky says sadly under his breath to Hyrule, and she resists the urge to grab him and beat him with a stick. “If you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable, could we accompany you? We understand completely if not, it’s just that we don’t know the terrain…”

“I would be honored.” She gives them a serene smile. “There’s an inn under the Landing where we can rest before we depart tomorrow.”

They all murmur assent, and Four is still glaring at her. She gives him a brilliant smile back. If it helps, she really hopes they go away and stop slowing down the Sheikah conquest of Hyrule. 

“Wait!” Aryll— Wind, Wind says quickly, grabbing at her sleeve, and she can’t help but flinch. She resists tearing her arm away, not wanting to look spooked, but god, he looks just like her! Can’t she run away in peace? “Kakak, you didn’t give us a name!”

She’s never pretended to be anything but selfish. If only to hear that voice from that smile again, she can take back everything the Calamity took away. For now, this can be hers.

“… Haruka works for now.”

—

“Hey, what’s that? Your clothes are so weird!” Wind tries to grab the silver Zora emblem Link keeps over her archery chestguard, the one Mipha made for her. She gently pulls it out of the way, replacing it with a glove. “Woah! Why do you have a three fingered glove? Do you only have three fingers?”

They’re staying together because there’s only one inn in Lookout Landing, but Link finally has a chance to unwind. That is, if she didn’t have to deal with a new little sibling.

Her voice is getting tired after all the talking. She wants to switch to sign. “It’s so I can grip onto my arrows better.” His hand guards come off next, and she removes her lacquered pauldron from the Sheikah armor she got at the beginning of her journey. It needs polishing. It’s easier to slip off her chestguard now, right over her head and onto the bed.

“That’s so cool, Haruka!” Wind beams, and Link drowns in that sound, licks the remains of it off her fingers— Haruka, Haruka, Haruka. How long has it been since she’s heard that name from such a young voice. Haruka. That’s hers, it’s hers, she’s Haruka again.

Off comes Revali’s scarf, which she’s been using as a belt to tie her yukata together. They only grew close towards the end. None of the other Champion blues had been preserved, being soaked in water or burnt to a crisp by the time he’d found the Divine Beast, but he’d entered the pilot chambers of Vah Medoh and found his scarf preserved. 

“Wow, it looks a lot like Wars, don’t you think?” Wind points at the scarf, turning to Warriors. “Same color of blue and everything!” Link doesn’t care, but she guides Wind’s hand away from some of her sharper objects.

“I think Haruka would appreciate some personal space,” Time says gently, steering Wind away. “Sorry about him. He’s excitable.” Link wonders sadly if he hangs the clothes on a line instead of letting them soak in a basket. 

“It’s all right,” Link says gently, “I have—“ she corrects herself, “had a little sister myself. It’s fine.”

“It’s cool that you do archery,” Warriors says, gesturing at her equipment. “Your bow is gorgeous. Do you use it for fighting or hunting?”

Link’s hand instantly drops over her Ancient Bow, just to check that it’s still there. “Mostly hunting, these days. Monsters when I need the money.”

“The road to Akkala must be pretty treacherous, if an archer like you needs the assistance of eight men,” Legend drawls, and Link rolls her eyes to herself. Ugh. What is with these people and questioning everything she says? Nice people hear a lie and take it at face value? Can they just let her lie to them?

Link peels off her yukata, keeping her undershirt on just to spare everybody from the worst of her scars. She has some crawling up her neck and onto her face, but it looks just like a patchy burn. The Shrine spared her from the worst, but people tend to stare. She doesn’t remove her hakama either, but that’s just in case she has to get up and run.

“It’s dangerous to go alone,” Link says, “I only go alone when I have something important to do.”

“Really? I’ve found our journey to be pretty freeing,” Legend replies, thoughtful this time, “But I guess it depends on the person.”

“Freeing?” Link snorts, “With people? No way.” 

Wind pokes his head out of Time’s blankets. “But it is, though! You get to laugh and eat together, and meet all kinds of people, and when everybody understands each other and knows you at your worst, it’s the most freeing thing in the world!”

That sounds awful. Link scrunches her face. The last time somebody saw her at her worst, she bled out and died. 

She’d spent so much of her journey alone, it would be stifling to have people at her side again. It’s like she’s been chasing the Calamity’s defeat her entire life, looking over her shoulder, hunting or being hunted, on a hundred-year pace. She forgot how to stop at a certain point. It’s hard to be anything but effective now. It’s hard to be gentle.

“That sounds fun,” Link sighs. 

It’s harder than she thinks to push down the wistfulness in her voice.

Chapter Text

“Legend, have you ever heard about the hero being a girl?”

Legend hisses, shushing Four before Haruka notices, leading the way towards the Akkala region. There’s a massive volcano the distance that Legend hopes they don’t get near. “And why the fuck would I know that? No, I’ve never heard of it!”

Four’s gaze turns sharp, into that razor-edged amethyst that Legend has always disliked but tolerated for the extra brain cells it seemed to give him. “Well, it’s a thought to keep on the burner. I don’t think that’s an issue, though. I think Haruka is planning to kill us.”

Legend has always liked Four. Unlike the other heroes, Four tends to be kind of mean. It’s easier to justify himself when Four is being worse. In this case, that doesn’t apply as much.

“That’s a bit extreme,” Legend scoffs. “I don’t think she’s that bad.”

Four raises an eyebrow. “You? Really! Hero of Paranoia?”

Honestly, she just seems lonely. He can see the way she speaks with the Chain. Patient, poetic, serene— talking about the wind, birds, moon, and flowers, in the way warrior-poets do, all to avoid the reality that’s right in front of them. She’s courteous but not cold, melancholic but not miserable, and carries herself with the lighthearted dignity of a prince whose estate has crumbled to dust. 

She listens to Wind’s rambling, gives him her food, and laughs at his idiotic jokes. Sure, Haruka is actively working to be a little smaller around Time and the rest. But that’s reasonable. Most of them are massive guys with deadly weaponry. Hell, Legend was uncomfortable when he first met Time and he’s seen everything. And he was the second to join. She might just be scared.

“I don’t think the hero is in Akkala,” Four insists quietly, staring daggers at Haruka. “If she’s not right in front of us, she’s not in Akkala. I’m baffled that Time is letting this happen. She doesn’t even know the hero. Everybody around us said she’s just a traveling dancer that comes to the Landing for extra cash. She’s Sheikah, but not a warrior.”

“Well, Wind has been set on her,” Legend says flatly. “The kid’s investigating her for us. Who knows how many people he’s tricked with that baby face.”

Four snorts, kicking away at a cricket that leapt out of the high grasses. Legend thanks his sister mentally for giving him a new pair of boots before he left. At the time, he’d felt that Fable had forced them on him. “I can’t believe it. That damn day we met, he lured us all onto that damn pirate ship and we all got ganged up on by his crew. Can’t believe Sky convinced him to untie us. I thought he was going to steal everything.”

“You think Haruka is pulling something similar?”

Four’s attention turns to Haruka’s butterfly sleeves, grazing the grass as she talks about something inane with Twilight. “I wouldn’t put it past her. But maybe we’re just the paranoid conspiracy theorists of the team.” His expression softens. “She’s actually been pretty nice. She chose a route without a lot of monster activity. She lets Wind touch all her stuff. Maybe she’s just looking out for us.”

“… For a Hyrule supposedly full of monsters, we sure haven’t seen one,” Legend admits. “Maybe this area was cleared out?”

They must be entering Lanayru, because the earth turns wet and the flora changes, turning into a wetland with flourishing coral-like plants the further they go in. There’s a Zora at the fork in the road, the friendly kind that looks more like Twilight’s Zora. When Legend lifts his head, he realizes he’s arguing with Haruka, which is hard to take seriously when he’s bright red.

