The FINAL SIX HOURS
an interlude
based on The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask
The building foreman
Mutoh was not a man given to displays of emotion. The last time he'd cried was back when he was thirteen and he'd fallen and twisted his ankle running down steps. Even then the tears running down his face had shamed him more than the accident itself. Tonight, for the first time in decades, Mutoh felt like crying again.
Everything was going wrong. The festival tower would not be finished. The carnival was not going to happen. The snivelling cowards who 'worked' for him had turned tail and fled town. Now he was standing alone in the middle of the town square, which was all but devoid of life – a stray cat dashing between the shadows, a Deku scrubling staring zombie-like at the sky – with his back to the unfinished tower and his head thrown up to the cruel moon.
"If you're gonna fall, then fall already!" he shouted, waving an empty fist in the air.
Anger. Be angry at the moon, at the world. That was important. If he stopped being angry then despair would be all that was left and the tears would come.
"Go on! Kill me!" Even as the words left his mouth they turned hollow in the cool night breeze. "I dare you!" he began.
His words echoed down the silent streets, and an involuntary shiver went down his spine at the impossible quiet. There were no dogs barking mindlessly at the sound of his voice, no guards yelling at him to stop shouting like a madman in public, no angry sleepers woken by his cries. Was he really the only human being left in this godforsaken town?
The clock tower began to toll midnight in sonorous, ringing tones. The ground trembled, the moon inched closer, and the last cat in all of Clock Town scampered past, yowling in fear.
Mutoh looked into the moon's eyes and realised how small he was.
With one last look at the festival tower – forever incomplete – he turned and walked to the southern gate. Instinct told him to run as fast as he could. Reason told him there was no point running. Pride told him to hold his head high and walk out, even if his only audience was the sad little Deku scrub on the laundry steps. In the end he slumped out of town, head hung low, shoulders hunched and eyes on the ground.
Outside Clock Town the world was quiet too. The beasts and birds were gone, no doubt having fled as judgement neared. In the distance, he saw faint clusters of torchlight: the people of Termina attempting their own migration. The clouds that covered the sky were the colour of embers.
Without thinking twice Mutoh stepped out into the grass, raising his arms to either side, exploring the eerie sensation of being alone in the world. He closed his eyes, feeling the subtle wind play across his face, smelling the grassy fragrance of the field, listening to the sound of his own footsteps in a sea of silence.
Someone else's footsteps crunched across the grass. Mutoh's eyes snapped open, and looking to his side he saw a thin silhouette approaching in the distance. It waved in his direction.
"Who...?" he muttered.
As the figure drew closer Mutoh saw the glint of moonlight on metal, the spear clutched religiously in one hand. One of the town guards, then. The figure drew closer and Mutoh frowned. Not just any guard...
"Didn't expect to see you here on the outside, Mutoh," said Captain Viscen, his eyes obscured beneath the guard of his helmet. "Thought you'd be hanging on 'til the last."
The last time the two had talked had been in the Mayor's office, where they'd spent days butting heads with each other over whether a town evacuation was necessary. Mutoh's initial anger at seeing the town guard captain gave way to guilt as he realised he'd been wrong.
"I've been a damned idiot," he blurted before he could stop himself. "I told them not to panic. Don't panic! Dear gods..."
Viscen stared at him long and hard before speaking. "So you've finally opened your eyes to it?" His voice didn't sound cold like Mutoh had been expecting. It just sounded tired.
"Opened my... yeah. I was wrong. I see that now." Something about the look on the other's face made Mutoh's blood start to boil. "Fine. Fine! You were right! Happy now?"
The captain raised a warning hand. "I didn't want this to happen; just because you couldn't... no... no, don't." He shook his head and sighed. "I'm not spending the last few hours of my life arguing."
Mutoh started to speak and then the words 'last few hours' sunk in. His eyes went unwillingly to the moon. "That little time...?"
Viscen smiled grimly. "Life is unfair sometimes. Well... most of the time."
