June, 2020: Warning: Unedited. Low quality.
COUNTING STARS
Chapter 17: Stoic
There it lay. The triangle. Planted firmly on a stone pedestal in the back of the grand, circular room. How incredibly anticlimactic, the man thought.
He found it ignorant of King Gustaf to believe the relic belonged solely to the Princess of Destiny and her bloodline. His Majesty did not, however, think of the loophole. The man laughed, a wicked, raspy cackle.
Now he just needed to find the harp.
Grinning wolfishly, the man took heavy steps toward the pedestal, eager to acquire the second part to this three-piece puzzle. Power was given. Wisdom will be taken. Courage would be found, eventually.
He froze, round ears perking up, at the sound of movement. His fingers silently curled around the pistol in his suit jacket, and his golden eyes flicked from left to right. For a moment, all was still.
But then, the walls to either side of him lifted up, revealing two large sets of black armor, larger than him, carrying imposing broadswords. Darknuts, they were called. They stood there, dormant, and the man frowned.
As he took an experimental step toward the relic, they sprang to life, just as the man expected. He smiled wickedly, craving a challenge.
What he didn't expect, though, was their incredible agility and strength that rivaled his own.
The man withdrew his pistol, pointing it at each of the darknuts, but they refused to back down. He aimed at the opening in the left one's helmet, where its face was cloaked in shadows, and pulled the trigger. As the gun fired loudly, the bullet disappeared within the helmet, but didn't seem to hit home, because the knight kept marching.
The man scrunched his large nose in frustration, taking steps back so he was no longer sandwiched between the two knights. He returned the pistol to his suit jacket, deeming it useless, and decided instead to use his bare hands and raw power.
One darknut broke its pattern and charged forward with unbridled speed, sword pointed at the man's heart. He sidestepped, bringing his foot up to the darknut's helmet with a mighty kick. It voiced no pain as it recoiled, but swung the sword again. This time, the man was sliced in the back.
Angrily, the man raced forward, gripping underneath the helmet of the darknut and lifting it up, while restraining its sword arm with his other hand. The man bellowed as he threw the knight toward the wall, and it sagged to the floor in a heap of metal.
A blade then pierced his back and rammed through his stomach. The man made no sound as his golden eyes fell to the broadsword sticking out of him. He craned his neck to see the other darknut, dutiful and expressionless, holding the hilt. And, lips stretching into a wicked smile, the man broke out into malicious laughter.
The darknut stared at him, unfazed by the man's crazed behavior, and withdrew his sword, believing its duty was done. Crimson blood welled up on the fabric of the man's suit.
"There he is!" a voice shouted urgently.
Men filed in from behind, forming a circle to surround the wounded man. His breath was ragged as he observed the scene. The guards, protected with bulletproof vests and carrying assault rifles, stood rigidly around him. He sensed their fear.
One particularly bold guard, likely the captain, raised his voice at the man. "State your name and business in Hyrule Castle!"
The man watched with mild interest as the darknuts receded into their hiding spots, having completed their duty. He turned to the guards, clenched his teeth and held his jaw high, even as the blood poured out of his wound. "I am Ganondorf Dragmire," he announced in a booming voice. He wanted the whole world to know his name. "You know where I am. Therefore you know my business."
The captain looked confused. "This room is highly restricted and accessible only to the royal bloodline!"
"You didn't do the best job of protecting it," he said dryly, indicating to the stacks of bodies he'd been responsible for in order to get here.
The men raised their weapons at Ganondorf. "We have authorization to engage!" a different man shouted. Turning to him, the man merely laughed.
If he were killed… that would not be a major issue. But it would waste time. His plan needed to be initiated. After a brief moment of pondering, he decided he didn't need to use the loophole; he'd still get the triangular relic later. If he had Power, then Courage and Wisdom would come to him. He had no doubt about it.
So Ganondorf turned and ran.
"Engage!" the captain yelled, and a torrent of bullets sprayed toward the escaping man as he bolted out of the room.
Ganondorf ignored the rounds that lodged themselves in his back, and focused entirely on evacuating Hyrule Castle. How foolish of him to toy with the darknuts and give an opportunity for backup to come; he should have grabbed the relic and ran. And now, it will be even more heavily-guarded, and he could not afford to be killed. There was no time for death.
Ganondorf felt the weight of his wounds catching up to him, albeit a lot slower than they would to a normal man. But he was no normal man.
He dashed through the halls, striking down curious guards with his fists as he went, before exiting the castle. Moonlight gleamed in his eyes as he weaved through the castle grounds, beginning to lose his pursuers. Finally making it to the eastern wall, Ganondorf crept out through the small hole he'd carved out of the stone, and thus, he was safe.
With a sigh of relief, albeit laced with an air of annoyance, Ganondorf touched his hand gently to his stomach wound. Pulling his arm away in a sharp tug, he stared contemptuously down at the scarlet fluid trickling down his dark fingers.