“What do you mean, she’s here? She should have gotten the message from Impa to stay out of anything northwest of Inogo Bridge!” Impa? Legend raises an eyebrow at Haruka from where she can’t see.

“Li—“ The huge Zora corrects himself quickly, “Ah, um— I fear that it’s a little late for that. Your… dear friend from Hateno is quite angry at you.”

“She’s not here, is she?” Haruka asks frustratedly, “This is the worst possible place to be. Sidon, the siege is in five days!”

“She isn’t. She is currently at the Domain conducting botanical research. My dear friend… she wants you to come home. Is this siege more important than that?” Sidon almost looks pensive, as if afraid to push against his friend. “If it is, then as a king, I understand, but as a husband, know she is growing further from you as we speak.”

Legend wishes he knew Haruka better, because he can’t really tell if that expression is resignation or not. “I can make peace with that.” 

“Very well,” Sidon sighs. “Best of luck with your… research.” With the way Sidon looks at them, Legend gets the idea they’re the specimens. “If Akkala goes poorly, Zora’s Domain is open to your wounded.”

“Thank you, Sidon,” Haruka says, controlled this time, but weary. “Please keep an eye out for Zelda.”

So Haruka knows the Princess. Legend blinks. Maybe Four’s intuition isn’t so bad. He should tell Time about this hunch.

They trek on for a little while longer before the wet terrain turns rockier with lush mountains to one side and volcanic earth to the other. When Hyrule points out the giant Gleeok in the nearby valley, Haruka just sighs and says to ignore it. 

There’s a stable in distant view, but Haruka insists they shouldn’t go.

“Yiga activity is going to scale up in the next area,” Haruka warns, “So don’t talk to strangers. Go through me first. I know most of the people up here, so anybody I don’t recognize are Yiga.”

“Are they bad people?” Wind asks, and Legend can just barely see Haruka’s fist curl inside her sleeve. “Aw, but Haruka will protect us, right.”

Miraculously, the fist loosens. “Of course I will. But that’s why we’re not going to the stable. Especially in areas where they’re present, they linger where there are people.”

So they end up camping just below the Zora Skyview Tower, and Twilight runs off to “patrol” while Haruka settles down to start cooking, Warriors not so subtly watching over her shoulder. The smell of spices like nutmeg and cloves seep into the air, giving everything in camp a pleasant aroma, and Haruka throws in some vegetables and sighs. “We’re a little low on meat. I can go hunting tonight, but there isn’t much for today.” She grumbles to herself, “Eight people eat so much goddamn food.“ Legend winces. Haruka probably has to dress and clean the meat herself. No wonder she doesn’t enjoy restocking. 

“No worries,” Hyrule cheers from behind one of the tents he’s setting up, “From where I’m from, meat was always like this if not more scarce. Thank you for using your own stores to feed us.”

Haruka’s attention is directed to him. “You must be from outside Hyrule, then. Our lands have more meat than what we know what to do with. How did you come in? I can’t imagine what the north would be like. The sea?” 

“I come from the sea!” Wind yells from the other side of camp, “Big islands! You’ll love it, the weather is amazing! Sunshine every day, tropical relaxation, palm trees: aside from the threat of a cyclone destroying everything, it’s like paradise!”

Haruka’s demeanor instantly softens, and that is so unfair. “You must have come far— I only know one person that’s ever crossed the water of Hyrule. She’s a Zora, so she’s acclimated to the sea. I’ll have to ask her about it.” Something changes. “How did you cross the sea? By boat? How did you beat the winds?”

Okay, that’s too much detail to make a good lie. Legend quickly steps in. “Beat the winds? We got lost, that’s what happened—“ Before he can spin up a ridiculous backstory in the span of five minutes and give himself two more dead uncles, he hears a soft snuffle and a padding noise.

“Wolfie!” Wind cheers, racing up to grab around his mane, “We missed you!” Wolfie just chuffs, yawning and tolerating Wind’s lack of personal space. Hyrule just came back to camp with him, having foraged some herbs and whatever looked edible among the mountainous stone. Warriors laughs, snuggling with the great beast.

All Haruka is doing is staring at the wolf. 

“Hey, he won’t bite,” Legend explains quickly to their newcomer, “He’s just weird. And ugly.” Wolfie snorts at that. “Nobody’s asking you to cuddle him but just don’t shoot him.”

Haruka looks almost disappointed, and… wipes away a line of drool.

Good to know. Legend groans. Haruka wants to eat Wolfie.

“Curry’s ready,” Haruka says evenly, a little sad that she wasn’t able to add a blessed beast to her rice. She turns to Hyrule, setting down the herbs next to Wolfie, and questions, “Weren’t you just setting up the tents?”

“I can multitask,” Hyrule grumbles. “Sheesh.”

“Just checking,” Haruka sings, “Somebody get Twilight. It’s time to eat.”

When Sky sits down with the Master Sword, Haruka raises a curious eyebrow.

“Nice sword. But the Master Torch is better.” She refuses to elaborate.

After Twilight comes back and they all eat their curry to levels of varying success (meaning: everybody almost dies of spice except Wind. Legend doesn’t do enough exploring in that area of Hyrule to get used to it.) They all set out their bedrolls, some in tents and some outside based on what they prefer.

Haruka looks like she’s about to clamber into a tree like most nights, but glances worriedly at Wind before silently stepping over. “Mind if I’m next to you?”

Wind erupts into pure sunshine. “Of course! Please!” When Haruka sets out her mat, Wind starts babbling, “Kakak, this just like home! See, I live in a small hut with my grandma and Aryll, and we all sleep together on the floor like this. It’ll be super comfy with us, right? But I guess you’re a big sister, so it’s different, Haruka!”

“I don’t think it’s that different. If anything, this is just like my home too.”

Haruka curls behind Wind from the back as if to protect him, and only keeps her eyes closed until Wind starts sleeping. He can see the moment Haruka actually falls asleep, when her head slumps and her hands curl into her chest.

Legend falls asleep too, unconsciousness taking him away, and he prays for a dreamless sleep.

He’s not going to lie, he’d prefer dreams over this.

Legend wakes with a shout, and he realizes Wind is screaming, a high-pitched wail like a seagull, and he shoots up instantly to see Hyrule looming over him, a wicked sickle in hand.

Haruka— Haruka is completely frozen, blood drained, like a frame in time. Terror flashes through her eyes as her hands dig into Wind’s shoulders, but a whole lifetime of memories seems to be crashing over her in a horrific tsunami. Learned terror, like she’s seen those eyes all her life and doesn’t know what to do anymore to stop them. Legend has watched enough people die to know that look.

Out of nowhere, Wolfie lunges in, saliva flying and teeth pointed at a throat as he slams Hyrule in the side, forcing him to fly to the other side of the camp. Crimson smoke erupts as an inverted eye winks at them through the ash, and a lithe warrior leaps out with steel flashing in hand.

Haruka— the first thing Haruka does is leap up and grab Wind, dragging him to the other side of the camp. She doesn’t even pull out a weapon, and everything in her seems to scream run, run, run away, live another day to win some other time, but never today. 

“Haruka! Get off me, we have to help!” Wind snarls, and old horror races through Haruka as her grip on him claws into his skin so deeply it will leave marks. “Get OFF!”

Wind is finally able to shove her off, and by then the rest of the group has shaken off the sleep and grabbed various weaponry. Time is already aiming his bow at the assassin, Warriors has his sword in hand, and Haruka finally gets the hint to fight back, scrambling for her bow before nocking an arrow. 

When the assassin rushes them again, Wolfie is able to snag their leg and bite down, while Hyrule— the real Hyrule this time, sends a blast of lightning at their feet, just barely missing. Arrows stick into the assassin’s back from Time, and after a frantic, single shot from Haruka, and the assassin falls dead.

