Chapter 1: Here, On the Outset of History

"Long ago," Haru's stories always began with 'long ago' "long ago, when the world was still very young, the Basuk Clan, led by a great prince, whose name has been lost to history, traveled up north from Irupun Volcanoes. As they were passing out of the mountains, they came across a valley that was inhabited by an ancient fire demon. Not knowing this, they stepped into his territory and awoke him. The demon felt trespassed and was enraged, and he spewed blazing flames all around the Basuk Clan, surrounding them. Then he began to devour the people, one by one. The prince and his warriors thought back, but it was no use. The demon's might was too great.

"But it just so happened that a powerful spirit, the White Goddess, had been traveling south from the Parapa Desert and passed through the valley and saw the trouble. It is said the White Goddess is blessed with unsurpassed wisdom, and she knew just what had to be done to defeat the demon. In a moment, the demon was dead and the flames abated. The Basuk Clan was saved and the prince was eternally grateful. He asked the goddess for her name saying, 'we wish to know the name of our savior.' But she said, 'There is no need to speak my name to feel safe, for I will always watch over you and come running whenever you are in danger. For so long as your hearts are well aligned and your nature is good, you will always have the strength to repel chaotic forces.'"

Haru leaned forward and looked closely at the small boy who listened to her story, "No matter the strength of the enemy, the heroes always win." And she leaned back on her stool and continued to weave a long tapestry of mamaki fibers that lay across the floor in front of her.

The heroes always win. Rinku committed her words to his memory, and he knew they were true.

.

Stories of history and of good overcoming evil were important to the Gensan People. They were woven into patterns on tapestries that made up the walls of their houses, and when the patterns faded, the walls were weaved once more by the tapestry-makers. The eldest of these was Haru and it seemed no one, including herself, could actually remember her age. To Rinku, she seemed as ancient as the mountains or sky and as wise as the conies in the highlands.

"Are there any stories you haven't told me yet?" Rinku would sometimes ask.

"I have told you every story we have, since the day you were born." Haru would answer, "Though you may not remember most of them, the lessons have stayed with you and will continue to shape the man you will become. But sit here closer, and I will tell you one of those which you have forgotten."

Rinku was fourteen when Haru died, and a year older when his father died also. Now he shouldered a responsibility to his mother and his sister Raina and put away his fancies of faraway places and ancient legends of demons and spirits and took to learning a trade. His uncle was a fisher, so Rinku learned to fish.

His mother was a weaver, though and was beginning to move on from weaving clothes to weaving tapestries for houses. She had offered to teach him many times, but it may have been that the tapestries reminded Rinku of Haru, and it may have been that Haru's passing cast doubt within him about the stories themselves. Haru could make the legends come alive, and, without her, they were only words.

His father had been a hunter, which was sometimes called a warrior, and Rinku had at the time wished to inherit the legacy of his father and become a hunter also. But when his father died, he had been pierced by the tusks of a great mastodon, and Rinku saw (or feared) the perils of the world beyond Gensan.

So Rinku became a fisher.

His uncle took him out to sea on double-hulled outrigger canoe and sailed so far away from the island that Rinku could hardly tell it apart from the greater continent that lined the horizon behind it. Here, Rinku was taught the daily habits of a fisher; what species were edible, how to spot danger and retreat unnoticed, and to stay within his own territory so as not to impede on the other fishers' hunts. Most importantly, he was taught to hold his breath for a very long time.

The Gensan People had developed a particular practice in that, instead of using lures and traps, they swam far beneath the waves and caught their prey by hand, then brought it back up to the surface. Sometimes this could take minutes or more, and Rinku was taught to remain patient and preserve his energy, and he learned to hold his breath longer and longer as time passed on.

Rinku was sixteen when he finished his first trip entirely alone, and when he returned to the shores, he proudly declared to his uncle that he had stayed beneath the waters for more than four minutes.

When Rinku turned seventeen, he was considered 'of age'. During the traditional celebration that noted his occasion, he was marked by an elder with a tattoo of rings and patterns on his upper left arm (his dominant arm), and he was recognized as an adult.

