June, 2020: Warning: Unedited. Low quality.

COUNTING STARS

Chapter 16: Downer

Wednesday, November 14th

"Are you coming?" Sheik asks, brows raised, hope shining in his scarlet eyes.

"To where?" I croak in response, rubbing my sleepy eyes after awakening from a long nap.

"The lounge."

I look past Sheik, seeing Pipit, Mikau, and Mido in the doorway, all eager to go. "Will your sister be there?"

He finches. "Uh . . . Yeah."

I shake my head. "You guys go on along. I'm not really in the mood."

The guys in the doorway sigh, and turn to leave, but Sheik stays put. "Link."

I run a hand through my hair. "That's me."

"You haven't been in the mood all week," he whines. "Remember our pact?"

"What pact?"

"Three nights a week—you, me, Mikau, and Pipit go hang."

Eyes glazed, I say dully, "Oh. Right."

"We haven't exactly been following through with that. So come on!"

I sigh deeply, shaking my head. "You know I can't."

Sheik sighs and begins to chew on his lip, looking down solemnly. "I'm sorry. Sometimes it's hard for me, man. Sometimes I don't know if I should side with you or Zelda, my half-sister. This sucks."

"Try being in my position."

"Look," Sheik begins, rubbing his shaggy blonde hair offhandedly, "I know that you've always said you don't want a girlfriend, but why don't you?"

I sit up in my bed finally, fixing him with a serious look. "I'm the unluckiest person I know," I explain, nodding sadly. "I'm not gonna let that get to her."

"Screw luck," Sheik says. "You shouldn't let something as stupid and petty as luck keep you away from the girl you love."

"Sheik, I just can't take that chance," I stress.

"Alright, well, I understand." He turns to go, but halts to look over his shoulder first. "Um, thanks for, uh, keeping her safe, then," he says awkwardly. "Take this time to get over her and feel better, huh?"

"I think I'll just eat my sorrows away," I reply dejectedly, reaching over to my nightstand to grab a bag of chips.

Sheik rolls his eyes. "Just remember to keep your chins up."

"I saw your conversation with Midna."

With a toothy grin, Dark turns to look at me. "Oh, I know."

Sending him a look of confusion, I scoff, "What? How do you know?"

"You suck at hiding."

"But Midna couldn't see me."

"That's because she's a human."

I blink. " . . . So?"

We pass a pizza shop, and Dark peers inside offhandedly. Two old ladies stand behind the counter, emphatically spinning and tossing dough into the air. My hand tingles, oddly, but I think nothing of it.

"So, shadows like myself have heightened senses," Dark explains, tearing his gaze away from the tempting Italian food.

We walk along. ". . . Why'd you go after her?" I ask after awhile.

"To make her feel better," Dark responds instantly. Seeing the odd look I give him, he raises his palms up innocently. "She's hot."

"You like the goth type?" I ask, referencing Midna's mostly-black clothing choices, complete with the shady eye makeup and the bright orange ponytail.

Dark raises a questioning eyebrow. "What's goth?"

I look him up and down. Jet-black hair, black sweatshirt, black jeans and Vans. "You."

A smile forms on his lips. "So we're perfect for each other!"

I laugh. "You kidding me? She's in love with Sheik."

"She told me."

"I know."

"I know you know." Dark taps a finger to his temple, grinning at me like a child. "As you also know, I became her friend."

"Yeah, you basically friend-zoned yourself," I tell him, chuckling.

"Nope. There is always sexual tension between female and male friends. Always," he assures me. "It's basic human psychology."

"Where'd you learn that?"

" . . . My friend." He grins suggestively.

I roll my eyes. "Aren't you a lot older than Midna, and actually, all of us?" I ask him, recalling one of our nights out at the bar, when he said he was definitely old enough to be in there legally.

"Age is nothing but a letter, Link."

"You should consider going to school."

He chuckles, asking, "What's the point of that?"

"So you don't say stupid stuff like that. I'll bet Midna likes intelligent guys."

"She likes Sheik!"

"Point taken." A small smile tugs at my lips. "I'm just trying to give you pointers so you don't get rejected."

"I don't fear rejection," he states matter-of-factly. "When someone rejects me, I only end up liking them more because of their ability to make good decisions."

I grin, but it fades quickly as I look away. Unsurprisingly, Dark notices.

" . . . You're quiet lately," he comments after a brief moment of silence, following my eyes to the night sky—dark and overcast with clouds.

"I've been talking to you."

Dark shrugs. "But with less emotion. It's like your personality is gone."

"How so?" I ask, head facing downward.

Dark's crimson eyes flick over to me. "You're not the usual witty, smart-ass Link. The one who makes fun of everyone with the utmost confidence and savagery." A smile graces his lips, but it's quick to leave.

Finally looking at him, I sigh, telling him flatly, "I lost the girl I love."

"What?" His eyes widen massively. "Like—like 'your uncle' kind of lost?"

"No! No, thank gods, no," I say, rapidly shaking my head. Pressure rises to my chest at the very thought, threatening to send me into another breakdown. "No, I just—can't ever be with her."

"I get why that is," he mutters. "Who is it, even? You never told me."

"Really?" I receive a nod for a reply. "Oh," I say, blinking back surprise. "It was Zelda."

"Zelda?"

"Yeah."

"Wow," Dark says. "You know, I was going to go for her, but she's like—" He pauses. "—royalty status. I'm not hot enough for her. Way outta my league."

I squint suspiciously. " . . . I look just like you."

He turns his head, a nervous grin splayed out across his face. "Right. About that . . . "

I punch him in the arm, pretty hard.

"OUCH!" he yelps, rubbing his sore limb. "Holy shit! That was totally uncalled for!"

"You provoked me."

"That's my job!" he protests. "Damn. Wish I had one of those Triforces so I could punch you that hard."