The first thing Legend does is rush over to Haruka, who’s still shaking in the corner. “Haruka. Are you hurt?” Haruka still is in shock, like she isn’t used to having backup. Or having somebody else targeted. How long has she been journeying alone? 

“D—don’t call me that,” Haruka stammers, stumbling to her feet, but it must be too soon because her knees give out under her. Legend catches her before she falls, and Warriors moves in to take her other side. “It— it’s fine, it’s never like this, it’s just— Aryll—“

“What does my little sister have to do with any of this?” Wind snaps, still shaken by the attempt. “That isn’t even related! Is this the Yiga you talked about? The way you talked about them, they seemed like common thieves! Not assassins! We need to know that!”

Suddenly, that lotus leaf breaks, and Legend can see what has really been waiting inside Haruka— suffocation in acids of hate, a whole sea, raining, a person who sunk beneath the waves.

“How can you not know? HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW?” 

Haruka snatches Wind’s wrist, frantic terror overcoming that once-calm sea as she says, “You— why did you run towards them? You’re the smallest, I just can’t believe— 理解しろ！イーガが我々全員を連れ去ろうとしている。長老たちと一緒にいろ！生き延びろ!” Her eyes sharpen with frustration, not noticing she switched languages. “アリルちゃま, you’re such an idiot! All you have to do is live, and you can barely do that!” Legend gets the idea she isn’t talking to Wind at all. Where is this coming from? “Why couldn’t you have put yourself first?”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Wind retorts, yanking his hand away, “I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m a fighter too! I can help! And I’m not even the smallest, Four is! Why does everybody think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“Because you don’t know!” Haruka snarls, “And you pretend you do!”

Wind roars, as much as a fifteen-year old kid can, “Then why didn’t you tell us? You should have told us there were assassins! Don’t you think we’re scared too?”

Both Legend and Warriors are quiet, silent as Haruka catches her breath. They don’t know enough about her world to have a place in the conversation right now.

Controlling her breathing, Haruka calms down, and she seems to take the defeat. “You’re right. You’re not from here. And he caught us by surprise,” she admits, “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry for insulting you.”

Thank the Golden Goddesses, Wind relaxes too. “I forgive you. I’m sorry too, for yelling. It was really scary, right?”

“Hah! It caught me off guard,” Haruka says breathily, “I don’t think they’ll be back, their resources are spread thin right now. We can rest, but we need an extra person on watch. It’s harder for them to impersonate two at a time.”

Time nods, the gears already churning in his head. Time never says much, so his thoughts and feelings get overlooked easily, but Legend knows he’s always thinking, almost as much as Four. He’s trying to figure this place out. 

“We should all get some sleep. Sky, go find Twilight and go on watch together. The rest of us, try to get some rest, but if you can’t,” Time sighs, “I understand. We leave at dawn.”

—

A couple days have passed. She realized the group wasn’t able to cook very well, and they’d been eating Twilight’s pumpkin soup for months, so Link decided to sacrifice some of her hard-earned vegetables to the deep thanks of the group. Legend had started opening up to her, which caught Link by surprise— late night, on watch, Legend would ask about her family. 

“I had an uncle at home, but he passed at the beginning of my journey,” Legend had admitted, letting the moonlight trickle down his face. “I have a sister at home. We didn’t know for a while. Sometimes, I wonder if it was something better buried.”

“You have her now. My sister left a long time ago.” Link sighed, breathing in the night like it carried alcohol in the air. “Family is complicated, but it leaves behind… I have experienced nothing like it.”

“How did she go?”

“Moved to Hateno Town after a spook in Kakariko from the Yiga,” Link said a little too quickly, the words punching out like muscle memory. “She was safer there. She lived with our grandmother.”

“Oh.” Legend pauses. “She didn’t…”

Link had nothing else she wanted to say. “No. She just moved to Hateno.”

“So… the Yiga?” Twilight asks, and Link is broken out of her thoughts. “Who are they?” The rancher’s face falls like the sun, serious and worried about his friends. Link wishes he’d had that. 

They’re so close to their destination. They’re finally at Akkala Span, and when they cross the bridge over they’ll set up base with the other Sheikah on the mountain south of the Citadel. Link just barely made it— the siege is tomorrow. He’ll have to regroup with the militia and get an update on the situation.

If they defeat us, they will kill us. The thought has haunted Link this entire time— the Yiga will execute them if they fail. The Yiga have controlled the shadows this entire time, with the weakened Sheikah only now attempting to retake them. Their troops can be overtaken in a heartbeat, their generals slaughtered, their lands taken and leaders punished. But if they succeed— the stakes spark the adrenaline in his chest into a vicious blaze.

“They’re… a group of assassins. Sent to take out the hero, but they’ll take anybody else. So be careful!” She adds with a last cheery note, “They mistake anybody with cute blonde hair like yours with the hero!” She sneaks up behind Hyrule and drops a sudden hand on his shoulder, earning a startled shriek. “And they’ll take you and whisk you away! You’ll be caged away forever in their sinister hideout, languishing from the light of the world. You might never make it out! Left all alone, a beautiful maiden that can only be rescued by a dashing hero of old!”

“Haha, but we’re not exactly beautiful maidens…” Warriors looks unamused, which is exactly the reaction Link wants. “Is it really just the hair?”

“They take anybody they find pretty,” Link says lightly, “I’m half-scared they’ll take me sometimes. Because I’m too chaste.” He closes his eyes, lifting a closed fist to delicately cough into. “Lily-white.”

The group is silent.

They pointedly don’t bring up that night.

It’s easier to joke about the Yiga, to not take them too seriously, because if Link takes them seriously, takes them seriously enough to remember, she’ll cry. 

“They found us,” Haruka would hiccup, blotchy tears streaming down her face, “I— I was bigger, and taller, but Aryll told me to run. She said I had to survive. If that’s true, I don’t want the sword anymore. I don’t want it if it meant she had to go!”

Luckily, Link is never that serious. And he doesn’t like that ending anyway.

So she just says, flicking her fingers at Wind’s head, “Keep an eye out, and lock your doors, or else they’ll take your girls when nobody’s looking!”

Scarlet leaves rustle up from where Link was playing with him, and she turns back to look up at the mountains, where the Sokkala waterfalls crashed into their pools, maple leaves floating on the surface, and the expanse of Akkala Span. “The siege encampment should be right across from here!”

They must have taken more of the Yiga encampment. The citadel has been converted into a ramshackle castle, temple rooftops and all. This seems to extend into a small city all the way down the citadel, into the parade grounds, and across the bridge. They must be using the Depths to transport materials and technology in, through the Plains Chasm.

Which is fine by Link. He looks down into the gaping rip in the earth, where Gloom used to be absent. Maybe he’ll build a large explosive to throw down. 

But everything on the southwest mountain has been taken for them. Wooden houses with sliding doors like Kakariko adorned with scarlet lanterns have been converted into soldier barracks and storage units. They even took the minor 
Yiga castle on the mountain, used to reinforce the border about the Citadel. If anything, Link must be late. Every upside-down eye has been righted. 

Right on cue, two Sheikah warriors rush up to her, dropping into a kneel. “Kitabatake-dono! Paya is here on behalf of Impa. Is this the package Impa requested?”

The group is absolutely silent. Wind shuffles a little to hide behind Time, but Sheikah warriors subtly surround them, their ninja garb abandoned for soldier tatami armor. Their reconnaissance and sabotage team still wears the old cloth, but they’re already hard at work. The sun is already setting.

Well. Guess the jig is up. Link feels safer already. Legend already has a hand over his sword, and Four is categorizing everybody. Hyrule and Sky look just as disconcerted, standing together to close the gap. Twilight just looks lost, like he’s surprised or something.

