(—that tries to hide behind the smoke)
A/N: added to the playlist this chapter: bring it back to me by martin luke brown
Eijiro wishes he could say he leaves soon after that. He knows how long it takes to complete shrines, generally, and he can't really afford to linger just because he's comforted by the presence of other people. He knows he has to get a move on.
But, yeah, that's not what happens.
It takes a few minutes to stop chatting with Hirooki, and then, of course, upwards of an hour to finish the trial hidden in Ha Dahamar Shrine. And after that, he knows he should set off, but he figures the smart thing is to catch a wild horse and register it at the stable, first. After all, travel will be a lot faster with a horse, so this will save him time in the long run.
The problem he wasn't foreseeing is that he doesn't know how to catch a wild horse, and it turns out a few tips from the guy who runs the stable did not make him an expert. The horses are all skittish—way more skittish than he accounted for. That probably was true for wild horses at the best of times—but it's probably way worse, now, with the countryside they roam being littered with way more monsters and dangers than it ever used to be.
Or maybe he's just making excuses, because it takes him over an hour to catch a single horse. They stick together in small groups, presumably for safety, and several times he gets close to one, only for another to spook and send them all running. Most of the time, he doesn't even get that close, though. Twice he manages to get on a horse, only for the animal to then buck him right back off.
It also doesn't help that he lets himself get distracted and sidetracked often, catching just about any bug or small creature he spots, now that he knows they're useful. Several times he'll forget all about the horses he's trying to sneak up on, just to grab a lizard or cricket that darts across his path. It's not long before one of the compartments of his bag ends up loaded with dragonflies and frogs and tons of other potential elixir ingredients.
He's battered and disheveled from being bucked off of horses' backs by the time he finally pinpoints one, just far enough from the rest of its small herd to be easy to approach. And she actually seems to be strong, healthy, and built for speed—he's not sure how he knows, but he must have spent enough time around horses before, that he can tell from watching for a minute or so if a horse would be reliable for travel or battle. This one has a deep, reddish-brown coat and a white mane, and he can tell already that she's probably one of the most reliable wild horses he's laid eyes on today.
This one, finally, he manages to vault himself onto the back of and hold on tight, clinging and desperately trying to soothe the horse until she finally calms enough to accept his presence.
It's somewhere around half past four in the afternoon when he finally rides up to the stable, exhausted and harried but triumphant as he announces his horse's name as Riot and waits for them to outfit her with a saddle and reins once they've registered her.
He'd like a few more minutes to take a breather after the effort that went into the near two hours he spent chasing horses and bugs alike, but he's wasted enough time. He stays still long enough to feed Riot a couple of apples from his bag in attempt to win her over, and then he's swinging up into the saddle and urging her north, down the road to Kakariko Village.
Within five minutes of riding, Eijiro can tell he's made a good choice—or, got lucky with which horse he was able to get alone, more like. Either way, he picks up quickly on the fact that Riot has remarkable endurance, and that she's faster than most of the horses he'd seen so far, too. If he can get her to warm all the way up to him, the extra time spent falling on his ass trying to catch a horse might turn out to have been a more than worthwhile investment.
The first leg of the ride goes fantastic—better than fantastic. Riot travels so much faster than Eijiro could, of course, and the road to Kakariko is completely clear of monsters. And from Riot's saddle, Eijiro can't really give into the temptation to snatch up any mushroom or herb he sees growing along the side of the road. Not as easily, at least.
He closes half the distance left to Kakariko in what feels like no time, flying past the scenery at a gratifying pace with hardly any stops. The sun has dipped below the horizon, though the sky still clings to as much of the daylight as it can, before something finally grinds his progress to a halt.
There's… well, he doesn't know what to call it, up ahead. It looks like a round little tree on legs. It looks like a huge, fat Korok. The creature—he's guessing it must be a Korok, albeit a particularly massive one, bigger than fifteen or twenty normal Koroks all put together—has the same light wooden skin, and a massive leaf around its nose that almost resembles a beard as well as some impressive eyebrows that look like carved wood protruding from its face. He also carries a satchel that, Eijiro realizes as he gets closer, is of the same material and make as the enchanted bag that had once been Izuku's.