Staring at my feet, I shake my head. "Trust me, you don't. It's a curse, not a blessing." As if in a response, my hand starts to throb. I wish it would quit doing that.

Dark eyes me peculiarly, but doesn't press the matter.

We pass a shoe store, and after hearing several unintelligent outbursts of "Daaamn, Daniel" and "What are thoooose," Dark stops in his tracks.

I stop too, confused with his behavior, in front of a closed haircut parlor, turning my head to look at him. "What're you doing?"

"I'm not allowed within fifty feet of this place." He pauses, pointing to the haircut parlor. " . . . Or Build-A-Bear Workshop."

"Why?" I question through a laugh. "On second thought, don't tell me why. But are you a pedophile?"

"No! Of course not," Dark insists. "Although, say what you want about pedophiles, but I've noticed they do drive slower through school zones."

"I wonder why," I say sarcastically. "Besides, it's closed, and you're not in any legal files. They aren't gonna catch you."

Dark nods, relieved. His eyes flick upward, then, widening as they land on something behind me.

"What in Din's name is this?!" exclaims a familiarly-smooth voice from behind my back. I turn to see Vaati, wrapped up in a purple sweatshirt, staring wide-eyed at my doppelganger.

I bite my lip. "Vaati, you haven't—"

"You're mine!" roars Dark's voice as all I see is a black blur ramming into Vaati's unexpecting body. The two of them topple over, and Dark pins the lavender boy underneath him, restraining his arms.

"Hey!" I shout. "Dark, let him go! What're you doing?"

"My common senses are tingling!" he answers, glaring menacingly down at the frightened Vaati. He lifts up one of Vaati's arms and yanks the sleeve down, showing me the crescent moon tattoo on the underside of his wrist. "He's in the M.O.D.!" He turns back toward Vaati, growling. "You have the right to remain silent! Anything you say will be misquoted, then used against you!"

Vaati squirms underneath Dark's body. "Ghirahim gave me that tattoo in prison out of revenge for betraying him, you dumb behemoth, now get off of me!" he commands.

Ghirahim gave Vaati the tattoo of the gang he betrayed? Now there's an ironic form of punishment.

"Dark, he's not in the M.O.D.," I tell him sternly. "Get off of him."

He reluctantly obeys, glowering, anger and confusion contorting his face. "Okay . . . maybe he isn't. I guess that explains why he wasn't with them when I was first summoned."

Vaati points a finger at him. "I knew you were from the dark world. When were you summoned?"

"Like, October fourth."

Vaati nods. "Right. I didn't fake-join the M.O.D. 'til the sixth."

Dark looks at me, confused. "Will you explain this 'fake-join' crap he's saying?"

I nod. "He's in the Y.U.G.A. and was spying on the M.O.D."

Vaati nods affirmatively. "I take it they're after you, too?" he asks Dark.

He nods back. "Yep. Ganondouche wants me because he couldn't control me like he could with his monsters. Looks like we are all their targets."

Shrugging, Vaati replies, "Or they're all ours."

"What do you mean 'ours,' you Oompa Loompa?" Dark asks Vaati in a hostile tone. "I will not be associated in the same group as you."

Vaati scoffs. "You just said the word 'we.'"

"If you think Link and I are going to help you out, then you are on some wild-ass Pixy Stix."

"I'm not an Oompa Loompa."

"We're not helping you!" Folding his arms over his chest, Dark stubbornly nods in my direction, seeking my approval.

Vaati looks my way and sighs, shaking his head. I put a hand up, silently signifying my apologies for Dark's behavior—and, well, personality. Turning to Dark, I tell him flatly, "He and I have already teamed up to fight the M.O.D."

Dark's eyebrows perk up in surprise, then he squints in confusion, looking from me to Vaati then back to me. "What? Why?"

Vaati gives my doppelganger an angry look, heaves an irritated sigh, and explains, "Because without my gang, it's one against like, ten." A pause. "With us, it's all even."

Dark bites his lip, thinking pensively. Then, he shouts, "Welcome aboard!" and leaps over to ruffle Vaati's lavender hair with his knuckles. "Do I get free golden tickets to the chocolate factory?"

"Go to hell."

Thursday, November 15th

"I don't know why you don't take that damn glove off, Link."

I narrow my eyes at Pipit as I complete my last few push-ups with ease. "I don't know why you give a shit."

Ever since I bought it, I've never taken the glove off my hand—except to wash it, of course—in order to hide the Triforce mark. It's a little paranoid, sure, but there's a chance that some people would be questioning of it. Perhaps some would even figure out I'm the bearer of one of the pieces. Doubtful, but possible.

Sheik eyes me mysteriously as Pipit continues arguing. "Even in PE, though?" the brunette asks. He finishes his set of sit-ups, relaxes, and fixes his brown eyes on me with a peculiar expression. "It's hurting my image. Makes me look like I'm hanging out with some weirdo."

"They don't seem to think so." I gesture with my head to the group of girls next to ours, who frequently turn their heads in our direction. His eyes flick over to them, curious.

"They're looking at me, idiot," Pipit remarks a little to loudly. "Plus, those girls right there are hoes."

As if on cue, their heads dart over to us. "Excuse me?" one of them asks, drawn-on eyebrows raised. On second thought, I'd much rather prefer that they weren't looking at me. Her orange, spray-tanned face wrinkles in an angry frown. "As if we're interested in you, you damn nerds!"

Touching.

"Nerds?" Pipit repeats, scoffing. "We'll probably become your bosses one day."

I look at the girls, fighting the urge to cringe, then turn to Pipit. "Nah, I never planned on becoming a pimp."

They gasp, then shout something that rhymes with the words "suck goo" in retort, and return to their conversation.

I glance over at Pipit and Sheik, who are doubling over laughing, and crack a small smile myself. "What?" I ask with false innocence.

