I hated fans.

I realized that they didn't know me on a personal level; they only knew the Link that the media portrayed, which was drastically incorrect, and thus they didn't know how I felt about, well, anything. They just saw me as a fighting machine in a green hat. I couldn't really blame them for swallowing the media's lies.

All of my fans thought that I hated Ganondorf with all of my heart, and that we were out to kill each other all the time, and if we were placed in the same room for any prolonged amount of time, we would inevitably end up in an epic battle full of blood and explosions.

In reality, that wasn't how it worked.

Did I hate Ganondorf? Yes, immensely so. He tried to bring ruin to my kingdom. He kidnapped my ruler and exploited her powers. He tried his hardest to kill me. Of course I hated him; who wouldn't? But did I want to kill him? That was a different story.

Actually, I didn't really think about him anymore. I walked by him on a regular basis and nothing ever happened; we just ignored each other. Fans seemed to think that I had no self control when it came to Ganondorf, but that simply wasn't true. Ganondorf and I were not allowed to come into direct contact with one another. Technically, he was not allowed to contact me – I could absolutely walk up to him and instigate a normal conversation. But it was a sort of unwritten rule that it worked both ways.

Despite this evidence that we could, however uneasily, coexist, fans still seemed to think that we salivated for each other's blood, and a "Ganondorf vs. Link" battle was among the top requested battles that fans sent to Master Hand. These battles always put me in a bad mood.

It was after a particular brutal Ganondorf battle that I stumbled into the infirmary to have my wounds tended, my ears still ringing from the fans' screams. Samus was already there, working as a volunteer (we all had to do it eventually, it was another weird thing Master Hand insisted on). She chuckled quietly when she saw me.

I shot her a glare that could have killed a small animal.

"Oh, don't be like that," said Samus, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"I think I'm allowed to," I said, dropping the act. Samus wasn't afraid of me and we both knew it. "It was another Ganondorf battle."

I could tell at once that she understood. "Oh. Sorry."

"That's alright," I muttered. "Gotta give the crowd what it wants, right?"

"Did you win?" asked Samus.

I nodded. "Barely. It was a close fight." I rolled my shoulders back and forth, working out the kinks. "I think they enjoyed that quite a bit."

"Have you ever lost to him?" asked Samus, her eyebrows raising.

"Twice," I said, holding up two fingers. Then I double-checked in my head. "Wait – no. Three times. He used a lot of items." My lip curled with disgust before I could stop it.

"Well, that's hardly fair," said Samus.

"Neither is life."

"What an optimistic attitude," said Samus teasingly.

I grinned in spite of myself. "That's me. Always looking on the bright side."

We were silent for a little while. Samus turned and rummaged for something, emerging from her bag with a white bottle in one hand.

"Well, here," she said. "Some extra strength painkillers, just for you."

"Thanks," I muttered, feeling soreness flare in my muscles. I emptied a small pile of pills into my hand and then stared at them like they were some sort of sacred treasure.

Samus snatched the bottle back from me. "What are you doing? Take two. Two only. Put the other ones back."

Grudgingly, I poured most of the pile into her cupped hands.

"Sorry, kid, but I would get in trouble if you overdosed." Samus tipped them back into the bottle, screwed the cap on, and thrust it out of sight. I watched it disappear into her leather bag.

I looked at her then, trying to puzzle her out. Scrutinizing her, taking her apart in my mind to find the clockwork inside, attempting to understand her like I had never tried to understand anyone else in the Mansion. Samus Aran. I had never paid much attention to the name. She was just another faded hero, a figure that went with our textbooks, another flashy opponent. Samus was a loner, like I was. But she always got a lot of attention for her natural beauty.

I guess my stare had fallen downward, because Samus huffed out a frustrated breath, hiked her collar up, and stalked away from me.

"Just like every other stupid man at this place," she growled.

"Wait," I said, blinking. "I wasn't –"

"Always violating my privacy," Samus said angrily, slamming the window shut with a bang. "Staring at me with their eyes bugging out and their mouths hanging open like complete idiots – not even thinking how that makes me feel –"

"Samus," I said, standing up. My muscles screamed their protest. "I wasn't looking at you like that."

She whirled around, face slightly red, breathing hard through her nose. "Oh really, Master Link? If you weren't staring at my breasts –"

My face burned at the mention of the word.

" - then what were you looking at?"

"Nothing," I persisted. "I was lost in thought, that's all. I didn't even realize I was staring at..." My voice trailed off.

"You didn't realize!" Samus's voice ripped through an octave. "How could you not realize?"

"I wasn't paying attention!" I said helplessly, raising my arms up in a tacit sign of surrender. "I'm sorry if I offended you!"