Eijiro remembers what the first Korok had said—that the seeds were for Hestu, who Eijiro wouldn't be able to miss. You'll know him when you see him, were the spirit's exact words. This… was a pretty distinctive Korok. Eijiro pulls the reins to get Riot to stop before the Korok, who stands just to the side of the road, looking… well, he thinks he looks sad, maybe?
It's hard to read the expressions and body language of the forest spirits, since their faces are just leaves that don't really shift much from expression to expression, but he does look a little slumped over and unsure, Eijiro thinks, as he slides out of Riot's saddle to talk to the large spirit. He doesn't even get a word out before the Korok is straightening up in surprise.
"Shalaka?!" the thing says, incomprehensibly. Eijiro blinks, but before he can form a response, the Korok is continuing in his high-pitched voice, "You! You can see me?!"
"Uh… well, yeah," Eijiro responds, scratching at the back of his neck. When he opens his mouth to ask if this guy is, in fact, Hestu, the Korok throws his stubby wooden arms up in delight and interrupts Eijiro with a bizarre little song made up of similarly incomprehensible syllables.
"It's been a hundred years since anyone has been able to see me!" the Korok announces, upon completion of his odd little song. "I'm Hestu, and I need your help!"
Well—that solves that mystery. Eijiro doesn't even blink at the way the Korok just assumes, immediately, that he's able and willing to help. Mostly because he is both of those things.
"Those monsters over there stole my beloved maracas!" Hestu says, slumping over sadly with a gesture much farther up the road, apparently not particularly invested in giving Eijiro time to get a word in. There are no monsters in sight where he'd gestured, but Eijiro's sure he'll run into them when he gets that far. "I think they're still there on the other side of those rocks up the hill."
Eijiro nods firmly, still trying to make out where 'those rocks' are, if not where the monsters themselves are, when Hestu says something that instantly catches Eijiro's interest.
"I can't use my powers without them. Shoko..." Powers? He's got powers? Maraca powers? Eijiro wants to see what that looks like. "So please! Please get my maracas back from them."
"Of course," Eijiro says, because it's not like he hasn't already fought monsters nearly every step of this trip. And with how much time he saved riding Riot instead of walking, he can afford the delay and still make it to Kakariko at a reasonable time. Not that he would have been able to leave this dude hanging without feeling unbearably guilty and turning back to help, anyways.
"Sha-shaka!" Hestu sing-songs, probably as thanks? Eijiro has just resigned himself to never having any idea what's happening when he's talking to Koroks.
Swinging himself back up into Riot's saddle, Eijiro coaxes her forward at a trot. For the most part, the right of the path is open to the air, the ground falling away at a steep incline, but after about five minutes of riding, the path starts to close up ahead.
He knew it would eventually—he remembers, somehow, that Kakariko is nestled in the mountains, the path a fairly level road that had been worn through the steep hills and mountains of the area. Even if he doesn't ever remember coming to Kakariko before, he's got enough knowledge of the landscape that he thinks he probably must have. So it's not a surprise when the road curves into the hills, natural walls forming on either side of the path.
And there—just as the hill forms its steep cliff as a wall on the right side of the path, there's an opening. It seems open on the other side, so it's not quite a cave, though it's got a roof in the form of a boulder that must have lodged itself at the top of the opening at some point. But Eijiro guesses the rocky slopes are what Hestu meant when he said the other side of those rocks.
Climbing off of Riot, Eijiro moves around in front of the mare, running a hand soothingly down her face and receiving a gentle headbutt to the chest in response.
"Stay here a few moments, okay?" he requests, though he knows she's not likely to understand him. Still, he pulls an apple out of his bag as a bribe and lets her munch on it, hoping it will at least endear him to her enough to keep her here waiting for him, in hopes of getting more apples out of him.
With that, he turns to the natural archway, draws his sword, and gets ready to go to work.
The worst part about this is that it should have been so easy.
It was only three bokoblins—sure, their fur had turned blue with maturity, so they were generally stronger and more intelligent than the red ones he's encountered more often so far, but he fought a few already just on the way here! Several monster camps he's fought had five or six bokoblins, even if most of them were still young and red-furred.
He's already fought enemies stronger than this, this should not have been a problem for him.
And for a second, he really believed it wouldn't be. He dispatched the first of the three before the group even realized he was on them, and turned to the others without much concern. Sure, it was two on one, and there wasn't much room to maneuver in this pocket between the hills and the cliffside down, but he'd thought he'd had it.