He had to see the witches. His injuries began to hurt; Ganondorf hated to admit that he felt pain. Being sliced, stabbed through the stomach, and shot five times, however, was no picnic. But he knew the twin witches would heal him with ease.
Straightening his black tie, the man walked determinedly down the sidewalks of the Tri District, suit stained crimson from his own blood.
.-:—:—:-.
The man was now standing alone outside in the crisp October air, a week after having failed his heist at Hyrule Castle. His eyes were trained on an edifice that housed a large billboard, where a sketch of his face was plastered next to bold, prominent text reading: Public Enemy Number One. He smiled darkly, reveling in the fear he invoked.
The man had felt a strong urge to search Market Street for something he had been looking for. It was likely that damned shadow being that he'd summoned through the portal, who had escaped his clutches and scurried away. He clenched his fist angrily at the thought. He hated when things did not go as planned.
He stood across the street from an unimpressive convenient store, composed of a flickering sign and dirty walls. He'd seen a kid go in there earlier, and his right hand throbbed at the sight of him.
Maybe he was the shadow. Perhaps the shadow had already taken on the form of a human. That had to be why his Power hand was throbbing like mad.
He followed the kid, willing the double doors open with a forceful shove. The kid was there, arguing with the cashier, a bag of carrots on the counter. At first glance, the man decided that the kid could not be the shadow; he was too tan, had blue eyes instead of red, and lacked the color black altogether. He found that pale skin, scarlet irises, and black clothing were typical traits among shadow beings.
If the boy was not the shadow, then why did Ganondorf feel drawn to him?
The boy's eyes flicked up to the imposing man, widening immediately. He then grimaced, hastily grabbing at his hand with an agonized expression.
The man was confused. "What is the matter with you?" he demanded, ash-gray skin wrinkled in a frown.
The boy tried to look up at him once more, but he yelped and grabbed at his hand again.
The way the boy reacted evoked a sense of familiarly in the man's mind and triggered a vivid memory. The memory of the night he had discovered he was the bearer of Power. His mouth fell open, jaw unhinged. He knew what was the matter with the boy.
"It is you.…" the man mumbled, golden eyes growing wide. "I've found you."
There was Courage.
Saturday, November 17th
I jolt awake with a splitting headache, lying in a pool of sweat. Quickly sitting up, I begin looking around deliriously.
I was him.
I was Ganondorf. I was him, and I saw myself. That dreadful night. The worst night of my life. I was my uncle's murderer on his last night alive.
The thought of it is nauseating.
Not only was I him, but I somehow, someway, had access to his thoughts. He seemed to be looking for a triangle in Hyrule Castle, also something about a harp.… That had to be the night—the first night I'd envisioned, specifically—that Ganondorf became a wanted man.
When he had first seen me, he thought I was Dark, who he aims to capture. That's why he came after me in the first place, apparently. But then he realized I was the bearer of Courage, because Power had resonated from his hand. He wants my Triforce.
And if he was looking for a triangle back in the castle, could that triangle have been Wisdom, the third piece of the puzzle?
The whole thing makes my head spin.
Sunlight peeks over the horizon and spills into the dorm, temporarily blinding me as it seeps through the window shades. I raise my arm to shield my eyes, but stop abruptly, yelping as pain erupts in my shoulder.
Frantically, I lift up the hem of my shirt and toss it to the floor. Looking down, I notice that my cuts have scabbed over, the raw skin stinging to the touch. But that isn't what had caused my sudden pain. I flick my eyes to my shoulder wound, where that bokoblin from last night had raked its claws through the skin. The wound itself had crusty black scabs with raw purple skin surrounding them.
Infected, undoubtedly. I again fight the urge to vomit.
"Sheik," I whisper, testing to see if he's awake. He isn't. I huff, slowly getting off the bed and staggering over to him, wincing at the pain from my cuts. "Sheik," I say louder, nudging his shoulder.
He lies with his limbs sprawled out in various directions, blonde hair a shaggy mess, chest rising and falling steadily. "Mn ghrnmgh," he mumbles incoherently. "Five more… minutes…"
When I flick him on the nose, his abruptly eyes snap open. "Sheik, I need to ask you something."
His eyes drift to the alarm clock behind me. "…At six-thirty AM? Link, you went to bed at two-thirty.…"
Though I didn't sleep much, I say mentally. I flick him again as his eyelids begin to droop, earning an irate growl. "Who's a good doctor around here?" I inquire.
"Doctor…?"
"You know—doctor. Medic. Healer. This is kindergarten vocabulary we're dealing with here."
"Shut up. I'm tired."
"All those late-night fantasies about your sister must finally be catching up to you."
"Half-sister, Link. And fuck you."
"Answer my question," I say, cutting to the chase. "I could be dying, here."
"You know, that might not be so bad. I wouldn't have to tolerate you waking me up this early. Or your smart-ass jokes." He sits up in his bed finally, looking at me with a groggy squint in his eyes. He views my cuts, brows rising. "What the hell happened to you?"