And, well, Link tried to be subtle. For once, this isn’t his fault! “This is the package! Eight weird men, as promised.”

“Damn it! I told you, Time!” Four snaps, snatching at the multicolored sword at his belt. “She was going to betray us! And I’ll bet you my armory that she’s a Link, too!” Damn. Link sighs. Maybe he should have just dealt with him earlier when they were sleeping. Link hates people smarter than him. 

Time unsheathes his massive blade, and in reply Link flicks on his Ancient Short Sword, the star-brilliant tip humming to life. 

“We’re reincarnations of the hero! Damn it, what happened to the Sheikah of this era? We’re here to help!” Warriors snaps, but a blade sticks into his personal space. He smacks away at it with his armored arm, snarling at its owner. “Who’s your leader? Where’s Impa?”

“Sorry. I happened. Cultural differences,” Link says half-apologetically. “I encouraged military aggression in the handbooks. Impa is probably on vacation. But if everybody could stand down, that would be helpful. Paya isn’t here yet so we can’t kill each other yet. That’s an order,” he snaps at the other Sheikah. “Seriously. Somebody go tell Paya that Link is here with the people her grandma wanted!”

There’s a resounding groan from the Sheikah. This new generation is a lot less… disciplined than he remembers. They make great friends, but terrible soldiers. He’d trust them to prepare a fish. Not an army. That’s what Link is here for.

But Four steps forward, his eyes a blazing blue, and Link regrets he may have to kill them after all. “How dare you lie to us! We trusted you! What kind of operation are you running here, anyway?”

“Can’t even conquer Hyrule in peace anymore,” Link says with false sorrow, earning a laugh from some of his men. “Isn’t it clear? I’m taking that castle—“ He points at the half-rebuilt Citadel, swarming with Yiga— “And I’m making it mine! Any questions?”

“… In my era, the Sheikah have always been intertwined with both safety and cruelty.” Time swings his sword casually in two full spins, as if the insane weight doesn’t even bother him. Link is jealous. “All in the name of order. Somehow, I get the idea this world is not in need of it. And you know this too. All I can see in your eyes is vengeance.”

It’s not vengeance. It’s justice.

Nobody will ever escape Link’s sword, as long as Hyrule lives under the shadow of the Calamity. As long as the fields are still burnt by Guardian fire, as long as blood still soaks Fort Hateno’s soil, as long as Aryll’s bones haven’t decayed into her grave yet— Link is never going to stop chasing his true victory.

“It’s not that I’m trying to bring back the past,” Link says eagerly, and suddenly the tension shifts. Wind’s boots scrape against tile, sending a few to clatter down the height of the mountain, and it just strikes them how high up they are. Time unsheathes the Biggoron Sword, the heavy weight of the metal gleaming in the sunset. 

“I’m taking as many of you as I can with me!”

—

Haruka— no, Link lunges forward with inhuman speed, lashing out with his sword to clash with Time, a visceral hunger in his eyes. The edge of the glowing blade melts into the steel, but just barely— Wind gets the idea that any lesser blade would have been cleaved in two. 

The travelers spill forward in a single slash of green, and Link darts between them, cutting at any available flesh he can reach. Wind stumbles backward behind Legend. He’s fast— insanely fast, his sleeve wings turning into a blur of silken motion as he flips over heads, dashes against walls just to build the momentum to slam into the heaviest warriors. He’s more acrobatic than any of them, flexible enough to slip between blades with a heaven-sent speed, instinctive as he steps between strikes that would have taken a foot off.

Link races up the rooftops, leaping up the ledges so quickly it’s as if gravity doesn’t apply. It’s no wonder he’s an archer— nobody Wind has ever seen can make height like that. He’s probably the most agile out of the heroes, up there with Twilight and himself. 

The second Link threatens to pull out his bow, Time doesn’t hesitate to chase him up, and Twilight throws Four and Legend up to go help like a pair of goats before he clambers up himself.

Everywhere he scrambles, blood spills, and Wind shrieks when Link launches into Four and slams a sandal into his head. Legend grabs his ice rod, sending a blistering freeze in the dancer’s direction. Link’s eyes light up in an adrenaline-fueled high, throwing his sleeves in front of him to take the brunt of the ice. When they freeze over and he starts falling from the sky, his futuristic blade whips out to sear away the frost. 

But it’s enough time for Twilight and Wind to catch him off guard. Wind summons a gust from the ground to blow him off balance, which is enough time for Twilight to grab him in the way Wind’s seen him toss goats, right under the armpits over Twilight’s hip, and the dancer gets thrown off to the side where the Sheikah are waiting.

The dancer is barely able to roll out of the way when Sky’s sword comes crashing down, but an crazed smile darts up his face as he dodges, again and again— neither of them are landing hits as the dancer leaps out of the way, backflipping off a wall to jump into the air, higher than anybody should be able to without wings. Swords shatter in the brick where the dancer was just standing, and he laughs as a strange bow with a glowing string— just like his sword, Wind realizes, unfolds, nocking an arrow right at Sky’s skull. 

Wind screams, and he makes a surge of wind explode from the Wind Waker— the arrow is blown wildly off course, and Link curses as a shard of stone kicked up by the wind cuts into his shoulder.

Blood sprays from the hit the dancer just took, but Link twists out of the way, slipping away from the spatter of red as he rushes back. 

The dancer retreats, hopping from one foot to the other in the case he has to move again. The fight takes a lull, and the Chain seems relatively unharmed, although exhausted.

“You’d send a child to fight for you?” The dancer smiles brightly, almost innocent, as he looks directly at Wind. “Not out of character. I would too!“ 

“You act more like Ganon than this world’s hero,” Legend spits. “Hylia sent us on a divine mission with every hero she could find— it’s incredible she chose you!”

A snarl crawls up the dancer’s face, smoldering with hate. “For what it’s worth, it’s incredible that I chose her too.”

Wind has to defuse this. Okay, okay. What does he know about this guy. He’s a girl whenever it’s convenient for him. He may or may not dance. He brought Sheikah troops with him, and just based on the similarities, the Sheikah and Yiga are pretty similar, like two sides of a mirror. He… he had a sister. 

And, well, Wind isn’t exactly against psychological manipulation.

So he pitches up his voice, tugs at the dancer’s robe the exact same way, and Link falters. “Haruka. Stop.”

And Link hesitates, just long enough for an unfamiliar voice to break through the crowd, but it must be important because the Sheikah army falls back, dropping into a bow the second she parts the people.

“LINK!”

Chapter Text

Link tries not to sigh. Half of the travelers immediately drop to one knee, and Time moves forward to introduce himself, but it’s clear she’s ignoring them entirely. Didn’t Sidon say he’d keep her in Zora’s Domain?

Knowing Sidon, he probably told Zelda to go chase him down.

Zelda drags him into a secluded house, slamming the sliding doors closed as she yells at the Sheikah army to disperse.

“HARUKA!” Zelda snaps, and Link instantly feels himself crumple like wet paper. “How dare you demand that I stay in Lanayru for my own safety? When you haven’t visited Hateno in months? When you’ve been warmongering? What gives you the right to tell me what to do?”

“I—“ Haruka’s voice is raspy, dry in the way it’s been ever since the Shrine. “It isn’t safe for you here.”

“Because of you? I didn’t want to believe it when you said you were invading Akkala! Link, really?” Zelda snaps, water blooming in her eyes. “After everything we did! We— everything is over. The Calamity is gone. I didn’t turn into a damned dragon for this!”

“Zelda, it’s not like that. The Sheikah—“

“The Sheikah didn’t save us! And you know it!” Her eyes burn with tears, and Haruka shrinks. “I don’t know why you went back to them! We were exploited! But you keep dragging that life back! Like it was a good thing! Because that’s all we know!” 