That's when it happens—the bokoblin wielding a spear lunges for him. It drives its spear downwards over its head and Eijiro tries to twist out of the way, but he just—he just screws up. His foot gets caught in a dip in the ground, his ankle twisting painfully as he dodges away, and in the moment of indignation and incredulity that he'd made such a rookie slip-up, the other bokoblin strikes.
Eijiro sees the boko bat swinging towards his face a split-second too late, and his ankle buckles when he tries to stagger back. He doesn't get out of the way fast enough, and the bat comes slamming into his temple at almost full force. For a hot second, Eijiro sees stars, falling onto his ass hard. Dazed, he tries to blink the starbursts of color out of his vision, wincing as the bokoblin that just landed a hit roars at him.
He barely rolls out of the way of the next strike, and for a brief second the quick motion makes him so dizzy he thinks he'll fall over, but it's not exactly an option. Fuck, he has to end this now.
Eijiro swings the flat of his blade at the legs of the nearest bokoblin. With a yelp, the thing's legs are swept out from under it, and it drops. Eijiro doesn't wait for an invitation as he lunges forward, flipping the blade down to impale the creature.
Its last living companion is already brandishing its spear, so Eijiro doesn't bother to dislodge the sword. He vaults over the body and throws himself into a clumsily-executed roll on the other side to buy some distance—and, fuck, his head hates that, oh, Gods, he might hurl. He unslings his bow from his back as he comes up from the roll, arrow drawn, nocked, and loosed almost immediately.
His arrow hits right between the last bokoblin's eyes, and it falls atop the last one with little ceremony.
Eijiro drops more gently—his head is screaming at him, and it's been jostled enough, so he lets himself flop down onto the grass beside the monsters' campfire slowly. Lifting a hand to his head, he whines. Not only is a nasty bump already forming, but there's a gash there as well, and Eijiro has a sick feeling in his gut.
The bokoblins are already starting to disappear, leaving him the only one sprawled out in his misery—whatever they are, this is the main thing that's always set them apart from the other creatures that roam Hyrule.
They're not made of anything substantial, apparently, possibly or even probably created entirely from the same Malice that had distorted All for One into the Calamity it is today. And since they aren't natural beings, having only Malice holding them together, as soon as they're slain they just—turn into an awful sludgy smoke and dissipate like they were never there. Apart from some stronger and older ones, who have parts that stubbornly cling to existence. Fangs, horns, maybe a heart from time to time, which, ew.
He knows all this, without remembering having learned it, just like he knows how to fight. Or, at least, is supposed to. That was so stupid. It was just three blue bokoblins. How can he not even handle three blue bokoblins?
Frustration swirls around in his chest, and he grits his teeth. He wants to scream. He should be better than this. How can—how can he even hope to help Katsuki and Izuku if he gets his ass kicked this easily? Fuck—they need him, and they've been fighting the entire Calamity for a century, and he can't even—he can't even hold his own for a few days against weak enemies. Gods, he hopes Katsuki can't see him right now. With all of his heart, he desperately hopes it.
He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his hands to them so hard he sees bursts of color behind his eyelids, in attempt to block out the light from the campfire that's agitating his budding headache.
Gods, he hopes the chest the bokoblins had kept up on a platform at the back of their camp holds the maracas. If they're not even here, he's gonna scream.
But quietly. In his head. So he doesn't make his headache any worse.
Eijiro's headache is absolutely killing him, and he is, in a word, miserable.
Hestu had been so happy to see his maracas, it honestly made everything worth it. The problem was Hestu had been very vocal about his appreciation. The happy yelling and singing had been bad enough. The maraca-ing, once the two had discovered the seeds Eijiro had been gathering from the Koroks that dotted nearly every inch of Hyrule were actually stolen from inside Hestu's maracas and would need to be returned, was kind of worse.
Eijiro hadn't raised a complaint, though. Partially because he wasn't heartless enough to ruin Hestu's joyful new mood, and also because he used his maraca powers to make Eijiro's new bag even bigger. He's not sure how much more he can stuff in there now, but he thinks he'll be excited to find out once he's recovered a little.
