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Link was 3 when his father left on a fishing trip, and never came home.
He was 10 years old when a bird stole his little sister.
He was 11 by the time he got her back—his birthday having passed sometime between him throwing himself into a volcano and helping Makar awaken as Sage of Wind. He hadn’t really been paying attention at the time.
Then he had lived another two years inside a horrible dream that lasted for all of a second in the real world. Tetra didn’t remember how long they had been in the world of the Ocean King, since she had been stone the whole time, but Link remembered. At one point Linebeck and Ciela had even bought him a little cake, one of the few times they didn’t argue, to celebrate Link turning 13. He got the letter from his grandmother for his twelfth birthday two weeks after waking up.
He tried to act as though leaving that world was no big deal. It wasn’t real. Linebeck and Ciela weren’t real. His real family was waiting for him on Outset.
He was almost 13 again when a swathe of ocean was swallowed by time, sending him to a war that hadn’t happened, or maybe hadn’t happened yet.
The hero of the era, a freshly promoted captain, nicknamed him Tune, to differentiate him from the captain himself and… the other one.
The one who they called Time was tall, strong, armed with a sword Tune couldn’t hope to lift with his gangly teen arms. He only had one eye, and the sickest facial tattoos Tune had ever seen. He rode horses with ease, he wiped out foes without breaking a sweat, he radiated power and wisdom and a little mischief with every breath. Tune was awestruck. This was the Hero of Time, the one from the stories! Tetra made fun of Tune’s obvious hero worship, but even she had to admit Time was an impressive warrior, more so than the Captain. Time was training the Captain, teaching him how to fight and how to lead. He would spend hours drilling with the man, and eventually with Tune as well. The Captain had been a fairly new cadet when the Triforce picked him, launching him into a higher position without warning and without anyone to teach him the skills he hadn’t had a chance to acquire gradually. The eldest hero often joked that only time could teach you some things—but fortunately, he was Time.
Time sometimes would talk to Tune about his life, after defeating Ganondorf. Some things, like fighting the moon or his dad being a tree, Wind wasn’t sure weren’t jokes. If anyone else had said them, he’d assume it was a lie. But Time? Sure, Tetra could tease but she was right: he would believe anything the Hero of Time said.
Time was vague about most parts—other adventures, most involving “boring and complicated time travel”—but he would gush when talking about his home. His ranch. His beloved Malon. He once spent two hours extolling the benefits of milk to Tune. Tune and Tetra would gag and make faces when Time crooned about his wonderful, smart, red-headed, strong, multi-adjective-deserving wife. Such sappiness led to many jokes from them both, though Tune sometimes wondered if that’s what it would be like, if he and—but no. Not now. Not during a war. Time taught them farming basics and some tidbits he had learned from his era’s princess, things that would help them when they found that new land to settle. He knew more cool stories than anyone, but he would always cede his time around the fireplace to Tune’s epic and only slightly exaggerated tales.
Tune didn’t realize that all of this was Time he would not get back.
The war ended the day Tune turned 13 a second time. He and Tetra went home, bidding a farewell to the other Heroes, and resumed their search. Link, now the only Link again, was determined to be the mature hero Time thought he could be.
It lasted all of a week, then the next portal came, and Link had to go through alone.
—
“No, I’m Link!” He jumped into the fray, elbows and knees flailing to knock apart the two other boys. The one in red grunted as Link’s boot shoved itself firmly into his cheek, while his palm smacked into the burned one’s ear. In all honestly, Link knew nicknames were going to be inevitable. But maybe if he played his cards right, he could be like the Captain and get to keep the rights to being called Link by other people. Based on the way everyone was arguing, he had to act fast.
The Captain was here, though he looked a little older than he had when Tune had left. He was busy trying to check the eyes of a short man in a colorful tunic, who was still dazed from a boomerang blow. A brunette with very simple clothes and a very fancy sword was backed into a tree, pointing the blade at anyone who got too close with his eyes blown wide. Another boy watched them all argue with a mildly amused look of confusion, holding his sword but keeping the weapon down in a relaxed posture. Link was pretty sure he saw the blade flash a few times. The last two members of the group, a child and a guy wearing a wolf pelt, watched in a perfect duo of sullen enthusiasm and fretful concern.
By the time the fight stopped and everyone had more or less settled on using their titles (and after the subsequent fight between the self-proclaimed Legend and Wild had ended), the newly-dubbed Wind sidled to the Captain’s side.
“Uh… hi again?”
Warriors smiled fondly. “You haven’t changed a bit, Tune. That’s hardly fair.”