From that day forward, Rinku always fished on his own.

When Rinku came upon the beach it was no longer early morning, but the sun still dominated the eastern skies as it climbed to its peak. Rinku pulled his outrigger offshore and drove it out away from the bay. The coastline sent a cavalry of waves to offend. The first were as simple squires, and Rinku drove his boat over and vanquished the lowliest mounds. But the waves grew in size and an outbreak of ridges came his way.

They swelled against the front of his hulls and besieged the deck. Rinku wielded his rigging and capped the waves but had been pulled back towards the shore and was drifting with the tide. He quickly paddled forward as the next wave approached then clutched his ropes and prepared to defend his route.

The wave grew and began to barrel. Rinku shifted and brandished the ropes to retort. The boat curled around so that one side crested the wave and the other crashed through the membrane and rolled over shortly behind. Chalky foam fell against the deck and slipped away through the spaces between the boards. Rinku reeled one side of the rope in and turned the boat to face forward again. It rocked over the rampant tides that trailed behind the previous wave as Rinku watched out for the next one. As it approached, Rinku tugged and the boat heeled back, and as the wave came under he bent the heel forward and the boat carefully rode up the face of the wave and slipped down the back afterwards.

Slowly, as he continued outward, the waves widened out and the boat only rocked, then bowed, then bobbed as the waters mellowed. Rinku pulled the rigging from the aft and let the sails drop, then tied them so they couldn't catch wind. He took his paddle, checked for the current, and continued outward manually. He had only a ways left to go.

The ocean was kinder past the rowdy coastline, and Rinku was able to enjoy simply paddling forward and navigating by memory. He noticed now that the sky was hazy today and there was a brief hint of a chill in the air, which wafted with briny currents to evince his speed, and Rinku slowed at their request.

Presently, he withdrew the oars and secured them in the second hull. The boat continued to drift outward but steadily wafted into an idle. When Rinku turned to look west from whence he came, the island Dangsu had modestly disappeared into the slivering silhouette of the greater continent, which rode across the horizon from distance to yonder.

Rinku began by removing the shawl that covered his torso and stripped down to only his loincloth. He tied a flexible plant-fiber bag to his waist and a spear to his back. Then he grabbed a rope from the hull (which was tied at one end to the mast), and sat at the front of the boat, dipping his feet into the water.

He sat still for a time, minutes perhaps, and some may have even called what he was doing meditation. He would have to hold his breath for a few minutes at least, so he focused his breathing and leveled his mind. His breathing slowed. His heart slowed. And his thoughts faded gently away. Even as the waters lapsed against the hull and rocked the boat, Rinku felt the gestures breathe a mellow hymn and caress the craft.

Only when Rinku felt he was willing enough did he slip his body into the ocean.

His ears were plugged with water and a scurry of bubbles scattered to the surface. His skin was clothed with the water's satin touch, but his eyes were chafed by the seawater's brine. Under the surface, the skies were hushed to the gurgle of the rippling waves; the depths murmured, rumbling, and bubbles burbled in the distance. The ocean floor was faintly visibly from here, but as Rinku fostered his endurance well, it took him a moment to sink and settle at the bottom.

Rinku found a hardy clump of coral and wrapped the rope around to secure the boat.

A reef of mottled coral stretched out beyond the clouded depths and it dipped down to the east past a flat shelf of ferns. Rinku moved over the shelf and sank deeper behind the cliff-face which had many clefts and concaves and bent out into a gentle hill of shale-like corals. Branches sprouted between the cracks and schools of a very small species secured shelter within. These were much too small to be of any use to Rinku, so he carried on. He was careful stepping across the shale; he had been cut by their edges before.

He was conservative with his movement, his heartbeat laxed and his pulse came only every few seconds. A stress had reached his chest, as the air within was old and used, and he had sunk low enough to feel even a trace of pressure. It was always at this point that he felt compelled by the urge to gasp for breath, but he did his best to suppress it. This was one of first things his uncle had taught him, and it had surprised Rinku many times how much longer he could remain underwater without breaking for air. After a few years, Rinku knew he would regard urge as less compelling.