For now, he's tired and miserable as he continues up the road, keeping Riot at a slower pace to keep from bouncing his head around too much. For the first time since leaving the plateau, anxiety gnaws at him more than impatience as he thinks about his destination.
It's not particularly late—maybe around seven, if he were to guess—and he knows he could make it to Kakariko within the hour. Maybe even within half an hour if he really pushed it, which he doesn't think he has it in him to do. But the thought fills him with apprehension and—and something almost like shame, he thinks, as he considers it. He swallows, shifting in the saddle uncomfortably.
Inko had said that Aizawa had been an advisor to Katsuki. He'd—he'd been around one hundred years ago, and must have known about the plan for Eijiro to return. He was supposed to have advice for Eijiro, to help him help Katsuki and Izuku, but—
But how can Eijiro ride into a town where they know him, where they're expecting such important things from him, looking like this? He doesn't want to limp into town with a shoddily-bandaged gash on his head, looking half-dead on his feet. That's not—that won't—he doesn't want to let them down.
He doesn't want to hobble into town, wincing every step, and be told—oh, sorry. You're in no shape to do this. I can't believe we waited one hundred years for this. Don't worry, though, we'll find someone else to handle it.
He needs—he has to help Katsuki. He can't let someone else keep fighting this battle for him—like Izuku had to, just because he was another chosen of Farore. And he definitely doesn't want to ride into town and disappoint people who expected him to be the hero they'd waited so long for.
Just the thought of going into the village like this nearly paralyzes him. He just—he just needs a good night's sleep, maybe; some time for the wounds to heal a little, or at least be somewhat less fresh when he gets there. He knows part of his dragon ancestry left him with the ability to heal faster than most people, at least he might be able to hide the pain in his ankle after a rest, and the swelling on his head might have gone down.
Yeah—yeah, that sounds like a better idea. The part of him that's been so frustrated with his slow progress at least quiets down, just a little, for once. It's just… it's just one night, and if the result is that no one has to know how much weaker he is than he should be, it's worth it.
He doesn't know where else might be safe to stop, secluded from the road and tucked away, so Eijiro climbs off of Riot where the monster camp he'd cleared out for Hestu was, coaxing her through the archway to where the camp rests. The campfire the monsters had set is down to embers at this point, but that'll be easy enough to fix.
Eijiro goes about setting up camp, rekindling the fire, and roasting some low-effort dinner with as much laziness as he can manage. If he can cut a corner, he does. All he cares about is not making his ankle or head worse, getting a full stomach in hopes that'll give him some extra energy for healing, and knocking the fuck out.
The process is maybe twenty minutes at most, and the soft grass beside the fire is so much more comfortable than the cold stone he'd slept on last night. If not for the headache still pulsing mutedly behind his temple, he might consider this downright blissful.
He feels like there's something he's supposed to keep in mind, something important, but he's too exhausted and frustrated to bother. Drifting off quickly, he figures he'll remember in the morning if it matters. And then he's out.
…—up already, asshole! Come on. Gods, you lazy—wake up, fucker!
Eijiro groans, turning his head as if to burrow it into the soft grass it's pillowed on, like that can muffle Katsuki's voice harassing him. Exhaustion blankets over him heavily, and the only thing even vaguely resembling a thought in his head is the desire to go back to sleep. His body feels like it's made of lead and his eyes might as well be welded shut—it'd be so easy to drift off again, if not for the voice still pressing insistently at the edges of his mind.
Ei, come on, we don't have time for this. Get ready.
An exhausted, pathetic huff escapes Eijiro in his irritation, his whole body tensing like if he curls in on himself enough he can block out any semblance of consciousness and go back to sleep, before falling slack in resignation, his eyes blearily cracking open.
And—oh, fuck.
He's surrounded by red. Fuck, when he blinks his eyes a little farther open, the whole sky glows with it.
All for One's getting stronger, asshole—he gets too fucking powerful during the blood moon. Which is right fucking now, by the way, which you'd notice if you would get the hell up.
The fucking blood moon! Shit, Hirooki had even warned him, and he still—he still went to sleep in a monster camp. In a split-second, panic pumps enough adrenaline into his veins that moving suddenly doesn't seem like such a monumental effort as he scrambles to his feet.