"...I went to the zoo. Now—doctor?" I prompt.
He eyes me sternly, knowing quite well that I had lied to him. "Well—Rauru fixed my broken arm when I'd gotten into a fight with Groose back in freshman year. Go see him."
"There isn't a nurse at this school?"
"No. We're not a school full of pussies."
I squint. "A school full of Sheiks?"
He points a finger firmly toward the door. "Leave already." Then Sheik rolls over and buries his head beneath the pillow.
With that, I promptly leave, making sure to slam the door as loudly as possible for Sheik's benefit. From inside, he emits a rather profane selection of vocabulary. I smirk to myself.
Go see Rauru. Gotta admit, not my first choice. After what he said to me yesterday, how he thought "the goddesses chose me as the answer to our city's cry for help," I don't feel comfortable around that geezer. He thinks I'm a bearer of the Triforce, and he's right, but I'm not going confirm his assumption. Hell no.
No matter what, though, my shoulder hurts like hell, so I need to get it fixed. But what if zombie-pig-demon-claw wounds aren't Rauru's specialty? Maybe he's only good for repairing shattered arms, and boring his students to death.
The trip to Rauru's class is eerily quiet and uneventful. The dorm hallways are practically empty, and the soft rainfall is my only companion outdoors. I hurry through the courtyard, hood pulled over my head, and arrive at the main academy building.
Inside, no noise is made except for that of a janitor wheeling a garbage can through the halls. That's when I realize the very high chance that Rauru isn't even here. Well, might as well check anyway.
I take the familiar route to his classroom, my steps echoing throughout the empty halls. Later, when I arrive outside his door, I peek in through the small window. Surprisingly, luckily, Rauru is there. He stands in the middle of the room, dormant, eyelids resting closed.
Frowning in confusion, I knock on the door before opening it. "Mr. Lux?" I call, hesitantly entering.
Rauru's eyes snap open, and he scrambles toward his desk. "Oy!—I was only finishing my—" He pauses, eyes falling on me. "Link?"
I look at him suspiciously. "…Am I interrupting anything?"
"Ah, no, Mr. Gaiden, you aren't."
I look at him skeptically, but decide to drop it for more pressing matters. "I need your help," I say. After quickly removing my jacket, I pull my shirt sleeve up, revealing to him my horrid wound.
Rauru's eyes widen immediately, and he walks to my side to get a better look. "My goddesses, Link, what happened?"
"I, uh—"
"I'd recognize this wound anywhere.… Link, when did you come into contact with the undead?"
So he must know about all these monsters running around, huh?
I offer an aloof shrug, telling him, "Oh, y'know, the Grim Reaper, Frankenstein, Dracula, and I meet up every Friday over coffee to catch up."
He ignores my sarcastic comment, gaze falling back down. "Claws.… Was this the work of a cursed bokoblin?"
I resume my oblivious act from yesterday, responding, "If that's what you call those zombie pig things, then yeah."
"Cursed bokoblins," he corrects, meeting my eyes. "Only perishable by striking the brain." He strokes his voluminous white mustache with a calloused hand, looking at me pensively. "Did… did you kill them?"
He's giving me that look again, that suspicious look that shows he assumes something. What will he think if I tell him I killed those bokoblins? Will he only further suspect that I possess a piece of the Triforce? Probably, because those zombies were pretty damn hard to kill. A normal person may not have been able to.
So I scoff adamantly. "No, I ran away."
I can see the confusion and frustration presenting on his countenance, and I fight the urge to smirk at my small victory. This is all a battle of words.
Rauru then sighs and reaches into his pack, pulling out a corked glass bottle filled with an unidentifiable red liquid. "Here," he says, handing me the bottle.
I eye it skeptically. "What is this, Powerade?"
"Red potion. It will help."
I swirl it around experimentally, noting its thickness, and remove the cork. I quickly take a swig, nearly gagging at the strong taste of cherries. "Ugh!" I immediately separate my lips from the bottle. "That's disgusting!"
He shrugs. "It's an acquired taste."
"Well it better work," I grumble, reluctantly taking another drink.
"It will heal it for now, yes. But I'm afraid that's a dark magic wound."
I down the last of the liquid, leaving a nasty aftertaste. Gradually, the painful stinging begins to fade. "Dark magic?" I repeat in a curious tone.
Rauru's lips twinge slightly upward, a hint of a smile. "You're not going to stubbornly refuse to believe me, like usual?"
I shrug offhandedly. "No, I kinda have a life-threatening injury right now, so I've decided to just roll with it."
"Good choice," Rauru says. "As I was saying, this was the work of dark magic, used by the undead and those who control them. You'll need light magic to counteract it."
"And where am I gonna get that?"
"From me," he states simply.
My eyes widen. "You're a magician?"
"Of sorts."