Mutoh forced a small laugh. "That it is, Captain."
"Please. Call me Viscen. It's not like ranks and titles are going to save us."
"Sure, why not?"
In silence the two men looked up at the falling sky.
"Hey, Viscen?" said Mutoh.
The other man shifted from one foot to the other. "Yes?"
"Why are you still here? I thought you'd left the moment the evacuation was called. You were the one telling everyone how they had to get out. What happened?"
A few minutes passed before Viscen replied.
"I was helping the last few people through the gates," he began. "There weren't any horses left by then, my men had taken most of them when they went. I was helping the last few people to leave town, pointing them in the direction of the highland caves and the Romani ranch. I told them to run as fast as they could. I watched them go, and I was going to follow them away from this forsaken place, too..."
"But then?" said Mutoh.
"But then I took one last look at Clock Town. Memory's sake, you know... I was born here, spent most of my life protecting the place... and I don't know. I just thought, is it worth it? Is it worth running? Even those people who are far away and lucky enough to survive the impact... what then? What would you do if you woke up tomorrow morning and," - he choked slightly - "and you were the last man on Termina?"
"Not worth it..." echoed Mutoh quietly.
"Exactly," said Viscen, his voice rising as if just hearing someone agree with him was invigorating his spirit. "Not worth it. I thought... I'm thinking, I might as well be here for it. Somewhere I know, somewhere I've lived my whole life, not out in the middle of nowhere running away from... well, from something that can't be run from, know what I mean?"
Mutoh nodded enthusiastically. "I completely get you. You don't want to be a coward. You want to stare death in the face."
"Yes, exactly. Exactly. I like that – 'stare death in the face'. That's exactly what I'm doing. I'm going to stand here, and... and I'm going to wait for it to fall, and whether or not I'm about to die I'm not turning my back."
"That's a damn good idea, Capt... Viscen. You know what? I think I'll stand here and wait with you."
Viscen turned to look at Mutoh, removing his helm et so that they were staring eye to eye. After a few seconds of thoughtful silence, he smiled grimly and stretched out a hand. "Your funeral, Mutoh; yours and mine."
Mutoh shook his hand firmly. "Can't believe we ever didn't get along," he grunted.
"Crises have a way of putting things in perspective," quipped Viscen. He tilted his head to one side, an idea occurring to him. "You thirsty?"
Mutoh smiled.
-oOo-
Moonset at the observatory
The astronomer was stargazing when he heard footsteps.
Slowly, he removed his eye from the end of the telescope, gently pushing the apparatus to the side. He turned towards the staircase, wondering who it could possibly be.
"A visitor at this time of night?" he said, speaking aloud out of habit.
From the top of the staircase a tiny boy tiptoed timidly into view. He was decked in the distinctive attire of the Bombers' gang: a white shirt with a wing motif on the breast, and a colourful headscarf (yellow in this case) fastened with a tight granny knot. His eyes darted left to right before noticing the astronomer, at which point he gasped audibly and took a little step back.
"He... hello?" the boy said.
"Hello," said the astronomer, smiling kindly. "Are you here all by yourself?"
"Well... well, yeah, actually I'm not supposed to be here, Jim told me to stay where I was and guard the secret passage... but the moon was really scary and I thought, let's go to the observatory and poke around." He pouted. "It's not like Jim cares where I am anyway. I don't think I'm even a real Bomber, I don't have a number or anything."
"Well, you are welcome to stay here," the old man replied. "There's chairs over in that corner if you want."
"Thanks!" chirped the kid, helping himself to a seat. He looked around, marvelling at the colourful décor. "Wow... I've never been up here before. Been to the basement plenty of times, but there's just old junk down there. It's... it's pretty cool up here." He nodded dramatically as if he'd just delivered the biggest compliment in all history.