Finally, fuck. For the first time, he notices how panicked Katsuki had sounded, only in its absence as relief colors his tone instead. You've only got about a minute. All for One uses the peak of the blood moon to bring its fucking cannon fodder back—be careful, dumbass, your ass is about to be surrounded.
Any lingering anger at having been woken up so rudely—and with so many insults, which, rude—evaporates instantly as it sinks in that Katsuki probably just saved his life. He draws his sturdiest sword and experimentally puts some weight on his bad ankle, which, ow, fuck, still hurts, but it's better off than it was earlier and he thinks he'll be able to move on it if he's careful.
"Thanks," he says, hoping Katsuki can hear him, as he readies his stance. Before his eyes, cinders of murky black Malice start rising off of the ground, drifting through the air all around. He doesn't even think he's ever seen the substance except when monsters first fade into clouds of it and dissipate—but now it hangs heavy all throughout the air, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.
Gaze analytical, he watches some of the Malice in the air swirl together in three different places around the campfire, merging into murky clouds that start to take on the shape of the bokoblins he'd handled earlier.
His sword is swinging for the nearest bokoblin almost before it begins forming, and he settles in for a fight.
It's over fast. Maybe he accounted better for his ankle this time, or maybe he's finally used to not fighting at full strength, or maybe it's as simple as this time he was lucky and last time he wasn't—whatever the case, it's only a couple minutes before he's standing triumphant again, this time without any more injuries to show for it.
Heaving slightly, he sheathes his sword and edges away from the monsters that had very nearly ambushed him in his sleep. As far as he knows, the whole monsters rising from the dead thing only happens once, at midnight, and won't be happening again until the next blood moon—that said, he honestly does not want to take his chances. Even if the heavy presence of Malice clouding the air has finally dissipated.
He doesn't think he can comfortably sleep next to this fire anymore anyways, without paranoia keeping him awake for hours.
"Hey..." he speaks into the night, still breathless from exertion as his eyes flick vaguely skyward, sort of in the direction of Hyrule Castle, though the hills block his view. "I don't… uh, I don't know if you heard me before, but I mean it. Thank you. I—you probably saved my life."
He waits, eyes searching the righted sky, like the returned navy and the light of the stars can somehow provide him with a view of Katsuki. When no response comes, Eijiro feels his expression grow pinched, and he sighs as he drops his gaze to the grass.
He's… tired. Frustrated. He's only gotten four hours of sleep, his ankle still aches, his head still pulses and sends waves of nausea through him if he moves it too quickly, and he just wants to hear Katsuki's voice again. It's all he has of him at this point—he can't even remember a face to put to it. To say he's in a miserable mood would be an understatement.
Riot still hasn't settled down where he'd had her tethered near the archway, a distressed whinny snapping him out of his disheartened ruminating, and he approaches her carefully, still unsteady on the injured ankle. The mare rears back on her hind legs, braying—being startled awake by reforming monsters and a sudden fight had clearly been just as upsetting for her, and Eijiro can hardly fault her.
"Hey, hey, sh-sh-sh-sh, it's okay, girl," he soothes, hands raised placatingly as he stays out of reach of her hooves. The last thing he needs after surviving those monsters twice is for his own horse to brain him less than an hour from Kakariko Village. Continuing to make soothing noises, he inches closer, digging around in his bag for one of his last apples. "Sorry, Riot, it's okay now, hey, hey, calm down."
Even once he's brandished the apple, waving it before her temptingly, it's a few moments before he can get her settled enough that it's safe to get closer. His free hand strokes comfortingly down the line of her nose and over her neck as he feeds her the apple, and it's another minute of murmured words and gentle strokes before she's genuinely more calm.
He gets another headbutt to the chest, but this time it feels more scolding than affectionate, which he figures is fair.
With a sigh, Eijiro unties her lead from the tree just on the inside of the natural rock arch, and coaxes her through the opening back to the road. He feels even worse about going to Kakariko now, grumpy in the middle of the night, with his ankle and head still hurt, but even if he won't go all the way to the Sheikah village he at least wants to get a decent distance away from here. He's not going to be able to get any more much-needed rest, otherwise.
Pulling himself up and into the saddle, to get weight off his leg, Eijiro urges Riot forward at a slow pace. He only rides two or three minutes, just enough to be out of sight of the archway, and then he finds a curve in the winding, steep walls of the mountain pass to settle himself and Riot into.