Huh. Never would I have thought that Rauru has been able to use magic. I thought he was just some boring old geezer. But now, I guess he's a magical boring old geezer. "Then what are you waiting for?" I prompt.
He bites his lip, eyeing me nervously. "It will hurt." Rauru rolls up his sleeves, hovering his hands over my wound. They seem to start glowing, much to my dismay.
Just who is this guy?
"I'll be fine," I assure him, jaw tightening in trepidation.
Rauru sighs, and I force my eyes away as he begins. Immediately a white hot burning sensation comes into contact with my wounded skin, and I bite back a scream, squeezing my eyes shut. "HOLY—!" I stop myself from cursing, biting and drawing blood from my bottom lip.
Seconds later, relief washes over me as the heat dies down. I slowly peek an eye open to view my shoulder. The black sludge stuff is all gone, disappeared. Instead, the skin still displays claw marks, but red rather than black, and the flesh around the wound is pink.
"I'm surprised you came here on a Saturday," he comments idly as I gaze at my healed flesh.
"I needed to check if you were here," I reply with an honest shrug. "Plus I could say the same for you. What teacher stands in the middle of his empty classroom on the weekend and meditates? Are you a hippy?"
"No. I come here because it's a quiet place to attend to my other business."
"Are you gonna tell me what that other business is?"
"Not yet."
I frown.
"This goes without saying, of course, but you will keep this whole thing a secret, correct?"
I look at him weirdly, pausing for a moment. "I guess so."
"Good." Rauru nods approvingly. "I can tell you my secrets, you can tell me yours."
Sending subliminal messages now, eh, Rauru?
I scoff at him. "I'll bet you won't be interested in typical teenager secrets."
Rauru picks up the bottle I'd reluctantly and disgustingly emptied, placing it in his pack and trading it in for a pair of thin glasses. "And I'll bet your secrets are far from typical teenager secrets," he tells me assuredly, donning the eyewear.
He's not wrong, of course. "What makes you think that? You don't think I'm normal?"
"Abnormality is nothing to be ashamed of," Rauru asserts, quite philosophically. "In fact, uniqueness should be strived for. If everyone were normal, we'd be one in the same."
I squint. "I don't speak fortune cookie."
With a sigh, Rauru returns to his desk, closing his laptop. "I was teaching a deep life lesson to ironically make a joke."
"…Then you really should work on your sense of humor."
Raising his eyebrows, Rauru folds his arms over his chest. "And yours is superior? Unfiltered, impolite sarcasm?"
I shrug innocently. "I'm unique."
Rolling his eyes peevishly, the history teacher emits a hopeless huff. "Gods, help me.…"
"I heard that."
"That was intended."
With an irked scowl, I cross my arms.
"As I was saying, Link," he begins, "you're not a normal person. I think you know that, yet you're hiding the truth from me."
And again, he's right.
"I believe, as I said before, you are the answer to our kingdom's cry for help." He nods affirmatively, a no-nonsense look in his eyes.
"Kingdom?" I question, eyebrows raising. "Yesterday you said city."
"I fear…" He inhales deeply, then exhales, "…that our issues will be on a much grander scale."
I look down pensively, a recent memory promptly resurfacing in my mind.
"The main difference between our gangs, you see," said Vaati, pointing at the castle while maintaining eye contact with me, "is that Cia wants to kill Ganondorf and rule the streets. Ganondorf wants to kill the king and rule the world."
I keep my expression unreadable, before looking up at his expectant gaze. "Who do you think I am?" I snap indignantly. "All I care about is justice for my uncle. That's all that matters to me."
"Or maybe you never planned on having deep connections after that traumatic event," Rauru begins, his eyes steadily locked with mine, "and now you have. And maybe you are in denial now, because that scares you, because you do not want to be hurt again."
I freeze, my whole body going rigid, and gaze at him with wide, unblinking eyes. He struck nerves that I had no idea he was capable of striking, without him even knowing he had stricken them. Sweet Din.…
"Are you telling me," he says, raising his voice, "that if our kingdom was in peril and you were the only one able to save it, you would not?"
I stand there, motionless, for a long moment. Finally, eyes narrowed at his, I tell him in a voice barely louder than a whisper, "Well I'm no hero."
I turn and leave.
"Or maybe you never planned on having deep connections after that traumatic event…" —Uncle Rusl's unmoving body, his blood spilling out of that gunshot wound, why couldn't I SAVE HIM— "…and now you have." —Zelda, Zelda Harkinian, the girl I love but CAN'T— "And maybe you are in denial now…" —focus on your uncle's case, nothing else matters, just GET YOUR REVENGE— "…because that scares you..." —Zelda cannot be harmed, I need to stay the hell away from her— "…because you do not want to be hurt again." —I wouldn't be able to live with myself because HER DEATH WOULD BE ON MY HANDS—
"Link?" a voice calls.