So he carried on.

He hunted for a school of larger fish or even a place to forage on the ocean floor. To his right, just past a small arch of corals, the sun glittered, flashing in little patterns, and Rinku knew this was a school of silver-colored fish, whose scales had caught the sun's beams. He reached for a branch and pressed to move himself forward, drifting for several seconds without the need for much additional effort. When he came closer, he grabbed hold of the arch and lowered himself closer to the floor, moving his body forward with his hands in the sand as if they were feet. He slowed yet more. He had moved to an area that hosted large anemones with tentacles as thick as his arm, which swayed in the ocean's currents. He reached his hand out, swaying it also, mimicking the movements of the anemones.

The school drew nearer; they were silver nippons.

Rinku watched them carefully and waited, continuing his motion. When one passed by, he gently reached his arm further and grabbed the fish. It wriggled and writhed, but he drew it swiftly towards him and tucked it in his sack, pulling the strings to close it. He would sometimes lose fish in this way, but the others in the school hadn't noticed the struggle, so he repeated this process a few times over until the school indeed took notice and scurried away. Now, he would have to move on.

It had been about a minute or two since Rinku last took a breath, but he knew he could go on for at least that much longer. And so he did, browsing the ocean's floor as he drifted through, watching the little corners of sea life and picking up a mollusk or two. He plucked a few small crabs as well, some shellfish and bits of flora. There was an abundance of sargassum, but he could gather that in heaps on the beaches. Talia often did that anyway.

It had been a few minutes now, so Rinku pressed his feet into the sand and pushed himself upwards. It took a good deal longer going back up than down, as he had very little air in his lungs and was not buoyant enough to drift back without a bit of force. He passed through greater clump of sargassum as he emerged from the waters and took in a gasp of air.

His chest felt both heavier and lighter as he drew in many breaths, and he felt his pulse quicken rather soon. He treaded for a bit, looking west to spot his boat, then, when he felt he was ready to return, stole a short breath and sunk back beneath the surface.

When he was back on the ocean floor, he lowered himself and, grabbing coral clumps ahead of him, pulled himself with his hands further south. There was a larger school of bonito fish ahead.

This was the daily habit Rinku had practiced, walking or drifting across the floor and finding fish he could catch. If the species was large enough, he could use his spear, but the blood would eventually attract sharks, so he avoided its use when he could. The fishers really only kept their spears with them to use as self-defense if the situation demanded it. There were a few other fishers elsewhere on the reef, so it was best practice not to attract predators if it could be avoided.

Rinku was passed by bale of sea turtles, that meandered by just above him and soon disappeared into the murkier depths a distance away. A pod of dolphins whistled also.

As he ambled by, he sighted a form in the distance and recognized a fisher named Parona. She was pulling herself along the surface like he was, scouring the area for food to catch. Rinku turned himself around and swam back the way he came. It wasn't completely uncommon for the fishers to come across one another like this, but it was easier to fish when one was alone.

After a time, Rinku returned again to the surface and looked back northwest to find his little boat in the distance, then swam towards it.

The boat dipped to the side as Rinku pulled himself up and sat on his knees for a moment to catch his breath. Droplets landed all around him and made a dark splotch where he sat.

Rinku untied his sack from his waist and crossed to the other side of the boat, where there was a sliding door that covered a water-logged hull, which he dumped his catch into, latching the door afterwards.

He went back into the ocean and hunted to the north, coming back a few times to refill the hull, and continued until the sun began to linger just above the continent's mountains. When Rinku had dropped off his last haul, he dipped below one last time and untied the rope anchor, bringing it back up to stow away safely.

He turned the boat and took it west. Though the climate was often very warm in the evening, when Rinku picked up speed, he roused the breeze and was cooled shortly and dried soon after. Rinku didn't like riding into the sun, but it sometimes dipped below the continent's mountains before he arrived on the island if he left late enough. But today, it affronted him until he drew much closer, and Dangsu's own mountains gave him solace.

