Repeat: 100 Majora's Mask Oneshots
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Zelda franchise nor am I the original cover image artist.
Chapter 1: Separation
Link sighed as he prepared himself. It was decidedly difficult to part with the one thing that had kickstarted his adventure (and protected him almost the whole way)—the Master Sword. From the moment he had first pulled it from the stone, the piece of metal had echoed into the very depths of soul, its voice calling to him no matter how long he slept. No matter how many times he went to put it back, he always came back knowing that he had to do so. He had no choice (sometimes he didn't want to return to the future because it hurt—there were only thoughts of fear and darkness—and the past was so pleasantly safe, so why did that damned, damned, damned sword keep calling him back?). But he didn't really mind.
Really.
It was for two reasons, if any.
The first, Link knew he had a job to do. No one else could stop Ganondorf. No one. That sword (why, why, why) called to him for a reason. It pulled and twisted his insides when he was away from it and made him indistinctly uncomfortable, but when he held it, it felt right. Because this was his journey, his great adventure and his chance to prove himself to all those Kokiri children who had laughed at him for having no fairy.
The second reason was not as serious or important as the first, but it was there, Link had to say, in a slightly selfish kind of way. The Master Sword was truly that—a master of its kind. The Kokiri Sword, the Biggoron Sword, and every other weapon he had picked up on his journey paled in comparison to its speed, its weight and its balance. The Master Sword, though, it was an absolute work of true beauty (but the back of his head always reminded him that it felt perfect for him because this task of saving Hyrule was his, his, his destiny and no one else's).
But here he was, for the last time, ready to part from it forever. The sword seemed to know what was coming, almost as if it were a sentient being, because the way it called to him (so intense, so determined) was no longer as strong as it once was. Instead, it felt as if the once rapid heartbeat of the sword (it had once beat in time to the rhythm of his own heart) had dulled to a weak pulse. It was growing heavy on his back and in his hands. It felt so reluctant to be with him anymore.
Link swallowed finally, exhaling a shaky breath. It was time. The altar stood before him, empty, but proud, waiting silently for its friend to return home.
At last, with one swift movement, the Master Sword was returned to its place. As if by magic, a single shaft of light beamed down upon the tired weapon through a stained-glass window above.
Link felt something inside of him snap, and, for the briefest of moments, his heart thudded and hurt. The link between himself and the sword of legend was broken. It was as if a part of the boy-turned-man-turned-boy was gone.
For comfort, Link turned to face his only friend, the one who had been with him from the beginning, his fairy comrade, Navi. Usually appearing as nothing more than a sphere of brilliant white light above his shoulder, when Link searched for her, she was gone.
Panic, in its rawest form of fear and dread, flooded through him. Link's head whipped around left and right, and then, at last, upwards. His blue eyes widened when he saw her. There she was, flying away from him, not looking back, through the window and to the great wilderness beyond. Link reached out weakly, a strangled cry dying in his throat. She was gone. Gone, gone, gone. No. No, no, no, please, no, come back.
Then suddenly, that fire that had been extinguished at the defeat of Ganondorf was back. It was that fire that fed him on his journey, during his deepest and darkest moments of doubt. It had been ignited and was now burning fiercely in his chest. That fire was back because . . .
The boy's gentle gaze hardened and his hands clenched into fists.
. . . he needed to find her.
Link ignored the repetitive movement of Epona's shoulder blades in favour of looking through the misty woods (he was trying desperately to ignore the weight of the Ocarina of Time in his pocket). The tree trunks were thick here, in the forest's depths. Thicker than in the edges of the Lost Woods and deepest parts of the Kokiri Forest. Thicker than himself! But, unfortunately, there was no sign of his lost friend.
Navi.
Every time her name invaded his thoughts, it was as if his whole being was tackled to the ground and he had to struggle to get up and reorient himself.
Epona whinnied softly alerting Link that there was something wrong. Something . . . was amiss in these woods. Something . . . something. There was a rustling of leaves, too heavy to be a confused forest animal. Then, the familiar ringing of a bell.
Navi!