“Hey! It’s been a week since I saw you last! It’s not my fault the dumb time portals don’t give me much of a break.” Wind looked around. “… do you think this is everyone?”
“What do you mean?”
Wind tried not to look disappointed as his eyes roved the group. “… Time isn’t here.”
Warriors blinked. “Well, no but also yes.” He chuckled at Wind’s expression and lowered his voice. “I think our dear old man managed to somehow cheat and go through a portal before he even knew us. He’s here, but younger.” Warriors’ gaze darted to the man currently placating the youngest of the Links, then back to Wind. “We need to be careful about what we reveal. You know the old man would give us an earful if we messed up history, the way he was always going on about how time travel can change the future.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” Wind smiled faintly, recalling the older hero’s lectures on the topic. “Shame we can't somehow save his eye…”
“Don’t try it, Tune.” His hair was ruffled in a fond noogie. “Let’s comport ourselves like proper heroes like he taught us.”
“He taught you how to be a hero. He taught me how to pull a prank.” Wind stuck out his tongue, scampering out of reach.
During dinner he deliberately sat closer to the kid than to not-yet-Time so that Warriors wouldn’t have reason to complain. Mask seemed to view him with a little suspicion. In spite of his surliness, something about him reminded Wind of Aryll. Probably that he was younger. But there was some undercurrent of need, of longing for attention that—
“All these old guys with only one quest. Couldn’t be us, huh?” Wind casually let his knee brush against Mask’s, watching the boy flinch away. Not used to touch then. “Heard you tell tall, dark, and flea-bitten over there you’ve done a few quests.”
“Two.” Mask continued to eat, not looking at Wind.
“Still more than the sleepy head, or the captain. Looks like old Links get tired after saving the day. Not like us.” Mask didn’t reply, so Wind continued. “First time was to save my sister, well, was at first. But then it turned into this whole thing and I had to duel Ganondork—“
Mask sucked soup in the wrong way, choking and hacking. Wind instinctively smacked him on the back to help dislodge it, which was somewhat futile since it was just liquid after all. Mask finally got his bearings back, fixing Wind with a look of venom.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to hit you too—“
“It’s fine.” Mask turned away from Wind, seeming to listen to Twilight describing his goats and ignoring any further attempts at conversation.
As the group progressed, routines were set and subgroups formed. Twilight was glued to Mask, so Wind couldn’t hope to get the hero alone to talk. Still, signs showed up. Twilight liked horses. Twilight was an excellent swordsman. Twilight worked on a ranch. At one point he mentioned the Master Sword had created a portal back in time. While passing through a village the sight of a red-headed woman had made him sigh wistfully, saying he was reminded of someone he wouldn’t see again. Wind nearly broke character right then and there, to assure him that he would get back to Malon. But he was interrupted, as always, by Mask.
In spite of the icy first night, Mask had begun to warm to Wind. It started one day when Mask swiped Warriors’ scarf and hid up a tree. When the Captain asked Wind which way Mask had gone, Wind pointed the opposite direction.
“I thought you and pretty boy were best friends.” Mask dropped from the tree, picking leaves out of his hair.
“I mean, we’ve known each other a while longer’n most of the rest of you. But pranks are a sacred thing that not even a brother should interfere with.” Wind adopted a mock-solemn posture. “Though your prank lacks artistry, it is my sworn duty to not disrupt your learning of this ancient art, nor shall I ever be a snitch, lest my mentor rise from his grave to strike me with a whoopie cushion.”
Mask sneered. “‘Lacked artistry’? You think you can do better?”
“But of course!” Wind held out his hand till Mask gave him the scarf. “Watch and learn.”
A few minutes later, Wild passed by the field where Epona was peacefully grazing. Then did a double take. The horse was wearing a blue silken scarf, artfully pinned around its neck to not drag the ground but with enough give to elegantly catch the wind. Wild stared. Epona lifted her head and snorted as if telling him to carry on, making him flinch back.
“… uh.. I dunno how to ask this but… Wars?” He inched closer. “Wars, did you become a horse?”
Epona ignored him. Wild was shaking now. “Just a scarf. You’re not a horse. Well you are a horse but you’re not Wars. But how did you get the scarf on—“
“Wild?” Hyrule ambled over. “You ok?”
“Rulie, I… I think…” Wild leaned closer. “I think Warriors has turned into a horse.”
Hyrule looked at Epona. “Isn’t that Twilight’s horse?”