"Dude," Pipit says through his laughs, wide-eyed, "you pretty much just ended their lives."

"I haven't witnessed a roast that legendary since my last time making s'mores," chuckles Sheik.

I shrug as Mido comes to our group after a bathroom break, settling into the push-up position to begin his warmup. "'Sup, guys," he says.

Sheik grins eagerly. "Dude—you just missed out. Link practically committed murder."

I flinch at his word choice, darting my head toward him, saying instantly, "It was out of self-defense!" Images flash through my mind—Sakon's blood on my hands, his body lying still in the bushes, Zelda's terrified look in her eye as he'd been holding the knife to her neck . . .

"Yeah, he defended us," he says somewhat awkwardly, snapping me out of it, nodding to me before turning back to Mido. "These girls called us nerds, so Link . . . "

I don't listen, even though the words Sheik used did not mean what I thought they did. After minutes of zoning out, my eyes down and thinking to myself, I get confused at the turn of the coversation when I regain my sense of reality.

"Oh, there's this pizza place I'm gonna take you guys to after school. I heard it's legendary."

I meet his expectant eyes. "Yeah, uh, I don't think I'm gonna go," I tell him.

Sheik glares at me, shaking his head. "I don't think you have a choice this time."

"Mod Pizza," I announce, squinting up at the shop's sign.

"Yep," Sheik chimes, grinning over at me. "Just an eleven minute walk from the academy. Can't believe I haven't noticed this before."

I send him a bored look.

"Hey. Pep up, Eeyore," he chastises. "Mido and Tidbit are meeting us here in a bit. It'll be fun, believe me."

"Alright," I grunt skeptically, rolling my eyes and following him as he pushes the double doors inward. We're met with a rush of warm air, which feels nice in contrast to the cold autumn breeze outside.

Booths and tables are set to our left, one row beside the windows and other in the middle of the floor. People are scattered around amongst the seats, chatting amongst themselves, creating a dull hum. A counter stands behind these setups, with two wrinkly old ladies manning the pizza-creation.

"Welcome to Mod!" one of them calls upon seeing us.

Sheik walks up to the counter, and I follow him as he greets one of the old ladies. She is short, rather skinny, and has tanned, wrinkled skin that stretches outward as she smiles. A name tag is pinned on her blue apron, reading: Kotake.

The other lady, I notice, looks identical to Kotake, except for her red apron. She mills about dutifully behind the counter, checking on each pizza within the various ovens.

"What would you two young fellas like today?" Kotake inquires enthusiastically, behavior I wouldn't expect from a woman of her age.

"Let's just take . . . an extra large pepperoni pizza, and four waters, please," Sheik says, withdrawing his wallet. I try to do the same, but he stops me. "I got it, bro."

"Thanks," I tell him.

"Alright. That'll be twenty-three rupees, please."

Sheik hands over the gems, as I silently wish I had a little more funds to be able to pay for the group one day.

Kotake grins, dropping the currency into the register. "My sis Koume will bring your food out when it's ready. Find a seat wherever you'd like."

"Thanks," Sheik says, leading me to a booth beside the window.

As Sheik slides into the seat across from me, I suddenly realize that this was the pizza place Dark and I had passed while we were out last night. Huh, small world.

About ten minutes of idle chat later, Koume comes up to our table with a platter of the giant pizza and four drinks, smiling warmly at us as she sets it down. "Enjoy, boys," she says before turning to leave. She stops, though, eyes on me. "I like your glove, buddy."

Beneath it, my hand begins to throb uneasily. " . . . Uh, thanks," I say politely but awkwardly. Koume's eyes linger on the leather glove for a second, but then she smiles at the both of us and heads back to the counter.

That was strange.

"See? This is great, right? It's good to get you out of the dorm," says Sheik cheerily, brushing past that weird moment and taking a massive bite of pepperoni pizza.

"I've been getting out of the dorm," I insist.

"Late night walks don't count," he says through a stuffed mouth. "You've done that since you got to the academy, anyway."

"Exercise is good for you."

"Yeah, and so is sleep."

"Sleep," I scoff, staring down at my food. "What's that?"

His eyebrows raise. "You've got insomnia?"

I nod solemnly, eyes down. " . . . She's all I can think about."

Sheik sighs. "I'm sorry, bro."

Silence ensues, but moments later Pipit and Mido barge into the door amidst a heated debate. "You're saying that I shouldn't have gotten her?"

"No, I'm saying that I could have easily gotten that chick! She was way too easy for you!"

"Are you saying you've got more game than me?" Pipit demands.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. But on second thought, I do."

"You've gotta be kidding!" Pipit laughs heartily. "Sheik, which one of us has more game?" As he slides into the seat beside the blonde, Mido scoots in next to me.

"Uh, neither of you guys," Sheik answers flatly.

Their eyebrows raise. "What?"

"If getting girls is the game, then having a girlfriend is winning." He crosses his arms over his chest, shrugging.

Pipit looks at Mido, then back at the blonde. "Maybe if you're playing peewee." Pipit shakes his head scornfully and turns to me. "Link, what about you?"

I take a sip of my water, eyeing him, then ask dully, "What about me?"

"Which of us has more game?"

"Mido," I answer instantly, to Pipit's dismay. Mido pumps a celebratory fist in the air. "Only because I feel like Pipit has an STD, which would give Mido a much longer lifespan to catch up."

Pipit points a finger at me. "That depends on the STD."

Squinting in confusion, Mido says, "I'm starting to worry about you."

Pipit smirks. "Alright. You 'n I will figure this out on our own."

"Link just said—"

"Pretend I'm a girl," Pipit orders, "a hot girl."

"That's not possible."

"Shut up. What would you say to me?"