I turn around at its striking familiarity, my mental fit dissipating as I begin to regain my composure. Taking calming breaths, I set my eyes on the figure standing behind me on the sidewalk.
"Are you alright?" Shad asks me, concern in his eyes.
I nod slowly.
He approaches, asking, "What are you doing here?"
I furrow my eyebrows, turning my head to survey my surroundings. I stand before the storefront of a red Chinese restaurant, a sign depicting a dragon hanging from its awning. Masses of people shuffle around me impatiently as I stand in the middle of the sidewalk like an idiot, and a few bikers whiz past the pair of us. Billboards advertising law firms and auto dealers line the edifices across the street, slightly shorter in height compared to those in the heart of the city. I now realize, observing the area with a lost look in my eyes, that I've never been here before. Where even am I?
I must've let my feet take control again.
"I, uh…" Biting my lip, I turn my gaze back to Shad. "I dunno."
The young man squints his chestnut-colored eyes, visibly confused. "You're almost out of Castle Town," he says.
"What?" I ask, blinking my dismay.
Shad pauses, then affirms with a guarded nod, "Yeah. About half a mile that way—" He points a finger in the general direction I'd been heading. "—is the city limit."
My gaze falls. How long had I been walking? Was I so far lost in my thoughts that I lost control? Have I been so wrapped up in my emotions lately that I'm now losing my mind?
Shad takes a step toward me, eyeing me peculiarly, and taps my shoulder to get my attention. "Are you okay?"
His question only confuses me more. I don't know if I'm okay. What's even okay anymore?
Noticing how long it takes me to formulate a response, Shad exhales deeply. "Alright. I feared this would happen to you eventually, Link. Come along with me." Placing a hand on my shoulder, he leads me eastward, the way I'd been walking.
"What… what're you doing?" I find myself asking.
"I just got off work," he says, "so I'm walking to my bus stop to head back home, to Eldinburg. And I think you and I have some things to address, so I'm inviting you to my home."
"It seems more like you're taking me there."
"More or less." Shad shrugs, brushing past a short man in a green top hat. "But certainly not against your will. If you would like to leave, then by all means."
I consider walking away, going back to my dorm, but turn my gaze up to the sky and its impending sunset—Din, I'd been walking forever. Anyway, in my current state of mind, I cannot fend for myself against whatever creatures that lurk at night, out to capture or kill me.
So, I decide, and huff a response: "Fine, I'll go with you."
Shad beams, elbowing me in my side. I wince in pain, having just been sliced by a knife in that exact spot. "Don't sound so obligated," he says. "It's a great place."
I eye him skeptically, from his awkward pairing of a crimson jacket and green pants to his argyle socks and tan shoes. Looking straight through his taped-together spectacles, I tell him in a bland tone, "I'm sure it's a real bachelor pad."
With a shrug of modesty, Shad laughs. "You could say that again."
"If I did, I'd be lying twice."
He frowns.
I point to the badge that is pinned to his half-buttoned jacket. "Are you sure you're a detective? You can't even detect sarcasm."
Shad rolls his eyes.
Maybe I'm feeling a bit better. Our idle banter has indeed lifted my spirits and taken my mind off of things, somewhat. Due to that, I'm grateful for Shad's company. I don't take a liking to the negative thoughts that plague my mind during my time alone.
Maybe it's the presence of another that brings me back down to earth.
The trek to the bus stop lasts only a couple minutes longer, and we catch it right on time. "It's only a ten minute ride," Shad tells me as I follow him inside, squeezing through the masses of people.
The pair of us eventually find an open space beside a stout man in a business suit, and settle in there for the ride, holding onto the handrail. The bus sets off to go, creaking under its weight, and I suddenly get this sinking feeling in my gut. I cannot seem to place what triggered it, and now my hand begins to tingle.
I feel a set of eyes scrutinizing the pair of us, but as I survey the bus, I find no reason for suspicion. My gaze then lands upon a poster on one of the walls, with bold, dark text reading: Wanted for Questioning.
A sketch of Hero's frontal profile is situated right below that text. I gulp uneasily.
Granted, the person depicted appears to look hardly like me; the jawline is a little too thin, and they made my ears larger than usual. But, they got what matters correct: the black mask, and the green cap. That's what the public remembers, after all.
Eventually, the ten minutes pass, and Shad and I gratefully exit, followed by a few others, into the city of Eldinburg. I inhale the fresh evening air as the bus drives away, following Shad as he leads me down the sidewalk.
The sun dips down until it is concealed behind a massive mountain in the distance, painting the sky a pale yellow. The boulevard is lined with quaint shops and buildings not nearly as tall as those in Castle Town, but still impressive in their own right. Fewer cars zoom by, and the mixed stench of urine and carbon dioxide I've grown used to is virtually nonexistent here. I look around with a glimmer of excitement in my eyes, quite interested with the town.
Children run about at play, and couples walk their dogs on leashes. Though seen once in awhile, both of those are rare in the big city. Eldinburg boasts such a homey, tranquil vibe that it's no wonder why I've heard it's chosen by many as a place to settle down and live out the rests of their lives in.