“But it’s wearing Warriors’ scarf!” Wild pointed at the incriminating evidence. Hyrule chewed his lip. “He doesn’t let anybody wear it. He certainly wouldn’t let a horse wear it, unless he was that horse—“
Hyrule opened his mouth to argue, thought it over, then paled. “But how is he a horse..?!”
Wind and Mask, watching from the bushes, had to restrain their laughter as the two grew increasingly convinced one of their number was capable of turning into an animal. Mask had even bumped his shoulder against Wind’s as they sniggered. Wind noticed.
The nightmares were hard on everyone. Wind woke from his fair share of visions of rushing feathers and clinging tentacles, but Mask seemed to have it worse. His cries sometimes woke the whole camp. Twilight would hug him tight till the boy calmed down, but sometimes this wasn’t enough. Wind, who often slept on Mask’s other side, had taken to reminding Mask of the fun things they had done that day, trying to break him out of the dream world and help him regain his bearings. Mask seemed to find comfort in Wind’s recitations, one time mumbling that they had not done “that” before (“that” being doodling hidden rabbits in all of the veteran’s pictures he had drawn that day). Unfortunately it did mean Warriors cottoned on to many of their pranks, but at least the kid was calmed and felt safe. Wind hoped Twilight was proud of him, being the big brother. Maybe years later, when he was Time and Wind was Tune, he would remember this and know Wind was trustworthy as a hero in spite of his age.
In battle he seemed to fall in step easily with Twilight, their moves similar enough to mesh but different enough to not get in each other’s way. Mask was part of them too, though his skill was less polished. Twilight took to training the kid in the evenings, just as he would later do with Warriors. Wind liked to watch, occasionally offering his two rupees on how to adapt the attacks for someone with less swing power.
“He’s not a giant hulking adult like you, rancher! It’s better to use the momentum of jumping up out of the roll to do a feint, then thrust down once they’re unbalanced.” Wind rolled his eyes. Mask had frowned at Wind’s description, so Wind course corrected. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being big. But we’re little. We fight differently.”
Mask shoved his sharp elbow into Wind’s spleen, pushing him out of the way. “I don’t need your help.”
“I ain’t helpin’ you, I’m helping the rancher learn how to actually teach.” Wind planted his own elbow atop Mask’s head. “He doesn’t know anything about curriculum.”
“Oh, and you do?”
“I was trained by an expert.” Wind tugged at his collar. They didn’t need to know his expert was a geriatric spearfisher who had to give up his career as a swordsman after his knee got taken out by a Bokoblin, or the future version of Twilight. “And I stopped a crazy wizard and a tentacley demon so I think if anyone knows how to teach about fighting while small, it’s me.”
“What about the smithy?”
“It’s me and the smithy.”
Twilight huffed. “Fine. Show me what you’ve got.” He smiled easily, clearly indulging Wind. Wind was reminded of Time, waving off requests to tell his stories in favor of Tune getting a chance.
Wind circled, watching Twilight for an opening, but the bigger hero didn’t bother swinging or charging in a way Wind could parry. They both simply paced, keeping the other from getting into their blind spots, for several minutes.
“Oi! One of you, do something! This is boring!” shouted Mask. Twilight’s eyes flicked towards him for just a second—
Wind dove in, rolling to get behind the Ordonian and jumping up, his blade smacking out flat-first—only to crash into Twilight’s sword. The hero easily batted Wind away, sending him sprawling. Mask whooped as Twilight offered Wind a hand up.
“You’ll have to be quicker, sailor. But that wasn’t a bad back-slash attempt.” Twilight’s smile was crooked. “Who taught ya that?”
Wind grimaced. Orca had taught him the basics, but it had been Time himself who helped him perfect the move. “Old guy I… I used to know.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “I’d love to meet him if we end up in your Hyrule.”
“He’s not there anymore.” The words blurted out before Wind could stop them. Twilight’s expression shifted to pity. Wind quickly shrugged, excusing himself to go help Warriors with the laundry. He watched miserably from a distance as Twilight resumed teaching Mask without him.
“He isn’t ignoring you.” Warriors watched Wind’s gaze. “He just doesn’t know you that well yet.”
“But I know him! Or what he will be! Why is it so hard to talk to him?!” Wind shoved someone’s stockings into the water and began scrubbing them violently. Warriors raised an eyebrow.
“You seem to have no trouble working together.”
“In a fight maybe, but just talking? I want so bad to say ‘Hey, it gets better. You get to be the coolest guy ever, and stop being such a sad sack about missing Malon because that works out too.’”
Warriors’ frown deepened. “He’s already talking about Malon?”