Biting his lip, Mido thinks for a moment. With his eyes still closed, Mido opens his mouth to speak: " . . . Are you from Memphis? 'Cause you're the only ten I see." Grinning in self-approval, he eagerly turns to Pipit.

"That was shit."

Mido's smile drops. "My cousin told me that one."

"Is your cousin a virgin?"

"No idea."

"He must be. If you said that to a girl, you wouldn't get laid even if you crawled up a chicken's ass," Pipit says assuredly. "That settles it. I've got more game. End of discussion."

Mido glares at the brunette, then looks away. "Whatever. Now I guess I'm counting on that STD."

"Wow. You're a horrible friend."

"Who said we were friends?"

Pipit's eyes drift to the door, brushing off Mido's snide comment, and he raises his eyebrows. "What the hell?" he whispers.

Sheik follows his gaze, reacting similarly: "What the hell?" Curiously, Mido and I crane our necks to look back at the door behind us.

Bursting through it with an elated spring in his step, Mikau laughs along with the girl at his side. Wait—girl at his side?

"Lulu?!" Pipit blurts.

Lulu doesn't hear, and she and Mikau waltz up to the counter like nothing bad had ever happened between them.

"I-I don't understand," Pipit says, wide-eyed.

"Didn't they break up?" asks Mido. We nod.

"Lulu was mad because Mikau was spending too much time with us," says Sheik, scarlet eyes trained on the two, "and when he got drunk one night, she didn't like that."

I nod idly, remembering that night and the subsequent events, when I hid behind a vending machine to eavesdrop on their breakup. Turning to my friends, I ask, "Why do you think she gave him another chance?"

"Maybe it's his fame," Mido comments.

"That might be true," Sheik mutters, "but Ruto is the greedy one, not Lulu."

Pipit nods. "Ruto's a bitch."

"Well think about it," Mido continues. "Ever since their gig at Odolwa Center, Morpha's album has sold a thousand copies from the Best Buy down the block." He shrugs. "I think she regrets quitting."

Then, as the four of us stare questioningly at the "couple," Mikau turns his head toward us. His eyes widen, he mutters something under his breath, then he plasters on a nervous smile. "Hey, guys!"

None of us answer, maintaining our suspicious and surprised eye contact.

Finally, Lulu realizes where Mikau's looking, and turns her head toward us. She grins, just as nervously as Mikau. "Hi, guys!" she greets with false excitement.

Finally, out of politeness, we return their greetings, albeit with less enthusiasm. "Hey, Mikau, hey, Lulu," we groan in unison, like possessed people in a horror movie.

Lulu's deep blue eyes flick up to me, and she frowns indignantly, biting her lip. I know exactly what she's thinking right now. But instead of chewing me out like Midna did, she puts on a false smile and says, "Excuse me for a moment; I need to use the restroom."

"Alright," says Mikau and no one else.

When she leaves, Mikau turns to us uneasily. "So, how're you g—"

"Sell-out!" Pipit barks, pointing an accusative finger at him.

I observe the following events with a dull look in my eyes, propping my head up on my closed fist, elbow on the table. Lulu definitely wanted to scream her lungs out at me for what happened between me and Zelda. I sigh, deflated.

Sheik folds his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed at the boy standing apprehensively before us, like a deer in headlights. "Mikau, what are you doing?"

"I tried telling you we were getting back together," he proclaimed with wide, innocent eyes.

"Since when?" Pipit asks.

"Uh, last week."

The four of us sitting down exchange looks, sigh as a unit, and turn our attention back to Mikau.

"Don't worry, Mik," Pipit assures, "I'll break up with her for you." He takes one of the napkins on the table, pulls a pen out of his pants pocket, and begins to write, reading it aloud as he does so. "'Dearest Lulu, welcome to Dumpville. Population: you.'"

Mikau glances at Pipit, telling him flatly, "I'm not breaking up with her."

"Bro—"

"She promised that she's letting me hang out with you guys more."

"Well you didn't come through today," Mido points out.

" . . . I would've, but it's our one-year anniversary today."

A chorus of groans rings out across the booth. "Aww, Mikau," Pipit says in an abnormally soft tone, "that's so sweet, that I wanna stuff a heart-shaped pillowcase full of old Tom Cruise movies, and beat you with it."

Mikau just looks at him with a frown.

"Today shouldn't be your one-year if you two broke up," Sheik states. "It starts over. Today doesn't count."

"It counts!" Mikau protests stubbornly. "If it didn't count I'd be sitting right here next to you guys!"

Pipit shrugs, telling him, "Nah, there isn't any room for a fifth. Sorry, tiger." Mikau rolls his eyes.

Friday, November 16th

FRIDAY. Almost the weekend. Gods know I could use a weekend to recuperate, what with my insomnia and frequent nights out, either alone or with Dark. Not only do I have a chance to recuperate, but a chance to get away from my thoughts of Zelda. Like that'll happen, I tell myself cynically, but at least I won't be forced to see her four times a day.

To make matters worse, I've done nearly no homework for any class this whole week, and consequently, my grades began to slip. Granted, I'm not the smartest in the first place, but I typically have the work ethic to finish assignments . . . when I feel like it. All week I haven't felt like it. The only thing I've felt like was a depressed screw-up.

Zelda hasn't so much as looked my way in eleven days, since our . . . incident. I try to avoid torturing myself from looking at her, but all I can do is wonder, What if?

What if I didn't have Ganondorf's target on my back? What if there were no Ganondorf in the first place? Then Rusl wouldn't have been killed. (But then I wouldn't have been invited to this academy, and I wouldn't have met Zelda. . . . ) But most of all, what if I hadn't done what I'd done; what if I hadn't ended things between the two of us? Would Zelda be safe?

Probably not. And that's the sad reality of it all. I can daydream all my stupid mind wants, but ultimately, I'm reminded that I made the morally-right choice. And that provides some consolation, but nothing to cure my heartache.