Zelda’s head falls into her hands. “We’ve been running towards the Calamity since we were children! You can stop! It’s done!“

“…” Link weakens, “I’ve been running all my life. I can make peace with that.”

“How are you so unemotional about this?” Zelda cries, and every emotion seems to spill through the cracks in Link’s eyes. “How can you keep fighting? The Yiga have retreated, they only started attacking again because you seek them out!”

“I never said I didn’t care,” Link says quickly, “I’m not denying what we went through!”

“Is this about your sister?” Zelda says frantically, “If it is, then—“

“Don’t use Aryll against me!” Her chest spasms at the reminder, like his heart is trying to claw its way out. “My father took her from me and you know it!

“He took my entire culture from me, my customs, my homeland! I come from two places that don’t even exist anymore!” Link snarls wetly, “I tried to be Hylian! I tried to stand taller, to face the Calamity the way they would! I just wanted to go home! I haven’t— Kakariko was taken from me! They took it away! It’s so complicated for me!”

“Then go home!” Zelda shoots back, weaker this time, “We can live in Kakariko, if that would help! What is this? If this is so much better, why are you alone here?”

“Because this should be over!” Link snaps, “I’m ending it! The Calamity is done, why are they still here?” Her eyes narrow to pinpoints, old fury picking up and pulled out of her lungs. “We lived in fear of both sides! Waiting to be saved, every day, not just from Ganon, not just from the Yiga, but from my father, the royal guard, the entire kingdom! We were six!“

Link curses as Haruka, a sister, a hero, somebody they don’t know at all, somebody they know better than anybody else. “I’m finishing the fight our ancestors started. How can you say I’m alone now, when we were always alone?” His fist clenches, roaring up that primordial blaze that he knows was born in Sheikah blue. “They’ve been dying, everybody is dying around us, for the war they started, and they’re leaving us alone!”

“…” Zelda goes cold. “… You’re the only one who’s not letting it be over.”

This isn’t what he… “That isn’t what I meant,” he says regretfully, faster this time. “Zelda, please—“

“Go serve the Restoration.” Zelda doesn’t even look at him. “Keep fighting for a dead kingdom. It’s what they would have wanted.”

“…” Link doesn’t leave. “There’s a divine quest. From Hylia.”

Her attention returns, surprised.

Everything finally slows, like the notes of a piano dying to the metronome. “The group I’ve been traveling with, they’re heroes. From the ancient past. They were sent to invite the hero of this era, and protect each era together. That’s what I’ve overheard, in bits and pieces. Zelda, they have the Master Sword.” Everything hurts, his scars ache, and he silently apologizes to Aryll. “I… I’ve been thinking of joining them.”

Zelda turns back to him, eyes wet with vulnerability. “You’re quitting the Restoration? You?”

His voice fails him.

They’re family, Link is just barely able to sign with trembling hands. He hates that his voice is fragile like extinction. They’re so close, Zelda. They went through so much that I did. They lost people at home too. The old yearning kicks up again in his chest in twisted arrhythmia. I know there are people here that lost family, but…

“It’s not the same,” Zelda finishes, apologetic knowing stoking low in her voice, and Link looks away. 

This is about Aryll. That’s who I… that’s why I started the Restoration. I came back to Kakariko to find family. But I’m the last of my clan. All my friends are dead. There’s nobody left from when I lived there.

He falters. I’m so scared. How can I feel safe when the Yiga are still after us? After you? How is it that everybody from our time is dead but we’re still being hunted? I can’t leave you in this place.

“… Link. I’ll be fine.”

Link hesitates, before gently placing Zelda’s hand on her cheek. Iif Link were any less controlled, there would be a cracked shine like glass slipping down those fingers. I can’t know that. How can I know you’ll be okay?

“… After Akkala,” Zelda says tenderly, like white petals amidst ash. “Face them again, and see how you feel.”

Maybe Link isn’t that controlled after all, because the glass dripping down Zelda’s fingers breaks.

—

If he wasn’t a coward, if could tell anybody what happened to him, this is what he would say.

“They were searching for the hero,” Link would ramble, hiding his face with one hand. “They knew I was there. That I’d drawn the sword. The Yiga found us in the forest behind Kakariko. They pinned her down, because she ran slower, and I just— my father barely got there in time. She had the scar her entire life!”

“They took me to Castle Town that night, and the King thanked me for my bravery— like she didn’t almost die because of me! They only took her to Hateno because I couldn’t protect her! She was screaming for me!” He’d would start wheezing about then, the way he always did when he was scared and his weak lung would start acting up. “I’m her big sister! It was my— it was my j-job to protect her! I’d just drawn the Sword that week, I didn’t know! I should have been the one to tell her to run!” 

They’d hunt him for the rest of his life after that. Link could never close both eyes, forget to look over his shoulder, forget he was a hero because being a sister was over. He never stopped running after that day, running towards victory and to the Sword’s voice, towards the Calamity’s defeat. If they caught him, they would kill him. 

All Haruka had to do was outrun the world.

“I— Father never looked at me the same way. I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I never told him I was sorry! I’ve been sorry my entire life!”

—

And like always, Zelda drags out a significantly less bitter Link later that evening.

“My apologies, I don’t think we’ve been introduced! I’m Zelda, and this is Link. I am so sorry for all of the trickery Link has pulled you through.” Zelda takes that moment to glare at Link, who shuffles pathetically. “He probably thinks it’s funny.”

“Impa told me to,” Link defends himself. “Blame her. She thinks it’s funny.”

Zelda scoffs. “You can’t blame the state when you’re holding the stick to enforce it.” She doesn’t elaborate.

“Not to be intrusive, but I’ve been really curious…” Twilight winces, and they all brace themselves. 

Sky nods, cracking his back and rolling out his shoulders. “I’ve got a question too. I think we all do.”

Zelda sighs, as if she’s already exhausted by one Link. The Calamity and later the Upheaval took a lot out of her, and Link wishes she didn’t get to know about the Restoration. Unfortunately, when one works in Sheikah labs, one gets to know plenty about Sheikah wars. “Feel free to ask.”

“So, is Link a girl?”

“Are you married?”

Time makes a horrible choking noise, and suddenly leans on Twilight’s back as he coughs harshly into a fist. “Princess, I am so sorry. You are under no obligation to answer those. Boys, are you serious?”

“Ah…” Zelda laughs nervously. “For the first question, perhaps Link should answer.”

“I’m a girl whenever it’s convenient,” Link yawns, “Like when tricking eight travelers into following me halfway across the continent.” 

Four almost unsheathes his sword, rage blowing up his face, but Legend is quick to slam down his hand. 

More accurately, Haruka is a son when she has to be. It’s chodanshi sozoku— the eldest son inherits everything: the land, the legacy, the responsibility. It’s the sacred legend of Hyrule— a hero who wields the sealing sword is always male. Haruka isn’t afraid to become the man of the house.

“So…” Sky lights up when his question is ready to be answered. “Are you married?”

“No,” Link says quickly. “Off-limits.” Link has spent her entire life dedicated to loving Zelda. She died imprinting her in his mind. In that moment, Link knew she lived exactly the way she wanted to. If Link looks like she’s kind, it’s because she’s looking at her. 

So she’ll be waiting to help her with anything and everything, no matter what happens. If she’s fuming at Zelda’s wedding, so be it.

“Working on it, every day,” Zelda sings. Link gapes, Sky laughs and laughs and laughs, and it makes Link want to grab his sailcloth and toss it into the valley.