The sky blushed a blooming pastel as Rinku steered into the Dangsu shallows. He dropped into the water and pushed the boat from behind towards the shore, where there was a figure waiting for him. She had come up from the shade of the jungle when she sighted Rinku approach and now stood in wait at the lapsing waves.

This was Talia, Rinku's childhood friend.

She was less than a year younger than Rinku, and her freckled tawny skin affirmed this. Starless hair dropped to her neck, but was cut at that point. On the top of her head, the hair was pulled together into a small sprout in the center.

She was wearing a kapa skirt that somewhat matched Rinku's outfit, but it was uniquely stylized, as she had made it herself. Mamaki fiber tassels ran along the brim. Her shawl was also a similar style, but it was adorned with colorful patterns made of oloa and hibiscus pedals, used both in the dyes and fibers throughout. It was slit on either side to allow freedom to her arms, which were bare but for the traditional female version of the coming of age pattern on her right arm. There were also tattoos on her face, running on the sides from her temples to her lower cheeks, and they were unique among any other tattoo in Gensan, as was the tradition of face tattoos. They were designed by and given out to females at any point in their lives as a form of self-expression, so every one was unique. Like every other villager, she was barefoot. In fact, for as long as their history had been recorded, not a single one of the Gensan People had ever heard of the concept of shoes.

She stepped into the shallows and trudged towards Rinku until the surface had come up to her thighs and her hem dragged across the water, slow to catch up. Together, the pair pulled the boat out of the waters and lugged it across the beach to the tree-line, where it would be safe from the tide's rise and fall.

Talia would almost always meet Rinku on the beach, and together they would walk back to Gensan with his catch, conversing along the way. Actually, Talia did more to carry any conversation that Rinku did; "If you could weave as much as you talk, even the junglefowl could fill their wardrobes," her grandfather used to say. But as for Rinku, Talia had given him the nickname 'Rinkum'mau', which comes from the villagers' word for silent, 'kum'mau'. There were some days when the conversation back to Gensan was driven entirely by Talia.

Rinku finished splitting his catch into baskets, (one was sealed by dried mud and filled with seawater to keep some species alive a few days more). Talia took half of the baskets. She turned and breathed the beach's briny air and sighed. Rinku often assumed Talia accompanied him in the evenings as an excuse to visit the ocean.

She pointed out across the waves, "You see the line where the sky touches the ocean? Akki said the kami live behind it, and guess what she said today! I heard him telling the children that when an immortal being dies it is reborn over and over as a mortal being." After Haru's passing, Akki had become the eldest villager.

Rinku thought it was interesting, but his voice found no reply. As they stepped into the jungle to the northwest, Talia still pondered.

"Hmm, if I was reborn, I think . . . I'd want to come back as a seagull!"

"A seagull?"

Talia's eyes gleamed at his reply, "Yeah! What about you?"

Rinku wondered for a moment but knew he should answer somehow, "I don't know." then, "I think I'd be happy to live here in Gensan again."

"Really?" Talia seemed astonished, or maybe she was feigning to draw Rinku further into the conversation, "Not when you have all of the world to choose from? What a strange answer! With your talents, maybe you would be reborn as a fish of some kind—" she stopped, "but if I was a seagull, I think I'd want to eat you, and that's not good at all!" She paused and thought, then carried on, "Maybe it would be best if you were reborn in Gensan. Then we might see each other again at some point, but I don't think we would know each other when we saw us. Do you think we would?"

"Maybe." Rinku said, "Or, maybe not actually."

The forest gossiped at their passing, lizards and babblers bustled in haste, flitting about. While the island was cooling with the sun's descent, a tepid moistness clung to the air and even the ferns and orchids perspired. The jungle's character filled the spaces between the trees, and perhaps this is why Rinku and Talia didn't notice a sinister fiend passing into the woods near the end of their path.