I've been letting my mind wander through Mr. Lux's entire lecture about the "split timeline theory" or whatever, which makes absolutely no sense. Think about it, if we're in the present, and our past has three pasts that were all simultaneously happening, how did all pasts end up to be the present? Or, maybe we're still on one timeline, and if so, how would we know about the other two?

Honestly it's about as realistic as like, a talking boat.

"And so, this third timeline is called the Adult Era. Here, after the Hero of Time was sent back to his own time to relive his life as a child, the kingdom was left without a hero. . . . "

I turn to my left to send Sheik a bored look. He returns it, nods knowingly, and rests his chin in his folded arms on the desk. I swear, this teacher has been rambling for like, thirty straight minutes.

The whiteboard at the head of the classroom displays a diagram of the timeline of the legends, powered by a projector that hangs from the ceiling above me. Gods, what I would give to see that projector somehow malfunction and stop working. Then maybe ol' Rauru would shut up.

An idea pops into my head, and I smirk to myself. It's risky, but as Confucius himself said, YOLO.

I close my eyes, training my mind to search the depths of my body for energy, like a submarine expedition through a series of underwater caves. Instantly my hand is filled with the strange electricity, and I very, very subtly flick my thumb upward. A miniscule, quick bolt flies up out of my gloved hand and buries itself within the projector. The diagram on the whiteboard flickers, then dies out.

A chorus of laughs and cheers bursts out throughout the class. No one knew it was me, though, I tell myself mischievously. I find myself smiling, a rare occasion nowadays, and turn to Sheik. He's no longer lying down on his desk; instead he stares at me with an unreadable expression. But when he notices I'm looking at him, he immediately slaps on a grin and chuckles.

"Ugh," Rauru grumbles, "I'll need to get that fixed." And that's what he focuses on doing for the rest of the class period, calling the school technician to the classroom.

I wonder if he saw me. I sure hope he didn't.

The bell rings, and students eagerly begin filing out of the classroom, breathing the sweet air of freedom. Nah, he didn't see me.

"Link, I need you to see me after school today."

Shit.

Couldn't I have just waited the ten extra minutes until class ended? Probably, in retrospect. But no, my stupid instinctive mind decided to be impatient and break a stupid-ass projector. What is my infatuation with destroying school property?

My bank account sure as hell remembers the hefty bill I had to pay to replace the basketball hoop. That was stupid.

I'm stupid.

I reluctantly knock on Rauru Lux's door, open it, and see the history teacher waiting for me at his desk. "Link, good to see you," he greets, rising to his feet as I make my way over to a comfortable conversing distance from him.

"Yeah, um . . . same here," I say politely but untruthfully. I don't want to see him, but I mean, it's better than Mr. Masca or Mr. Minish.

"First of all, you're not in trouble, Link."

My eyes widen. "So you didn't see me break your projector?" I find myself asking unintentionally.

"What?"

"Nothing," I instantly say.

He furrows his voluminous white eyebrows, but brushes off my slip-up. "My interrupted lecture today, about the legends and their timeline placements, really got me thinking about you, Mr. Gaiden."

I blink. " . . . Why?"

He shakes his head, heaving a sigh. "Surely you've seen the current state of our city lately. Look around; you can't go two miles without witnessing a crime." He fixes me with a serious look. "It's a cry for help, Link."

"What's your point?"

Rauru lowers his gaze. "You purchased that glove from Mr. Masca, correct?"

I blink in confusion, not answering his question. The leather of my glove begins to itch.

"He told me there was a suspicious mark on your hand. Something I would be interested in."

I gulp nervously, heart pumping. " . . . It's a scar, Mr. Lux," I tell him dishonestly. "I don't think you'll find that interesting."

Clearly ignoring my lie, he cuts to the chase, saying, "I believe the goddesses chose you as an answer to our city's cry for help."

I stare at him blankly for a moment, then scoff. The goddesses didn't choose me! They cursed me! He clearly thinks that I possess a piece of the Triforce, which I refuse to admit as true. He must assume I'm like, the Hero of Time, or whatever those fairytales are. That's all they are. Fairytales. "I believe you're a crackpot."

Crackpot. What a strange word. It compounds two words for recreational drugs and it defines as a crazy person. Or, maybe it describes the craziness someone would acquire after using crack or pot. I'll bet Rauru rolled a joint or two this morning before heading to work. That would explain a lot.

"You're not religious, I take it?" Rauru asks, folding his arms over his chest and eyeing me sternly.

"I believe in the possibility of gods. But no fairytale from the books you make us read is believable to me," I avow with a stubborn nod.

"I advise you to be open-minded."

"Normally I am," I tell him, "but this is way too far out there."

"I see," he comments, turning his gaze away. "Do you believe in the Triforce?"

Ooh, well played, old coot. I look at him and shrug, making my expression unreadable. "No," I say as convincingly as I can. "Gold triangles floating in heaven? Please."

"Or, resting on the back of the chosen's hand," he says, blue eyes meeting mine.

That's two well played moves, Rauru, but it still seems that I've got the upper hand. "Can't think of any world where that's possible. But I got homework to do. Are we done now?"

His gaze lingers on the stormy weather outside his window, sighs, and turns toward me. "Yes, Link, go on along," he replies, his serious tone now replaced with his usual kindness.

I begin my retreat, and nearly reach the door when he speaks again.

"Remember, Link—" I whirl around impatiently as he glances my way, wearing a grim expression. "—in this world, anything is possible."

I squint, weirded out by his cliché statement, but then roll my eyes. "Uh, okay," I say before turning and finally leaving.

"This is crazy," Dark comments, staring down timidly at the street. "I've never been on a rooftop before."