It's not nearly as sheltered, but he's exhausted, and it'll do. Curled up as comfortably as he can get, Eijiro pillows his head on the warm doublet Inko had given him and lets himself drift off into a restless sleep for the rest of the night.
The morning's still fresh by the time Eijiro wakes up, groggy and still wishing for a few more hours of sleep. All told, though, he'd already gotten at least nine hours, even if the break in the middle did him no favors, and he doesn't want to risk sleeping out in the open for any longer.
His ankle is still stiff, but no longer painful as long as he's careful about putting his weight on it, and when he gingerly touches at his temple he discovers the bump has gone down significantly, even if the gash there hasn't quite healed. It's fine. It's better than arriving in the haggard state from last night, at least.
He sets off quickly, only stopping once along the way when he comes across a small waterfall feeding into a little pool beside the road. He wades in and washes up somewhat, cleaning up his appearance as best he can in the cold mountain water, pulling his hair back into a ponytail, and then carrying on once Riot's drunk her fill.
The roads of the pass open into the sheltered valley that houses Kakariko abruptly. If not for the wooden gates that the Sheikah had constructed further along the road, there would have been no warning that the steep, closed walls of the road were about to split off.
Eijiro pulls on Riot's reins, coaxing her to a stop at the entrance to the village, on the railed pathway that overlooks the entirety of the settlement. Kakariko is a sleepy little village, safely ringed in by the walls of the mountains on all sides, and something about the cluster of houses with their curved thatch roofs brings him no small measure of comfort. The last of his bad mood seeps away, his eyes drinking in this proof that some things have survived the Calamity with eagerness.
There's an elderly woman resting beside a tree a little ways along the road, who greets Eijiro warmly, pulling herself to her feet with some effort. She apologizes for letting him see her in her current state, explaining that she's twisted her ankle—"It happens to the best of us," Eijiro's quick to tell her, the irony not lost on him—and then he's sliding off of Riot to offer to let the woman ride his horse back to her house, to keep the weight off her ankle. She's mid-sentence thanking him when her eyes land on the Sheikah Slate on his hip, and her eyes widen.
When she asks where he got it, Eijiro barely even starts to explain before she's grabbing Riot's reins, nodding in apparent understanding and insisting he get to Aizawa's home immediately. She promises to board his horse for him at the inn, so long as he hurries to the large house below Lantern Falls, across the village, because the Sheikah have been waiting for him for a long time.
As she pulls herself into the saddle, she implores him one more time to hurry to Aizawa, before surprising him with a heartfelt declaration that she's honored to meet him, though she thinks he's probably used to hearing that. He's not, and he doesn't know what to say—but he doesn't get the chance to say anything before she urges Riot on down the road, apparently intent on not keeping him any longer.
It's still fairly early, maybe not much after eight, but the village already maintains a constant, if slow and sparse, press of activity—a couple of kids are strewn along the main road, as well as a girl around his age who's just settling in to stand outside what looks like a shop, and Eijiro passes by a farmer hard at work in a pumpkin patch.
Everyone he passes eyes him as he makes his way down the road, most with curiosity and some with suspicion, but every once in a while someone's eyes will drop to the slate at his hip and their eyes will widen, expression shifting quickly to awe. Flustered, Eijiro averts his gaze and quickens his pace.
Aizawa's home is pretty hard to miss, built high on stilts over an island that sits at the foot of several waterfalls, in the protective curve of one of the steep valley walls. There's one important-looking set of stairs that leads up to the raised balcony that wraps around the house, with a gate that arches over the foot of the stairway.
The two men standing guard just beside the gate instantly drop into defensive stances when they realize he means to make for the gate, and Eijiro lifts his hands placatingly, letting out a startled, "Um," but the motion draws their eyes to where his hands had been resting. More specifically, to the Sheikah Slate.
Both men gasp, and then apologies are tumbling from their lips as they straighten their stances, moving aside to usher him through. Eijiro can't even get more than a few words out to try and reassure them of no harm, no foul, without them insisting he go on ahead and assuring him that they've heard all about him from Aizawa.
It's kind of overwhelming. He doesn't know what he expected, but it wasn't for people to all recognize him on sight and treat him so—so—important. Being told they're honored to meet him and have heard legends about him—it's a lot.