The pair walked on for a length of time, and Talia searched her mind for a topic to engage in and converse with Rinku.

"One of the boars escaped today," her voice punctured and dimmed the jungle's buzz, "and ran all around the village. Someone caught it, but it caused a lot of trouble for a while before that. I don't think the herders should've started taming wild boars. Akamai says that's why Toacano disappeared, he says keeping wild boars invites demons. He thinks a demon took Toacano." She waited, but Rinku was still quiet, "Do you think it was a demon?"

"I don't think so." Rinku said.

"Why?"

Rinku walked on, and he wondered at the notion for a moment but presently continued, "Demons don't live on Dangsu, they just live on the continent, and I don't know if they can swim."

"Really? What makes you say that?"

"In some of Haru's stories demons tried to swim to Dangsu, but they would always drown or give up and turn back. Apparently the ocean between Dangsu and the continent is haunted now because of this."

Talia's gaze drifted outward and returned shortly, "Hmm. That makes sense. It's not that I want demons in Dangsu, but it would certainly be exciting to see one perhaps. Not in Gensan of course! But, well . . ." but her words dwindled and abated. She did not wish to invite demons either, and as her eyes drifted low and her dimples creased Rinku thought that perhaps she was beginning to regret her words. But she contrived a laugh, "Of course I wouldn't want that!" and walked on with a furrowed brow.

The sun had now crouched even behind the mountains on the continent, casting Dangsu aside to be overtaken by the veil of the moonless night. The forest's gossip had retired when the dusk stretched out and filled the corners of the woods, and there only remained the sounds of the wind slithering through the trees and the sparse hoots of a sada owl. On a less callous night there might've been an occasional bandicoot or echidna to encounter, but Rinku and Talia felt as though they were entirely alone in the woods.

Talia's voice came again inquisitively but much quieter, as though the stillness had beckoned her to yield to its silence, "Rinku?"

"Hm?"

"Have you decided what you're crafting for Raina yet?"

Rinku's pace deferred for a second, then it hastened and steadied, "I don't know."

"It's not like you have a much time left."

"I know."

There had been a few times in Rinku's life when he wished he had some other skill besides fishing and preparing his daily catch for the stock-house, and this was one of those times. Usually when a villager came of age, the relatives and friends would craft gifts and give them out during the celebration. It was always a joyous occasion, in which the entire village would gather, and which marked readiness to marry and to pursue one's calling. Most often the villager would begin a profession within a few days of the celebration (if they hadn't already) and be married within the following year or two. The tattoo was given near the end of the ceremony to mark this readiness.

The pair sauntered up an incline that would eventually pitch and ramble into Gensan.

Talia moved her heaviest basket from one arm to the other, "I'm going to weave her something, but I haven't decided what yet. She has plenty of clothes from your mother, who I'm sure will be weaving something also, so mine has to be special."

Rinku's gift would have to be special too. He was her brother after all, so his gift couldn't be outperformed. He felt suddenly strained. Raina had once expressed interest in becoming a herder, so perhaps he could craft a wamu from the hairs of her favorite bison. He imagined how soft it would feel in his hands and decided he would feel the tops of some bisons' heads when he passed into Gensan.

"Rinku?" Talia's gaze was ardently transfixed on him, "Are you listening?"

"Sorry, no."

"Oh. Well, I was talking about Benkai," then her eyes shifted and a smirk grew across her face, "apparently he's smitten with your sister."

"Benkai?"

"That's what I heard!" then she lowered her voice once more, for it had begun to grow louder "He's going to ask your mother for her blessing after the ceremony, maybe the day after. Since you're the man of the house, he's going to have to ask you too."

But Rinku didn't seem to give off a response, at least not one that pleased Talia.

She frowned, "Well? What are you going to tell him?"

Rinku thought passively then replied, "If my mother gives her blessing, I'm sure I will too."

Talia might have sighed, "Huh. I guess it'll be up to Raina then."