Looking his way, I tear my gaze away from Hyrule Castle standing off in the distance in the Tri District. The night air is chilly, the steady breeze carrying the pointy backs of our long caps in its wake. Clouds block all light from the stars and the moon, creating a dark and eerie atmosphere. If not for the steady glow of city lights, it would be a pitch-black night. "Vaati and I climb up to them every now and then to get a bird's-eye view of the city."

"Enough about Vaati," Dark grumbles, shooting me an irked look. "I still don't trust that Oompa Loompa."

Smirking, I ask him, "Are you jealous?"

"No!" He shakes his head rapidly, eyeing me with a stern glare. "Think about it, though. The Oompa Loompa is working with you, sure, but how do you know about his boss, Willy Wonka? For all you know, boss-man could be plotting against you."

I roll my eyes. "Can you stop with the Chocolate Factory analogies? I've met the boss. Her name's Cia and she was the one who proposed the alliance. I think you've seen her, too."

"Oh yeah," he says, eyebrows raising. "I've seen her. Anti-gravity boobs. Gotta be fake. I'm still D-T-F though." He pauses, realizing he's gotten off-topic. "But what if Cia's just another Oompa Loompa like Vaati and the other gangsters? What if Willy Wonka was someone else who's actually against you?"

"Now you're just playing the What If game," I say, rolling my eyes. "You're just mad because I'm relying on someone other than you for once."

"I'm not mad! I'm just thinking of all possible outcomes—"

"Save it," I snap, patience wearing thin. "Look down there." I point downward at something in the alley beside a skyscraper.

"But . . . Heights!"

"Just look!"

Dark's eyes drift down toward where I point, and they grow wide at the sight of a band of ten bokoblins. "Huh. That's strange. I haven't seen monsters around here in awhile."

"I know, me neither. I think the last time was Halloween."

"When Tidbit wet himself," Dark laughs, grinning ear-to-ear.

"Why would Ganondorf summon more monsters, though?" I ask.

"Well, his monsters are clearly afraid of humans, since no one really knows about them but you, me, Tidbit, Zeke, and Michael—"

"Pipit, Sheik, and Mikau," I remind him for the gazillionth time.

"—So maybe they're after you," Dark says grimly.

I shrug, looking back down at the bokoblins so far away. "Only one way to find out."

"Wait, Link, what are you—"

I leap over the edge, feeling the excitement and/or terror as the wind rushes past me.

But that excitement is cut short after one second of being suspended in the air, and I land on the highest level's fire escape.

I'm not jumping off any buildings—I'm not a complete lunatic. Truthfully, I only did it to scare Dark.

Speaking of, he pokes his head over the edge, looking straight down, eyes connecting with mine. He heaves a hefty sigh of relief, before yelling, "Link! Don't scare me like that!"

"Don't say my name, Dark!"

"You just said mine!"

"Yours doesn't matter!"

With that, I start my descent, skipping the stairs and taking the quicker route, jumping down one level at a time. When I hit the ground, I look back and notice that Dark, the chicken that he is, started climbing down the fire escape. That will take him like, five times as long. What a baby.

The bokoblins mill about in the alley across the road. Oddly, no cars or pedestrians are traveling on this street. Perhaps they get a bad feeling about this place. Those bokoblins are definitely about to.

I stand directly across from the hideous mob of monsters, right hand glowing. Lucky for me, at the building I'd been standing on, a discarded crowbar lies in a pile of broken glass underneath a shattered window. How incredibly conveniently located—almost like someone pulling the strings of my life had that crowbar placed exactly where I'd land. Huh. I pick it up, swing it experimentally, and set my eyes fiercely on the beasts.

Their piercing yellow eyes turn to me in unison, which is creepy as hell, finally noticing my presence. Something about these bokoblins seems . . . off, though. But what's on about a pig demon?

Lurching forward with heavy limps, each pig demon creeps toward me, moving out onto the open road, attracted like moths to a light. They appear to be wearing black diapers, and their skin is a sickly purple hue, rather than their typical red skin. Slobs of drool hang down from their ravenous jaws, and they take sharp, ragged breaths. There look to be around ten of them, most of which carrying knifes, while one carries what appears to be the femur of a large animal, and one carries . . . a selfie stick. Oh, gods, of all things!

I charge the creatures, not waiting for Dark any longer. The bokoblin wielding the selfie stick dashes toward me ambitiously, swinging its—uh, weapon—horizontally. I raise my crowbar, blocking it, and swing vertically, smacking the pig demon on its purple head.

As it falls to the ground, more pig demons raise their makeshift weapons and lurch toward me menacingly, saliva gurgling in their maws. Gross. I summon energy to my hand, using the metal crowbar as a conductor, and shoot a bolt straight at a bokoblin's chest. It thrashes around before collapsing, and I turn to its brethren.

They definitely seem to have their minds set on killing me, I note, as I plunge the crowbar through the belly of a pig demon. Something sharp grazes my side, and I hiss in pain before turning to kick the culprit in its stupid face. It whines, drops the knife, and I ignore the pain in my side as I channel my inner Alex Rodriguez and swing the crowbar baseball-style, connecting with its temple.

"Hepatitis-C ya later!" I holler as the bokoblin goes flying.

I yelp as a blade slashes across my back, drawing out a warm substance. Whirling around, I grit my teeth and tighten my grip on my weapon, staring down the seven remaining bokoblins. They'd formed a semicircle around me, fourteen golden eyes boring into my soul.

The one who'd sliced my back stands there stupidly, almost looking guilty. I summon more energy, pointing my hand at the bokoblin, and attempt to shoot another bolt. But . . . nothing happens.

What the hell?

Confused, I race forward, crowbar poised, and swing mightily at two knife-bearing pigs. They fall backward, arms flailing, and I turn to the five others. I channel all my emotions into my attacks, feeling the rage and adrenaline course through my veins. Thoughtlessly, I rush in headfirst, wishing to see all of these abhorred monsters dead at my feet.