“He’s not said her name but he keeps sighing about missing her.” Wind made a face. “It’s worse than when he was gushing about how pretty she was! I hope we end up in his Hyrule so we can meet her and see if she measures up to Time’s descriptions.”
Warriors clicked his tongue. “Sure. Then we can go to yours so they can all meet Tetra.”
“Not the same!” Wind screeched as he threw a soaked sock at Warriors.
—
Later that evening Mask thunked himself onto the log by Wind. “What happened to pretty boy?” He gestured at Warriors, whose hair was still sopping wet.
“Eh. Some people don’t know when to lay off.” Wind glared into the bowl of rice Wild had given him. “He thinks just because he’s older he knows everything about everyone.”
Mask huffed, grinning. “You mean like you, always trying to tell me what to do?” Wind only grunted, making Mask bite his lip. “… sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“S’not you.” Wind stirred the bowl morosely. “I do miss her… the one Warriors was teasing me about. But only because she’s like… my second best friend. We went through a lot together!” Wind looked up at the sky. “She’s good at planning. Could give the Captain a run for his money. She’d probably be the boss of us all if she were here.”
Mask hummed. “Second best?”
“Well, my little sister Aryll would throw a fit if I said anyone else was my actual best friend.” Wind finally smiled. “What about you? Do you have siblings, Mask?” The boy’s expression fell, and Wind immediately regretted asking. “Oh. Never mind, forget I asked—“
“Her name’s Sarai.”
Mask’s voice was tiny, his nose almost stuck between his knees.
“She was like my big sister, and my best friend. She basically raised me, and… and I haven’t seen her in a long time.”
Wind carefully moved closer, not touching but to where Mask could feel his presence. “… Was it Ganondorf?”
Mask looked up, eyes shining. “No. No, she… she helped me defeat him. But she lives in a magical forest, and the woods don’t like adults trying to get in.” He looked at his hands. “And I’m already too much of an adult.”
Wind didn’t really know how to reply to that. Mask was younger than him, but the kid did seem like he had lived ten lifetimes in eleven years. He sat quietly, ignoring the chatter of the others. Even Twilight was distracted, trying to talk to Warriors, leaving the two youngest in their own bubble.
“I… I sort of get it. I’m only… I think almost 14? But it feels like I’m ancient inside, like at least 27.” He tried to laugh. “I’ve had my thirteenth birthday three times. I’m not even old enough to join a charter ship crew. But inside… I guess adventures make you feel older. I feel like I should be a grandpa by now.”
Mask was staring at him. His fists were tight in his tunic, breathing sharp. Wind wasn’t sure if he was angry or surprised. The boy’s ears were trembling like leaves.
“Uh. Sorry I’m talking too much about me. I’m not… Not trying to like… outdo what happened to—“
“How did you have three birthdays?”
“Huh? Oh. Well, adventure two took like… a year and a half or something? But as soon as it was over, it turned out to have all taken less than a second. It was in an alternate world, so apparently time there was all different.” Wind couldn’t help glancing at Twilight and Warriors. “Then adventure three involved time travel, and that took like a year, and ended on my birthday, but then when we got back it wasn’t really clear how long we’d been gone. And then less than a week later I ended up here, and I don’t know if time is passing back—“
A pair of arms suddenly threw themselves around him. Before he could parse what was happening, that Mask was hugging him, the boy let go, turning away and looking intensely embarrassed. Wind almost made a comment, but swallowed it quickly and took a bite of his cold rice. For a minute, they sat in silence.
“… When we get to my Hyrule, I’ll introduce you to Aryll. She’ll gang up with you against me in a heartbeat to pull some real pranks.”
Mask snorted. “And when we get to mine, I’ll introduce you to my friend Malon. Then you can both boss me around.”
Wind almost choked on his food. Malon? Mask knew a Malon too?! He quickly covered it as a laugh. Malon wasn’t an uncommon name, right? Four knew a Malon. Probably just one of those quirks, like them all being named Link.
He resumed eating, Legend having dragged Mask into a discussion about the efficiency of using gold on a bladed weapon. Wind wondered if Mask’s Malon could be related to Twilight’s—to Time’s—Malon. He wondered if she liked horses or singing.
Singing.
Wind cleared his throat. “Hey, uh… do any of you guys sing? Or play an instrument?”
“Uh. Why?” Legend glared.
“Well, since it’s a quiet night and we’re pretty safe camped out here, I thought we could have a, uh… jam session?” Wind fidgeted. “I can conduct.”
“Conducting is not an instrument.” Legend was already shoulder deep in his bag, pulling out different stringed and woodwind instruments.
“Excuuuuuse me, if it’s good enough for the gods to sing to it then it’s good enough to be an instrument.”
