Anju hummed to herself as she strode through Kakariko Village towards the cucco pen, savouring the first glows of the sun peeking through the ladder and lattices of the watchtower. A slight spring breeze whistled through the houses, and she smiled. Tending to the cuccos wasn't her idea of a good time, particularly since she broke out in hives whenever she touched their feathers. But on days like this, the chore bordered on enjoyable.
But as she approached the pen, the familiar sounds of clucking beaks and scratching claws didn't grow louder — they quieted to a stop.
Not again.
Cold tendrils tightened around her heart as she turned the final corner, already knowing what she'd find. Sure enough, the pen was empty. The only trace of her mentor's beloved cuccos were a handful of feathers on the dirt.
Why did her mentor have to like pets that could fly? Why couldn't eggs be laid by guinea pigs or cows or sheep?
Or at least something she wasn't allergic to. It was her job to collect them all again, but how could she when she'd itch for days? Yet if she didn't, he'd think she skived off or neglected her duties — or, worse, realise he'd hired a cucco keeper who couldn't even touch the dang things. She'd be fired for sure.
Anju promptly burst into tears. A few townspeople stopped to check on her as they brushed past, but there was little they could do to help. They all had their own jobs to get to. Besides, the cuccos could reach the darnedest places — she'd spied one foraging among the tiles on top of a roof once!
No, as always, all she could do was wait and hope they all returned unharmed by nightfall. She sobbed harder at the thought of one of them getting hurt. They were cute, even if she had to keep her distance, and they didn't deserve to be hit by a falling brick at the construction site or pestered by a hoodlum kid just because she couldn't go after —
'Hello?' asked a quiet voice, heavy with an accent she'd never heard before. It sounded melodic and somehow woodsy. 'Are you alright?'
She peeked out between the gaps in her fingers. Before her stood some kid, about half her height, with blond hair and a bright green tunic. 'The cuccos e-escaped and I can't get them back because I'm allergic!'
He frowned and looked over his shoulder at the path up to the mountain before shrugging. 'How many are there?'
'Seven.' Enough to provide eggs for everyone in town. If they didn't all make it back, there wouldn't be enough food, and they would either have to pay exorbitant prices to get some imported from the castle or go without. She tucked her face back into her hands, not wanting him to see the next onslaught of tears.
'I'll get them for you.'
'You will?' Hope warred with defeat. The first few times they got out, people had offered, but they'd quickly realised its futility. 'If it's too difficult…'
'I can wrangle a few cuccos.' He spoke as if he'd wrangled far worse, and for the first time, Anju wondered if he was more than met the eye.
She nodded. Even if he only brought back half, it was better than them all running loose. 'Thank you. Please hurry.'
The boy ran off towards the entrance to the field, and within minutes, she heard a flurry of indignant squawking, and then he was trotting back with a cucco held aloft above his head. If Anju didn't feel so wretched, she might have laughed at the most unconventional, counterintuitive way of carrying a cucco she'd ever seen.
But if it worked, it worked.
'I passed another one on my way here. I'll be right back.'
And so he returned cuccos two through four, all just as annoyed at being manhandled as the first. Each time, the urge to wail lessened, although er tears never quite stopped because even if the situation was better, it wasn't yet right.
Then, suddenly, his progress halted. An hour passed without any sign of the boy or the remaining cuccos, except one that still pranced around on a raised platform that nobody without wings could possibly reach. Had the boy decided the remaining cuccos were too tough to retrieve? Or had he simply grown bored and moved onto something else? Trying to climb the mountain, maybe — out-of-towners always tried before realising how dangerous it was.
But then he came back, hands empty, and hopped the fence of the pen to… pick up one of the cuccos he'd already collected? His only explanation was a quick, 'I have an idea,' before he ran away again with the cucco.
The sun hit its zenith, the heat beating down on the small corner of the village. She hadn't brought lunch, not expecting to stay long, but she hesitated to leave in case the boy finished the task and came back for his reward.
As time wore on, she considered stepping away anyway — surely she could spare a few minutes — until she heard loud squawking once more. In quick succession, cuccos four, five and six were returned, until there was only one remaining. She frowned up at the place she'd seen the unreachable cucco earlier — somehow, against all odds, he'd managed to retrieve her.
One more. One more, and they'd all be back safe, hours before she ever dreamed they would be.
The next burst of squawking warmed her heart more than the brightest sun ever could. But no matter where she looked, she couldn't see any sign of the boy or the cucco. Yet the noise was growing louder, so he had to be approaching…
Anju glanced up at the sky and flinched at the oddest sight she'd ever seen. The boy soared through the air, his upstretched hands clinging precariously to the claws of the final cucco. Instead of screaming or shaking in terror at the risk of falling, he was… smiling? Laughing?
Hollering. He was joyriding.
The pair drifted gracefully down towards the pen, slowing to a gentle stop just outside the pen. The boy tossed the cucco over the fence to join her sisters before turning to Anju with a triumphant grin.
'That was your idea?' she asked.
He nodded. 'There was no way a human could get up to some of those places, but the cuccos did — so to get to them, I had to be a cucco, or at least as close to one as I could be.'
The pieces didn't fit together in her head. How were the cuccos strong enough to support a human, even a child? Why did he risk injury just to bring the last few girls back? Who was he?
But her confusion dulled in comparison to the sheer force of gratitude welling up within her. She pulled out an empty glass bottle and held it out to him. 'Thank you so much. This is all I have, but please take it with you as a reward for bringing them all back to me.'
'It's perfect,' he said, taking it from her. 'There are a few things I want to catch, but I don't have anything to put them in.'
If he'd wrangled worse than cuccos before, she didn't even want to know what he was hunting down next. Instead, she merely wiped away the teary sheen beneath her eyes, bid him goodbye, and hurried off to find some lunch and then catch up on her other errands for the day.
Hopefully, this time, the cuccos would stay put a little longer.
A/N: I'm playing through the Ocarina of Time Master Quest at the moment, and after collecting the final cucco, I jumped off a ledge and ended up just cruising right over to the cucco lady in the most coordinated, stylish act I've ever done in a game, lol. It made me think how weird a sight it would have been for her… hence this story.