One swing for Agahnim repeatedly punching me in the face. The bokoblin cries out and lies dormant. A heavy smack to the temple for putting Zelda in danger. The creature wails in pain before going silent. A swing to the neck for Rusl's murder. Its bones crack audibly before it goes limp.

"Link!" Dark's voice calls from the fire escape. I can't tell how far down he's climbed, since I'm a little preoccupied. "Be careful!"

Not paying attention to him, I shove the crowbar into the chest of a pig demon. It had almost looked . . . scared.

"Look, those aren't—You're putting yourself in danger!"

"No shit!" I yell, turning to face him indignantly. He's almost to ground level, and he's climbing down the stairs with a new sense of urgency.

I turn to address the last monster. My eyes widen before the bokoblin bludgeons me on the head with the animal femur, and I promptly fall backward onto the road. The fiend grunts triumphantly, coggling toward me slowly as I try to clear the spots from my vision.

I blink repeatedly, my eyesight dark. Deliriously, I attempt once again to summon energy from the Triforce into my hand. I try firing an electric bolt, but again, nothing happens. Swearing colorfully, I stagger to my feet, eyesight recovering at a slow pace.

The spots clear, and I can see just fine now as the bokoblin sweeps the giant bone at my legs. I hastily block it, turning the crowbar downward, but I get knocked off balance and am forced to take a couple steps back. The bokoblin takes advantage of this, swinging horizontally and striking me in my wounded side.

I yelp as pain erupts in my wound, feeling it stretch and widen, the hot liquid oozing out and staining my green tunic. I'm stumble to the ground, and the bokoblin is closing the distance between us. I raise my weapon as it does too, but my side only spills out more blood as I do so. I bite back a scream, thoughtlessly reaching toward it to pressure the wound, all while letting my guard down.

The bokoblin swings its animal bone downward, likely about to knock me out and eat me alive. But, out of nowhere, Dark leaps in front of me, letting out a battle cry as he plunges an uprooted stop sign pole into the monster's purple stomach. The last bokoblin falls onto its back, the pole still dug into its flesh, the red octagonal sign sticking straight up.

None of the creatures had exploded into the familiar cloud of smoke, I note, getting up slowly. "Thanks," I grunt to Dark, taking slow, calming breaths. The adrenaline coursing through my veins begins to simmer down, and I finally get a grasp of reality and what I just did.

I just ran headfirst into a horde of demons, alone. I earned two cuts, a potential concussion, and a gnarly-ass bruise in my ribs. I killed nine of them by myself. And I wanted to. I shiver at the thought.

"You're bleeding," is all Dark manages to say. He immediately takes his black cap off, hurrying over to me.

"Good observation," I snap, grimacing as he wraps the hat around both of my cuts, tying it off as a tourniquet. "And now you're gonna get blood stains on your hat."

"Better than you dying, dipshit," he retorts, standing up. His speech has taken on a serious, hasty tone. "Can you run? We need to run. Like, now."

"Yeah, I can run, but I don't see why—"

Dark's eyes flick from me to the corpses to the street laid out before us. "Link, just trust me on this. We—"

"Are you being a chicken again?" I ask him irritably.

"Link, come on!" Dark shouts with a heightened sense of urgency. He grabs my arm, beginning to drag me away from the ring of demon corpses surrounding us, but is forced to stop when they begin to stir.

Our eyes widen. One by one, the purple bokoblins rise back to their feet, like they had never been killed.

Zombie pig demons!

Their yellow eyes glow with a new wildness, mouths drooling for the taste of human flesh. And they're faster. They limp toward the two of us at a quickened pace, like they're even hungrier than before.

I gulp. "Can we outrun 'em?"

They begin closing in on us as Dark and I stand back-to-back. He shakes his head, and I notice he's unarmed. "No, they have our scent now. They'll follow our tracks until they kill us, or we kill them."

"I like option two," I murmur. They're getting closer, and I ready my crowbar.

"Go for their eyes." Dark kicks an advancing creature backward. "It's gruesome, but it'll stab right into their brains." He catches a bokoblin's arm as it swings a knife, then kicks the creature away.

I do as he says, spinning away from a selfie stick swing and thrusting the crowbar's sharp end into the yellow eye of a bokoblin, and it collapses with a puff of smoke.

The selfie stick clatters to the ground in front of me, and I bend down to quickly pick it up, tossing it behind me to Dark. "Here, use this!"

He catches the selfie stick, squinting down at its chrome surface before recognizing what it is. "Gee, thanks!" he grumbles sarcastically, gripping the pointless item in his fist. "Now I feel safe!"

"We should get swords," I comment, jamming the crowbar into another pig demon's eye. I then take that monster's head, grab another's head, and shove the two together. The crowbar stabs into both bokoblins, and they both puff away. I catch the crowbar before it falls to the ground.

"Or, y'know, guns?!" Dark hollers over his shoulder, thrusting the selfie stick into the zombie with the stop sign sticking out of its belly. It disappears, wailing in pain.

"See? Glad I got you that weapon now?" I ask him stubbornly, turning to the femur-wielding zombie, my archenemy. Well, for tonight at least.

The bokoblin raises the giant bone, but I'm not going to tolerate it again. I lunge forward, bringing the crowbar over my head, and thrust downward into its eye, killing it instantly. Five to go.

Dark ducks as one bokoblin swings its knife over his head, and it conveniently lands in another bokoblin's eye, killing it. He leaps back up to drill his selfie stick into the betrayer's eye, spins, and stabs another. He moves with an unmatchable fluidity, almost like he's an expert of combat, like he's been doing this forever.