Hyrule raised his hand. “I can play the recorder.”
“I have my harp.” Sky was already holding it, smiling as he strummed.
“I got harps, drums, marimbas, an organ–”
“You have an organ in your bag, Legend?”
“It’s magic, it fits a lot. And this bell.” He held up a tiny, delicate bell carved to look like a flower.
“I have an ocarina, but it makes birds try to carry you away, so I think I’ll pass.” Four smiled. “I can listen though.”
Wind seized upon his chance. “Aw, but an ocarina would really round things out!” He turned to Twilight. “Rancher, do you–”
“I have an ocarina.”
Wind’s brain stalled, then he slowly turned. Mask was holding a bright blue instrument, blue as his eyes as they bored into Wind. And Wind knew that ocarina. Wind had seen that ocarina, a dozen times. Sometimes even in the heat of battle it had been brought out, rallying spirits and raising morale. Other times it had been quiet, played softly at a funeral over the fallen, soothing their souls as they passed on.
And Mask had it.
Of course. Of course! It all made sense! Mask knew all about time travel, Mask seemed more mature, but more desperate for attention. Mask said his father had died, Mask knew a Malon who told him what to do. Mask seemed to have latched onto Twilight with the same immediacy as Wind had to Warriors, to what was familiar.
Mask had to be…
Mask had to be Time’s son.
—
Now that he’d figured it out, everything made sense.
It was actually really sad, Wind reflected. Time had died, probably when Ganondorf came back, and Mask had had to step into his shoes to beat Ganondorf. Apparently along with his sister. Who got stuck in a magic forest in the process.
Ok that part didn’t quite fit. He decided he didn’t wanna think too hard on how Time died anyway.
Wind was now twice as determined to be sure Mask got time with Twilight—with Time. As much as Wind wanted his attention, it was way more important that his little brother got a chance to spend time with his dad. Wind would have given anything to have a chance like that.
So he always held back during practice, watching but not interfering.
“I thought you were gonna show me how to do that thing. With the rolling and springing up to attack.” Mask pouted at him.
“W-well Twilight blocked that so easily, didn’t he? Wouldn’t you rather learn it from him?”
“You were gonna show me how to do it. Because we’re…” He spat the word out like a curse. “... little.”
Wind rapidly twisted his head, looking for anyone who would make eye contact. Hyrule was the unfortunate victim. “Oh! Uh. I think I gotta go help Hyrule with the washing up. You and the rancher should practice it!” He gave Mask a little push towards Twilight. “You can show me it later!”
–
He would pair up with Warriors for raids instead of Mask. The kid needed to see his old man in action, right? Know that he was good, and that whatever tragedy took Time from Mask too soon was not his fault.
Mask didn’t see it this way.
“I’ve been practicing though! I wanted to show you!”
“Well, yeah. But if we both do it, then we’ll knock into each other.” Wind sidled back. “You and the rancher should pair up. Big and little–” Mask’s eye twitched. “High and low. Good practice for the future.”
“What do you mean by future?”
Wind cursed himself inwardly. What did he mean by that? “You know. In case things. happen.”
–
During dinner he would encourage Mask to talk to Twilight. Mask had tried to loop him into a conversation about Koroks, but Wind persisted in asking Twilight’s opinion to Mask’s question, then pretending that Sky or Four had asked him something. He was still listening to the two with a little satisfaction–Mask had given up discussing Koroks and they had moved back to sword drills–to the point he almost missed what Sky was actually saying.
“I said, did you and Mask have a fight?” Sky frowned slightly as he glanced at the other boy.
Wind shook his head, fidgeting with his bowl. “I’m just… trying to not get in the way of him and the rancher.”
“… but why?”
Wind flushed. “I just, uh. They seem so similar, like… family?”
Sky looked back at the two, who were practicing a move on some melons. “You and Mask are really similar too though. You act like he’s your little brother.”
Wind felt a twist in his gut. Time had been like a father to him–so strong and smart and fun and brave. If Mask was his kid… but no. Wind couldn’t be that selfish. He had no claim on Time, and Mask did. Mask had Time’s blood in his veins, the same golden hair and the same blue eyes and the same Ocarina, and Wind… Wind had memories that Mask didn’t. Wind couldn’t claim either of them. Wind was ultimately a nobody to Mask, just another kid he had met when he was young and alone and… oh.
Maybe that was something.