It makes him feel exposed as he makes his way up the stairs, each step feeling too loud—like anyone in the village could look over and see him at any moment, and maybe come to the conclusion that he's some sort of huge deal.
He keeps his eyes on his feet as he climbs, just in case, because he's not sure how he's gonna handle it if he makes eye contact with one more awestruck Sheikah, until he's finally near the top of the staircase. His eyes lift, and Eijiro blinks at the sight that greets him—there's a little girl, maybe six or so, sitting on her knees, several pieces of colored chalk scattered in front of her. She's got long white hair characteristic of the Sheikah, and a very concentrated look on her little face as she draws on a pillar just left of the patterned double doors to the building with a piece of yellow chalk.
The second to last step creaks under Eijiro's foot, and the girl gasps and startles, whipping to look at him with wide, red eyes. She drops the piece of chalk in the process, and Eijiro leans quickly to catch it when it rolls towards him, so that it doesn't fall off the edge of the deck.
"Sorry, sorry!" he says, gently, giving her his widest, friendliest smile. She still looks alarmed as she stares at him, so he doesn't move too close when he climbs the final two steps, crouching just on the edge of arm's reach to hold out the piece of chalk. "I didn't mean to scare you! Wasn't trying to be sneaky."
Her eyes, still wide, flick from the piece of chalk to his face a few times, and her hands clasp tightly at the hem of her tunic instead of moving to take it back from him. Now he feels really guilty, and his smile turns apologetic as he carefully sets the piece of chalk down halfway between them. Still hoping to put her at ease, he turns his head instead to examine her handiwork.
It's crude in the usual way little kids' drawings are, but it's colorful and cute, and there are five figures all scrawled along the deep brown pillar. Four of them are all holding hands—one he imagines is the little girl herself, since the white-haired figure is so small compared to the others, which include a taller white-haired figure and two more yellow-haired, adult-sized figures, all of them in the approximate colors of Sheikah clothing. The fifth figure is above, with long blue hair and big blue wings.
He lets out a low whistle, curious what the scene represents.
"That's really cool," he tells her earnestly, jerking a thumb towards the drawing as he continues to squat just before her, expression open and, hopefully, reassuring. "Do you live here?"
She still doesn't answer him, biting her lip, but after a moment she gives a small nod and leans forward cautiously to grab the piece of chalk. The motion causes some of her hair to fall into her face, and as it falls forward he notices something peeking through the white locks—a tiny, pale horn.
"Hey, nice horn! Wanna see something cool?" he asks her, beaming, before he hardens scales around the top of his head, red dragonscales curling around his temples and along his hairline as two small, draconic horns peak out of his hairline in similar places to hers. "I can have 'em, too! Horn buddies! I'm Kirishima Eijiro, it's nice to meet you."
Something about the phrase, horn buddies, it sends a pang of—of something through him, something soft and nostalgic, but before he can examine the feeling, the little girl's eyes are widening once more, her eyes flicking from his horns, to his hair, to the slate on his hip before her mouth falls open into a tiny little o.
Great. Even the little kids know who he is here. That's gonna take some getting used to.
She keeps staring at him, clutching her piece of chalk tightly in her hand, and Eijiro sighs when he realizes he's probably not gonna coax any words out of her. With one more smile sent her way, he rocks back on his heels before standing, giving her a little wave. "Well, I'm gonna go inside now, okay?"
She nods again, which he'll take as the biggest victory he's gonna get, and then Eijiro turns to the double doors, taking a deep breath before placing his hands on them and pushing them both open at once.
Inside is a large, open hall, with several cushions lined up in rows for many people to sit at, and across the room rests a very haggard-looking man. At first, Eijiro thinks he's asleep, but when he takes a couple steps into the hall, the man—Aizawa, probably—speaks without even opening his eyes.
"So, you're finally awake."
Slowly cracking an eye open, the Sheikah shifts forward in his seat with all the zeal of a man still mostly asleep.
"It's been a long time, Kirishima Eijiro."
find me on tumblr at belladxne!
eri voice Do You Have Games On Your Sheikah Slate?
anyways so uhh... y'all hear abt destiel? the news dropped like the instant i finished this chapter and my brain was too fucking melted to edit properly, so shout out ig
i'd love to hear any thoughts you guys have on this!