The astronomer smiled and turned away, his eyes drifting to the globe sitting on a nearby stand, the one he'd been glancing at all evening. It was a map of the moon's surface which he'd started years ago, but tonight with the moon closer than ever before he was finding details in its pockmarks and craters that he'd never noticed before. He'd scribbled notes of the most interesting lunar features in his books, knowing full well that his hasty scrawls would mean nothing in a few hours' time.
With the steady patience of men his age, the astronomer put his eye to the telescope again, focusing it on a spot between the moon's eyes. The eyes were glowing as always, though now they seemed to be the light sources in the entire night sky. Perhaps the stars had gone out, or perhaps they were simply invisible in its wake.
"Are you looking at the moon?" said the Bomber curiously, then, without waiting for a response, "Why are you looking at it? Huh?"
"Why, because it's there," replied the astronomer.
If there was one thing he enjoyed about growing old, it was the right to be mysterious and cryptic as he liked without fear of reprisal.
A few seconds passed while the boy processed that. Then: "Aren't you scared of looking at it?"
He took some time composing his answer. "Well, it was a little scary at first, but just looking can't hurt us, can it? We might as well make the most of this opportunity."
"Uh... I guess..." In a flash the boy was out of his seat and next to the old man. "Can I have a look? Pleeeeease?"
"Why, of course," said the astronomer. He enjoyed having the Bomber children around – he liked to think that some of their vibrancy rubbed off on him. "Since you asked so politely..."
The Bomber boy watched reverently as he fiddled with the knobs on the side of the telescope, bringing the view piece down to a suitable height. He smiled – young or old, the telescope never failed to impress visitors.
As soon as it was ready the boy pressed his face up against the telescope, his mouth hanging open as he studied the image on the other end. "What's that? Where's the moon?"
"That is the moon," said the astronomer, reaching for the knob that controlled magnification. "Here, let me make it wider."
"Aha..." said the boy, eyes widening.
While the child was busy with the telescope, the astronomer gave the moon globe a casual spin, watching the face on one side appear and disappear, appear and disappear. It took a few minutes for it to fully come to a halt.
"Hey," said the boy, breaking the silence. "Um... can I ask you a question?"
"Why, of course."
"You're pretty old, aren't you?"
"Well... yes, I suppose so..."
"I heard that old people aren't scared of dying." He turned to look at the astronomer, bottom lip quivering. "Are you scared of dying?"
Sensing the child was in need of reassurance, the old man reached out and patted him gently on the shoulder. "Of course I am scared. It's perfectly all right to be scared. We don't know what dying feels like, or what it's like to be dead. Can you imagine, I mean really imagine, being here one moment and not the next? I know I can't. It's a scary thought, no doubt about it."
"You don't look scared."
"Neither do you." He gave an encouraging smile.
The Bomber smiled in return. "Thanks. Uh, by the way, you can have your telescope back. I don't think I want to look at... it any more." Pause. "Wow, can you imagine doing nothing but staring at that all day? Your job must be real tough."
"Tough?" said the astronomer. "Oh, not at all! Why, I have been enamoured with the stars and moon ever since I was a child. It's a blessing that I am able to spend my days gazing at it from here. This is..." he leaned in, whispering confidentially, "...the best job there is."
"Seriously? Wow, can I be an observatory guy too when I grow-" The boy paused, remembering something. "Wait, never mind. If we're all gonna die soon I guess there won't be time to do that..."
"Don't be so quick to give up hope. Perhaps that is the destiny the cosmos has assigned us, perhaps not. In a few hours we shall see if the moon finishes its descent."
The boy shivered. "I don't wanna die."
"What comes will come. Until then, don't worry about it."
"Then what do I do?"
The old man tugged at his beard thoughtfully. "Would you like me to show you how to be an astronomer?"
"You'd do that?" said the boy, eyes widening trustingly.
"Of course!" The astronomer patted the telescope. "What better way to spend the time? We'll have to be fast, though – in a few hours we will want to stop and watch it happen."
"How come?"
"Because," said the astronomer, "we will see something that nobody has ever seen before, or will ever see again: something unique."