Wind watched the latest sparring match, Twilight and Mask practicing some blow to pierce armor or something, and wondered if it was too late to want to be part of someone else’s family. The thought made him recoil–he was part of a family! He had Grandma, and Aryll, and the people of Outset. He loved them all so much. There was no need to feel as though there was a gaping wound, where there should have been something else. The rough hole in the shape of someone to look up to, to emulate… a hole that had been boarded over with stories of a hero long dead and almost fit to a sailor who may never have been real, a gap that had finally been filled by a man who didn’t remember him, who was mere feet away and who didn’t have a matching hole in his heart because his son was a few feet closer. A son Wind couldn’t even hate, because it wasn’t his fault that he belonged here, and Wind didn’t–
“It’ll just be a few minutes, Mask. I’ll be right back.”
Wind broke out of his reverie. Twilight was… leaving? Excusing himself to follow Warriors. Wind winced, looking to the kid for his reaction.
Mask’s face was far too open—grief and abandonment painted across his face in a flash, before it was smothered in scarred indifference, tough as leather but ever tender, ever broken. Wind rushed over without a second thought.
“I’ll practice with ya, Mask.” He shot Twilight a look. Why was he ditching Mask out of the blue? Twilight was focused intently on Warriors, shoulders tight. “I once did a move like this straight into Ganondorf’s face, after all.”
Mask barely looked at him, still watching Twilight walking away with Warriors. “Whatever.”
Wind coughed, desperate to find the right thing to say. “He’s not… he’s not avoiding ya, you know.” Mask’s shoulders tensed. That was the wrong thing, apparently. “I think he’s got to talk some stuff over with the Captain.”
Mask’s ears twitched, a prey animal looking for danger, a predator cornered and about to snap. “Why?”
A good question. A great question. Maybe Twilight had figured out his connection to the kid, and wanted advice? Maybe he knew Warriors had figured out the timeline, and wanted to know what to look out for, or what to tell–or to not to tell–Mask. Maybe, maybe… “I, uh… I dunno how to… I guess it’s like… grown up stuff? I dunno how much you know about–”
“I know plenty! I’m not stupid!” Mask turned, suddenly red in the face, fists clenched. Wind took a step towards him without thinking. “I know you think I’m just a stupid kid who doesn’t understand anything, but I’m a hero too! I beat Ganon, I beat Majora, I gave up my home and my friends and my childhood and then I had to give up my adulthood too! Everyone I care about leaves, or I have to leave them, and I don’t… I don’t belong…” He threw his sword down. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t want to be around me. He doesn’t want to be around me. I don’t care. I don’t care! Just leave me alone!”
He raced into the woods.
Wind only froze a moment, his brain whirling to try to catch up, before he ran after him. He was vaguely aware of the others shouting, a few even trying to give chase, but his eyes were locked onto the boy in green.
Mask seemed to fade in and out of view, always a few steps ahead of him. Wind was a decent sprinter, but he wasn’t used to moving through such uneven terrain. The sound of the others searching eventually faded, till it was only him and Mask, and then… The forest boy was swallowed in the swirling shadows and dappled golden sunlight of the woods, leaving Wind to lean on a tree to catch his breath.
Everyone I care about leaves, or I have to leave them.
Wind hadn’t meant to give the impression he was avoiding Mask. He hadn’t wanted to say anything, hadn’t wanted to interfere with Mask’s time with Twilight.
I wanted to show you.
Maybe there had been a hole in Mask’s heart too. Not one shaped like a missing father, but like a sibling he could never see again, because he had to suddenly be an adult. Maybe Mask had liked being someone’s little brother again–
He crashed into a clearing, Warriors and Twilight turning to look at him in confusion. A quick scan of the clearing yielded no small boys in green.
“Guys! There you are! Have you seen Mask?!”
Warriors’ posture was all captain, all business. “Wasn’t he sparring with you?”
“He was, but he was…” Angry. Hurt. Afraid. Alone. Wind’s fault. Wind’s fault. “... distracted, and suddenly he threw his sword down and ran off into the woods. We can’t find him.”
Twilight’s eyes swiveled to the deepening shadows, then he nodded. “I can… I can track him.” He held up a hand, his eyes seeming to shoot right through Wind. “Don’t attack. I promise, it’s still me.”
He tugged something from his shirt, and… changed. In a burst of light and dark, Twilight was gone, and in his place was the wolf. It circled, once, sniffing, then barked and raced into the brush. Within moments it was naught but a whisper of distinct footsteps.
Warriors was gaping. “He… you saw… a wolf? He just became—“
But Wind was already following. Who cared if Twilight was a giant dog? Time had been stranger things, in the war. He ran after the rancher’s tail, all determination. He had to keep up. He had to apologize to Mask, he had to prove he was worthy as a big brother, he had to prove he was worth keeping around to Time—
Wind stumbled, and the wolf vanished from view. Wind regained his footing, shaking a little, and only then did he realize how lost he had become.