From what I've seen, which admittedly isn't much, I like it. It's an Ordonian-like Castle Town, if you will. Maybe after everything I feel necessary has all been settled and taken care of, provided that I don't die, I could consider living out the remainder of my days here.
But with who? I find myself asking mentally.
You already know the answer.
Zelda, Zelda, Zelda. That's all you think about, y'know?
Yes, I know. I'm you—and me. Here I am holding a conversation with myself.
How pathetic.
So are you.
How are you gonna settle down here with Zelda, when Zelda hates your guts?
Well, I figured that the only reason keeping us apart was the fact that I have dangerous enemies. If I jail all of them, then that problem goes away.
And you think she's going to forgive you?
…I suppose I haven't thought of that.
Yes you have, because I'm you, remember? Suppose you jail all your enemies in about a year's time. Who's to say Zelda hasn't moved on and found another dude to be with by then, hmm?
"You like it here?" Shad's voice suddenly cuts in.
I blink vigorously to return from the adverse thoughts running rampant in my mind. I tear my gaze from the little shops and turn to offer Shad a nod. "Yeah, it's… nice," I say, for lack of a better description.
I suddenly get that feeling again. That strange, sinking feeling in my gut that makes my hand tingle. Something's off, though I can't tell what.
"You look stressed," Shad comments idly. "What's wrong?"
I turn myself in a circle, searching for some sign of perturbation. A little boy chases a girl with laughter. A street performer plays his guitar, singing a country tune. A young, dark-haired woman behind me peeks through a shop's window at its merchandise. Nothing seems to be wrong. So what's my problem?
"I… have a bad feeling," I murmur quietly.
Shad knits his eyebrows, confused, but assures me, "It'll go away."
I hope he's right.
We walk. I keep myself focused on the scenery rather than that bad feeling or my tumultuous thoughts.
Good luck, my mind says.
I'm totally losing it, aren't I?
No, I'm not. You are.
That's what I—I'm you!
Maybe you should see a psychiatrist.
We both should.
Agreed.
"We'll get there in five minutes or so," states Shad. I nod my response, but he doesn't see.
"Oh, it'll be a bit longer than that," says a foreign voice.
Piqued, I turn around to address the person, only to be met with a sucker-punch to the face. I yelp in pain as I feel the skin on my nose split open and start to bleed, falling back onto the pavement.
Never had I felt a punch that dealt such pain. It lacked brute force, but used that in its favor and focused solely on finesse; the placement and aim of the strike was enough to knock me off my feet and stun me for a considerable period of time.
"Now that was fun," the voice purrs, sounding very feminine.
Oh, gods. Good thing Dark isn't here. He would never let me live this down. I can imagine his taunting laughter and mocking shouts of You got beat up by a girl!
I blink, clearing the spots from my vision, and look up from my downed position.
"Drop your weapon!" Shad shouts, pointing a CTPD-issued handgun at the knife-bearing woman. "I don't want any death!"
I then turn to view the woman. My eyes widen as they land on one of my biggest enemies, Veran Black. I grit my teeth. I really, really hate this bitch.
Veran's face contorts into a pout. "But where's the fun in that?"
Shad gulps, visibly nervous, as he aims the weapon at her with a shaky grip. Veran notices his hesitation to take action, and deems him virtually harmless to her, and instead turns to me.
"I know you killed Sakon, Hero."
I shuffle to my feet, wiping the blood from my face with the back of my hand. I fix my eyes on her with a threatening look, baring my teeth in anger. "And what makes you think I won't do the same to you?"
She grins wickedly, tossing a clump of navy-blue hair over her shoulder. "The fact that I'm not at Hyrule Academy, where you and all your friends live."
I flinch, eyes widening. "You—?"
"You forgot, didn't you?" Veran asks. "You forgot that I know all about you, Link Gaiden. That's your biggest fear, isn't it? The M.O.D. coming to destroy and pillage your school and harm all those you hold dear?"
Remaining silent, I swallow the giant lump that had formed in my throat. She's trying to intimidate me. And it's working.
"Although, I can't reprimand you for forgetting." Veran offhandedly admires her long, black-polished nails, filing them on occasion with her knife. "The truth is, I did, too."
I blink, feeling rather dumbfounded. "You seriously forgot your most important lead on me, your gang's target, when you could've gone to the place I live any day of the week to come and capture me?"
"No," she states calmly, "I simply forgot to tell Lord Dragmire about it."
"Oh," I say dumbly, pausing for a moment. "You know, it seems more like our entire lives are scripted and whoever controls us just forgot to kill you off for the sake of the plot."
Veran stares at me. "…I don't even know how to respond to that." She then scoffs. "You think this meeting between you and I is just to cover some plot hole?"
I nod. "Could be."
