"What are you doing here Link‽"

Link froze in the doorway, staring at the broad back that faced him. He could just make out two little feet draped over the man's left arm. He took a step.

"IRRESPONSIBLE!" the man roared. "Tell me: what do you think is going to happen to Hyrule if the Chosen Hero perishes from a common sickness?" He coughed severely. "You never took your duty seriously. Even after all these years you have no concept of what it takes to be the Hero of Hyrule—of sacrifice, of duty! NONE!"

Bristling, Link took another step.

"LEAVE!" The arm that had been cradling those small, familiar feet grabbed a claymore and held it outstretched. The feet, the slender little legs they were attached to went slack. "Your duty is to Hyrule! Your family is all the people of Hyrule! An old knight and his ailing daughter are nothing compared to—" He coughed again, then returned his claymore to its threatening stance. "Link. I will not say it again: Leave. You have no business here."

His eyes fixed on the legs, the feet. Watching for movement. Praying for signs of life.

A tiny little cough.

"LEAVE!" The little body was left on the bed as the man turned to Link, his large frame nearly filling the modest home. He swung down with his heavy sword, forcing Link to dodge back out of the house. The wooden door slammed shut. "Forget about us!" the man roared. "Remember your duty! Be the Hero that—" Another coughing fit.

Link sprang to his feet, climbed onto the roof and scurried across the tiles. He hopped down by the back window and leaped inside.

"LINK!"

"Link…!"

Aryll's face was so pale it drowned out his father's rage. He rushed to her side and held her hand. "I'm here," he choked out. "I'm—"

A large blade poked his neck. "You endanger all you are sworn to protect the longer you stay here."

Link glared back. "You're the one putting a sword to my throat."

After returning the glare, his father reluctantly lowered his sword. "I've done all I can. Your selfishness will be the downfall of our kingdom." He set down his sword and stayed in the other room.

"Link…"

He squeezed his sister's hand, attempting to smile. "Yes? What is it?"

"He doesn't—" she coughed "—really hate you, you know."

"Don't worry about that." Memories flashed through his mind: all the secret birthday visits, the letters, all the little ways he'd found to stay in contact with her since he'd been declared the Hero, Chosen to wield the Master Sword against the Great Calamity. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe he should be more serious about his training. But then, he'd already been spending every waking moment practicing with the Master Sword, under his father's watchful eye. In his heart he couldn't do it. He just couldn't abandon his little sister like that—the very thought was abhorrent to his soul.

He didn't know she was sick. All he knew was his father had suddenly vanished and no one would tell him why.

She coughed some more. "Link?"

"Yes?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

He smiled. "Of course. Here." His strong arms helped her weak body sit up and lean into his ear.

"I liked you better before you were the Hero."

His eyes blinked open. His face was cold, wet.

He was trembling. His arms were wrapped around something, or, someone?

His son. Junior.

His breathing grew quicker as awareness returned. Holding turned to clutching as he scrambled to hang on to the memory that had returned to him in the night.

They… died of sickness. His twin had said as much, hadn't he?

All drowsiness fled. He gently combed his fingers through his son's golden hair. The color wasn't too far off. He tried to calm down, but he feared he'd forget. The emotions returned to him slowly, drip by drip as he held the memory in his mind. Isolation, rage, regret, confusion.

"You alright?"

The voice startled him. In the dim lantern light he could see Calm, still awake, watching.

"You were mumbling in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?"

Junior stirred, but stayed asleep.

"I think a memory came back," he whispered. "About… when Dad and Aryll… got sick."

Calm didn't reply.

"What was he like, with you?"

"You mean Dad?"

"Yeah."

"He taught me how to fight. What it meant to be a Knight of Hyrule. About duty, and honor. He could seem heartless at times, but he always meant well."

"And, Aryll?"