He kept trying to move, but it seemed like the darkened woods closed in from every side, blocking him off. The air smelled of rotten leaves and old wood, no breeze tangling itself into the thick branches. There was no sign of the wolf, or Warriors, or Mask, or the camp. No smell of the ocean or sound of lapping waves. Silence too heavy to bear pulled him down. Wind was alone.
Time had left him behind, again.
All of a sudden the unfairness of it all hit him. Mask was mad Twilight had left him alone for what, a few minutes? Wind had had to leave Time, leave Warriors, leave Outset, leave his Grandma and his sister and everyone he had ever known, without knowing if he’d ever see them again! Mask felt like he had to grow up?! The future of Hyrule was resting on Wind’s back, the future of a land that had died and was struggling to be reborn, the cycle of reincarnation bottlenecking at a child who had no idea what a leader looked like. He was supposed to move forward, to act like he didn’t need a father or a home or his own name–he had to be the Hero of the Winds, he had to be Tune, he had to be the big brother, he had to protect Aryll and save the sea and find a new land and fight his friend and win a war and look out for Mask and–and here he was, left behind again. Left to fend for himself again.
He wasn’t even fourteen yet!
The agonized sound ripped out of his throat, and he found himself blindly punching the closest thing he could reach–a tree, based on how it tore at his knuckles–the scream building in force and fury as he shook and tried not to let the tears fall. He was furious. He wanted someone to come and comfort him. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. He wanted someone to make it make sense. It would never make sense. He would never get it right. He would never fit, never be the one that was cherished. The only place he had felt seen and understood and worthy was a world and ten centuries away.
In a Time he would never get back.
Wind sat, alone, for a long time. He should try to find his way back. The moon began to peer over the branches. He didn’t move. The crickets began to sing, and still he sat. The darkness settled in, and Wind remained still. He couldn’t even bring himself to scrub the tears off his cheeks.
There was a rustle, and the wolf emerged from the brush.
Wind wanted to be happy. He should have been relieved. Finally, Time had come to him– But only glared at the wolf. "Shouldn't you be finding Mask?” The words came out so bitter. He didn’t care.
Twilight lowered himself to the ground, whimpering slightly, then shifted back to Hylian form. “Warriors is taking him back to camp, but when we realized you were still missing–”
Wind couldn’t look at him. The shame was smothering the last embers of anger, reminding him that he was supposed to be better than this. What would Time think of him, pouting in the woods like a child?
Twilight moved closer warily, clearly worried he was going to bolt. Wind would have laughed if he could. His legs felt like chu jelly. He wasn’t running anymore. Twilight kept his voice soft, like he did when speaking to a spooked animal. “What happened?”
“It was my fault.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Mask thought I was avoiding him.” Wind looked at the tree. He hadn’t even dented the bark. “And when you left too all of a sudden, he panicked and ran. I couldn’t…” He hiccuped. “I couldn’t catch up to him in time. Is he hurt?”
“He’s fine. We talked.” Twilight rubbed at his head. “I think we should talk too.”
Wind looked at him. The moonlight was too dim to make out any features, just a hulking shape overhead. A timeless silhouette against the night sky. “What about?”
“Well.” Twilight sat by him, his knee bumping Wind’s as he did. Wind flinched away. “... I was wrong. About some stuff. That’s why I left the sparring match. I thought…” He huffed a little laugh. “I thought that Warriors was the Hero of Time, if you can believe it.”
Wind’s spine straightened in an instant. “What.”
“I was wrong. I knew the guy, more or less, but he wasn’t Warriors. He was… he’s some other guy.”
“Warriors is some other guy..?” The forest was spinning now. Wind thought he might throw up.
“No. Well, yes. Warriors is not the Hero of Time.” Twilight glanced at him. “Do you know about the–”
“He’s you.” Wind was looking at the stars. The words were a mantra, a plea, a last ditch effort to make something true that simply wasn’t. “You’re him. You’re the Hero of Time.”
“... sorry, Wind. I’m not.”
“But…” Wind pitched to the side, his equilibrium well and truly gone. Twilight instinctively caught him, pulling him back to center. “But you have to be! Because Mask is… isn’t he…”
“He is.”
“Your son?!”
The silence lay over the clearing like fog, the world holding its breath.
