Slowly regaining consciousness, colors before him began to form shapes, and shapes became recognizable objects. As meaning flooded into the objects, so did a vague feeling of déjà vu. Probably because this was only one of many times that he had awoken from an unconscious state in his room, to be welcomed back into reality with a dull pain somewhere in his body, and an, at this point, exasperated mother just relieved to see her son awake again. He tried to get a word out but it seemed his mind was more awaken than his body at this point. Even moving his lips was a painstaking chore.

"Don't even try to speak Legion, just be happy you got another chance after another stupid thing you had to pull," his mother said, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed. This time, he was able to get out a muffled groan. He turned over, closing his eyes. She sounded annoyed, albeit relieved, as usual. He wracked his brain trying to remember what it was, but only received blurry recalls of a red roof in his mind.

"There's water on the night table. Try to drink some. When you're feeling better, you can come in the kitchen so we can discuss how you're going to repay Mr. Valsted for the damages." He could swear he heard a tint of sadistic glee in her voice at that last statement, knowing she relished in him getting the punishment he deserved for doing whatever stupid thing he had done. She closed the door behind her, leaving him to an overwhelming silence that made a pain in his backside become horribly apparent all of a sudden.

"Great," he muttered, helping himself clumsily to the water beside him. Trying to ignore that last irritating statement from his mother, he instead tried to focus on what had actually even happened. He knew it would come to him; it was just a matter of when. He had a pretty decent amount of experience at remembering things in amnesic states. Unfortunately, part of this process was having to remember Mr. Valsted, which still had those two words, "repay Mr. Valsted", replaying like a mantra of doom over and over again in his mind. Even so, slowly but surely, the scene materialized into his mind bit by bit.

He remembered being bored and having nothing to do, and a cuccuo suddenly capturing his attention. This could be viewed as a lucky thing, considering that it was when he was bored that his more dangerous and extravagant ideas came to fruition. Playing with cuccuos was commonplace in Kakariko Village. Little kids would hold cuccuos and jump off slightly elevated places like steps or fences and enjoy being airborne for a fleeting period. Of course, Legion's version of this relatively harmless pastime was jumping off a high place, like the red roof of Mr. Valsted's house, one of the taller houses of Kakariko Village. The flaw in the plan was something Legion could not have realized by just looking, but definitely realized as he plummeted off the roof, was that this particular cuccuo had a damaged wing, and therefore, could not fly. This made what was supposed to be a mildly exhilarating drift over the small town a dangerous (yet notably much more exhilarating than the original plan) fall to the ground, destroying the old man's flower bed in the process.

Was it his flower bed? That was it? Legion furrowed his brow in confusion. What exactly was he repaying the old man for then? Was he going to have to plant some new flowers? That wasn't so bad. When his mother had said repay him for the damages, he had immediately envisioned himself toiling endlessly to repair some collapsed fence, or doing menial work to raise the money to pay for a broken window. Perhaps his mother had exaggerated the whole problem by even referring to a destroyed flower bed as "damages", just to incite some kind of guilt in him.

"Alright, enough of this, just get up already," he muttered to himself, realizing he was eager to get out of bed. He was sore all over, but he could walk well enough. The flower bed had probably cushioned his fall a bit. He plodded out the room and into the kitchen, perhaps exaggerating his aches a bit.

"Owwww," he groaned, sliding into the nearest chair at the kitchen table. His mother's back was to him as she washed the dishes. He folded his arms on table and rested his chin on them, looking up at his mother. He kicked his legs a bit so that they hit the legs of the chair, hoping that would get her attention. She finally turned around, looking a bit tired and weary of what she considered to be a constant déjà vu. It happened many times before that her son would do something reckless, whether it was on a small scale like this, or a grand scale, and he would almost always come out with just a sore in his backside, and she would have to think of some appropriate way to reprimand him. She found it comical at this point, as she was not too serious a mother, or even as a person at that. Even so, she didn't want to wake up one day to find out that her son had not merely sprained an ankle but had impaled himself on something. She had to employ some sort of disciplinary action, or at least attitude.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Eh. Pain," he responded tersely.

"Right. Well, you got lucky. And you know I never like to see my son in pain…" She paused, her eyes softening a bit. It was true. She couldn't escape her fate as a hysterical mother who turned into a hypochondriac for all their children's symptoms.

"But," she continued, forcing some sternness into her voice. "But," she repeated, with more emphasis on the word, "You need to start being more careful. And I'm hoping that maybe a little punishment, so to speak, will make you finally question your actions a bit more. Or at least make you take precautions before you do things, like, you know, checking to make sure your mode of transportation isn't damaged. Or maybe that peoples valuables aren't around you. "

This is where repaying Mr. Valsted comes into play, Legion thought. Dammit.

"So as you may have remembered, you completely destroyed that poor old man's flower bed."

"Yeah, or as you put it, the 'damages'. They're flowers, mom."

"All you need to see them as is somebody else's property that you destroyed because you don't like to lookout for yourself, or other people's things, when you decide to do silly things," she snapped.

"And Mr. Valsted isn't mad. You're lucky about that. But I told him you would go to him as soon as you're feeling better, and you would help him out with whatever he needed for a week, because you were terribly sorry and couldn't live with the guilt." Legion's head snapped up.

"What." The word conveyed all his irritation and shock in one succinct, deadpan delivery. Irritation at having forced quality geriatric time, and shock that it wasn't even necessary, but just a sadistic whim of his mother's. His mother said nothing. He buried his face into his hands, dreading all the time he would have to spend with the old man.

"It could be worse. I doubt he'll make you do much. But maybe it'll make you think before you do things around other people's property. Or, more importantly, things that could get yourself seriously injured. I hope so, anyway. At the very least, it's a better way to occupy your time." Legion made a muffled noise, indicating his displeasure at the situation.

"Well, you seem to be feeling better anyway. You might want to wait until you're less sore though. Who knows what you'll have to do." She couldn't help but smirk at this.

"You just love making me miserable, don't you?" Legion grumbled, the mention of his soreness making it all the more apparent in his body.

"I have such a discerning and observant son. If only you were as smart in other areas," she replied, still smirking as she returned to what she had been doing.

Legion sighed and slid off the chair, ready to resign himself to a lifetime (well, the prospect of a week felt like that anyway) of probably cleaning out mothballs and organizing medicine cabinets.