A shadow crossed over Calm's face. "I should have been there for her more," he said almost to himself. "When I started training to be a knight, I was so caught up in practice and getting stronger that I… basically lost all contact with her. I thought she'd always—" He stopped and shook his head. "I took her life for granted, I guess. It's one of my biggest regrets." He glanced at Wild. "With how you are with Junior, I… honestly I can't see you making that mistake. You seem to have your priorities right, at least when it comes to family—"

"He didn't want me to—" Wild choked as the emotions from the memory hit him full force. "He didn't want me to even know they were sick, let alone—" He let his brother fill in the blanks.

Calm was quiet for a moment. "Was it… because of the Master Sword? Because you were the one who found it?"

Wild nodded. "Yeah."

"I can't really say I'm surprised. He was never that harsh with me, but he was… very big on the idea of duty. If I had pulled the Master Sword when you did I doubt I would've escaped the same treatment."

Wild sat up, careful to not wake Junior. "You know… before I lost my memories, I acted a lot like you. Never said much. Stoic—or, at least I acted that way. That dream was…" He swallowed. "It's the first memory I have of me speaking, from before. It's not that I didn't, I know that I did from, you know, context, and what other people would say. But… it was a choice I made, to be like that. I—"

"Made or were pressured into?"

"I don't know. But, my point is… I guess I envy you. I envy what I used to be. I know we're not the same person, but, just how you are, from the memories I have gotten back—that's how I was. I was like you. And I—I look back at that and think, 'Why can't I be like that again?'"

Calm shifted uncomfortably.

"Amazing in combat, calm, composed. Focused." A light turned on in his eyes. "Zelda's the only one left who remembers who I once was. I just—I don't want to let her down, you know? I want to live up to the 'me' she remembers."

"Where do you get off, thinking like that?"

Wild frowned. That was almost word for word what the Ranch Hand had told him.

"Look at Junior. Do you think any less of him because he struggles? Because he's anxious and sensitive?"

Wild was almost offended. "Of course not—!"

"Then why do you think less of yourself?" He gestured to Junior. "Clearly Her Highness is more than fine with how you are now."

Wild blushed.

"I don't know why you think shoving your emotions into a hole and never speaking of them again is somehow the paragon of 'goodness', or whatever. It's not." Calm paused. "I saw your eyes when you talked about her. She's your memory, isn't she? Like Time's wife is for him."

Wild's blush deepened.

"You're lucky." Calm stared at the floor. "I… haven't been able to think of mine. I'm beginning to wonder if… if I even have one. I'm not as close to Princess Zelda as you are. I'm kind of irritated at Mipha right now. Dad and Aryll are gone. Defending Hyrule, doing my duty… that's all I have." He quickly wiped away a tear that had barely had the chance to form.

Wild started to get up.

Calm put his hand up. "Don't, please. I'm, not really the touchy-feely type."

Wild didn't believe that for a second, but sat back down anyway. His instincts were screaming that his twin was touch-starved: the minimizing posture, the thousand-yard stare, everything rang true to what he'd dealt with fresh out of the Shrine of Resurrection, before… He had to stop himself from grabbing his Sheikah Slate.

An arrow whizzed into the cave, striking Calm in the shoulder. He hissed, scrambling around the corner just in time for another arrow to bounce off the wall. "We've got company!" he called.

"Here!" Wild tossed his brother an apple and roused his son.

Calm ripped the arrow out of his shoulder and inhaled the apple. He poked his head into the main room, where the others were sleeping. "Everyone! Wake—" He backed up suddenly, shaking himself and coughing. "Don't go in there! There's some kind of gas—" he shook himself again. "It's—trying to put me to sleep—"

"So that's what happened!" Wild readied his bow. "This is bad." His brain went into overdrive, his eyes catching hold of details and stitching them together at rapid speed. "It's the Ranch Hand."

"Are you sure?"

Wild nodded. "I recognize the arrows." He faced the gas-filled room, the world going in slow-motion as he pieced together a plan. He picked up his Sheikah Slate and aimed it. "Oh please Hylia let this work," he muttered.

An otherworldly noise sounded from where the Sheikah Slate was pointed. Black lines slowly formed into a black Wolf, its eyes glowing reddish-purple and its fangs bared in a menacing snarl.