I wince in pain as a zombie pig lashes out with its arm, digging its short but sharp claws into my shoulder. It raises the knife, but I smack it repeatedly on the head with my crowbar until it relinquishes its grip on my shoulder. Gasping in relief from the sharp pain, I grip the bar in both hands, thrusting it over and upward, impaling the zombie straight up the eye.

"Ooh, a demon-kabob," Dark says from behind me as the monster disintegrates from my crowbar. He had taken care of the last bokoblin while I'd been occupied, and has been watching me, leaning on the selfie stick like a cane. He wears that usual mischievous smile again.

I look at him, breathing heavily, trying to calm my heart rate. We share eye contact for a brief, awkward moment.

I turn around and throw up.

"I'm gonna need my cap back."

"Here. Take it."

"Whoa, your bleeding already stopped!"

"One of the few perks of being cursed by the goddesses. Quick healing. Still hurts like a bitch though, and it'll leave a nasty scar."

"We should probably change before climbing up there."

"Shoot, I nearly forgot. Sheik would have found out about us."

We stand outside the boys' dorm building, below my room, 3B. Dark hastily digs into his backpack, retrieving his normal clothes, and begins to strip down from his combat gear.

I cover my eyes. "Whoa, what're you doing?"

"Changing."

"Out in the open?"

He turns his head in a three-sixty before back to me. "Do you see anybody around here?"

I reluctantly change as well, quickly changing into my khakis and my blue jacket, the cold night air nipping bitterly at my bare skin as I do so. Once set, I begin my ascent to the third level window, vaulting off 1B's windowsill, then 2B's, before clinging onto 3B's and peering inside.

I'm about to climb up and in to land inside on my bed, but I freeze, hearing voices. Dark stays on the ground, looking up at me expectantly.

"D-did you hear that?"

Zelda. That's her voice.

"Hear what?" Sheik asks.

"I . . . thought I heard something out the window."

I gulp, ready to drop down if I absolutely need to.

"Relax, Zelda. Link isn't here, and he won't be. He goes on these late night walks a lot."

Sighing in relief, I peer inside daringly, observing the dorm. Sheik sits on his bed, facing the window I'm at, and Zelda stands near the foot of it.

"I know, but . . . " Zelda's eyes show that she knows something Sheik doesn't. "He could easily be . . . " She trails off, biting her lip and looking away. She's always done that.

Sheik brushes Zelda's moment of pondering off, asking her, "What was it you were saying?"

Zelda looks his way, pausing. " . . . R-right. I, uh, haven't told my father that I know."

"That you know what?"

"That we're . . . related," Zelda says, murmuring the last word quietly, nearly inaudibly.

Sheik scoffs. "Really? Why? I'd expect you to confront him and make this big spiel about honesty or somethin'."

"I tried, but . . . " Zelda sighs. "It's uncomfortable for me. It's weird to talk about something like that with your dad."

"I could tell him you know, if you want," Sheik offers with a shrug.

"No, please don't," Zelda rebuffs, shaking her head. "That would just make it more awkward."

"How?"

Zelda exhales deeply. "Because I'd know he wouldn't know I know, and then he'd know I know, and he'd know I know without telling him I know. . . . You know?"

Sheik blinks. "You lost me at 'know.'"

Zelda smiles, but it's quick to fade.

"Besides," Sheik says, palms raised upward, "if you just explain the whole thing to your father, everything would be solved."

"But then I'd make him feel guilty for not telling the truth," Zelda says compassionately.

"Alright, Zelda, tell him when you want to. But you can't delay it forever, because one day I'm gonna throw my arm around both Malon and you, and when he sees that, your father's gonna be asking some questions."

Zelda laughs lightly, making my heart flutter—Stop, Link. "Alright, well," she says, "I should get going before, um . . . he shows up."

"Zelda?"

She turns. "Yeah?"

"If it helps, after what you and I have been through . . . You're not hot."

"Gee, thanks."

Sheik's eyes widen. "No, wait! That—that wasn't supposed to be mean, it was supposed to be symbolic, like, like I now think of you as my sister! And I—"

Zelda raises a hand, giggling quietly. "Save it, Sheiky. I know."

Sheik grins, sighing. "Alright. See ya, sis."

Zelda cringes. "Uh . . . No. Too soon." With that, she turns and leaves, the door shutting softly behind her.

I then open the window, climbing up and over, before landing face-first on my bed.

"Link?!" Sheik shouts, standing up abruptly.

I sit up, looking at him wide-eyed.

"Wha—Were you spying on us?!"

"Maybe a little bit."

Soon thereafter, Dark tumbles in, crashing down on top of me. I groan in pain from my sore wounds as he looks around obliviously. "What'd I miss?"

I shove Dark off of me, and he yelps as he stumbles to the floor. "Sorry, Sheiky," I say, using Zelda's new nickname for him, "we were just on a late night walk."

"Is your ass jealous of all the shit that comes outta your mouth?" Sheik asks incredulously, glaring at me with suspicion. "Honestly—you're out like every night. I swear you're hiding something from us."

I look at him for awhile, calculating a sly response, before speaking. "Sometimes I have more important stuff to do."

"Gods, Link," Sheik grumbles. "If you're gonna be two-faced, at least make one of them look good."

Dark raises his hand. "He is two-faced, and I'm that good-looking face."

"Shut up," I grumble at him.

"Hey! I saved your life tonight; you'll treat me with respect!"

"Wait—" Sheik's eyes widen. "Saved your life? You're putting your life in danger?"

I shrug, then lie back onto my bed. "Maybe a little bit. G'night, Sheiky."

"You're so uptight," Dark comments to Sheik as he stands up, yawning and stretching, before plopping down emphatically on the couch. "Chillax once in awhile, bro-beans."

With that, I roll over, wincing in pain from my injuries, and attempt to get some sleep. Finally, my eyelids droop shut, and I'm sent into a deep, much-needed slumber.

And nightmares plague my mind all throughout.