"That's not Link."

"What do you mean, that's not Link?! He signed it!"

"And?" Instructor Owlan arched an eyebrow. "The fact that he knows Link's fingerspeak doesn't mean he is Link. He looks nothing like him."

Groose bristled. "He looks close enough! He's got the dumb face for it! Maybe- maybe he bleached his hair!"

"You think Link, of all people, would bleach his hair."

"I DON'T KNOW!" Groose exclaimed. "Am I SUPPOSED to know?! Link dipped almost a month ago, I haven't seen him!" He threw his hands in the air. "For all we know, he's started a pumpkin bakery out there!"

Owlan sighed longsufferingly. "I can promise you, on my honor, he's an entirely different person. Look." He counted off his fingers. "His ears are different, his scars are different, and he's a good deal shorter than our Link is. Cousin, maybe, but even that's a stretch. He's not Link."

Groose blinked, then pinched the bridge of his nose, waving his hand. "No, wait, hang on a second. Scars?"

Owlan frowned and leaned back against the wall. "Link has three scars-one on his neck from the Skytail incident, one on his side from swordplay, and one on his ankle from walking into a chuchu barefoot."

"I know that. I'm asking about this guy. He doesn't have those?"

"No. He has a host of other scars, but not those three."

Groose fell silent for a moment. This...can't be right. Right? He had to see for himself. Squaring up, he shoved past Owlan and marched into the infirmary. "Hey, 'Link'!"

Link froze like a remlit in torchlight, eyes wide, wearing nothing but boxer shorts and already halfway out the window.

Groose stared, dumbfounded.

The weirdo stared back.

Owlan hurried in, unknowingly breaking the tense moment. "Groose, I will give you detention if you don't-!"

"Get back here, you!" Groose snapped, reaching for the wild boy. Link yelped and dove for his escape, but wasn't fast enough; his ankle was captured and he was yanked back inside and promptly tossed onto the cot. "What in the skies are you doing?!" he demanded.

Link huffed, annoyed. "Getting my stuff and going."

"Oh, no you aren't! You're keeping your tailfeathers right here until we figure out who in the goddess's name you are!"

"I told you. My name is Link."

"Oh yeah?" Groose glared. "Then tell me why you don't talk."

Link stiffened, the color draining from his face. Groose's expression hardened. Ha, caught red-handed. "Link doesn't talk because his windpipe got mangled ages ago," he said coolly. "So unless you got a mark right here-" He pointed at his own neck. "-Then you're not him."

The boy glanced aside, rubbing where the supposed scar should be, then took a deep breath. "I don't need you to believe me. I just need to find Zelda."

Groose froze. It wasn't the usual name-sign Link used for her, it was spelled out. But the meaning was hardly lost.

Owlan sighed, inwardly regretting the day's decisions. He grabbed Groose and steered him out. "You can talk about this later, after I've had a chance to look over my new patient."

"Wh- but-"

"Out." He pushed him out, then shut the door and locked it.

Groose stared at the door numbly.

This guy...knows Zelda?

His ears rang. The last time he'd spoken to her, she'd been cross with him for talking down to Link. He'd never gotten the chance to win for her and make it up to her. And the longer time went on without sign of her, the more he'd wondered if he'd ever get to.

But this guy...even if he is an identity-stealing showoff, if he knows Zelda's name despite never being around town before...

...Then maybe he knows where she is.

Link sat down by the water's edge, finally having escaped the invasive clutches of Horwell and retrieved his things.

He didn't like the infirmary. He didn't know why, but it made him nervous.

But, thankfully, that was over now. He had his stuff back, he'd been given a bowl of soup before he left, and now, he could focus on the important stuff. He pulled his paraglider out and started repairing it, doing the best he could with chuchu jelly and some leather scraps he had on hand.

Not ten minutes into his project, he felt a shiver down his spine as a large shadow loomed over him.

"You're a weirdo, you know that?"

Groose sat down by him without invitation, and Link side-eyed him warily. "Don't gimme that look," the redhead snapped. "I'm not the one who blew myself up, used someone elses name, and has a sailcloth on sticks."

"Paraglider."

"Huh?"

"It's a p-a-r-a-g-l-i-d-e-r," Link spelled. "Not a s-a-y-l-c-l-o-f."

Groose stared. "...Saylclof."

"Is that wrong?" Link tilted his head. "I can't read."

Groose groaned, rubbing his temples. Great. Add "illiterate" to this list. "Sailcloth," he signed back. "S-a-i-l-c-l-o-t-h."

Link's ears perked. "You speak army sign?"

"What in the goddess's golden name is that supposed to mean?" He held up his hand before the newcomer could explain. "No, you know what? Doesn't matter. What matters is Zelda. You know her?"

Link lit up, nodding fervently. "I do, I'm her appointed knight."

"The skies is a- ugh." Groose jabbed his chest. "You're a real pain to talk to, you know that, guy?"

"Link."

"I'm not calling you Link. Pick something else."

Link looked himself over. He'd...never had to think about something like this before. A name? "Link" had been the first word he'd woken up to. His eyes drifted to his slate, his ears twitching as an idea hit him. "...Call me Rune."

Groose raised an eyebrow. "Rune? Like...the old writing kinda stuff?"

Rune shook his head, pulling out the slate and booting it up. Groose's eyes widened in awe as his fingers flew over it, tapping unknown symbols and pulling up a network of icons. "R-u-n-e," he spelled out, before indicating the little pictures.

Groose squinted, trying to figure out what "little square with a loop" was supposed to indicate. "So what do they mean?" he asked, reaching over and tapping one.

Rune quickly yanked the slate out of reach as a glowing blue cube appeared on his lap. Frantically, he started tapping the "disable" options on everything until the Slate went back to its home screen and the cube disappeared.

"What was THAT?!" Groose gestured wildly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. "You just- just keep a magic stock of mystery cubes on you wherever you go?!"

Rune sighed in relief, then shook his head, pulling up the slate's notepad and drawing with his fingertips before turning the finished sketch around to show him.

A little toon of Rune tapping on the slate, then the cube showing up, then toon Rune pressing a button, then a circular explosion.

It clicked. "That's what scared Nightwing?!" Groose stared at the slate with newfound horror. This thing was an infinite bomb flower dispenser, in the hands of someone dumb enough to propel himself through the sky birdless.

Rune tilted his head, repeating the Loftwing's name in sign.

"My bird. Never mind. Where did that even COME from?"

"Long story."

Groose's eyes narrowed. That a challenge? "Try me."

Rune considered for a long moment, then shook his head. "No."

"What?" Groose glared. "Uh-uh, 'no' isn't an option here." He poked Rune's chest. "I saved your life. You almost fell to your death."

"I would have been fine." Rune retorted.

"Ha. Says the guy with the broken periwinkle. Suuuuure."

"P-a-r-a-g-l-i-d-e-r."

"Whatever." He crossed his arms. "I risked my tailfeathers out there rescuing you. I get an explanation."

Rune bit his lip, looking back at the slate, considering his words carefully. "...I can't tell you what I don't know."

Groose blinked. He didn't expect that answer. "What gives? You said it was a long story, how do you not know?"

"I can't remember." Rune looked up at him. "Everything I know about me and this slate was told to me by other people. Even-" he broke eye contact, "-my name." He looked...almost guilty. "I've only been awake for two weeks."

Silence hung in the air between them.

"Then...tell me where your memory starts. Start with waking up."