The woman laughs. "Well, you're not wrong—this meeting is definitely about holes." She points the knife at me, raising an eyebrow with a daring smirk gracing her lips. "The holes I'm going to cut open."
Shad's eyes dart back and forth between me and Veran, teeth chattering in fear. "M-ma'am, I'm not going to ask you again—drop your weapon!" Tones of authority and intimidation interchange throughout his dutiful command, leaving Veran to merely laugh at him.
"I'd like to see you make me." She takes threatening steps toward him, a sadistic grin across her dark lips.
My eyes suddenly land upon a manhole cover in the middle of the sidewalk, and I watch as Veran steps over and past it.
Shad treads backward cautiously. "I-I don't take pride in fighting women," he states meekly, trying to keep his eyes fierce.
I emit a strangled cry as I hurl the heavy manhole cover straight at the advancing woman, and it connects with the back of her head with an audible thud. She cripples to the ground, eyelids drooping.
We stand still, heaving breaths of relief.
Veran lies dormant, face-down, a prominent bump already forming underneath her thick head of hair. I detect the steady rise and fall of her breathing, and conclude that she is alive. Although I did threaten her life, I don't think I would have been able to live with myself knowing I'd killed another.
But I'm going to have to learn to. I'm not letting Ganondorf live.
"That was terrifying," Shad breathes, clicking on the safety option of his handgun and returning it to his jacket.
I can't help but to chuckle.
"What's so funny?"
I shrug offhandedly, looking away, not bothering to explain.
To think that, a couple months ago before my life was turned upside down, I would have reacted to this situation just how Shad just did. He's a detective, but he hasn't been in half of the danger that I've been in. It makes me think about how far I've come. And maybe the strong and unfazed version of myself is not someone I'm proud of becoming.
"You're quiet lately," Dark commented, turning to offer me a concerned look.
"I've been talking to you," I replied.
He shrugged. "But with less emotion. It's like your personality is gone."
"How so?" I asked, gaze downcast.
"You're not the usual witty, smart-ass Link. The one who makes fun of everyone with the utmost confidence and savagery." A brief smile splayed out across his lips, but was quick to fall.
"This is Detective Shad Sterling of CTPD," Shad says into his cell, his voice cutting through my sudden memory. "An alleged gang member has just been incapacitated on Fourth and Mountainview Street. I request backup from the Eldinburg Police, stat." He pockets the phone, turning to offer me a vexed look. "How're you holding up?"
I raise my eyebrows. "You're asking me this? I seem to recall your petrified face when you were running away from Veran like she was Medusa."
A grin surfaces on his face. "She did look like Medusa. I didn't want to be taken for granite."
"Clever."
"Why thank you," Shad says, smile then faltering, replaced by a serious expression. "But I know what you're going through. Honestly, tell me, are you alright?"
"Perfectly," I respond in a blasé manner, nodding once. Shad tries speaking again, but decides against it, sighing in defeat.
The EPD arrive shortly, two cars rolling up to the curb and slowing to a stop when they near us. Four front doors swing open, and four people step out. Three unfamiliar cops, and one familiar middle-aged man.
"Chief," says Shad, both confusion and surprise in his tone, breaking into his stiff saluting position.
"Detective Sterling." Chief Auru of CTPD returns the salute, then turns his gaze to me. "Why, if it isn't Link Gaiden. I'm surprised you're here."
"Likewise," I say, addressing Shad's confusion for him.
"I actually came here to assess the conditions of Death Mountain Prison with the chief of EPD." He raises an eyebrow at Shad, sharing a look with him. Realization flashes across the detective's face.
"…Alright," I say after trying to read Shad's expression, but to no avail.
"Now," Auru says, striding toward the downed woman, "cuff her before she wakes up." He waves a beckoning hand without turning his head.
The three Eldinburg cops obey, hoisting Veran's unconscious body up and clamping handcuffs on her wrists.
Auru turns to me, stroking his gray goatee with a thumb and forefinger. "I suppose this was your doing?"
"Why would you think that?"
Sighing, he moves past the cop holding up Veran's still body. Gripping Veran's right arm and twisting it backwards, he rolls the black sleeve up, revealing the crescent moon tattoo on the inside of her wrist. The M.O.D. symbol. "Don't play dumb. Their gang lord killed your uncle. It was definitely you. Taking your anger out on Dragmire's subordinates will do nothing for you."
"Aside from emotional recompense and helping to free the public from the crime and violence," I retort adamantly.
He chuckles, a rather condescending smile on his wrinkled face. "I suppose we now have two individuals targeting Castle Town's gangs."
A clear reference to Hero, I conclude. "Isn't that a good thing?"
Auru folds his arms over his chest, forehead creased. "No. That's the police's job." An affirmative nod. "Leave it to us."
Behind him, Veran stirs. Following my gaze, Auru turns around just as her eyelids peek open. Her eyes lock with Auru's, and she breathes in and out calmly, saying nothing.