Another silence drifted in afterwards, and Talia remarked to herself the difficulties of holding a conversation with Rinku. He wasn't the sort to initiate an exchange with others, and when others sought him out instead, his answers were short and simple, never enough to demand a reply and but enough to usually but the matter to rest. They were well-thought, and Talia wondered if Rinku was trying to make every word count. The pair only had a few winding turns left to reach Gensan, but the cadaverous silence made Talia feel uneasy.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before words came out, there was a stirring in the foliage ahead. Rinku and Talia stopped, starred, and wondered. The jungle's silence fell further, and the pair held for a moment, but the foliage remained just still.

Talia thought out loud, "Maybe it's a—" The rustle came again from a cove of caladium, and from it emerged a large and unnatural-looking creature. It was a hellish abomination with limbs sprouting from every conceivable angle and tapered off like an arachnid's might. Its eyes were bloody apertures illuminated by vitriol currents of smoke, its fangs barred and released a venomous hiss that devolved into a growl. The abdomen bore lacerations the size of it's own talons, which themselves held a limp frame Rinku recognized as his sister. Her arms dangled over the pedipalps and her head hung back, her jaw agape and face pallid. Her body didn't move, and Rinku was awash with a wave of dread and faltered for a moment.

The demon regarded the hylians but seemed almost as startled by their sudden presence as they were of it. It hastily slipped into the foliage to disappear.

Rinku bolted.

He pushed through stalks and leaves and kept his eyes on the demon ahead, which disappeared and reappeared between the flora as it scuttered away. It dropped suddenly into the depths of the jungle, and when Rinku had caught up, he found himself tumbling down an incline and rolling over sloping crusts of stone. He lurched into a basin of loam. Close by, the demon scrambled upright and scuttered once more, barreling between stalky trunks. Rinku hastened and chased after.

He couldn't see Raina from his distance, and he couldn't hear her either. There was no way to tell if she was still alive or not, but he didn't want to think of that. The bilious tone of her skin and the slack of her limbs branded his memory, and he tried in vain to send the images away. Rinku saw that the demon ran faster than he could and felt his strength begin to slip. He willed himself onward if he could, but he remembered his spear, which was still tied at his back. In haste, he reached behind and tugged, and the fastening ropes were pulled quick enough to mark his skin. They ripped and fell to the floor behind.

Rinku held the spear above his shoulders and did what he could to steady his run without faltering. The force with which he threw the spear surprised him, and the weapon ruptured the demon below a shoulder. The demon wailed and floundered to reach the spear, and Rinku began to catch up. But the demon plucked the spear and cast it aside, then raced onward. It began again to drift further away but whimpered to the pain.

Rinku passed puddles of blood and recovered the spear. He had aimed for the head before but tried again. The tip bounced in his vision, but he lined it laterally with the demon's head which descended, following the irresolute terrain. Rinku pulled his arms back to discharge, but as he did this, he hadn't considered the drop in the land and tumbled again, losing the spear along the way.

His mind was crowded with aches and pains and the sounds of the wind hurling by and earth tumbling all around him. But he distinctly heard a sound like something slapping or hammering stone, then felt a growing anguish throbbing from the back of his head, and the pain only spread and grew more heinous. His eyesight, and every other form of perception dissolved, leaving only a fount of pain in a mental abyss. This too waned.

Rinku didn't remember anything else.

.

.

.

End of Chapter 1

I'm sure you will be wondering why I have decided to call Link Rinku instead, so I will answer this here. You probably know that Rinku is Link's original Japanese name. Hold that thought for a second. This is to be about the journey Link takes as he becomes the hero we all know and love and I want him to start from a very different place than he will be when the story ends. Right now, he is not nearly as courageous and he will have to learn to find that courage in his adventure. In time, he will morph into the Chosen Hero and history will remember him as Link, not Rinku. But right now, I want you to think of him as someone else. So he is Rinku, not Link. I chose his Japanese name because I felt some readers wouldn't want to stray to far from his more common (to Americans) name. Rinku gets to honor his heritage with his name.