"Is that good?" said the boy.
"To an astronomer it is the best thing in the world..."
-oOo-
The Great Faerie Fountain, Clock Town
Her eyes shoot open, orange pupils dilating.
Her tongue flicks out, tasting the magic in the air, savouring her own aura. Her body tingles with newly rediscovered energy. When the Deku child first woke her she was weak, but time has healed her wounds. Now she can sense it: her powers have returned.
She surveys her fountain. Like her, it is still being healed from the Skull Kid's attack a week and a half ago. Unlike her the damage was all superficial, and the scars on the walls and water have long since faded away at her direction, leaving nothing but black wisps of smoke to hint at the terrible power that Majora's Mask unleashed in this very fountain.
As for herself... she casts an inner eye over her physical body, which seems to have returned to its normal state of being. She is not truly a single entity: she is a collection of dozens of smaller faeries, bonded together with difficult magic that coalesces their power together and unites their senses of purpose into a single overriding consciousness. She looks inside herself, sees that all the individual pieces have recovered from the attack, and, satisfied, turns her eye to the outside world.
The streets of town are empty, she notes. Sad, but unsurprising. If she was not so tightly bound to this fountain, she too might have fled.
Further up, the Skull Kid is standing atop the clock tower, gradually pulling the moon closer. Left unchecked he will succeed, no doubt about it. Even she with all her knowledge cannot withstand such a devastating impact
What of the child?, she wonders, recalling the cursed boy who revived her. His soul was so strange, so unlike anything she has seen before. So innocent, yet so bitter. So young, yet so old. So much hope, yet so much despair.
Let us find him, she says, casting her hands out and closing her corporeal eyes. Let us find the child. Has he succeeded?
An ancient magic blooms from her finger tips, expanding from the spot where she reclines to the whole of Clock Town then beyond that to the farthest reaches Termina. As the spell travels it glances off the souls of the living and dead, tasting them and moving on, searching for that child's unique aura. It tastes people's everyday fears and worries, and the self-doubt that has crept into their souls. Much as she would like to blame that on the moon, she knows better – Termina lost all hope long before that accursed Mask mired its soil with its filth.
At long last the spell completes, wrapping around itself and taking form in reality. She reaches for its knowledge and asks a question. The child: is he safe?
The answer, when it comes, surprises her so much that her concentration slips long enough to break the spell. Surely that is impossible?, she says, recasting the spell. Yet no matter how many times she tries, it tells her the same thing: This is where the child is. This is where the child is. This is where the child is. This is where the child is. And this is where the child is.
She stares at it for a long time, comprehension blossoming like spring lilies.
I see, she says (and Great Faeries do not lie). I see.
She laughs as is her wont, throwing her head back and embracing the heavens with open arms.
It is over!, she cries, ecstatic with epiphany. It has yet to happen! It is a distant memory! It has only just begun!
The waters of the fountain ebb and flow with the thousand thoughts raging through her hive mind. The fountain itself becomes a part of her as she laments, celebrates, laments, celebrates. Long into the night she laughs, as the dozens of faeries that comprise her soul dance to the coming moon. They are still dancing as the moon falls.
How does it end?, they cry, revelling in not knowing. Does it?
-oOo-
A toast to Termina
"Funny how big it is," mused Mutoh between sips.
"What? The moon?"
"What did you think I was talking about? Yes, the moon. I never really realised how frickin'... huge it was 'til this week. Whaddaya think of that?"
Viscen shrugged. "Guess we always just took it for granted. Never paid it much mind." He brought the bottle to his lips and sniffed, savouring the aroma.
Mutoh noticed. "Oh, you're that kind of Chat. R. drinker?"
"There's only one way to drink it," grinned Viscen, pinching his nose and taking a huge gulp. "I'd have... wow... I'd have thought you'd know that, Mutoh."