"Take her to the city jail," the chief orders the cops. "Then Death Mountain Prison if found guilty."
A tiny hint of a smile curls up the corners of Veran's lips. Barely noticeable, but I notice it.
Shad says, "But that's where—"
"Detective," Auru interrupts, eyeing him warningly, "do not start this again with me."
His mouth twists, but he nods nonetheless. "…Yes, sir."
Without another word, Auru makes his way toward the front police car, entering the passenger side and shutting the door firmly. Veran's eyes never left his back. The two cops who restrain her take her away to the second car, while the last cop stays behind.
"Good job, kid," he praises, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "I know who that woman is. She's one of the kingdom's evilest lawyers. She went around defending the most dangerous criminals and swaying the jury to find them innocent."
I listen with mild interest. Praise was never something I'd earned from carrying out my acts of vengeance and justice. It was never a hope of mine to receive, and it still isn't. I do this for me, not the approval of others.
"No matter what your city's chief says," the cop tells me, "keep being a hero. We need more people like you."
I let his words sink in as Shad and I watch him go.
Shad's home perfectly reflects his character. Simple, awkward, yet charming. We sit in his living room, each of us on a tan leather couch equally apart from a central coffee table. A television is mounted on the wall on one end of the room, displaying the evening news.
I take a polite sip from the cup of green tea I'd been offered and had reluctantly accepted. Nearly gagging at its taste, I set the cup down on the table, vowing to flush it down the toilet when I get up to "use the restroom."
"So, um," I begin weirdly, "why did you bring me here?"
Shad, who'd been rubbing the lenses of his spectacles clean with the hem of his shirt, looks up to meet my eyes. "Well, Link, in all honesty, I was worried about your mental state."
My eyebrows shoot up.
"Hear me out, now," he says, addressing my reaction. "I found you walking around the outskirts of the city at the opposite end from your school. You were looking down, even bumped into a few people, and looked to be lost in thought. It was five PM when I found you. Do you remember when you began your walk?"
I slowly nod. "…Like, ten."
"I found you seven hours later. You didn't even know what you were doing," he stresses.
I sigh, gaze falling, having trouble finding words.
"You've been so strong, Link." Shad nods consolingly. "No kid at your age should be experiencing what you did. And you've handled it so well. So it's okay, it's natural, for you to be acting this way."
Exhaling deeply, I shake my head. "...But that isn't me."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not supposed to be like this," I explain, fighting the tears that well up in my eyes. "I'm supposed to be strong. I'm supposed to be the guy who is willing to sacrifice himself in order to save others and that's what I'm trying to do and it's tearing me apart—!"
"Link! Link," he interjects, "breathe."
Black spots blot out my vision, and my heart thuds rapidly in my chest. My teeth chatter vigorously, and I place my hands to my temples. I focus on my breathing. Strangled at first, but steadying. In, out. In, out. Breathe.
"…Link? Are you alright?"
Shad's echoing voice brings me back to reality, and my delirium gradually fades away. "…Y-yes," I choke out.
We sit in silence. Shad eyes me like I'm a ticking time bomb, and I avoid his gaze and focus on steady breaths.
"I forgot to tell you," he says after a long while. "Ghirahim was successfully relocated."
His tactic to take my mind off of things worked, because I curiously peek up at him. "Really?"
He nods. "I'll tell you, never had the chief ever disagreed so passionately with me." A pause. "Kind of weird, now that I think about it…. Nonetheless, it was a grueling battle, but he eventually conceded and had Ghirahim transferred to Death Mountain Prison here in Eldinburg."
"Where Veran's going," I muse, remembering her ominous smile at the prison's mentioning.
"Exactly."
Something doesn't add up here. But I am completely stumped as to what that is.
"However," he continues, "I think you should leave the chief alone for a time…."
I frown. "Why?"
"Well, he's… stubborn, as you know—"
"So am I, as you know."
"—and rather volatile lately," he states meekly. "He's been acting differently. It's strange."
"Why should I leave him alone if he's the one in charge of bringing in my enemies? What could he possibly do to me?"
"I—" Shad pauses, eyes falling on the TV screen. "Hold on."
"—and here is CTPD's Chief Auru from earlier today," says the anchor.
The video cuts to the chief, bent over a podium in front of the police station. He speaks loudly into the microphone, projecting his voice to the vast audience below:
"Months have passed, and we have witnessed no cooperation with this individual. Initially wanted for questioning due to allegations of resisting cooperation and interfering with the duty of authorities, this individual was given an opportunity to present himself as not a threat to the CTPD, and the general public, but ultimately failed to do so. Because of this, I am issuing an arrest warrant—" Whispers break out among the audience below the chief's podium. "—for the green-clad vigilante—" The whispering grows to chatter. "—known as Hero."
Shouts of protest and whoops of approval are emitted from the crowd.
Shad bites his lip. Sending me an awkward look, he points a finger at the television screen, sighing. "…That."