Link searched around hysterically. Epona whinnied again, this time a louder, more worried sound. The boy in green was suddenly knocked sideways off his steed. The ocarina (precious, precious, precious) went flying and Epona neighed, a feral sound unlike any she'd made before. The masked thing that had pushed him off was now holding the prized blue ocarina in its hands and then, in a blink, it was mounted on his horse and riding away from him. When had that thing had time to get on his (last) friend and steal his ocarina (her ocarina, not his, but after all the things that had happened, it felt like his)?
However, there was some good that came out of the violent burglary. Following the thief were two balls of light. Fairies.
Navi?
Link took off after them, his hope deflating the further he ran. He somehow knew in his heart that neither fairy was his Navi. He still wished, though. Tears threatened to fall as he approached several raised platforms, Epona and the thief no where in sight.
No, not Epona, too! No, no, no, no. Please, please, please, give her back.
He kept running. He couldn't lose her, not like he lost Navi. Not like he lost the Master Sword and the ocarina. Not like he lost his home. Not like he lost the family he never had, the friends he never made, the future that never happened; Zelda, Impa, the Kokiri, the forest, the lost children, and Saria (why did she abandon him?).
He would find Epona. He had to. He would find her and Navi and together, the three of them would go home. The poor green-clad boy didn't know if he would be able to function otherwise because, as his last remaining friend was now gone, he realized that he was alone. Completely and utterly alone.
The Hero of Time had never felt such pain in his life. The thing attached itself to his face and seemed to latch onto every piece of him, changing him, searing his flesh and blood as it travelled through his body. He tried to rip it off; he tried so hard. The thing held on harder.
He didn't know how long it was before the burning stopped. Finally, though, (finally) he opened his eyes. Things didn't seem right. Everything seemed, well, foggier. Link blinked several times, nervously flexing his fingers . . . or, at least, he tried to.
Looking down, Link was greeted with a pool of water and in it, his reflection. It was a horrifyingly unfamiliar reflection. Terrifying (but sad, so, so sad) yellow eyes stared back from the rippling liquid. Said glowing yellow eyes were set in a wooden face, the grain of the wood reaching towards the back of his head. His hair, once silky and wheat coloured, was now straw, hard and unmoving. The fairy-less boy gave a startled, gurgled yell before looking up and realizing that the masked thief was there, looking at him, his two fairy companions laughing at the hero's plight (where was Epona?).
With few mocking words, the masked demon backed away through a doorway. The moment he had passed the frame, the door lowered and locked the Hero of Time in. Link, speechless, could not focus on anything except the humanity that he had lost (why, oh, goddesses, why?).
A bell rang, just ahead of him where the stone door had met with the floor. It was a fairy, the yellow companion belonging to the thief. Link, had he been human, would have narrowed his eyes. Instead, he merely walked up to the fairy who was angrily crying out to her friends. No one came back for her (and he felt a strange sense of pity and empathy because no one came back for him either).
Her first words to him were angry. She resented him. It was his fault that they were in this mess.
Link had no response to her harsh words, at least, not a response that the dinging little fairy wished to hear. So, he waited a few moments, debating. His response was carefully worded, after weeks of pain and despair (he thought the pain was over but everything kept leaving him, why?).
You've lost something, too, he said, his words slapping the petite fairy in the face.
The sprite paused briefly in her cries, appearing to see the sad wooden child for the first time, however, his words did little but anger her further.
The door before them opened abruptly and Link walked down the path that had been revealed to them, his new fairy acquaintance not hesitating to follow. His mind was a hurricane, sorting through all of his blustering thoughts. How. How, how, how can he handle this?
He just . . . he just wanted to find Navi.
But instead, he found himself separated from everything he held dear. And he had no idea how to get any of it back.
Link closed his glowing eyes as he realized that before him, the path to another journey, maybe even a greater one than before, now laid ahead of him.
Because he was a hero, no matter the separation that caused him pause in his steps; he had to keep going, if not for himself, then for everyone else. Because his quest, even from the beginning had never been about him (but wasn't it this time? Because Navi was gone, and so was Epona, and now his humanity, why, why, why, why).
Why?