“I’ll be fighting to retake the Citadel tomorrow, taken by the Yiga serving Ganon,” Link says carefully, and the conversation takes a downturn. “They refer to me as Kitabatake. That’s my family name. Haruka is the name I was born with,” he notes, “As Link, I defeated the Calamity in both its forms, and as Haruka, I’ve been leading the Sheikah Restoration. I consider the two interchangeable.”

“We’re leading a divine quest from Hylia, and we’ve been searching for the hero of this era to invite him. All of us are Links, forming a Chain of sorts,” Hyrule explains, a pure determination behind his voice, “Black-blooded monsters and resurgent shadows have been plaguing all of our eras. Hylia calls him.”

“We would be happy to assist in your quest, as you will assist in ours,” Zelda says. “We all face the same enemy. Of course, helping the Citadel siege is completely optional—“ she emphasizes, glaring at Link, “And I trust Link will not pressure you into anything.”

“You take one province and suddenly everybody thinks you’re a bloodthirsty warlord!” Link complains. “I even skipped over Lanayru!”

“We’ll be honored to help,” Time rumbles, and the rest of the Chain falls silent. “Put us in the war room and give us the plan. In turn, you are welcome on our journey.”

Sky lifts the Master Sword, and Link’s chest washes with something bitter and sorry— this blade has accompanied him since he was a small child. It didn’t save him, but it’s familiar. It’s never looked so new, as if it was just forged. “Receive your title, Hero.”

When Link touches the sword, a feeling of vitality blows through his hair, carrying the smell of Silent Princesses and the sea, the patter of rain after nightfall, long days under Kakariko’s pines and Lanayru’s ledges, a cool exhale after a century of healing.

“The Sword calls you the Hero of the Wild,” Sky says reverently. “Incarnation of the spring, the flight of blossoms and the end of a sword, the end of the Calamity. Your title among us is Wild. But if you don’t like it, I’m sure we can figure something out.” His voice softens. “She says Haruka truly fits you.”

“Wild is just fine.” Link lifts his hands off the sacred blade, pulsing a gentle blue. “I’ll get used to it eventually.” Even now, it already feels like it fits.

—

“Kitabatake-dono, these are your friends?”

It’s the morning of the charge. Pikango is refilling his supplies, ensuring their cohort has enough arrows and elemental fusibles to charge them. “They sure do look a lot like you. Even if you’re the best looking,” he adds, just to see the amusement on Link’s face.

“That’s ridiculous. I look the best out of us and everybody knows it,” Legend snarks. “It’s not your fault none of you can keep up with me!”

“Is that why you don’t wear pants?”

Legend and Wind instantly start fighting, and Link smiles. “Yes, they’re my friends. Everybody, this is Pikango. He won’t be joining us in the fighting, he’s a painter, but he knows the lay of the land well. He was able to recreate the Citadel before they built over it, so now we know the inner workings of the castle.”

Link gestures to the map. “Ideally, we’ll be scaling up. Our most agile will be taking the top level instantly, primarily myself. The rest of our forces will be moving up the castle until they’re able to reinforce me. The reason we believe taking the top level first is imperative is because their leader, Master Kohga, will be at the top. We must prevent his escape at all costs.”

“How will we be able to tell who’s Kohga?” Wind asks, and Link’s face flattens.

“You’ll be able to tell,” Link grumbles. “Anyway, I could use the backup, so all of you will be coming with me to the top. We’ll be using the Sheikah Slate to make it up two-thirds of the way, and the rest of you will just have to follow me. Don’t push yourself if you can’t make it to the top.” Luckily, he was able to get one from Purah, so he can use the runes instead of just the camera.

“We don’t leave anybody behind!” Twilight declares, and the rest of the Chain follows. “We’ll find a way to get everybody uuuUUPPPP—“

They all disappear in strings of blue light, and get woven back into people before a Zonai shrine. Four hobbles over and pukes in a corner, and Legend is quick to follow. “Guess we’re not using that together,” Link mumbles. 

Luckily, the Yiga didn’t build around the shrine, and a cold mountain wind buffers Link as the heroes all crouch into the stone. “All that’s left is up! Who may need help getting up?”

“Time is kinda…” Sky hesitates. “Well, I’m sure it’s all muscle. But he’s going to be heavy.”

“I heard that, boy,” Time grumbles. “I’ve got a hookshot and a dream.”

Everybody makes arrangements, where Wind will pair up with Four and Sky can pair up with Twilight, Legend will pair with Hyrule and Time to figure something out, and soon everybody has some way to get to the top. 

Wild starts scrambling up, making cushiony leaps to each level, and deeply misses his Ascend ability. Finally, when he realizes his friends are getting ahead of him, many of them flying up with some kind of hook, Wind using a giant leaf, or whatever flying contraption Legend has made with ten different items, he pushes harder, jumping from terrace to terrace just to cover distance.

“Looks like you need a pair of wings!” Wind laughs as Four hangs off his back, and he yells, “You got some kinda gliding device? Doesn’t need power!”

He hates reaching out for it, but he really needs the help. In response, Link jumps off the citadel level and opens up his paraglider, and almost screams out when a huge gust of wind roars underneath him like Revali’s Gale, blasting him up to Wind’s level. Wind turns to him, laughing, and Link returns the smile. 

Finally, they scramble to the top, and Link drops down onto the roof gently, a little dance of wind steadying his fall. The first thing that hits them is the scent of salt and the sound of the sea, familiar no matter its waters, and the brilliant burst of autumn leaves that spills into their sight. They’re here.

Overgrowth of scarlet leaves and rusted weaponry is strewn across the weathered brick. Broken-down cannons and shattered walls litter the floors with the faint scent of gunpowder among the foliage, the kind of smell that kicks up every time Wind’s boots shuffle through the debris. Legend sneezes and says it stinks of death. Link thinks that’s the opposite of his home. It’s impossible to escape life here, the rustling sense of being, fragile like the reeds.

The Yiga at the top surround their master, and Legend lets out a sharp laugh.

“All right!” Legend pulls out his fire rod, pink hair flying in the wind, “If they want the hero, they can have them all!”

A spirited wave of Yiga push forward, swords and bows everywhere, and Link would dart into the heart of the fight if it wasn’t for Twilight clearing a path, making a safe space for Wild to take the high ground. Wild mocks three arrows at once, charging them with water and electricity, before firing down at the Yiga. They’re blown off the side by Wind before the electricity can hit the others, and Wild yells out in thanks.

It’s so much easier to be fighting like this, to have a team of nine instead of one— he has so many watching his back, and he doesn’t have to lead them either, wondering who he can or can’t trust. It’s like being a part of one of Robbie’s ancient inventions. Everything slides and clicks into place, and moves as a single object. Wild can hear the Sheikah charging below, the clang of steel and roar of men, and realizes with a rush that they’re winning.

Time charges through so Four can slip in behind him, and Wind is causing chaos everywhere he can with Legend beside him, a whirlwind of magic directed by the wind. Finally, they’re able to cut through the masses, leaving groaning bodies all around him, and Wild doesn’t have to run this time to speak to Kohga.

“Kohga,” Link says, and he’s surprised that his voice isn’t angry, just… weary. “You’ve been fighting us for a hundred years. Doesn’t your back hurt by now?” He’s as old as Impa. What a horrible thought.

“I’ve still got it!” Kohga tumbles over, and Link doesn’t miss how the Chain stares at his stomach, which is kind of rude. They must be from impolite eras. “Hah… you think you can just overthrow the Yiga? Just like that? Let me guess— you want the Tech Lab!”

“Kohga. Your forces are defeated. Your evacuation routes are cut. Stand down. Is this the future of the Yiga Clan? To fight for a dead king?”

Kohga pauses, history weighing heavy on him. “I could ask the Sheikah the same. Kitabatake-dono, how many bodies will pay the price for your sister?”

Wild hesitates, glancing around at the Chain to check their reactions, but they’re not judgmental at all. They’re even worried for him. 