"You did offend me," said Samus haughtily. "Everyone offends me here. This whole institution offends me." Her breathing slowed; she seemed to be calming down. "But I suppose I can forgive you. At least the person apologizing is a first."

I sat back on the bed and rubbed my temples, trying to soothe my newly developing migraine.

"I don't do that kind of thing," I said finally.

"What?" asked Samus sardonically, zipping up her bag with a little more force than necessary. "Drool over female body parts?"

"Yeah, that."

"You must not be a human male then. Or at least a straight human male." She paused, straightening up. "You are human, right? I just assumed..."

"I'm human," I confirmed. "The ears throw some people off. I'm of the Hylian race. But I'm human, yes, and not an elf."

"I wasn't going to suggest it," said Samus. "Elves make me think of short people and Santa Claus."

"Who's Santa Claus?" I asked.

"Never mind." She opened a drawer and slid a long silver needle out of it. "Sorry," she said apologetically when she saw the look on my face. "Standard regulations. I have to make sure you're nice and healthy. Needles don't freak you out, do they?"

"A little bit," I said truthfully.

Samus laughed as she pulled up my sleeve, her fingers cold as ice. "But you're a swordsman."

"It does sound ridiculous," I admitted. "But I just don't like the way they slide under your skin."

"Never thought you, Mister Triforce of Courage, would be afraid of anything," Samus teased.

"Courage isn't the lack of fear," I said. I heard my voice change, like I was reciting scripture. "It's strength in the face of it."

Samus gave me a weird look.

"Talked to Pit recently?" she asked. Something colder than her fingers touched my arm.

"Yeah, quite a bit, actually," I said as normally as I could. "We're friends." I mentally cringed at my boastful tone.

"How do you like him?" asked Samus casually. "He's sweet, isn't he?"

"Very."

"What are your other impressions?"

I thought about it, sorting through my mind. To tell the truth, there were many, many impressions of Pit. "He's funny without meaning to be, clever, and he's got a good heart. I like him. He's nice to me. Why are you asking?"

"Oh, I'm just distracting you as I put the needle in," said Samus cheerfully. She plucked it out of my arm again with the smallest pinprick of pain. "See? You barely felt it."

"What did you do?"

"I took some blood," said Samus bluntly. "Master Hand tests it to see if you have become immune to the healing stuff we use. If you have, you get a shot, and it breaks that immunity down. No big deal."

"Healing stuff?"

"Yeah, you know how you get a shot before each match?"

I nodded.

"That's the healing stuff," said Samus. "It makes your body resistant to attacks. That's why nobody ever gets hurt during matches. It's a little freaky. It wears off after a while, though, and sometimes your body gets immune to it, and that's when people get hurt."

Now that she was explaining it, I did recall hearing this topic raise several times during our lessons. I just never paid it any particular attention.

Changing the subject, I said, "Did you hear about that group thing Pit wants to start?"

Samus nodded as she tucked the syringe, its compartment now scarlet with my blood, out of sight.

"It's pretty stupid," she said. "Hand me that patch, would you?"

I did. "It's not stupid. It's nice."

"It might be nice, but it's stupid," said Samus, pressing the patch over the puncture mark on my arm. "Does he know the people around here? They're crazy. All of them." She sighed. "I just hope he doesn't go around putting up posters about it."

I felt a twinge of discomfort. If Pit made our group public, the others would just pick on him more. They might escalate to violence. And I couldn't always be around to defend him when that happened.

"I'll make sure he doesn't," I said. "I think it's more of a secretive thing. You know, we find someone crying the hallway and get them to spill about their problems, and then they can get help. I doubt we'll have meetings and stuff."

Samus shook her head. "I hope you're right." She zipped up her leathery bag and shoved it under the bed. "You're free to leave. If you're immune, we'll call you back for more shots. Okay?"

"Sounds good," I said, jumping off the bed. I bowed with flourish. "Until next time, my lady."

Looking amused, she extended her hand. I kissed it.

"Wow," said Samus, giggling. It seemed un-Samus-like for her to do. "I guess Hyrule has a few gentlemen after all."

"Maybe it has something to do with growing up next to a castle," I said.

Samus frowned. "I always mix the Links up. Are you the one who lived in the forest?"

"I believe you are thinking of my ancestor, Ocarina Boy."

"So you can't play the ocarina?"

"I can try," I said. "I hope you enjoy the sound of birds dying, because that's the only sound I can make with one."

"That's right," said Samus, smiling. "You're Wolf Boy."

"Yes, ma'am." I turned for the door. "See you later, Sam..."

"Us," said Samus, her eyes narrowing. "Samus. Don't ever, ever, ever curse me with that ridiculous nickname."

"I was getting to the 'us' part," I said.

"I thought you were leaving."