If there was one past time Viscen allowed himself, it was this. Chateau Romani (Chat. R. to those too busy for extra syllables) wasn't so much a drink as a delicacy. Produced only at one small property in the south west, it had to be aged for several years before one could fully appreciate the subtleties of its palate. Not to mention that unlike alcohol-based drinks, Chat. R. had side effects including sharper reflexes and improved concentration. No wonder so many people hoarded it like sin.
"Never drank that much of the stuff." Mutoh grinned, patting his sizeable belly. "I prefer blowing my wages on food."
"Heh. Hey... that's what I should've done..."
"What?"
"Some sort of 'last meal' thing, you know? I hear everything tastes twice as good when you're about to die."
"Oh, really?" Mutoh raised his eyebrows. "Well, it's a pity we'll never know, then."
Viscen laughed, pointing towards town. "We could always pop in and see if anyone left any food lying around. It'll be gone soon enough; no one'll miss it..."
Mutoh mock gasped. "I don't believe it. You, the captain of the town guard, are suggesting we head into town and loot for food? What is this world coming to?"
Viscen laughed too, draining the rest of his bottle. "Okay, you've got me there." He stared at the empty bottle, frowning. "What do you think – hang on to this?"
"What, that?" said Mutoh, nodding at the bottle. "Empty bottles are useless, just toss it away... unless you're afraid you're gonna arrest yourself for littering..." He laughed loudly at his own joke.
Discarding the bottle with a quick underarm, Viscen reached for the crate at his feet and pulled out another. "I was saving all these for a rainy day, but now's as good as ever, know what I mean?"
"Oh, 'course," said Mutoh with conviction. "I needed the kick. Wouldn't want to be asleep when it happens."
Viscen laughed, pulling the cork stopper from the bottle. "You know what? We're going to be the last people to see Clock Town. Ever."
"Yeah," said Mutoh, the thought seeming to strike a chord with him. "Yeah, we are. Isn't that something?"
"Isn't it. I wonder what our ancestors would have said, the ones who built this town, if they knew it was going to end like this."
"They'd have probably said, screw it, let's build it anyway." Mutoh paused, raising a finger. "At least, if they were the kind of ancestors I hope we had."
"Hear, hear!" Viscen laughed again, then glanced at his bottle. "This deserves a toast."
"You think?" Mutoh rubbed his chin and nodded. "Sure, why not?" He raised his bottle. "To Clock Town?"
"Nah. To Termina," said Viscen, staring thoughtfully at the moon, beautiful and terrible testament that it was to mortality.
"I can one-up that," said Mutoh with a grin. "To everything."
Viscen rolled his eyes. "Are we even allowed to do that?"
"Since when were there rules for this kind of thing?"
"Okay, then." Viscen raised his Chateau Romani solemnly. "To everything."
A clink of glass on glass. A pair of long, relished sips. The two men remained standing where they were, alone in the silent land of Termina, watched only by the setting moon.
CYCLE 0: CLAUSTROPHOBIA
The FINAL SIX HOURS
A/N: To those of you wondering what I meant by 'stall for time'... now you know. The idea for this interlude first occurred to me as I was writing the second chapter where Link and Tatl visit the Mayor's Office. By the time I got up to this stage in the story, I'd already amassed a collection of equally interesting minor characters.
(Fun fact: according to the game, the astronomer's name is Shikashi. Not so enigmatic now, are you?)
I love - well, really like - writing about minor characters (surprise?). They're underrepresented in fanfiction, which is a huge pity because many of them are worthy of stories in their own right. Throw in a game where the world is ending and every single character is undergoing record levels of stress and I can't understand why I haven't run into a billion oneshots in this vein already. Anyway, this was fun, and unless I'm flamed mercilessly there will probably be another one of these. Or four.
Anyway... next chapter: does the world blow up? Does everybody die? Is Ganondorf then like "well now I guess I can get the Triforce now muahahaha"? Or, does something else happen? If you're an incredibly bad guesser, I guess you'll just have to wait and see!