“I don’t know which of your men were sent to kill two children in their own village,” Haruka spits, just a sister in that moment. “I don’t know why you hunted her down like an animal. She was forced to leave so my whole family would not be killed. It will never be enough. No amount of blood can change the fact that she was taken from me.“

Before Kohga can retort and the Chain can react, Haruka starts again, “I also know that she hated blood. She always cried when she saw the injured. She wasn’t made for war.” Haruka looks down on Kohga, a strange melancholy twisting around her lungs. “Pointless death makes me sick. I’ve forbidden my men to die for that very reason.“

“You grew up to kill so many of our people. My family,” Kohga says, but his voice is weighted too. “You took out my dear grandnephew, the day you invaded the hideout. I can’t say we didn’t expect you to return the favor.” He clears his throat. “We killed your family, you killed ours.”

“And I do not apologize. Ganon is gone,” Wild says firmly. “Relinquish your king, as we have relinquished ours. The Sheikah are willing to stand down if you do not pose a threat to the people living here.”

“… Our people will not stand down.” Kohga lifts a slow hand, and the Yiga lower their weapons. “Not that I’m eager to fight again. Ganon was obviously the wrong side to choose. He’s a loser. Should’ve started a tech startup,” Kohga grumbles to himself, “Could’ve done some mining and sold all the Sheikah tech to the royal family before they all died. Now we’re broke and losers.”

Wild checks on the carnage below, which seems to involve a lot of screaming and bodily fluid. “I don’t think the Sheikah will settle for a truce so easily either. I incentivized a siege. I shouldn’t be surprised it would be hard to stop when I designed it to be.”

“If we can’t stop it entirely,” Twilight suddenly pipes up, “Let’s scale it down. Back in my era, when the kid had a dispute, we tried to keep them from fighting. We usually did sumo, but…” He stares at Kohga again versus Wild, and seems to not like the idea. “I don’t think that would make a good spectacle. It needs to be something grand, to get everybody’s energy out of their system.” 

“A game for control of Akkala,” Kohga muses, and Wild can sense the smile behind his mask. “I hate the idea of losing more family members. And I’ve always enjoyed a good competition.”

“Depends. What kind of game?” Wild asks cautiously. “The fighting hasn’t yet ceased.”

They all think cautiously, to the point that Kohga even sits down to consider their options. The frizz of hair tied up on the top of his head bobs back and forth, like a… like a…

“A TARGET!” Warriors cheers, causing all of them to jump. “A chase! Between Master Kohga, and Link! A battle of horseback archery— you will pursue each other frantically, and one will inevitably overtake the other for a time! The one chasing will be endlessly cheered for, while the chased’s ability to elude will cause no end of frustration! We sometimes had these sorts of challenges in Castle Town,” he explains, gesturing dramatically, “It’s really amazing to watch, but you need a big expanse. The parade grounds below the Citadel will work great for this.”

“I’m up for that. Kohga?”

“It’s been a long time, but when I was younger, I was the head of the Yiga cavalry!” Kohga boasts, stumbling to his feet. “Give me a ride and I can cleave through any opposition.”

“… Kohga, you live in a desert. You can’t even ride horses in the sand.”

His eyes boggle. “Who said I’m riding a horse?”

Wild can feel the blood drain out of his face as he sees the giant contraption the Yiga drag forth, a seat equipped with a steering stick, and four brutal wheels attached with massive pillars, wide enough to imitate the gallop of a horse as they spin. At least ten batteries hang off the side, winking a ghostly green as they buzz with energy. It’s horrific.

“I…” Wild forces his expression to neutralize. “I can beat that.”

“Then I’m calling for a ceasefire!” Kohga blows a huge thorny horn, and the Yiga fall back. Wild signals with a shaky hand to Pikango, who blows a similar horn and drums roll out to mask the sound of retreat.

“These rules better be seriously in my favor,” Wild hisses, sticking a finger in Wars’s chest. “If this ends poorly it’s on you.”

The Sheikah and Yiga gather in the Parade Ground ruins, glaring at each other from their respective sides. Wild is being attended to by his retainers, taking on horse gear and changing his armor, abandoning long fabric sleeves for light and compact armor, switching out long hakama pants for pants that cinch at the bottom with lacquered guards. His horse Noble Pursuit is being prepared, caught in the Tabantha region after hours chasing down the fastest. He takes a Phrenic Bow from one of his retainers gratefully, testing the weight in his hand.

Wind grabs at Wild, immediately getting his attention. “Are you sure you’re fighting that thing? It’s huge! There’s no way that’s fair! Maybe you should back out.”

“Nobody would hold it against you,” Time rumbles. “Even I’d falter at the sight of that.”

“Back out?” Wild just laughs, running his hand down Pursuit’s neck. “I don’t even have to fight this time.“ A flame like blue constellations stirs back to life in his chest: if they catch you, they will kill you. “I just have to outrun him.”

A horn blows, and the competition begins.

“Here goes the rules!” Warrior roars, and his voice thunders through the entire grounds. Even Wild is startled by it— he wouldn’t be surprised if Warriors was military, and high-ranking at that, but he’d never raised his voice like this before. “Both contestants will pursue each other on horseback with bows, each given three arrows! If one is able to knock the other off their post, they win! However, if this is impossible, the places in which the arrows land will determine points— two for the head, one for the rest of the body! The entire Parade Grounds is available for the hunt! No audience interference! Whoever takes the victory takes Akkala!”

Both Kohga and Wild are handed three arrows, the heads wrapped carefully in soft leather. Wild twists the leather on the top of the arrow, three times before he turns to Kohga.

“… You don’t like those stakes, do you, hero?”

In response, Wild pulls Kohga’s arrows out of his hand, and Kohga watches cautiously as the leather slips off, revealing the deadly steel point. The Sheikah and Yiga behind them stir, tension and conflict crackling among the crowd, like an unstable furnace that’s ready to burst.

Wild pushes the arrows back to Kohga unhesitatingly, making sure to make perfect eye contact, brilliant blue striking against the white wood of his mask. “Try your best to kill me, Master Kohga of the Yiga. If you finish me off, the Sheikah territory is yours, from Akkala to Kakariko. But if you can’t…” Wild beams, the familiar rush of beating death coursing through him. “You’ll remove all troops and presence from the Depths, and run back to the desert.”

Kohga just laughs, squeezing his gloved hand around the arrows and forcing the leather to crinkle. “You think you can escape death, boy?”

“You’ve been trying to kill me for over a hundred years,” Wild laughs, this time without a wide sleeve to hide the sound. “I’m eager to see how you’ll try today.”

They get to their steeds, and Kohga nocks an arrow on his massive longbow, the wicked sheen of the polished wood glowing in the early morn. “Then I say goodbye.”

Engines roar to life behind him, and there isn’t a second wasted as Wild bolts away. The rush of wind slices at him as Wild races for the distant side of the grounds, and he can hear the whiz of the first arrow just barely missing his head, a flicker of steel escaping his vision.

He turns back to see a new arrow already nocked, massive planks crashing against the ground to push Kohga forward, at a much higher vantage point than he is. Wild spurs his horse faster, darting around a scarlet tree so quickly, leaves spray from the branches. He thinks he hears Legend yell something, but he can’t tell from here. 

Kohga is too high up and moving too fast for him to land a hit. All he can do is run, but his horse will tire before his machine does. He needs a new plan, but all he can feel is the breath peeled out of his lungs and the dryness of his eyes, the moisture torn away by the wind.

For a split second, Wild switches direction and twists Pursuit towards Kohga, and Kohga can’t change directions as fast as he can: the contraption barrels forward, and Wild’s arrow flies just to crack into the lower panel of the device. With the leather weighing it down, everything is just slightly off— his jaw aches from how hard he’s clenching it, while Kohga’s cackles echo in the background.