"I am. Quit distracting me."

Samus rolled her eyes. I turned back around, pushing the door open.

"Oh, and Link," she called.

I paused.

"Take care of Pit for me, okay?" Her voice was more serious than before, almost commanding.

"Of course," I said quietly, and left before she could ask me anything else.

I had never really had a friend at the Mansion before; Marth was apt to turn on me at a moment's notice, and therefore barely counted as an acquaintance, let alone a friend. But when I was with Pit, I was happy. I returned from his presence feeling lighthearted. I enjoyed being with him.

Mostly it was just the quirky personality. He loosened up after a while, and he became funnier each day. He laughed at nothing. I had never met someone who laughed simply for the pleasure of laughing, but Pit would laugh, listen to himself, and laugh again.

He saw beauty where others saw nothing.

"Look," he'd say, and stop walking.

"What?" I'd say.

He would point at something insignificant. Usually I wouldn't see it the first time. But when I finally did see it, whether it be a colorful beetle, a pretty golden weed, a dewy spiderweb, or maybe the fact that somebody had changed the color of their curtains, the sheer simplicity of every one of his 'Look's would amaze me.

And along with Pit, I also gained Samus as a friend. She wasn't stone-cold or impenetrable as many thought, but friendly and smart about all the right things. Sometimes she tagged along with Pit and I, but sometimes she'd disappear without a trace for hours on end. When I asked Pit why she always ran off, he shrugged and said, "That's just what Samus does. She likes being alone."

I wondered if I preferred solitude. After all, I had been isolated at the Mansion for a long time. But I guess that wasn't by choice.

"So when's our first meeting?" said Pit.

We sitting on our favorite stone bench on a chilly afternoon, watching a tiny bug Pokemon crawl up the nearest willow tree.

"Oh," I said. "I didn't know we would have meetings."

"You're silly," said Pit. "Of course we will. So when do you want to meet?"

I didn't answer him. I just watched the stupid bug fall off the tree and attempt to climb back up its mossy surface.

"Link?"

"I'm busy," I muttered, suddenly ashamed of myself. "I have fights a lot. Master Hand says I'm a crowd favorite."

"You have free days," Pit pointed out.

"I need them," I said, more sharply than I intended. "I'm tired a lot. I need to rest. I can't..."

We were silent then. Maybe Pit was angry with me. Maybe there was just nothing to say. Just when I thought I couldn't bear the silence, Pit broke it, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

"You don't have to come."

"Don't be ridiculous," I said.

"I mean it," said Pit. "If you think Project Flight is stupid, you can just tell me. I'm not going to kidnap you and force you to come." He inched closer. "You don't have to lie to me, Link."

The bug fell off again. I was amazed by its tenacity.

"I'm afraid they won't like it," I said, so quietly that I wasn't entirely sure if I was audible.

"Wasn't it you who told me not to care what they think?" Pit countered calmly.

"Those were just words," I said. I felt weird. I was a ticking time bomb. I was a pent-up disaster waiting to happen. I was a darker version of myself, kicking and screaming and clawing out of my own body. "I said that to comfort you. I didn't mean it."

Pit frowned. "Are you saying I should care about what the others think?"

I stood up, startling the bug; it went tumbling to the ground. "Yes! If you just ignore them, if you go around holding meetings and putting up posters – and – and whatever else you want to do, they're going to hurt you, do you understand me?" I was flinging the words viciously at him, throwing them like daggers. "They're going to rip your heart out and grind it into the ground! That's what bullies do, Pit! They kill you from the inside out!"

Pit's mouth opened slightly. He seemed shocked into silence.

"I don't want you to get hurt," I said, breathing hard. My voice lowered to a croak. "I couldn't stand it."

The silence rang. It was almost loud. I stood there, feeling like my voice, my thoughts, were raw and blistering. Leaves gently drifted down around us, having been knocked from their branch by a wild gesture I'd made. And Pit still didn't say a word, gazing at me with an unreadable expression.

"I'm sorry," I said in a more normal voice. "Really. Can we keep Project Flight as secret project? Please?"

Pit's voice was soft and even. "How will we help people if we don't spread the word?"

"I don't know," I said. I had no answers for anything. "We'll help people. I promise. But we can't just go around advertising. The hassling will just get worse."

"Sometimes sacrifices are necessary," said Pit, and he left me standing there in the middle of the clearing. The emptiness he left behind made my stomach clench, like someone punched me in the gut.

Slowly I bent down, picked up the persistent bug Pokemon in my arms, and set it on top of a stable branch.

"There," I told it. "You're welcome. But don't get used to it. There's not always going to be someone around to help you out."

It looked back at me with thankful, inquisitive eyes. All the answers I'd been missing.