A sharp pop sounded near the Wolf, a new gas mixing with the sleeping gas that blanketed the floor. The Wolf sneezed and coughed, backing away from them deeper into the room until finally he wobbled, then collapsed and began to snore.

"Good thinking!" Wild gave Junior a smile, then turned to his brother. "The Ranch Hand can turn into a wolf. That's him in there. So we're good."

"Can the Dark reach the others?"

"That's a good point. Junior, you still have—?"

The familiar white light filled the cave in an instant.

"It's not getting rid of the gas," said Calm.

"That's fine, we can work with this." Wild pulled a Korok leaf out of his bag. "I can clear a temporary path so we can at least get the others out of there. Maybe one of them will have something that can clear this gas."

"How long will that clear a path for?"

"Let's find out." Wild aimed the Korok leaf towards the slumbering group of Heroes and gave it a swing. A path cleared in the gas for just a moment before closing back up. Wild turned to Calm. "Think you can get each of them out in that time?"

Calm nodded.

Wild swung the Korok leaf again. Calm held his breath and dashed into the room. One by one he brought the slumbering Heroes out of the gas, leaving the Wolf behind. Junior worked quickly to get everyone awake.

Wild waited until everyone was up before explaining the situation.

"You mean—that Wolf, this whole time that was our Ordonian?" said the Traveler with a yawn.

"That's why you couldn't come with us when we went to track down Junior," said the Veteran. "The Ranch Hand wouldn't have wanted to shift in front of you."

"He's still in there," said Time, gazing into the gas-filled room.

Wild nodded. "I was hoping one of you would have an item or some other way to clear the sleeping gas."

"I might," said the Smith. "But how are we going to handle him once he wakes up? Do we have any idea what his memory would be?"

The group fell into an uneasy silence.

Time sighed. "I know what memory might help him. However... I don't know how we could go about reminding him. I don't think words would have gotten through to me in that—" he shuddered "—that state."

"What's the memory?" asked the Veteran.

"The children of his village. He's very fond of them. One boy in particular, though, I can't remember the name. Connor? Corin?"

"Smith."

"Hm?"

Wild's gaze was fixed on the sleeping wolf. "You said you had something to get rid of the gas."

"Oh no," said the Veteran. "Don't you go jumping in there without a plan—"

"What do you expect me to do?" Wild shouted. "He's my friend!"

Time opened his mouth to say something but never got the chance.

"I think he does have a plan."

Everyone—Wild included—stared at Calm.

Calm returned his twin brother's gaze. "From what I've seen you think best on your feet. If you don't know what to do now, you will by the time you're in there." He turned to the Smith. "What do you have to get rid of the gas?"

"This." He pulled out a large blue and white vase. "This is the Gust Jar. I should be able to suck up all the sleeping gas in here and shoot it out the cave entrance."

"I've seen him do some pretty dumb things 'thinking on his feet'," said the Veteran. He shot Wild a look. "We all have."

"And you've never had a carefully thought out plan fail or even backfire?" Calm shot back. "I'm not saying I don't understand the value of a good plan, but we're going in blind. It's better to stumble our way towards a solution than to sit here unable to move forward because we don't have the necessary information to form a solid plan."

"You boys happened upon my memory by accident," said Time. "Our other Champion is right. We can't afford to wait here any longer. The others might be moving towards us as we speak."

The Smith braced the base of the Gust Jar against his chest. "I'm ready when you are, Wild."

Wild thought for a moment. He put his bow away and set down his bag, then took off his clothes.

"The hell are you doing?" asked the Veteran.

"I have an idea," Wild muttered. He dug through his bag and pulled out a specific green uniform. "I don't know whether this will have any effect," he muttered as he pulled on the uniform and messed with his hair a bit. "But I figure it's worth a shot."

"That, is, uncanny." The Veteran stared at him once the outfit was on.

"How did you get his clothes?" asked the Traveler in disbelief.

"Oh his isn't the only one I've found," Wild replied casually. "I've got outfits that supposedly belonged to most of the rest of you, too." He turned to the Smith. "Ready."

Calm suddenly grabbed Wild's arm. Their eyes locked. "Don't get yourself killed."

Wild nodded.