Twilight laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh–it was a bark of surprise, incredulity. “What? No! I don’t have a kid. And if I did, it definitely couldn’t be Mask.” He chuckled. “If anything, you’ve got it backwards. I’m the Hero of Time’s descendant. And Mask… Mask is the Hero of Time.”
Wind stared at him. “..... oh.” That. That made more sense. That made a lot of sense, actually. Perfect sense.
Mask was Time.
“Whoa! Don’t cry!”
Wind couldn’t help it. The tears poured out, the loss too great for words. Mask was Time. Mask was Time. Time was not coming back. Time was here, but he was not here. The open wound in the shape of a father figure, a mentor, would never be filled. If anything, Time hated him now. Time had run away from Wind because Wind had kept pushing him away.
Twilight was holding him tight now, humming tunelessly. Wind almost laughed. Of course Twilight had no sense of music. It was so clear now how dumb Wind had been. Twilight’s hair wasn’t even the right color! How could Wind have ever thought he was Time? Had he been that desperate to find someone to fill that role that he had just latched onto the first man he saw who somewhat fit the bill? That he denied the evidence all around him in hopes that Time could still be the fath– the big brother he wanted?
“What did you do to him?!”
The voice cut through Wind’s tears, hot shame drying his eyes enough to make out a small figure pattering towards him.
“I thought you were gonna find him, not make him cry.” Two arms encircled Wind, pulling him in with surprising strength. “Was he bullying you, sailor?”
“I didn’t make him cry!” Twilight sounded slightly offended. “He was worried about you!”
Wind blinked up at Mask. The boy’s face turned scarlet when he saw Wind looking, but he didn’t let go of him. “You… you’re mad at me.”
“Well yeah, you idiot. You got lost!” Mask squeezed a little tighter. “The woods are dangerous at night. Especially if you’re not used to them.”
“Why… why would you care?” Wind winced at the prickliness in his own voice. “I’m just a nobody to you.”
Mask let go at last, pouting. “You’re not nobody! You’re my little brother. Even if you act stupid.” He stared at Wind. “Why would you think you’re nobody to me? That’s so rude to think.” Wind didn’t reply, looking at his knees in shame. Mask bit his lip. “Hey. Hey, you’re not… we’re not strangers. Right? We know each other. We’re real... like… like a few days ago. We kept putting feathers into the traveler’s hair and told him he was cursed to turn into a Cucco. And before that we ate that cake that the champion made, with all the honey and berries, and you said it was the sweetest thing you’d ever eaten. And before you got mad and stopped talking to me you showed me how to tie an anchor hitch and a bowline knot, and I showed you how to imitate a hawk call and you tried it even though you said you didn’t like birds, and– and it’s all real. This is all real and it hasn’t happened before.”
Wind smiled weakly. “Yeah, I… I remember all of that.”
“You always did it for me when I was… when I woke up at night.” Mask drummed his fingers on his knees. “Should I stop?”
“Nah.” Wind felt himself starting to tilt again, but Twilight was keeping him upright. The adrenaline had well and truly faded. “How come… you said… little brother?”
“Mask here turned out to be older’n most of us, thanks to time loops.” Twilight chuckled, only slightly uneasily. “C’mon, Mask. Let’s get the sailor back to camp. We all need some hearty soup and a good night’s rest, I think.”
Before Wind could try to stagger upright Twilight had already scooped him up, carrying him piggyback. Mask followed, ocarina-blue eyes fixed on Wind in worry.
“‘M not mad at you.” Wind instinctively tried to reach out to pat Mask’s head. The boy made a face but eagerly leaned in to let him ruffle his hair. “I thought… I thought this old guy here was your dad.” He jerked his head at Twilight. “And I didn’t wanna get in the way of time with your family.”
Mask snorted. “He’s not my dad. My dad is—was— a tree.”
Wind’s gaze snapped to him. “Run that by me again?”
“I mean, he was my adoptive father, but he was my dad. He looked out for me and Sarai and everybody.” Mask shrugged like this was exceptionally normal. “The rancher isn’t nearly as wise. And he doesn’t have half the mustache.”
“I thought that was a joke…” Wind breathed in awe. “Next thing you know, you’ll tell me you fought the moon.”
“Yeah!” Mask nodded, laughing a little. “It was awful!” He kept talking the whole way back, Wind just listening and nodding sleepily.
Mask was Time. Time was Mask. Maybe immature, maybe he needed to settle down and marry Malon and learn to let go—maybe that was something Wind had to teach him, to laugh at his adventures, to be willing to accept others’ love and give it in return. But Wind could see it even now. His father figure, his little brother, all one and the same. The only difference between the two was time.
And he was Time.