Before he can even register it, Pursuit whinnies, shrieking out, and the sharp steel of an arrow digs into his ear— his hand on the reins twists tighter in response as Wild bites back a scream. Kohga hollers behind him, “TWO POINTS!” 

Blood spills down his neck as Wild pushes Pursuit harder, making a frantic turn back towards the Sheikah. He can hear the morale cresting, the excitement writhing from the Yiga. The Chain are fighting among themselves, some wanting to interfere while others force them to stand down. He can see Wind from here, trying uselessly to yank away from Twilight.

What would her father think of this? Knowing that it wasn’t a son who saved him but his daughter? That she went back to the Sheikah he hated so much? There aren’t answers to those questions anymore.

“Watch me!” Wild turns back the Sheikah, his people, as he slips between the scarlet of the trees and stirs up fire in his wake. “I can go faster than him! Kohga can’t keep up with me!” Captivate them, keep their eyes on him!

Wild twists painfully to his left side, his gloved fingers stumbling on the arrow— he’s been trying to use his left ever since Ganon left his right arm deprived of dexterity, but it’s hard. The good thing is that few people expect him to shoot from the left on horseback, just because of how uncomfortable it is for right-handed people. Kohga doesn’t expect it either, when he shouts out in pain as the arrow strikes his chest.

The final Yiga arrow flies, and Wild pales when he sees a blistering eye attacked to the end of it before it twists into his leg, accidentally making his leg twitch and confusing Pursuit, kicking up and panicking.

Kohga has no arrows left, and Wild has one. Kohga ended the fight with three points, and Wild has one. It’s unlikely that Wild will be able to take him out by the head: Pursuit is getting tired and Wild can’t aim well from behind. That only leaves him with the last win condition— knocking Kohga off his steed.

And that— that’s not likely. Wild rushes off to the side, through the line of Sheikah and Yiga, and they screech as he thunders through. Wind roars, cheering him on, and Wild gives him a flying smile before skidding to a stop at the end. 

Humans, inherently, have an instinct to evade death. It can be lost, found, but it is undeniable that humans are born to live. Wild has only ever known one thing his entire life— that he has to live, because he can’t die until the Calamity is defeated, his dreams are won, and he cannot die because he is the last. There isn’t honor in finishing early, and there isn’t time to give up. Living is a second chance, to win another day. There is no destiny if he dies first.

Kohga and Link are the fragments of their clans’ former glory, blessed with opposing fates. Kohga will earn his legacy by seeking out death, by killing and crushing every last remnant of old Hyrule. He will be remembered by purification and destruction, a lord who followed his leader honorably until death. 

Link will earn his legacy by living, to seek out what makes him feel alive and what his people need to live. The Champions, the Kitabatake, the hero will never die as long as he is breathing. He’ll be remembered as the one who got away.

Link aims his bow, unfaltering against the machine’s charge, and points the tip right at Kohga’s head.

Kohga is a creature of death, but Link knows, that ultimately, he has a home to go back to. He’s afraid, every second, but Link isn’t afraid of death and tests the limit every day. Kohga doesn’t know where that line begins and ends. Kohga does not know where or how he will end, but he is confident it will be at the end of Link’s blade.

Kohga will flinch. 

Link lets the arrow carry the last laugh, his revenge as he releases the fletching, the leather tip racing for Kohga’s skull. Kohga screams, in the way all animals do, and he leaps from his machine in pure terror, allowing it to spin out of control and crash into the trees over Link’s head. Pursuit shrieks, whinnies in terror as she stomps her hooves as the engines explode, but the hand on Link’s bow stays true.

Kohga scrambles from the dirt, skirting away, and Link draws Pursuit forward as his bow lowers, holding no more arrows to set free. “That’s my win.”

“You just did that to show off,” Kohga coughs out, stumbling to his feet as his red uniform is covered in dust. “You thought it was funny, didn’t you?”

Wild’s lip twitches. “A bit.”

Kohga just scoffs as Yiga retainers race to his aid, brushing the dirt off his knees and putting his mask back in place. “It’s your win. Keep your musty hands out of the desert. I’m sick of seeing blood in the hideout.”

“Likewise. Stay out of Kakariko,” Wild threatens, “Only my sister was scared of blood. I’m not.”

Wind is cheering behind him, jumping up and down with a relieved smile spreading across his face like sunlight after the dawn, and Wild can’t help but return it. It’s over.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kohga rolls his eyes, waving his hand patronizingly as he turns back to the sky, “We’re going home. I hope this is your true victory… hero.”

With that, Kohga drops his bow, Wild Link finally breathes freely after fifteen years.

—

The Citadel collapses. The Yiga retreat into the Depths, and the Sheikah make their way up to Akkala Tech Lab to find it abandoned. Word gets around fast among both peoples.

Kitabatake-dono’s hands are miraculously clean when she leaves, a few more territories and titles under her belt. She can attach new kanji to her name now, ones closer to the Sheikah royalty. She’s referred to as Akkare-Kitabatake now, for her victory in the region, and will eventually go to claim the kanji from Impa’s name that was offered to her. 

She even got to claim Kohga’s bow as a war prize, a gorgeous longbow so much like those of Phantom Ganon. It’s over. They’ll write legends about the Kitabatake name, about her. In at least one recording of history, she will be remembered as their daughter.

Wild packs the last of what he needs into the Purah Pad, packing a few more yukatas and his hood into the inventory. He’s going traveling again. Something hopeful enters him when he sees the rising sun on the horizon. He won’t have to worry about the Yiga. It’s for the first time since he was six.

“We’re excited to have a new hero on the team,” Legend says relaxedly on Wild’s bed, like they hadn’t tried to skewer each other a few days ago. Wild smiles back, a lot lighter with the siege behind him. “At least the food will be good.”

Everything feels lighter, without the weight of two homelands on his mind. Blue butterfly sleeves embroidered with silver petals spill across the bed as Link sighs. “I look forward to it. It’s been a long time since I’ve been traveling without so much on my mind.”

“Do you really dance?” Legend asks, lifting a sleeve curiously. “I bet this looks amazing when you do. I’ve only seen this kind of outfit in a rare few places.”

“I used to,” Wild admits, “Before everything. Yosakoi. I had more freedom, back then.” He was a wandering dancer for a while, when he was hiding from the Yiga and was scraping up money for food. It was long before he even thought about beating Ganon the first time around. He wouldn’t mind doing that again.

So here goes the story—

Kitabatake Haruka isn’t made for war. She plays with her little sister in the woods, loves to dance, brings in the laundry when it’s time and gets scared at night because she can’t see that well without her mother guiding the way. 

The hero Link was born for war— and he has been running, chasing the sense of victory for so long. He’s run alongside friends, with nobody, and then with new allies. Nobody ever told him he could slow down, so he just didn’t. He never stopped being afraid. There is a hero, there is a sister, and Link has been spending his entire life trying to be the best. 

Wind pulls at his sleeve while Legend’s hand rests proudly on his shoulder, and Wild never really thought that he could ever be both.

Since they’re in Hateno, Wild makes one last stop— he sits at Aryll’s grave, and apologizes for the last time, for all the loads of laundry she couldn’t force on him after they parted.

When they push through the portal, Wild doesn’t realize he isn’t looking over his shoulder this time.

A smile breaks his face, and it’s only then that he finally outruns the world.

—

“All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you…

“Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.”

- Richard Adams, Watership Down

Over the spring field trails the mist, and lonely is my heart / then in this fading night of evening a warbler sings.

春の野に霞たなびきうら悲し この夕影に鴬鳴くも

- Otomo no Yakamochi, No. 4290 of the Man’yoshu